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A MEMOIR
ON THE LIVES OF
ISAAC PENINGTON
and his dear wife,
MARY PENINGTON
Site Editor's Preface
Isaac Penington, (1616-1679), was giant in the early Quaker movement, primarily due to the power and clarity of his writings regarding the faith that leads to victory over sin and entry into the Kingdom of God while on earth. He was described by the founder of the Quakers, George Fox as: "some years before his death, the Lord, in and with his power, set him free from; and gave him dominion over all." William Penn also echoes the same information. I rarely see this testimony of certainty for the early Quakers. So it is with confidence that many of Penington's extensive writings are placed on this site, as they particularly speak to the individual's necessity of receiving Christ the Light in the heart, receiving his conviction of sin, receiving his stroke against it, becoming a new creature, feeling the springs of life bubbling from the heart, reading the Scriptures in the heart, and seeing your blessed savior in your heart. No other man writes as Penington writes; he is a noble worthy of the Lord. His blessed wife, Mary, also has a wonderful story within this memoir. I pray you will be inspired to continue on the cross, forsaking all the world, so you too can experience of what Isaac Penington so ably relates to us. The text for this Memoir was taken from two sources - Memoirs of the Life of Isaac Penington by William Grover and the Penns' and Peningtons' by Maria Webb. Penn's introduction below comes from The Letters of Isaac Penington, John Barcay, Edt.
INTRODUCTION
Testimony of William Penn concerning Isaac Penington -
As ‘the memory of the just is blessed,' so to me
there seems a blessing upon those, that have a right
memory of them; therefore, to the memory of
this just man, my dear Friend and father-in-law, Isaac Penington,
I do, with a sincere and religious affection,
dedicate this enduing testimony.
He was well descended as to his worldly parentage
and born about the year 1617, being heir to a
fair inheritance; his education was suitable to his
quality among men, having all the advantages the
schools and universities of his own country could give,
joined with the conversation of some of the most
knowing and considerable men of that time. His
natural abilities, the gifts of his Creator, excelled; he
was a man quick in apprehension, fruitful in conception,
of a lively wit and intelligence, but adorned with
an extraordinary mildness and engaging sweetness of
disposition.
His father's station in public business, gave him
pretensions enough to a share of this world's greatness;
but he, with blessed meek spirit of Moses, refused the
Egyptian glory of it, and chose rather a life dedicated
to an inquiry after God, and holy fellowship with him
and his despised Israel.
He was the eldest son of Isaac Penington Sr., of London, many
years an Alderman, and for two years successively Mayor of the
London, also a noted Member or the Long Parliament.
Very early did the Lord visit him, with more
than ordinary manifestations of His love; and it had
such an effect upon him, that it kept him both from
the evils and vain worships of the world; he became
the wonder of his kindred and familiars. for his awful
life and serious frequent retirements, declining all company that might interrupt his meditations. By thus
giving himself over to a life of mourning and pilgrimage,
he was as unpleasant to those of the world, as
they were to him. Nor did this sorrow flow from a
sense of former vice, for he was virtuous from his
childhood; but, with holy Habakkuk from the dread
he had of the majesty of God, and his desire to find a
resting place in the great day of trouble. Nothing in
these exercises gave him ease or comfort, but the
smiles of God's countenance upon his soul, and that be thirsted after with a continual solicitation; first:
‘How shall I appear?' and then, 'Oh that I may appear
before God!'
His inward exercises and enjoyments being of a
very peculiar nature, made him take little comfort in
any of the religious societies then known to Him. He
was as one alone; for be saw so much of that uncircumcised
and uncrucified flesh, which is as grass, professing
the mysteries of the heavenly kingdom; - I mean, people under but ordinary convictions, who had
never known Jacob's troubles, nor the fear and trembling
with which salvation is to be wrought out; - and
that, in religious duties, the spirit and abilities of man
took up so great a share among them, and the Spirit
of the Lord so little, With such he was often burdened,
and pressed in spirit to lay open their carnal
state under a Christian profession. For, though they
held the notions of Truth, it was not in the precious
experimental sense of the holy virtue and life of it;
insomuch, that he found it his duty to endeavor to
break their false peace, and bewilder their lofty wisdom
and professions rather approving of a state of
humble doubting, than hypocritical confidence. For,
the Lord's coming in spirit, without sin, to the salvation
of the soul, is to be waited for; that people may
truly know him and his work, and, from there, speak
forth his praise to others; rather than profess the
enjoyments of other saints, which have been obtained
through great tribulations, while they have never
known this in themselves and so, can have no true
sense of an acceptable sacrifice of God's preparing.
Such views drew reproach upon him from the worldly
professors, all a man singular and censorious; yet.
those who with him waited for the consolation of Israel,
and the coming of the Son of man in power and great
glory, found him out, valued, and honored him; and,
sweet was their fellowship to him, who boasted in
nothing more, than that they had nothing to boast of.
while the Laodicea of their age thought she wanted
nothing. In that emptiness, they waited to be filled of
Him, who fills all things at his coming and kingdom,
that they might be the witnesses of his resurrection
and appearance. Some of them died before that
blessed time came; some saw it, and were glad,
and with good old Simeon departed in peace; others
lived to see that blessed day both dawn and break
forth upon them, to their admiration and comfort;
among whom, my dear father-in-law, Isaac Penington,
was not the last, nor the least of note.
About the year 1657, it pleased the Lord to send
him a Peter, [George Fox] to declare to him, that a time of pouring
forth of the Holy Spirit, and breaking forth of a heavenly
work of God in the souls of men and women,
had come; and many Aquilas and Priscillas came
after, who instructed him in the way of God more
perfectly. Though he was advanced above many in
his knowledge of Scripture, and had formerly received
many heavenly openings of Truth's mysteries; yet,
did the Lord's, way of appearance disappoint his expectation.
And when the light broke forth in his heart,
which his sincerity longed for, he found in himself a
great mixture; and that he had much to lose and part
with, before he could become that blessed little child,
that new and heavenly birth, which inherits the kingdom
of God: this, indeed, made him cry. 'Narrow is
the way, and strait is the gate that leads to life.'
But, to the glory of the living God, and praise of
this just man's memory, let me say, - neither his
worldly station, (the most considerable of any, that had
closed in with his way of religion), nor the contradictions it gave to his former conceptions, nor the
debasement it brought upon his learning and wisdom,
nor yet that reproach and loss which attended his public
espousal of it, did deter him from embracing it.
With an humble and broken spirit, he fell before this
holy appearance of Jesus , - that true Light of men,
whose power and life he felt revealed within him, to
the saving of his soul , and boldly confessed this spiritual coming of the great Messiah, who was able to
teach him all things; to His name his knee truly
bowed, and with Nathaniel he could cry, 'You are
the Son of God, you are the King of Israel' Now,
he saw clearly between the precious and the vile in himself, between what was truly of God, in
his former exercises, and what was merely of man. He was not stiff nor stout in defense of his own
building, and former apprehensions; no, but sold all
for the 'pearl of great price,' and became willingly
'poor in spirit,' that he might enter ‘the kingdom of
God.' Thus, parting with all he had not received of
God, he received a new stock from heaven, in which
the Lord prospered him; the dew of heaven rested
upon his branch and root, he grew rich and fruitful
in all heavenly treasure; full of love, faith, mercy,
patience, and long-suffering; diligent in the work of
the Lord, and his duty to God and men. So much that,
I may say, he was one of a thousand; zealous, yet
tender; wise, yet humble; a constant and early
attendant at meetings, watchful and reverent in them;
one that ever loved power and life, more than word; and, as it was for that he waited, so would he be often
deeply affected with it, - even, enabled to utter such
testimonies, as were greatly to the help of the poor
and needy, the weary and heavy-laden, the true
sojourners and travelers to eternal rest. To this, his
writings as well as ministry tended; in which, it will
be easy for the reader to observe, his peculiar and
mighty love to the great professors of religion in these
kingdoms; whom carnal apprehensions or unjust prejudices, have hindered from closing with the blessed
Truth, as it is known and felt among us. His fervent
labor to remove these obstructions was with
such tenderness, yet great clearness, that I may venture
to style him their apostle; for, as in almost every
meeting, so in every book, the bent of his spirit was
towards them: - that those who made a more than
ordinary profession of God, - not without some ancient
touches of the divine grace, and experience of his
heavenly visitation, (though much extinguished by
human and worldly mixtures) - might come to know
what that was they once lasted of, how they lost it;
and which is the way to recover the living and full
enjoyment of it, - even, the inward knockings and
appearance of Jesus, the Saviour, to the salvation of
their souls. I pray God, they may answer his love:
for, he was much spent on their account; that so his
ministry, writings, travels, and tears, may not be matter
of charge and evidence against them in the day of
judgment.
As his outward man grew in age, his inward man
grew in grace, and in the knowledge of our dear Lord
and Saviour Jesus Christ, for the excellence of which,
he bad justly counted all things else but as dross and
dung. For it was observable, among them that rightly
knew him in his declining time, when the candle of
his natural life burnt more dim, his soul waxed
stronger, and, like a replenished lamp, shined with
greater luster; and truly, he had a double portion of
the Spirit upon him, being anointed with judgment
and zeal for the Lord, which appeared in two eminent
respects.
First, he was very urgent, that all those who knew
any thing of the heavenly gift of ministry to others,
would always wait in their several exercises, to be
endued with matter and power from on high, before
they opened their mouths in a testimony for the Lord.
And did, at all times, as well out of meetings as in
them, they might live so Dear the Lord, as to feel the
key of David opening the mysteries of the heavenly
kingdom; and, by experiencing the depth of the heavenly
travail, and the trials, deliverances, and consolations
of it,- with that dominion and victory that, in
the end, by perseverance is obtained, - they might be
as true saviors on mount Zion, the salt and lights of
the world, thoroughly furnished unto every good word
and work, and master builders in God's house : - that
a pure and living stream of ministry, might be continued
and conveyed to the generations to come, - that they might not only hear, but taste of what we have
known of the Word of life and work of redemption in
our age.
