A Practical Treatise Upon Christian Perfection 2Some Account of the Rev. William Law

The Rev. William Law was born in the town of King's Cliffe, in the county of Northampton, in the year 1686; his education, and the early years of his life, were very serious; at what time he entered the University, or when he took his degree of A. M. cannot be exactly ascertained; but his leaving that place was about the year 1712; after having made great proficiency in every branch of human literature, afterwards taking the advice of our Saviour to the rich young man, he totally renounced the world, and followed Christ, in meekness, humility, and self-denial.

Mr. Law lived a single life: in person, he was a well set man, and rather of a dark complexion, though remarkably cheerful in his temper; such was his love of privacy, and a state of recollection, that it was very seldom indeed that he passed more than two hours in the company of any person; with a very small patrimony, he was remarkably charitable, particularly to his poor neighbors in and about King's Cliffe. Such also was the little value he set on money, that he gave the copies of all his works intended for publication to his booksellers; but for one of them they insisted on his acceptance of one hundred guineas.

He was well known to the world by a number of truly christian, pious writings, exemplified by a life spent in a manner suitable to a worthy and true disciple of his heavenly, divine, crucified Master and Saviour, Jesus Christ, who lived and spoke in him and by him. In his younger days, he sufficiently distinguished himself by his parts and progress in human literature. And in his last years, he was wholly absorbed in his love to God and mankind; so that virtue in him was nothing but heavenly love and heavenly flame.

The pious and catholic Doddridge, in a sermon to young persons, has the following passage concerning William Law. "It is an awakening saying of one of the most lively and pathetic, as well as most pious writers which our age has produced, that the condition of man in his natural state, seems to be like that of a person sick of a variety of diseases, knowing neither his distemper nor cure, but unhappily enclosed in a place where he could hear, or see, or taste, or feel nothing, but what tended to inflame his disorder."

The Rev. John Wesley in his sermon on the wisdom of God's counsels speaks thus concerning William Law:--

"What little religion was left in the land, received another deadly wound at the restoration, by one of the worst princes that ever sat on the English throne, and by the most abandoned Court of Europe. And infidelity now broke in amain, and overspread the land as a flood. Of course, all kind of immorality came with it and increased to the end of the century. Some feeble attempts were made to stem the torrent during the reign of Queen Anne. But it still increased till about the year 1725, when Mr. Law published his Practical Treatise on Christian Perfection; and not long after, his Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life. Here the seed was sown, which soon grew up, and spread to Oxford, London, Bristol, Leeds, York, and within a few years, to the greatest part of England, Scotland and Ireland."

A writer under the signature of Christophilus; in Lloyd's Evening Post, in the year 1772, speaking of William Law, and recommending his writings, says, "Though I had no long acquaintance with him, yet a few months before his decease, I was indulged with an ample and intimate conversation with him, upon the state of religion in our time and nation, and on many other the most interesting subjects. This I regard as a favour of God bestowed on me, and which I would not have been without on any consideration. I only wish to make the best use of it, in all respects. Mr. Law lived as he wrote, and died as he lived. I am pretty credibly informed, that amidst the most excruciating pains of the stone, and at the age of seventy-five years, immediately before his dissolution, rising up in his bed, he said, 'Take away these filthy garments; I feel a fire of love within, which has burnt up every thing contrary to itself, and transformed every thing into its own nature.' Oh! might every minister, and each of their flocks, of every denomination, live the life, and die the death of this truly righteous man!"

In such a triumph of holy joy did this extraordinary servant of God resign his blessed spirit into the hands of his beloved Lord and Master, at the place of his nativity, the town of King's Cliffe, in the County of Northampton. And in the churchyard of that parish, he lies interred, under a handsome tomb, erected to his memory, by a particular and dear friend, who lived many years with him, and therefore had long known, and highly and justly esteemed his singular worth: which was expressed in the following lines, engraved by the direction of the same friend, on the top-stone of his tomb:

HERE LYETH THE BODY OF THE LATE REV. WILLIAM LAW, A. M. WHO DIED APRIL 9, 1761, AGED 75.

Farewell, good man! whose great and heavenly mind In love embrac'd the whole of human kind, From earth's dark scene, to realms of joy and light, Thy soul congenial, took her happy flight; With kindred spirits mix'd, and bright as they, Thou drink'st with them the streams of endless day: While we below lament thy absence most, Like all true worth, then dearest, when 'tis lost. Bound to no sect, to no one party tied, To sons of God in every clime allied: Like light's great orb, to no one realm confin'd, Thy heaven-taught soul, capacious, grasp'd mankind. Of pains severe, thou felt'st the tort'ring smart, While grace pour'd comfort on thy better part. Thy will resign'd, with breath unmurmuring bore, Thy last sharp passage to the heavenly shore. Thy heart's best image, still, thy writings, shine, One spirit breathe, the dove and lamb divine. Tho' stopt thy tongue, thy soul's strong breathings charm,

Tho' cold thy clay, thy ardent thoughts still warm. Awak'd by thee, we feel the heavenly fire, And with seraphic flames to God aspire; Thy pious zeal transfus'd to other hearts, New springs of bliss, and nobler life imparts. No time, no numbers, can exhaust thy mine, Thy gifts are full: posterity is thine. Through future ages shall thy labours go, Like streams, enriching nations as they flow; Who, while perusing, catch the sacred fire, Fetch the deep sigh, and pant with strong desire, For glory lost: heaven lent thy pencil rays, To paint that glory, and diffuse its blaze. Tho' for these days thy colours are too bright, And hurt weak eyes by their too radiant light; Yet wisdom's sons, though few, to good awake, Drink thy sweet spring, and bread celestial break. 'Midst Babel's various tongues, tho' thousands stray, In thee, the wanderer finds his master's way.