how deplorable a thing is this, that I that have preached so much of the glory of another World, should now be deprived of it all: You will as surely see me damned, as you now see me stand here.
To others he said, I have trifled in Religion, trifled, trifled—I am lost, there is no Hope, no Hope: At another time he said, The black Tokens of Reprobation are upon me: He said to Mr. Plant, smiting on his Breast, Sir, I am Damned, I am Damned; it is so most certainly: My day is over; O that it was with me as in days past! but it is too late, the Decree is gone forth, it is Sealed in Heaven, and it is irreversible. Jesus Christ cannot save me, he will not, ⟨p. 51⟩he cannot Mediate for me, I have so much offended him, in maliciously abusing of his People: O what a Wretch was I! what a Spirit was I led by! I have guilt enough, said he, to sink seventeen Kingdoms, and I know the Earth would open its mouth and swallow me alive, like Corah, Dathan and Abiram, were it not that God hath reserved me to be a more public Spectacle of his Anger and Displeasure both to Angels and Men. I can neither Pray, nor desire others to pray for me; my Heart is perfectly hardened; how should I, when I cannot desire Jesus Christ to pray for me; floods of Tears flowing from him, Dear bought Experience, saith he, hath taught me, that it is no small thing to trifle with him in the great things of Religion and Eternity, &c. In one of his Letters sent to Mr. James Jones are these Expressions, viz. Being possessed with Doubts, Fears and Tremblings, night and day, the sad savour of Gall and Wormwood, an horrible Relish of Gravel-stones, the sad Apprehensions of Curses, Blastings and Mildew—the dismal sound of the mad Prophets words, I shall see him, but not now, I shall behold him, but not nigh—had I been a Backslider of an ordinary size—I have a Voice behind me, or dire Texts—to love and make a Lye is a qualification for the Lake.
His poor Wife, as I remember, intimated to me, that the very Ends of the Hair of his Head in the Night-season did stand in Drops thro' the Anguish of his Soul.
Thus he continued for several Months under most dreadful horror and fearful desperation, until the 13th. of Octob. 1684. when to put an end to 1his miserable Life, he hanged himself in his own hired house, in Brick Lane near Spitalfields, London, leaving a sorrowful Widow and several Children:
how deplorable a thing is this, that I that have preached so much of the glory of another World, should now be deprived of it all: You will as surely see me damned, as you now see me stand here.
To others he said, I have trifled in Religion, trifled, trifled—I am lost, there is no Hope, no Hope: At another time he said, The black Tokens of Reprobation are upon me: He said to Mr. Plant, smiting on his Breast, Sir, I am Damn'd, I am Damn'd; it is so most certainly: My day is over; O that it was with me as in days past! but it is too late, the Decree is gone forth, it is Sealed in Heaven, and it is irreversible. Jesus Christ cannot save me, he will not, ⟨p. 51⟩he cannot Mediate for me, I have so much offended him, in maliciously abusing of his People: O what a Wretch was I! what a Spirit was I led by! I have guilt enough, said he, to sink seventeen Kingdoms, and I know the Earth would open its mouth and swallow me alive, like Corah, Dathan and Abiram, were it not that God hath reserved me to be a more publick Spectacle of his Anger and Displeasure both to Angels and Men. I can neither Pray, nor desire others to pray for me; my Heart is perfectly hardened; how should I, when I cannot desire Jesus Christ to pray for me; flouds of Tears flowing from him, Dear bought Experience, saith he, hath taught me, that it is no small thing to trifle with him in the great things of Religion and Eternity, &c. In one of his Letters sent to Mr. James Jones are these Expressions, viz. Being possessed with Doubts, Fears and Tremblings, night and day, the sad savour of Gall and Wormwood, an horrible Relish of Gravel-stones, the sad Apprehensions of Curses, Blastings and Mildew—the dismal sound of the mad Prophets words, I shall see him, but not now, I shall behold him, but not nigh—had I been a Backslider of an ordinary size—I have a Voice behind me, or dire Texts—to love and make a Lye is a qualification for the Lake.
His poor Wife, as I remember, intimated to me, that the very Ends of the Halr of his Head in the Night-season did stand in Drops thro' the Anguish of his Soul.
Thus he continued for several Months under most dreadful horror and fearful desparation, until the 13th. of Octob. 1684. when to put an end to 1his miserable Life, he hanged himself in his own hired house, in Bricklane near Spitlefields, London, leaving a sorrowful Widdow and several Children:
- 1The Narrative concerning Mr. Child is Sold by Tho. Fabian at the Bible in Cheapside, and worthy it is, Reader, of thy perusal.