But, his excellence in the second respect, was his
fervent love to the heavenly union of brethren; whatever
struck at that, though under ever such specious
pretences, he no sooner perceived, however subtle the
mischievous working thereof, than with deep wisdom
he detected, and with his whole might opposed it.
For, though by nature he was long suffering, to a
degree of letting his mercy to others, almost wound
his own soul; yet, so deeply did his love to the Lord
and his people, and to that comely order in which God
had settled them, engage his soul; that he was bold as
a lion, Yes, warlike as a champion against that spirit,
that went up and down to sow jealousies, to smite and
reflect upon the holy care of the brethren, interpreting
their tender love and great pains, as if what was done
by them were not intended for the edification of the
body, but for the exaltation of some particular person
over it. This ingratitude and injustice his soul abhorred, and often he mourned for such as were so
seduced; as if it were the design of those that had
from the beginning laid themselves out in the service
of God and his people, to bring them at last to a blind
and unwarrantable subjection, that they themselves
might the better exercise dominion over them, This
evil eye he helped to put out; and, in his opposition to
this wandering and destroying spirit, that ever leads
out of the love and unity of brethren, he approved himself a valiant of Israel, a Phinehas for the God of
his salvation ;- and the rewards of heaven were
poured into his bosom; for his holy ministry manifestly
increased in life and power, and his peace flowed
as a river, and many were witnesses of his enlargements.
Let those that have lost their first love, and
are gone from their ancient habitation, ‘rage, and
imagine vain things,' if they will; surely, the travail,
and testimonies of this blessed man will be a witness
against them, that will not easily be silenced, and a
burden upon their backs. that will not readily be taken
off. Yet, because he desired not their destruction,
but prayed earnestly to the last for their return, let me
not while I am writing his character, fall short of his
compassions: no, I pray God also, with my whole
spirit, that they may repent, be contrite in heart, and
faithfully return, at which, if the angels in heaven
rejoice, certainly the spirits of the just, that dwell in
heavenly places, will abundantly rejoice too.
These two cares were chiefly and almost continually
before him. And as he was, in these respects,
a light in the church, so he was a blessing to his own
family; a loving husband, a very tender and prudent
father, a just and kind master, - I will and, a good
neighbor, and a most firm friend: of all unapt to
believe ill, never to report it, much less to do it to any;
a man that ruled his tongue, swift to hear, slow to
speak; but when he did speak, he was serious, yet
sweet, and not without cheer. What shall I say more?
For, great and many were the gifts God honored him
with, and with them he truly honored his profession.
Being thus fit to live, he was prepared to die, and
had nothing else to do, when that summons was served
upon him, which was in the 63rd year of his age; at
which time, it pleased the Lord, he fell very sick, under
a sharp and painful sickness, which hastened his
dissolution. However, to internal peace so well established,
the anguish of that bitter exercise could give
no shock; for he died, as he lived, in the faith that
overcomes the world; whose soul, being now released
from the confinements of time and frailties of mortality,
he ascended into the glorious freedom and undisturbed
joys of the just; where, with his holy brethren, the
patriarchs, prophets, apostles, and martyrs of Jesus, he
forever blesses and praises the God and Father of
the righteous generations by Jesus Christ, God's Lamb,
and our heavenly Redeemer - to whom with the
Father be all honor, glory, might, majesty, and
dominion, through every age of his church, and forever.
Amen.
WILLIAM PENN
Westminster,
12th of Twelfth Month, 1680-81.
Chapter I
General Background
ISAAC Penington was born about the year 1616,
heir, to use the words of his son-in-law William Penn,
to a fair inheritance. (Penn had married Gulielma Maria Springett, daughter of
Isaac Penington's wife by a former husband). It would be gratifying to trace
the steps of the childhood of a man, in whom the simplicity
of the child so long survived the weakness; but
until further search can be made, it must suffice to
learn from the same author, that his education was suitable
to his quality among men, and that he had all the
advantages that the schools and universities of his own
country could bestow; as well as such all arose from
the conversation of some of the most knowing and considerable men of the time. He arrived at manhood at
a period when England was agitated with the tempest
of civil commotion, by means of the discord between
Charles and his parliament; and all the father of
Penington was himself a violent partisan. The son, had
his temper inclined him to enter the lists, might probably
soon have arisen to eminence in the republic. But
he seems early to have set his mind on another contest
than the one for worldly power; and to have chosen
a life dedicated to an inquiry after God, and a holy fellowship with his despised people. He chose, he
sought, he strove, and he obtained; but had his choice
been to follow the path into which his father had entered,
disappointment would meet likely have been the
ultimate consequence.
The elder Penington had been
chief magistrate or the metropolis, he had raised the
forces of the city to join the parliament's army, he had
been entrusted with the charge of the Tower, and had
been one of the council of state; but the Restoration
reversed the condition of public affairs, and he died a
prisoner ill the fortress which he had formerly commanded.
But though Isaac Penington forbore to enter into
the contests which rent the nation, he was far from
being an unconcerned spectator of the misery of his
country. In this some of the tracts which he published
long before he joined the Society of Friends, bear
ample testimony. But he looked for the cause of the
evil rather in the depraved state or man's heart in general, than in any particular party or set of men.
When his son Isaac Penington,
Jr. was twenty-two years of age, we may
conceive what opportunities for worldly aggrandizement
the intervening twenty years, from 1638 to
1658, must have spread before the son of that
popular, wealthy, democratic politician. But of no
such opportunities did he avail himself; the aspirations
of the son were not directed by ambition;
they were deep and earnest, but not worldly; more
of the maternal than the paternal type. His
mother's heartfelt desires were rather for the religious
welfare, and the establishment of the Christian
character of her children, than for their elevation
in the world; and these feelings met a cordial
response in the mind of her eldest son. It is true
he did not ignore the importance of the great
political questions which so much engrossed his
father's attention, and which were so earnestly debated in that day. But whenever he wrote on
them, which was not often, he discussed them in reasonable and Christian spirit, untinctured by Puritan
bitterness.
One of his publications, written in 1651, which
treats of matters connected with national government,
is entitled The Fundamental Right, Safety, and Liberty of the People. In that he says,
alluding to a limited monarchy, "Though I shall
not plead for the resettlement of kingly government
(for I am not so far engaged in my affections
to it, as it yet has been) yet I would not
have any blame laid upon it beyond its desert;
for doubtless it has its advantages above any
other government, on one hand; as it has also
its disadvantages on the other hand." "Kingly
power did pass its limits - we may now speak of
it." He then goes on to query, "Does parliament
now keep within its right limits?" ... "and if things
should yet devolve lower, into the great and confused
body of the people, is it likely they would
keep their limits?" He shows that in establishing
justice the impossibility of the people acting for
themselves, and the impropriety of their representatives
in parliament assuming both legislative
and administrative powers. But under no circumstances would his conscience allow him to bind
himself to a party. He says, "There is not one
sort of men on the face of the earth to whom
I bear any enmity in my spirit; but I wish with
all my heart they might all attain and enjoy as
much peace, prosperity, and happiness as their state
will bear; and there are not any to whom I should
envy the power of government. But whoever they
are whom I saw fitted for it, and called to it, they
should have my vote on their behalf." He goes on
ito show that where the spirit of selfishness holds its
natural place in men's hearts, their government will
not promote spontaneously true freedom for others
who are under them; for when the selfish man has
great power, it will be exerted in promoting his own
aggrandizement, and the freedom of others only in
so far as it suits his selfish ends. Therefore he
maintained it was alone the change of heart from
sinful selfishness, to the desire after the promotion
of Christian righteousness among the national
governors, that could secure true justice to those
they governed.
Openly declaring such views, Isaac Penington
did not attach himself to any section, in that way
which would prevent him from pointing out what
he thought wrong in their proceedings. We cannot
wonder under these circumstances, that he was not
welcomed as a political writer by any of those who
were struggling for power; politics in their worldly
constructions and acceptations could not be long pursued by such a mind as his. Religion was his
home; and it was all religious subjects that his
heart and pen were chiefly engaged for many years
--laboring to promote righteousness in all things.
But in these efforts he met with much that was disheartening,
and finally his hopes became so much
depressed by the conclusions he drew from the Calvinistic
theology that had been presented to him as
gospel truths, that his energies for a time seemed
totally prostrated. In this depressed state he providentially
made the acquaintance of Lady Springett.
Her mind had more natural cheerfulness than
his; but, like his, was deeply impressed with the
consciousness that nothing on earth was worth
living for if the heart was not fixed in its trust in the
Lord, and in its desire to do his will on earth above
all things. With these feelings in her soul, she was
moving about amid the amusements and fashions
of London life, when she first became acquainted
with Isaac Penington. Before she met with him,
she had had many trying experiences in her search
after spiritual life. She was the widow of Sir
William Springett, who died when she was about
twenty years of age; and now she was about thirty,
Penington being eight years older.
Penington's acquaintance with Lady Springett
soon ripened into confidential friendship, and a
loving attachment succeeded. In 1654 they were
married. During the interval between their marriage and removal to the Grange in 1668, they first
became acquainted with the Quakers, or Friends of
Truth, as they originally designated themselves.
Isaac Penington's religious experience and his
religious conclusions, before his settlement at Chalfont,
are unfolded by his own words. He says:
“My heart from my childhood was pointed towards
the Lord, whom I feared and longed after from my
tender years. I felt that I could not be satisfied
with, nor indeed seek after the things of this perishing
world, but I desired a true sense of, and
unity with, what abides forever. There
was something still within me which leavened and
balanced my spirit almost continually; but I did not know it distinctly so as to turn to it, and give up to
it entirely and with understanding. In this temper of
mind I earnestly sought after the Lord, applying
myself to hear sermons, and read the best books I
could find, but especially the Scriptures,
which were very sweet and savory to me. Yes,
I very earnestly desired and pressed after the
knowledge of the Scriptures, but was much afraid
of receiving men's interpretations of them, or of
fastening any interpretations upon them myself;
but fasted much, and prayed much, that from the
Spirit of the Lord I might receive the true understanding
of them, and that He would endow me
with that knowledge which I might feel to be
sanctifying and saving.
And indeed I did sensibly receive of His love,
of His mercy, and of His grace; these at seasons
when I was most filled with the sense of my own
unworthiness, and had least expectation of the
manifestations of them. But I became exceedingly
entangled about election and reprobation; having
accepted that doctrine as it was then
held forth by the strictest of those that were termed
Puritans, fearing that, notwithstanding all my desires
and seeking after the Lord, He might in His
decree have passed by me. I felt it would be better
to me to bear His wrath, and be separated from
His love for evermore; yet if He had so decreed, it
would be, and I should, notwithstanding fair beginnings
and hopes, fall away, and perish at last."
Under the gloom of that awful perversion of
Christ's gospel to man, Isaac Penington's sensitive
mind suffered fearfully for years. Gleams of hope
and spiritual brightness at times shone through the
clouds, and brought some comfort to his mind; but
no settled peace, no full abiding sense of his Heavenly
Father's loving care kept possession of his
soul, so long as an apprehension of the truth of that
God-dishonoring doctrine continued to find any
place in his mind. But at length the time arrived
when the triumph of Christian truth drove out
that evil error, which, under one phase or another,
had tended in Penington's mind to destroy a
right sense of the supreme justice, love, and mercy
of the Lord. They who were made instrumental
in bringing about this happy change were not
among the learned theologians of that day, but
belonged to the Christian body before alluded to,
which rejected the systematic
theology taught by the professors of the
popular divinity. He describes the result of his
intercourse with the Quakers as follows :
At first acquaintance with this people, that
which was of God in me opened, and I immediately
in my spirit recognize them as children of my
Father, truly begotten of His life by His own spirit.
But the reasoning part presently rose up, contending
against their uncouth way, for which I did
disown them, and continued a stranger to them,
and a reasoner against them, for about twelve
months. By weighing and considering things in
that way, I was still further and further off from
discerning their leadings by the Spirit of God into
those things. But at length it pleased the Lord to
draw out His sword against that part in me, turning
the wisdom and strength of it backward; and
again to open that eye in me which He had
given me to see the things of His kingdom in some
measure from a child. And then I saw and felt
them woven in that Life and spirit which I, through
the treachery of the fleshly-wise part, had been
estranged from. And now, what bitter days of
mourning I have had over this, the Lord alone fully
knows. Oh! I have indeed known it to be a bitter
thing to follow this wisdom instead of that which could
make me truly understand the Scriptures. The
Lord has judged me for it, and I have borne a
burden and condemnation for what many in
this day wear as their crown.
In another place he speaks of having "now at
length met with the true way, and walked in that with the
Lord, where daily certainty, yes, full assurance
of faith and of understanding, is obtained."
"Blessed be the Lord! There are many in this day
who can truly and faithfully witness that they have
been brought by the Lord to this state. We have
by this learned of Him, not by the high, striving, aspiring
mind, but by lying low, and being contented
with a little; if only a crumb of bread, yet bread;
if only a drop of water, yet water. And we have
been contented with it, and thankful to the Lord
for it. Nor was it by thoughtfulness and wise
searching, or deep considering with our own wisdom
and reason that we obtained this; but in the
still, meek, and humble waiting have we found it."
There was in Isaac Penington's religious experience
much spiritual feeling; and occasionally we
find in his writings an amount of figurative expression
which has sometimes been called mysticism.
Whether it has a right to be so called, or
not, depends on the meaning we attach to the word.
If by mysticism in religion, we only mean an
earnest longing after, and very high enjoyment of
inward spiritual communion with God, and, in writing, frequent allusions to such spiritual experience, mingled with figurative phrases, we do not need to object
to its application to Penington. But if, as is more
commonly understood, we mean by religious mysticism
an ecstatic state of feeling, leading into what is
unpractical and mysterious, instead of a calming
influence that acts on the conscience and regulates
the whole moral life, Penington was no mystic.
That mysticism which looks at Bible history and
Gospel teaching through a haze that resolves them
into fanciful types and figures, dissipating the
simple truth and the obvious meaning of Holy
Scripture, could not correspond in any degree with
Penington's religion. He, though contemplative
and retiring, was a true practical Christian. In
common with the early Friends, he avoided using
terms which had originated in the dogmatic theology.
With them he wished to keep to Scripture
language, and to avoid artificial terms which were
liable to unscriptural fabrications.
It will be observed that he regarded that which
is now called Calvinism as having led his mind
into serious error, and away from the reverential
caution of his earlier days. It is in relation to its
teachings that he says, "I have known it, indeed, to
be a bitter thing to follow this wisdom, instead of that
which could make me truly to understand the
Scriptures." In some other instances he uses still
stronger language, when describing the mental
suffering and perplexities which had resulted from
his having been influenced by such doctrine, instead
of seeking and waiting reverentially and
trustingly for the enlightening influence of the
Holy Spirit. This Spirit he afterwards found to make
clear whatever was necessary to be cleared, so that "God's will was truly made known to the
heart in salvation, new life, and power."
The unsatisfied feeling with regard to spiritual
communion with God, which for so many years was
endured both by Isaac Penington and his wife,
does not appear to have arisen, out of, or to have
been accompanied by, a sense of unforgiven sin.
Circumstances indicate that in both cases the Lord
was leaving them to pass through necessary experiences,
until that degree of insight was acquired
which prepared them to fill their allotted positions
in the church. Isaac Penington became an eminent
preacher of the Gospel among the Friends,
and also a tireless writer. He was ever
ready to put forth his literary powers and gentle
persuasive influence, in defense of that spiritual
religion and gospel Truth which had brought so
much comfort to his own soul. Mary Penington
seems to have been in a special manner fitted to
be a true helpmate to him; her practical business
capacity supplying what was less active in him.
United they went forward with abiding trust in
their Heavenly Father's love and care, their spiritual
life being made strong in the Lord. To the
inquiry, years after he had joined the Friends, if he
were truly satisfied with the spiritual privileges
he enjoyed, Isaac Penington replied, "Yes, indeed;
I am satisfied at the very heart. Truly my heart is
now united to Him whom I longed after, in an everlasting
covenant of pure life and peace."
Of the early Puritans he retained a high appreciation
and affectionate remembrance; but he regarded
them as having eventually missed their way
in some religious matters of great importance to
spiritual life. He says: "There was among them
great sincerity, and love, and tenderness, and unity
in what was true; minding the work of God
in themselves, and being sensible of grace and truth
in one another's hearts, before there was such a rent
among them. By degrees forms and different
ways of worship grew among them, and the virtue
and power of godliness decreased, and they were
swallowed up in high esteem of and contending
each sort for their own forms, while themselves
had lost a sense of what they were inwardly to
God, and what they had inwardly received from
God in the days of their former zeal and tenderness. Oh! that they could see this. Oh! that
they could return to their early Puritan state, to
the love and tenderness that was then in them.
May the Lord open again the true spiritual eye in
them, and give them to see with it!"
When Isaac Penington had anchored on what he
felt to be gospel Truth, he was tireless in his
efforts to draw others into that state which had
brought him so much consolation and clearness of
spiritual vision. Especially dreading that teaching
which did not dwell on or lead to a consciousness
of the absolute necessity of the purification of the
heart and conduct, he became very close and
earnest in pressing home the worthlessness of religious belief which did not bring forth holiness
of' life. Many of his letters addressed to acquaintances
under these feelings still exist. Some
of them were to persons now quite unknown, and
various others to his own relatives, including several in serious conflict with his father, a Puritan, [it should be noted, that Isaac Penington had probably not yet entered the Kingdom at this early date; nor had he the benefit of Fox's admonitions to: do not contend with those out of the truth, and do not educate the wise - unless specifically directed by the Holy Spirit as to exactly what to do, and when to do it. If someone asks, you should be ready to give a reason for your hope of union and entering the Kingdom, but only if asked.]
An
event was then approaching in the nation's history
which must have claimed the utmost attention and
interest of Alderman Penington. Whether amid
that anxiety the correspondence between him and
his eldest son extended any further, or was ever
renewed, it is now impossible to ascertain.
When Richard Cromwell had proved himself unequal
to the task of holding the reins of government
which had been placed in his hands, one popular
change succeeded another without any consolidation
of central authority. Most of those who had
sat as the late king's judges could read in the signs
of the times the probable restoration of the Stuart
dynasty. That thought brought more terror to
many hearts than they were inclined to manifest.
At length the crisis came, and on the first day of
May, 1660, the famous declaration of Charles the
Second from Breda was presented by his commissioner
to both Houses of Parliament; and also to
the city authorities, and through them to the nation.
The royal promise of indemnity which it contained
raised for a few days the drooping hopes of those
who had most to fear. Thus the indemnity
clause announced :
We do by these presents
declare that we do grant a free and general pardon,
which we are ready on demand to pass under our
great seal of England to all our subjects whatever,
who within forty days after the publishing hereof
shall lay hold on this our grace and favor, and
shall by any public act declare their doing so, and
that they return to the loyalty and obedience of
good subjects; excepting only such persons as shall
hereafter be excepted by parliament - those only
to be excepted. Let all our subjects, however faulty, rely upon the word of a king solemnly
given by this present declaration, that no crime
whatsoever committed against us, or our royal
father, before the publication of this, shall ever
rise in judgment, or be brought in question against
any of them, to the least endangerment of them
either in their lives, liberties, or estates, (as far as
lies in our power) or so much as the prejudice of
their reputations.
Of the original members of the Parliamentary
High Court of Justice, which condemned the late
King, forty-eight were still living; and nineteen of these, relying upon the word of a king so solemnly
set forth, delivered themselves up as accepting
pardon and promising allegiance to Charles the
Second. Of the remaining twenty-nine, who could
not rely on the royal promise as sufficient to ensure
pardon, a few secreted themselves in England
-the others immediately went abroad. Alderman
Penington was one of the nineteen who, relying
on the word of the King, came in before
the expiration of the forty days. On the 8th of
May the two Houses of Parliament proclaimed
Charles the Second, King of England, Scotland,
and Ireland, and on the twenty-fifth he arrived
at Dover.
Before the arrival of the King, the Parliament,
anxious to prove to him its great loyalty, decided
that all they who had sat as his father's judges
should be imprisoned and brought to trial; and
also everyone who in an official capacity had had
anything to do with his accusation or execution.
About three months after the kingdom was
restored to Charles, twenty-nine persons were
brought to trial, and condemned to death as regicides.
Included in the twenty-nine were the nineteen
trusting ones who had given themselves up
on his declaration of indemnity. Of the nineteen,
fourteen were spared from death, the punishment
being changed to imprisonment for life, and all
their property and estates were confiscated. Ten,
among whom were six who had signed the king's
death-warrant, and four officials, were condemned
to death, and suffered execution.
Alderman Penington, with the thirteen others,
was committed as a prisoner to that Tower over
which he once ruled as an honorable and executive
governor; but his duration there was cut short
by hard usage. Sir John Robinson, Lieutenant of
the Tower, was devoid of, humanity and of principle;
and the treatment to which he subjected the
prisoners was consistent with his character. Lucy
Hutchinson, in the memoirs of her husband, Colonel
Hutchinson, says :
The gentlemen who were the
late king's judges, and who were decoyed to surrender themselves to custody by the Houses'
proclamation, were kept in miserable bondage
under that inhuman, bloody jailer, the Lieutenant
of the Tower, who stifled some of them to death
for want of air; and, when they had not one penny
but what was given them to support their families,
(all their estates being confiscated), exacted from
them rates for bare unfurnished prison rooms; of
some, forty pounds for one miserable chamber; of
others, double; beside unjust fees, for to raise
'"Which their poor wives were obliged to engage their
jointures, or make other miserable shifts. And yet
this rogue had all this while three pounds a week
paid out of the Exchequer for everyone of them."
This unscrupulous man, Sir John Robinson, will
come under our notice again.
It was in October that the regicides were condemned
and their estates confiscated. In the State
Papers belonging to that period, which have recently
been published, I find this entry, " December
7th, 1660: Petition of George, Bishop of
Worcester, to the King, for the grant of a lease of
tenements in Whitefriars belonging to the bishopric,
value eighty pounds a year, forfeited by Isaac
Penington, late Alderman of London." And again,
"August 8th, 1661; Grant to George, Bishop of
Worcester, of five houses, etc. in Whitefriars,
near Fleet-street, lately belonging to Isaac Penington, attainted of treason." In the Gentleman's
Magazine it is stated that Alderman Penington's
estates, among which was the seat of the Shurlows,
called The Place, being confiscated, were given
by Charles the Second to the Duke of Grafton.
Finally, we have in the State Papers, under the
date of "Dec. 19th, 1661; Warrant to Sir John
Robinson, Lieutenant of the Tower, to deliver the
corpse of Isaac Penington, Sr. who died in prison there,
to his relations."
Neither record nor relic beyond what has been
introduced, have I been able to discover of the condemned
alderman, Isaac Penington, except that
his silver drinking cup has for many years been in
possession of his American descendants. It is now
the property of Edward Penington of Philadelphia.
It has on it the Tower stamp, the initials I. P.,
and the date 1642, the year in which he was chosen
Lord Mayor of London.
Chapter II
Isaac Penington's Spiritual Journey
Isaac Penington was a prolific writer, and has left us several descriptions of his spiritual walk, through many frustrations, toils, and snares - through many sects - through loneliness - through trying to find God by searching the Scriptures, and finally through hearing the preaching of George Fox, describing the way he must walk to find his beloved. From there his journey truly began, with the pains and joys of death of self on the cross of Christ. He begins:"I was acquainted," says he,
"with a spring of life
from my childhood, which enlightened me in my tender
years, and pointed my heart towards the Lord, begetting
true sense in me, and faith, and hope, and love, and humility,
and meekness so that indeed I was a wonder
to some that knew me, because of the savor and life of
religion which dwelt in my heart, and appeared in my
conversation. But I never dared trust the spring of my
life and the springings up of life there from: but in
reading the scriptures, I gathered what knowledge I
could, and set this over the spring and
springings of life in me; and indeed judged that I ought
to do so. Notwithstanding which, the Lord was very
tender and merciful to me, helping me to pray, and helping
me to understand the scriptures, and opening and
warming my heart every day. And truly, my soul was
very near the Lord, and my heart was made and preserved
very low and humble before Him, and very sensible
of his rich love and mercy to me in the Lord Jesus
Christ: as I did daily from my heart cry grace, grace,
unto Him, in everything my soul received and partook
of from Him.
Indeed I did not look to have been so broken, shattered,
and distressed, as I afterwards was, and could
by no means understand the meaning thereof, my heart
truly and earnestly desiring after the Lord, and not
having the sense of any guilt upon me.- At that time,
when was broken and dashed to pieces in my religion,
I was in a congregational way; but soon after
parted with them, yet in great love, relating to them how
the hand of the Lord was upon me, and how I was
smitten in the inward part of my religion, and could not
now hold up an outward form of what I inwardly
wanted; having lost my God, my Christ, my faith, my
knowledge, my life, my all. And so we parted very
lovingly I wishing them well, (even that they might have the presence of that God whom I wanted), promising to return to them, if ever I met with that which my soul wanted,
and had clearness in the Lord to do.
After I had parted from them, I never joined to
any way or people; but lay mourning day and night,
pleading with the Lord. why he had forsaken me, and
why I should be made so miserable through my love to
him and sincere desires after him. For truly, I can say I had not been capable of so much misery as my soul lay in for many years, had not my love been so and true towards the Lord my God, and my desires so great
after the sensible enjoyment of his Spirit,
according to the promise and way of the gospel. Yet
this I can also say in uprightness of heart, it was not
gifts I desired, to appear and shine before men in; but
grace and holiness, and the Spirit or the Lord dwelling
me," to act my heart by his grace, and to preserve
me in holiness.
Now indeed the Lord at length had compassion on
me, and visited me: though in a time and way in which
I expected Him not; nor was I willing (as to the natural
part) to have that the way, which God showed me to be the way; but the Lord opened my eye, and that
which I know to be of Him in me closed with it, and
owned it; and the pure seed was raised by his power,
and my heart taught to know and own the seed. and to
bow and worship before the Lord in the pure power,
which was then in my heart. So that of a truth I sensibly
knew and felt my Saviour, and was taught by Him
to lake up the cross, and to deny that understanding,
knowledge, and wisdom, which had so long stood in my
way; and then I learned that lesson (being really
taught it of the Lord), what it is indeed to become a
fool for Christ's sake. I cannot say but I had learned
somewhat of it formerly; but I never knew how to
keep to what I had learned until that day.
In the sense of my lost estate,” thus Penington proceeds,
I sought after the Lord; I read the scriptures;
I watched over my own heart; I cried unto the
Lord for what I felt the want of; I blessed his name
in what He mercifully did for me, and bestowed on
me. Whatever I read in the scriptures, in the way
of God from my understanding, I gave myself to the faithful
practice of; being contented to meet with all the
reproach, opposition, and several kinds of sufferings,
which it pleased the Lord to measure out to me.
I cannot but say that the Lord was good to me, and
did visit me, did teach me, did help me, did testify
his acceptance of me many times, to the refreshing
and joy of my heart before him.
But my soul was not satisfied with what I met,
nor indeed could be, there being further quickenings
and pressings in my spirit, after a more full
certain, and satisfactory knowledge; even after the
sense, sight, and enjoyment of God, as was testified in
the scriptures to have been felt and enjoyed in the
former times; for I saw plainly that there was a stop
of the the streams, and a great falling short of the power,
life and glory, which they partook of. We had not so
the Spirit, nor were so in the faith, nor did so walk
and live in God, as they did. They were come to
Mount Zion, and the heavenly Jerusalem, which
we had hardly so much as the literal knowledge or apprehension what they were. So that I saw the whole
course of religion among us was, for the most part, but
a talk, compared to what they felt, enjoyed, possessed, and lived in.
This sense made me sick at heart indeed, and
set me upon deep crying to God close searching the
scriptures, and waiting on God, that I might receive
the pure sense and understanding of them, from and in
the light, and by the help of his Spirit. And what the
Lord did bestow on me in that state, with thankfulness I remember
before Him at this very day; for He was
my God, and he pitied me, and was a watcher over me;
though He had not then pleased to direct me how to
stay my mind upon Him. And then I was led, (indeed
I was led, I did not run of myself) ,into a way of separation
from the worship of the world, into a gathered
society; for this both the scripture and the Spirit of
God in me gave testimony unto; and what we then
met with, and what leadings and help we then felt,
there is a remembrance and testimony in my heart to
this day. But there was somewhat wanting, and we
mistook our way, for when we should have pressed
forward into the spirit and power, we ran too much
outward into the letter and form; and though the Lord
in many things helped us, yet for that He was against
us, and brought darkness, confusion, and scattering upon
us. I was sorely broken and darkened, and in this
darkened state sometimes lay still for a long season, secretly mourning, and crying out to the Lord, night and
day.
Sometimes I ran about, listening after what
might appear or break forth in others; but never met
with anything where there was the least answer in
my heart, save in one people, who had a touch of truth;
but I never expressed s0 much to any of them, nor indeed
felt them at all able to reach my condition. At
last, after all my distresses, wanderings, and sore travails,
I met with some writings of this people called
Quakers, which I cast a slight eye upon and disdained,
as falling very short of that wisdom, light, life, and
power which I had been longing for, and searching after.
I had likewise, some pretty distance of time after
this, opportunity of meeting with some of them; and
several of them were by the Lord moved (I know it to
be s0 since) to come to me. As I remember, at the very
first, they reached to the life of God in me; which
life answered their voice, and caused a great love in
me to spring to them; but still in my reasonings with
them, and disputes alone (in my mind) concerning them,
I was very far off from owning them as so knowing the
Lord, or so appearing in his life and power, as my condition needed, and as my soul waited for. Yes, the
more I conversed with them, the more I seemed in my
understanding and reason to get over them, and to trample
them under my feet, as a poor, weak, silly, contemptible
generation, who had some smattering of Truth
in them, and some honest desires towards God; but
very far off from the clear and full understanding of his
way and will. And this was the effect almost of every
discourse with them: they still reached my heart, and
I felt them in the secrets of my soul; which caused the
love in me always to continue, yes, sometimes to increase
towards them; but daily my understanding got
more and more over them, and in this daily, I more and
more despised them. After a long time, I was invited
to hear one of them (as I had been often, they in tender
love pitying me, and feeling my want of what
they possessed); and there was an answer in my heart,
and I went with fear and trembling, with desires to the
Most High, who was over all and knew all, that I
might not receive anything for truth which was not of
Him, nor withstand anything which was of Him: but
might how before the appearance of the Lord my God,
and none other. And, indeed, when I came, I felt the
presence and power of the Most High among them, and
words of truth from the spirit of truth reaching to my
heart and conscience, opening my state as in the presence
of the Lord. [This was George Fox speaking at John Crook’s]. I not only felt words and
demonstrations from without; but I felt the dead
quickened, the Seed raised; so much that my heart,
(in the certainty of light, and clearness of true sense),
said: This is He, this is He, there is no other. This is He
whom I have waited for and sought after from my childhood;
who was always near me , and had often begotten life
in my heart; but I knew Him not distinctly, nor how to
receive Him or dwell with Him. And, then in this
sense, (in the melting and breakings of my spirit), was I
opened up to the Lord, to become his, both in waiting
for the further revealing of his Seed in me, and to serve
Him in the life and power of his Seed.
Now what I met with after this in my travails, in
my waitings, in my spiritual exercises, is not to be uttered;
only in general I may say this, I met with the
very strength of hell. The cruel oppressor roared upon
me, and made me feel the bitterness of his captivity,
while he had any power. Yes, the Lord was far from
my help, and from the voice of my roaring. I also met
with deep subtitles and devices to entangle me in that
wisdom which seemed able to make wise in the things
of God; but indeed is foolishness, and a snare to the
soul, bringing it back into captivity. where the enemy's
skills prevail. And what I met with outwardly
from my own dear father, from my kindred, from my
servants, from the people and powers of the world, for
no other cause but fearing my God, worshipping Him
as He has required of me, and bowing to his Seed,
which is his Son. who is to be worshipped by men and
angels for evermore, the Lord my God knows, before
whom my heart and ways are; who preserved me in
love to them, in the midst of all I suffered from them,
and does still so preserve me; blessed be his pure and
holy name. But some may desire to know what I have
at last met with. I answer, I have met with the Seed. Understand that word, and you will be satisfied, and
inquire no further. I have met with my God. I have
met with my Savior, and He has not been present
with me without his salvation; but I have felt the healing
drop upon my soul from under his wings. I have
met with the true knowledge, the knowledge of life,
the living knowledge, the knowledge which is life,
and this has had the true virtue in it, which my soul
has rejoiced in, in the presence of the Lord. I have
met with the Seed's Father, and in the Seed I have felt
him my Father. There I have read his nature, his
love, his compassion, his tenderness, which have melted,overcome, and changed my heart before Him. I
have met with the Seed's faith, which has done and
does that, which the faith of man can never do. I have
met with the true birth, with the birth which is heir of
the kingdom, and inherits the kingdom, I have met with the true spirit of prayer and supplication, in which the
Lord is prevailed with, and which draws from Him
whatever the condition needs: the soul always looking
up to Him in the will, and in the time and way, which
is acceptable with Him. What shall I say? I have met
with the true peace, the true righteousness, the true
holiness, the true rest of the soul, the everlasting habitation,
which the redeemed dwell in; and I know all
these to be true, in Him that is true: and am capable
of no doubt, dispute, or reasoning in my mind about
them; it abiding there where it has received the full
assurance and satisfaction. And also I know very well
and distinctly in spirit where the doubts and disputes
are, and where the certainty and full assurance is; and
in the tender mercy of the Lord am preserved out of
the one, and in the other.
Now, the Lord knows, these things I do not utter in
a boasting way; but would rather be speaking of my
nothingness, my emptiness, my weakness, my manifold
infirmities which I feel more than ever. The Lord
has broken the man's part in me, and I am a worm
and no man before Him. I have no strength to do any
good or service for Him; no, I cannot watch over or
preserve myself. I feel daily that I do not keep my own soul alive;
but am weaker before men, yes, weaker
in my spirit, as in myself, than I have ever been. But
I cannot but utter to the praise of my God, and I feel
his arm stretched out for me and my weakness, which
I feel in myself, is not my loss, but advantage before
Him. And these things I write, as having no end at all
in them of my own, but felt it this morning required of
me; and so in submission and subjection to my God
have I given up to do it, leaving the success and service
of it with him."
Aylesbury, 15th 3d Mo. 1667
We have another description, written at a different time, of his walk:“My heart from my childhood," says he,
“was pointed
towards the Lord, whom I cared, and looked after,
from my tender years: wherein I felt that I could not
be satisfied with (nor indeed seek after) the things of
this perishing world, which naturally pass away:
but I desired true sense of and unity with, that which
abides forever. There was somewhat indeed then
still within me (even the Seed of eternity) which leavened
and balanced my spirit almost continually; but
I knew it not distinctly, so as to turn to it, and give
up to it, entirely and understandingly.
In this temper of mind I earnestly sought after the
Lord, applying myself to hear sermons, and read the
best books I could meet with, but especially the scriptures,
which were very sweet and savory to me. Yes,
I very earnestly desired and pressed after the knowledge
of the Scriptures, but was much afraid of receiving
men's interpretations of them, or of fastening any
interpretation upon them myself; but waited much.
and prayed much, that, from the Spirit of the Lord, I
might receive the true understanding of them, and that
lie would chiefly endue me with that knowledge, which
might feel sanctifying and saving.
And indeed I did sensibly receive or his love, of his
mercy, and of his grace, which I felt still freely to move
towards me: and at seasons when I was most filled
with the sense of my own unworthiness, and had least
expectations of the manifestations of them. But I was
exceedingly entangled about Election and Reprobation,
(having drunk in that doctrine of predestination, as it was then
held forth by the strictest of those that were termed
Puritans ; and as then seemed to be very manifest and
positive, from Rom 10), fearing lest, notwithstanding
all my desires and seekings after the Lord, He
might in his decree have passed me by; and I felt it
would be bitter to me to bear his wrath, and be separated
from his love for evermore; yet, if He had so decreed,
it would be; and I should, (notwithstanding these
fair beginnings and hopes), fall away and perish at the
last.
In this great trouble and grief (which was much
added to by not finding the Spirit of God so in me and
with me, as I had read and believed the former Christians
had it,) and in mourning over and grappling with
secret corruptions and temptations, I spent many years,
and fell into great weakness of body; and, often casting
myself upon my bed, did wring my hands and weep
bitterly: begging earnestly of the Lord daily, that I
might be pitied by Him, and helped against my enemies.
and be made conformable to the image of his Son, by
his own renewing power.
And indeed at last (when my nature was almost
spent, and the pit of despair was even closing its mouth
upon me),' mercy sprang, and deliverance came, and
the Lord my God owned me, and sealed his love unto
me, and light sprung within me; which made not only
the scriptures, but the very outward creatures glorious
in my eye: so that every thing was sweet and pleasant,
and lightsome round about me. But I soon felt that
this estate was too high and glorious for me, and I was
not able to abide in it, it so overcame my natural spirits.
Wherefore, blessing the name of the Lord for his
great goodness to me, I prayed to Him to take that
from me which I was not able to bear; and to give me
such a proportion of his light and presence, as was
suitable to my present state, and might fit me for his
service. Whereupon this was presently removed from
me; yet a savor remained with me, in which I had
sweetness, and comfort, and refreshment for a long season.
But my mind did not then know how to turn to,
and dwell with what gave me the savor; nor
rightly to read what God did daily write in my heart;
which sufficiently manifested itself to be of Him, by its
living virtue, an pure operation upon me.
But I looked upon the scriptures to be my rule, and
s0 would weigh the inward appearances of God to me,
by what was outwardly written; and dared not receive
anything from God immediately, as it sprang from the
fountain. but only in that mediate way. Herein did I
limit the Holy One of Israel. and exceedingly hurt
my own soul, as I afterwards felt, and came to understand.
Yet the Lord was tender to me, and condescended
exceedingly, opening scriptures to me freshly every day,
teaching and instructing, warming and comforting my
heart by this. And truly He did help me to pray,
to believe, and to love Him and his appearances in any;
yes, to love all the sons of men, and all his creatures,
with a true love. But that in me which knew not the
appearances of the Lord in my spirit, but would limit
Him to words of Scriptures formerly written, - that
proceeded yet further, and would be raising a fabric of
knowledge out of the scriptures, and gathering a perfect rule (as I thought) concerning my heart, my words,
my ways, my worship: and according to what I thus
drank in (after this manner from the scriptures.) I practiced,
and with much seriousness of spirit, and prayer
to God, fell a helping to build an independent congregation,
in which the savor 0f life and the presence
of God was fresh with me; as I believe there are yet
some alive of that congregation can testify.
This was my state, when I was smitten, broken,
and distressed by the Lord, confounded in my worship,
confounded in my knowledge, stripped of all in one day
(which it is hard to utter), and was a matter of amazement
to all that beheld me. I lay open and naked to all that
would inquire of me, and strive to search out what
might be the cause the Lord should deal so with me.
They would at first be jealous that I had sinned and
provoked him so to do it; but when they had scanned
things thoroughly, and I had opened my heart nakedly
to them, I do not remember anyone that ever retained
that sense concerning me. My soul remembers the
wormwood and gall, the exceeding bitterness of that
state, and is still humbled in me, in the remembrance of
it before the Lord. Oh! how did I wish with Job,
that I might come before Him, and knowingly plead with
Him; for indeed I had no sense of any guilt upon me,
but was sick of love towards Him, and as one violently
rent from the bosom of his beloved ! Oh, how gladly
would I have met with death! For I was weary all
the day long, and afraid of the night, and weary
also of the night-season, and afraid of the ensuing
day.
I remember my grievous and bitter mourning to
the Lord. How often I did say, 0 Lord, Why have
You forsaken me? Why have You broken me to pieces?
I had no delight but You, no desire after any but
You. My heart was bent wholly to serve You, and
You have even fitted me (as appeared to my sense) by
many deep exercises and experiences for your service.
Why do You make me thus miserable? Sometimes
I would cast mine eye upon a scripture, and my heart
would even melt within me. At other times I would
desire to pray to my God as I had formerly done; but
I found I knew Him not, and I could not tell how to
pray, or in any wise to come near Him, as I had formerly
done. In this condition I wandered up and
down from mountain to hill, from one sort to another,
with a cry in my spirit, Can you tell news of my beloved?
Where does He dwell? Where does he appear? But their voices were still strange to me; and I should
retire sad and oppressed, and bowed down in spirit,
from them."
Now surely, all serious, sober, sensible people will
be ready to .inquire how I came satisfyingly to know
the Lord at length: or whether I do yet certainly
know Him, and am yet truly satisfied.
Yes indeed, I am satisfied at my very heart. Truly
my heart is united to Him whom I longed after, in
an everlasting covenant of pure life and peace.
Well then, some will say how came this about!
Why, thus? The Lord opened my spirit. The Lord
gave me the certain and sensible feeling of the pure
Seed, which had been with me from the beginning.
The Lord caused his holy power to fall upon me, and
gave me such an inward demonstration and feeling of
the Seed of life, that I cried out in my spirit, This is He, this is He, there is not another, there never was another He was always near me, though I knew Him not, (not so sensibly, not so distinctly, as now He was revealed
in me, and to me by the Father). O that I might now be joined to Him, and He alone might live in me!
And so, in the willingness which God had wrought in
me, (in this day of his power to my soul), I gave up to
be instructed, exercised, and led by Him, in the waiting
for and feeling of his holy Seed, that all might be
wrought out of me which could not live with the Seed,
but would be hindering the dwelling and reigning of
the Seed in me, while it remained and had power. And
so I have gone through a sore travail, and fight of afflictions
and temptations of many kinds; wherein the
Lord has been merciful to me, in helping me, and preserving
the spark of life in me, in the midst of many
things which had befallen me, whose nature tended to
quench and extinguish it.
Now thus having met with the true way, and walked with the Lord therein, wherein daily certainty, yes,
and full assurance of faith and of understanding is at
length obtained, I cannot be silent, (true love and pure
life stirring in me and moving me), but am necessitated
to testify of it to others; and this is it: - To retire inwardly,
and wait to feel somewhat of the Lord, somewhat
of his holy spirit and power, discovering, and
drawing from that which is contrary to Him, and into
his holy nature and heavenly image. And then, as the
mind is joined to this, somewhat is received, some true
life, some true light, some true discerning; which the
creature not exceeding, (but abiding in the measure of),
is safe. But it is easy erring from this, but hard abiding with it, and not going before its leadings. But he
that feels life, and begins in life, does he not begin safely!
And he that waits and fears, and goes on no further
than his captain goes before him, does he not proceed
safely : Yes, very safely, even until he comes to
be so settled and established in the virtue, demonstration,
and power of Truth, as nothing can prevail to
shake Him.
Now, blessed be the Lord, there are many at this
day who can truly and faithfully witness, that they
have been brought by the Lord to this state. And thus
have we learned of the Lord; namely, not by the high
striving, aspiring mind: but by lying low, and being
contented with a little. If but a crumb of bread, (yet
if bread), if but a drop of water, (yet if water), we
have been contented with it, and also thankful to the
Lord for it; nor by thoughtfulness, and wise searching
and deep considering with our own wisdom and reason
have we obtained it; but in the still, meek, and humble
waiting, have we found that brought into the death,
which is not to know the mysteries of God's kingdom;
and that which is to live, made alive, and increase
in life.
Therefore he that would truly know the Lord, let
him take warning of his own reason and understanding. I tried this way very far, for I considered most seriously
and uprightly. I prayed, I read the scriptures, I
earnestly desired to understand and find out whether what this people, called Quakers, testified of, was
the only way and truth of God, (as they seemed to me
but to pretend). But for all this, prejudices multiplied
upon me, and strong reasonings against them, which
appeared to me as unanswerable. But when the Lord
revealed his Seed in me, and touched my heart with it, which administered true peace and virtue to me, I
presently felt them there the children of the Most High,
and so grown up in his life, power, and holy dominion,
(as the inward eye, being opened by the Lord, sees),
as drew forth from me great reverence of heart, and
praises to the Lord, who had so appeared among men
in these latter days.
And as God draws, in any respect, to himself, I give up
in faithfulness to Him. Despise the shame, take up the
cross: for indeed it is a way which is very cross to man,
and which his wisdom will many be exceedingly ashamed: but that must be denied and turned from, and the secret, sensible drawings of God's Spirit waited for and
given up to. Mind, people, He that would come into the
new covenant, must come into the obedience of it. The light of life, which God has hidden in the heart, is
the covenant; and from this covenant God does not
give knowledge, to satisfy the vast, aspiring, comprehending
wisdom of man; but living knowledge, to feed
what is quickened by Him; which knowledge is
given in the obedience, and is very sweet and precious
to the state of him that knows how to feed upon it.
Yes, truly, this is of a very excellent, pure, precious
nature; and a little of it weighs down that great, vast
knowledge in the comprehending part, which the man's
spirit and nature so much prizes and presses after.
And truly, friends, I witness at this day a great
difference between the sweetness of comprehending the
knowledge of things as expressed in the scriptures,
(this I fed much on formerly); and tasting the hidden
life, the hidden manna in the heart, (which is my food
now, blessed forever be the Lord my God and Saviour).
Oh, that others had a true, certain and sensible taste
of the life, virtue, and goodness of the Lord, as it is revealed
there. Surely it could not but kindle the true hunger;
and inflame the true thirst; which can never be
satisfied but by the true bread, and by water from the
living fountain. This the Lord (in the tenderness of
his love, and in the riches of his grace and mercy), has
brought us to; and this we earnestly and uprightly desire
and endeavor, that others may be brought to also;
that they may rightly (in the true silence of the
flesh, and in the pure stillness of spirit, wait for, and in
the Lord's due time receive, that which answers the
desire of the awakened mind and soul, and satisfies
it with the true, precious substance for evermore.
Amen.
CHAPTER III
Mary Penington's Spiritual Journey
His wife, Mary Penington's early experiences were different, but just as instructive to the necessary in relating yet another's experience in unmasking of the false ways, before the true way can be seen and followed.
Mary Penington also had been religiously inclined
from her childhood, and had been brought up in a family
in which the forms, at least, of religion were observed
with great strictness. While yet a child she was one
day much struck with hearing a sermon read, on the
text, "Pray continually." The writer, among other
benefits of prayer, had observed that it was an exercise
in which the saints were distinguished from the
world; for, though the world could in many things hypocritically
imitate them, yet in prayer it could not. This forcibly wrought on her mind, for she knew that
the printed prayers which she used, were such as the
world also could use; and she therefore, with sorrow,
concluded herself to be yet unacquainted with true
prayer. When the reader had finished, and she was
left alone in the room, she threw herself on the bed,
crying out aloud, Lord, what is prayer? At this time,
she could barely write, and could scarcely
join her letters; but, having heard that some persons
wrote prayers for their own use, she penned one to
serve her as a morning supplication, The subject fit
was, that “as the Lord had commanded the Israelites to offer up a morning sacrifice, so she offered the sacrifice
of prayer and desired preservation for the day."
She while in this practice, and wrote two other
Prayers, but doubt crept in here also and she began
to think true prayer was extemporaneous. Extemporaneous
prayer, therefore, she attempted, but found
that she could not always pray. Sometimes she kneeled
long, but could not utter a word. At length one
day, she heard of the sentences of Prynne, Bestwick,
and Burton, three eminent sufferers in the persecution
under Archbishop Laud, in the reign of Charles I. The
sad relation of the lot of these men sunk deep into her
mind, and cries were raised in her, (or them and all the
innocent people in the nation. She went into a private
room and shutting the door, poured out her soul to the
Lord they are her own words), in a vehement manner
for considerable time, being wonderfully melted. In
this, she felt ease, peace, and acceptance, knowing assuredly that this was true prayer.
Soon after this she entirely refused to join in the common prayer read in the family, or to kneel in the place of public worship; but went on foot two or three miles, regardless of the weather, to hear a puritan minister to pray, who prayed extemporaneously. About this time she also avoided vain company, declined the use of cards and similar amusements, was strict in observance of what was termed the Sabbath, and would not even eat on that day such things as took up much time to prepare.
As she advanced in life she rejected several offers of marriage, on account of the want of religion which she perceived in her suitors; and at length married a young man of respectable family named Springett; intent, like herself , to avoid superstition in religion, and on whose
long acquaintance had proved worthy of her. She did not live long with her first husband, who, being a colonel of foot in the Parliament, died of fevers at his quarters Arundel. Mary Springett was with child, at the time of her husband's death, of her daughter Gulielma, (who afterwards became the wife of William Penn). Upon her birth, the practice of sprinkling infants as a baptism, was so objectionable to her, that she refused to have her subjected to the ceremony, which was severely criticized by her father and the peers of her society; they sent several ministers to try to convince her of the necessity, but they spoke in vain.
Thus she stood her ground against the formality of a ceremony without scriptural foundation, but still being unsettled in what to believe, she swayed in the spiritual winds, from one notion to another; finally resorting to spiritually exercises. She fasted often prayed at least three times a day, often many more times, and daily sought to hear sermons, lectures, fasts, and thanksgivings. Most of the day was spent in reading the Bible, or in praying, listening to other, etc. She says, “so great was my delight in these things, I sought solitary places to pray in: gardens, fields, and out buildings so that I could be alone, which was necessary because I was loud in my pouring out my soul.”
Thus, after her long research, and zeal in whatsoever
the professors of the day recommended, she did not find
in herself that real change of heart which she aspired
after, nor acceptance with the Lord. She therefore
began to conclude, that although the Lord and his
Truth were unchangeable, yet it was not in her day
made known to any on the earth. And for some Lime
she gave no attention to religion; but devoted herself
to the diversions and pleasures of the world, both in
public and private. But in the midst of such pursuits
her heart was still sad; and she would often retire from
all company for several days together. Indeed her mind was captivated by the dissipating amusements of the age.
Mary Penington describes her own religious feelings
as being at this time in a very unsatisfied
state. She says she changed her ways often, going
from one notion to another. In fact, she went the
whole round of the popular sects of that day;
heard their preachers on all occasions; made the
acquaintance of high religious professors; attended
their lectures, their fasts, their thanksgivings, their
prayer meetings; watched their private walk in life,
and noticed the position they took in the world.
Instead of meeting with the spiritual instruction
and seeing the realization of the Christian life of
which she had been in quest, she turned away
heartsick, tender of the impression of a prevailing
empty show that had assumed the name of religion.
At length she made up her mind to abandon all
outward forms of religious worship, and to hold
herself unconnected with any section of Christians,
relying on the ultimate fulfillment of the promise
of the Lord, "Blessed are they that hunger and
thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled." Having found no abiding comfort amid religious
professors, she at length determined to try the
world of people living for pleasure. She says,
I then had my conversation
much among people of no religion, being ashamed
to be counted religious, or to do anything that was
called religious; and I began to loathe whatever
profession of that sort anyone made, holding the
professors of every sort worse than the profane,
they boasted so much of what I knew they had not
attained; I having been zealous in whatever they
pretended to, yet could not find purging of heart,
nor an answer from the Lord of acceptance. In
this restless state I let in every sort of notion that
rose in that day, and for a time applied myself to
examine them, and get out of them whatever good
could be found; but still sorrow and trouble was
the end of all. I was at length ready to conclude
that though the Lord and His Truth were certain,
yet that they are not now made known to any
upon earth; and I determined no more to inquire
or look after God, thinking it was in vain to seek
him. So for some time I took no notice of any
religion, but minded recreation, as it is called; and
went after it into many excesses and vanities - as
foolish mirth, carding, dancing, and singing. I
frequented music assemblies, and made vain visits
where there were jovial feastings. I delighted in
curiosities, and in what would please the vain mind,
and satisfy the lust of the eye and the pride of life;
frequenting places of pleasure, where vainly dressed
persons resorted to show themselves and to see
others in the like excess of folly; and riding about
from place to place in an airy mind. But in the
midst of all this my heart was often sad and pained
beyond expression.
After a round of such fashionable recreations
as above specified, she tells us that, taking with
her none but he daughter, little Guli, and her maid, she would
often in disgust forsake for a time city life, and
seek entire seclusion in the country, where she
would give way to her feelings of distress. She
says, "I was not hurried into those follies by being
captivated by them, but from not having found in
religion what I had sought, and longed after. I
would often say within myself, what are they all to
me? I could easily leave all this; for it has not my
heart, it is not my delight, it has not power over
me. I would rather serve the Lord, if I could indeed
feel and know what would be acceptable to
Him. One night in my country retirement I went
to bed very sad and disconsolate; and that night I
dreamed I saw a book of hieroglyphics of religion
respecting things to come in the Church, or religious
state. I dreamed that I took no delight at
all in them; and felt no closing of my mind with
them, but turned away greatly oppressed. It being
evening, I went out from the company into the
open air, and lifting up mine eyes to the heaven and
cried out, 'Lord, allow me no more to fall in with
any false way, but show me the truth.' Immediately
I thought the sky opened, and a bright light
like fire fell upon my hand, which so frightened
me that I awoke, and cried out. When my daughter's
maid, (who was in the chamber), came to the
bed-side to see what was the matter with me, I
trembled a great time after I was awakened."
She ventured not to suppose that she felt an influence of God's Spirit on her heart; although at times so great was her thirst for God, that she seemed to resemble the parched earth, or the hunted deer, panting
for water. In this state another remarkable dream
was her lot, a part of which in her own words is as follows:
I one night dreamed that as I was sitting in a room
alone, retired and sad, I heard a very loud noise, some
screaming, yelling, and roaring in a doleful manner;
some casting up their caps, and hallooing in way or
triumph and joy. And as I listened to learn what was the cause of the noise. I thought that Christ must have come, and that
this was the different state of the people at his coming;
some in joy, and some in extreme sorrow and amazements. Thus I waited in much dread, for uncertainty about this thing. At last I found that neither the joy nor the sorrow of this confused multitude did arise from a certain knowledge of his coming, but it was the effects of a false rumor. So I stayed alone in the room, for I found I was not to join with either, but to wait in the stillness, and not to go forth to inquire concerning the tumult of the multitude. While I sat thus, is became like a pretension, and it was manifest to me that they were mistaken. So I remained cool and low in my mind, until one came and said in a low voice, Christ has come indeed, and is in the next room, and with the Lamb's wife. At which my heart secretly leaped within me, and I was in haste to go, and express my love to Him, and joy at his coming. But I was rebuked for my haste and instructed to be sober, and come cool and softly into the next room; which I did. Then I came into a spacious
hall, but stood at the bottom, trembling: for though I was joyous at the thing, yet I dared not go near him; for it was said in me, Stay, and see whether He owns you, and takes you to be such as you take yourself to be. Christ stood at the upper end of the hall in the appearance of a fresh, lovely youth, clad, in gray cloth, very neat and plain (at this time I had not heard of a Quaker; or their garb). He was of a sweet, affable, courteous carriage; and I saw him embrace several poor, old, simple persons, whose appearance was very contemptible and poor, without wisdom or beauty; from which I judged that his wisdom and discretion was great, that He can, thought I, behold the hidden worth of these
people, who to me appeared so unlovely and simple. At last He beckoned to me to come to Him, at which I was very glad, but went lowly, and trembling, in much solidity, and weightiness of spirit. Then I beheld a beautiful young virgin, slender, modest, and grave, in plain apparel, becoming and graceful, and her image was fully answering his, as a brother and sister.
Her mind having fully realized the superficial
and unsatisfying character of the fashionable amusements
of the world of pleasures, her thoughts again and
again turned to the religious feelings of former
days. She still clung to the belief that though she
had run into vanity, she was yet under her heavenly
Father's care, and that He who had made the blessed
promise to that state, knew of the hungering and
thirsting after righteousness which often had such
possession of her mind. But above all things she
abhorred hypocrisy and religious presumption in
anyone, and therefore she often distrusted herself,
and these feelings. She could not for a long time
entertain the idea that it was the Holy Spirit which
was giving her these gleams of light and trust, and
tendering her heart in prayerful feeling towards
God. Thus she details circumstances that unfold
her state of mind:-
"One day, when going through the city from a
country-house, I could not make my way through
the crowd that filled the street, (it was the day
on which the Lord Mayor was sworn), but was forced
to go into a house until it was over. Being burdened
by the vanity of their show, I said to a believer
that stood by me, 'What benefit have we now by
all the blood that has been shed, and by Charles
being kept out of the nation, seeing all these follies
are again allowed!' He answered; none that he
knew of, save the enjoyment of their religion. To
which I replied, 'That is a benefit to you who have
a religion to be protected in the exercise of but it
is none to me.'"
Looking back on that period,
when she would not allow to herself that she had
any religion at all, she says it was wonderful to her
to remember how she, notwithstanding, confided in
the goodness and care of God.
I frequently
had help from Him while in the most confused
and disquieted state I ever knew. Trust in the Lord
was richly given me in that day when I dared not
acknowledge myself to have any religion I could call true;
for if I were but taking a servant, or doing any
outward thing that much concerned my condition
in the world, I never feared, but retired, waiting
to see what the day would bring forth, and as
things were offered to me closed with them, if I
felt my heart answered to it." At this very time
she says, "In anguish of spirit I could but cry to
the Lord, 'If I may not come to you as a child,
because I have not the spirit of sonship, yet you are
my Creator; and as your creature I cannot breathe
or move without you. Help is only to be had from
you. If you are inaccessible in your own glory,
and I can only get help where it is to be had, and
you only have power to help me, what am I to do?”
Oh! the distress I felt in this time, having never
dared to kneel down, as formally going to prayer,
for years, because I feared I could not call God
Father in truth; and I dared not mock Him as
with a form. Sometimes I would be melted into
tears, and feel an inexpressible tenderness; but not
knowing what it was from, and being ready to
misjudge all religion, I thought it was some influence
from the planets which governed this body.
But I dared not regard anything in me being of
or from God; or that I felt any influence of His
spirit on my heart. I was like the parched heath
for want of rain, and like the hunted deer longing
for water, so great was my thirst after what
I did not know was near.
In the condition I have mentioned, of weary
seeking and not finding, I married my dear husband
Isaac Penington. My love was drawn to him,
because I found he saw the deceit of all mere notions
about religion; he lay as one that refused to
be comforted until He came to His temple 'who
is truth and no lie.' All things that had only the appearance of religion were very manifest to him, so
that he was sick and weary of show, and in this, my
heart united with him, and a desire was in me to be
serviceable to him in this his desolate condition;
for he was as one alone, and felt miserable in the
world. I gave up much to be a companion to him.
And, oh! the secret groans and cries that were
raised in me, that I might be visited of the Lord,
and brought to a clear knowledge of his truth and
way; that my feet might be turned into that way
before I went forward, even if I never should take
one step in it that would bring joy or peace; yet
that I might assuredly know myself to be in it,
even if my time were spent in sorrow.
I resolved never to go back into those formal
things I had left, having found death and darkness
in them; but would rather be without a religion
until the Lord manifestly taught me one. Many
times, when alone, did I reason thus: -' Why
should I not know the way of Divine life? For if
the Lord would give me all in this world, it would
not satisfy me.' 'No,' I could cry out, ' I care not
for a portion in this life: give it to those that care
for it: I am miserable with it. It is acceptance
with God, of which I once had a sense, that I desire,
and that alone can satisfy me."
While I was in this state, I heard of a new people
called Quakers, but I resolved not to inquire after
them nor the principles they held. For a year or
more after I had heard of them in the north, I heard
nothing of their values except that they used thee and thou to everyone; and I saw a book written about
plain language by George Fox, which I remember I
thought very ridiculous; so gave no attention either
to the people or the book, except to scoff at
them and it. Though I thus despised this people, I
had sometimes a desire to attend one of their meetings,
if I could go unknown, and hear them pray. d
I was quite weary of hearing doctrines discussed,
but I believed if I were with them when they
prayed, I would be able to feel whether they were
of the Lord or not. I endeavored to stifle this
desire, not knowing how to get to one of their
meetings unknown; and if it should be known, I
thought it would be reported that I had joined
them."
An opportunity for acquaintance with the
"Friends of Truth" by and by presented itself
unsought for, as Mary Penington thus states :
"One day, as my husband and I were walking
in a park, a man that for a little time had frequented
the Quakers' meetings saw us as he rode by, in our
celebrant vain apparel. He spoke to us about our pride,
at which I scoffed, saying, 'He a public preacher
indeed! - preaching on the highways!' He turned
back again, saying he had a love for my husband,
seeing grace in his looks. He face shined, and he spoke of the light and grace of God
that had appeared to all men. My husband and
he having engaged in discourse, the man of the
house coming up, invited the stranger in. He was
young, and perceiving my husband was too able
for him in the fleshly wisdom, said he would bring
a man next day who would better answer all his
questions and objections; (who, as I afterwards understood,
was George Fox). He came again the
next day, and left word that the Friend he intended
to bring could not come; but he
believed some others would be with us about the second hour;
at which time Thomas Curtis and William
Simpson came. My mind had been somewhat affected
by the discourse of the night before; and though I
thought the man weak in the management of the
arguments he brought forward to support his principles,
yet many scriptures which he mentioned
stuck with me, and felt very weighty. They were such that showed me the vanity of many of my practices; which made me very serious, and soberly
inclined to hear and consider what these other men
had to say. Their solid and weighty carriage
struck a dread over me, for they came in the
authority and power of the Lord to visit us. The
Lord was with them, and all we who were in the
room were made sensible at that time of the Divine
power manifestly accompanying what they said.
Thomas Curtis repeated a scripture that struck out
all my enquiries and objections, 'This doctrine is
not mine, but His that sent me. If any man will
do His will he shall know of the doctrine, whether
it be of God, or whether I speak of myself.” Immediately it arose in my mind, that if I would for certain
know whether or not it was truth which these
people upheld, I must do what I knew to be the
Lord's will. Much that was contrary to that in me
was set before me to be removed. I was shown
my want of obedience to what Christ required; and
that I must join in with what I knew, before I
would be in a capacity to receive and understand
what they laid down for their principles."
The effect upon Mary Penington's mind of this application
of the text quoted by Thomas Curtis, was
not of a transient character. Such of her practices
as were contrary to the teaching and commands of
the Lord Jesus were brought in review before her
by the Holy Spirit, now at work in her heart.
Before the termination of the state of conflict which
she had sustained so long, Mary Springett was married
to Isaac Penington. Her regard was attracted to him,
because, as has been hinted, she perceived that he had
discovered the deceit of all mere notions: that, like
herself, he refused to be comforted by any form of religion,
and was unwilling to rest satisfied short of a heartfelt
experience of the power. In this concern they
united, and on her part there was a sincere desire to
to be serviceable to him, in his disconsolate condition.
Thus they lived together, until the visit from the stranger
already mentioned. But previously to this, Mary
Penington had heard of a people which had lately risen
in the North, and were called Quakers. Consistently,
however, with her plan of doubting all professions, she
resolved not to inquire after them or their principles;
so that it was a year or more before she knew any
thing of them, except that they used the singular number
in speaking to a single person. She had also seen
a book of George Fox written in the plain style, which
she accounted ridiculous; and she had likewise heard
some false and calumnious reports. She held this people
therefore in contempt; nevertheless she often had
a secret desire to be with them when they prayed.
The reader may recollect that to be acquainted, with
the genuine spirit of prayer, was one of her earliest desires;
and she now thought that if she were present in
the time of prayer, she could feel whether they were
of the Lord or not. But she postponed to gratify this inclination,
because she knew not how to attend their meetings undiscovered; and if it should be known, she
feared that it would be reported, she was inclined
to their way, while she herself had no such intention.
It has been already mentioned that Mary Penington
has left some account of the particulars, so far at least
as they affected herself, of the conference with Thomas
Curtis and William Simpson. Her own words will best
delineate the situation of her mind at that juncture.
" My mind," says she, “was somewhat affected with the
man who had discoursed" [with] "us the night before
(that is, the-man who had spoken to her husband and
herself in the park); for though I judged him
weak in managing what he pretended to, yet he mentioned
many weighty scriptures, which dwelt with me, proving from them many things to be right, which I was not in the practice of; and others to be wrong, which I was practicing; and indeed it made me very serious, and quite disposed to hear with attention what these men, (Curtis and Simpson), should say. It immediately arose in my mind, if I will know whether this is the truth which they have spoken, I must do whatsoever is manifested to be the will of God. And what was contrary to the Lord in me, as clearly set before me, and I saw that it must be removed before I could be capable of judging the
right of their principles. This wrought much in me, to obey what I new was my present business, I now found that my vain inclinations and propensities were much stronger than. I imagined, and that those things which I thought I had treated with indifference yet had great power over me. Terrible was the day of the Lord against all my vain and evil imaginations. This made me continually cry out and mourn, both day and night, and if I only ceased a little, then I was, on the other hand, distressed with fears, lest I should be again reconciled to those things which I felt the judgment of God was upon, and which I bad a detested. Then I cried to the Lord that I might not be left in a quiet and
secure state, until all the evil that lodged in my heart was wrought out. Many times has this Scripture been recalled: "But you will not come to me so that you might have life.’ Then I had a sense of my unwillingness to bear the cross of Christ, so that I was ready to say: It is true that I am lost if I do not bear the cross, but I will not come because I cannot bear to give up what is so dear to me. I clearly saw my unwillingness to forsake my beloved lusts that might come unto him for life ; but still upon
every painful conflict this was in still in my mind, That although such severe discipline seemed more than I could bear, yet the wrath of God was greater, and would be far worse. I set myself against taking up the cross to the language fashions, customs and honors of the world; for indeed my station and connections in life made it very hard; but I never had peace or quiet in mind until the Lord, by the stroke of his judgments, brought me off from all these things, which I found the light to manifest deceit and bondage in. Yet thus to become a fool, and lose my reputation in the world, cost me many tears, many wakeful nights.
The
axe being unsparingly brought down on the root
of the evil that was within, much painful exercise
succeeded. She says :
Terrible was the Lord
against the vain and evil inclinations in me, which
made me night and day in sorrow; and if it did
cease a little, then I grieved for fear I should again
be reconciled to the things which I felt under
judgment, and which I had then a just detestation
of. I never had peace or quiet
from sore exercise of mind for many months, until I
was by the Lord's judgments brought off from all
those things which I found His light made manifest
to be deceit, bondage, vanity, and the spirit of the
world. The giving up of these things cost me
many tears. I felt that by the world I would be regarded as a fool, and that my honorable position
must be sacrificed if I took up the cross, and
acted contrary to the fashions and customs that
prevailed in the world and among my acquaintances.
My relations made this cross a very heavy
one; but at length I gave up all.
During the mental struggles above alluded to,
Mary Penington does not appear to have sought
or maintained any intimate acquaintance with the
Friends, or to have made a practice of attending
their meetings; but it is most probable she had
been reading some of their writings. She states:
A little while after the visit of the Friends before
mentioned, one night on my bed it was said to me,
“Be not hasty to join these people called Quakers.'"
And after she had given up all her worldly reasoning
against the pointing of her own enlightened
conscience, she adds, “I then received strength to
attend the meetings of this despised people, which
I had intended never to meddle with. I found they
were truly of the Lord, and my heart owned them
and honored them. I then longed to be one of
them, and minded not the cost or pain; but judged
it would be well worth my utmost cost and pains
to witness in myself such a change as I saw in them
such power over the evil of human nature. I
had heard it objected against them, that they could
work no miracles, but I said they did work great
miracles, in that they produced such changes,
turning those who were in the world and in the
fellowship of it from worldly things."
In taking up the cross, I received strength
against many things that I once thought it not
possible to deny myself. But Oh! the joy that
filled my soul at the first meeting held in our
habitation at Chalfont. To this day I have a fresh
remembrance of it, and of the sense the Lord gave
me of His presence and ability to worship Him in
that spirit which was undoubtedly His own. Oh!
long had I desired to worship Him in the full
assurance of acceptation, and to lift up my hands
and heart without doubting, which I experienced
that day. In that assembly I acknowledged His
great mercy and wonderful kindness, for I could
then say, 'This is what I have longed and waited
for, and feared I never should have experienced.
Many trials have I been exercised with since
then; and all that came by the Lord's ordering
strengthened my life in Him, and hurt me not.
But once my mind running out in prejudice against
some Friends, it did sorely hurt me. After a time
of deep and unknown sorrow the Lord removed
the prejudice, and gave me a clearness of sight
and love and acceptance with His beloved ones.
The Lord has many a time refreshed my soul
with His presence, and given me an assurance
that I knew that state which He will never leave
nor suffer me to be drawn from. Though infirmities
beset me, my heart cleaves to the Lord, in the
everlasting bond that cannot be broken. While I
see and feel these infirmities, I also feel that faith
in Him which gives the victory, and keeps me low
under a sense of my own weakness. By that grace
which is sufficient, I feel and know where my
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