THE METHODIST NEW CONNEXION MAGAZINE. MARCH, 1857. BIOGRAPHY. A MEMOIR OF THE LATE MR. WILLIAM MAKINSON, OF HIGHER BROUGHTON, MANCHESTER. BY ONE OF HIS SONS. METHODISTS are proverbially attached to religious biography. That, however, which some have described as a want required by their system, is rather a want arising from their nature-from human nature. We are all instinctively curious as to the records not only of a national, but also of an individual life. Nor is this an idle, unimproving inquiry. It is on the contrary one which God in his holy word has himself condescended to meet and to satisfy. Hence so large a portion, much more than half, both of the Old and New Testaments, is taken up with direct history, or more properly with biography, since there is in nearly all these accounts one central figure standing out prominently from the rest. Nor is this all. Even the Psalms, many parts of the prophetical books, and of the Epistles-what are these but the heartstruggles, the aspirations, the trials of an individual mind? Possessing a specific value as having happened to one, these have also a universal value, as happening more or less to all. What is the 42nd Psalm but the experience and the expostulatory inquiry of a believer, repeated again and again in the heart-diary of the child of God? Nor less can we read the history of Paul in his letters to the churches. We take up his language, 2 Tim. iv. 8, following the noble declaration of life and labours, "Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day," as the utterance not only of every minister, but of every "companion in the patience and kingdom of our Lord Jesus Christ." Our readers have had many interesting biographies for perusal, since the Methodist New Connexion has had to regret the removal by death of many noble-minded members. We are far from saying that circumstances and situations make men. But as some soils are favourable for the growth of some plants, so some systems of church polity are suitable for the development of an intelligent and useful piety. Wherever the cultivation of the mind is encouraged by the I church, there we shall find an intelligent-and wherever the power of the church is not claimed by any particular class, there we shall find a useful piety. Our own denomination has supplied both these elements, and hence our church has boasted of a line (as yet not long, but illustrious) of honourable and distinguished laymen. Of one who is "in the succession," we have now to speak. The hand of a son guides the pen, but far be it from him to extemporize or even to exaggerate the virtues which he holds up to view. Failings (for his father had them) may surely be left undisturbed under the slab which now covers his remains. Even of one who did not stand high in moral worth, Cardinal Wolsey, our great poet introduces Griffith as saying: "Men's evil manners live in brass: their virtues Mr. William Makinson was born on the 31st October, 1786, in the town of Bolton, Lancashire. That neighbourhood has ever been a stronghold of Methodism, and was often successfully visited by the venerable John Wesley. As that modern apostle died in 1791, Mr. Makinson may have heard him preach in the chapel he attended in childhood,-Ridgway Gates Chapel, Bolton. The subject of our memoir was indeed wont to relate how his earliest recollections were of the crowded chapel when Mr. Wesley's funeral sermon was preached. Who can estimate the advantage of sitting regularly under an experimental, heart-searching ministry, such as was that of the first Methodist preachers? How early may impressions be made upon the mind! how deep those impressions may be! how long they may remain ! William Makinson, a child, was under their power, and according to his after-confession, was never able to remember a time when the Spirit of God did not strive with him. When, like Samuel of old, he worshipped in the temple, the voice of Samuel's God came stealing softly to his ear, and breathing out, "William, William." His early feelings deepened into a concern for his soul, which ended in full saÏvation. About the genuineness of this work of grace, there could be no doubt. Forty-five years of consistent, undeviating attachment to the church of God were sufficient to evince how deep and abiding were his religious convictions, how perfect was that peace of God passing all understanding into which his heart was quietly, almost imperceptibly brought. The controversy on the subject of sudden and gradual conversions is a needless one. God's dealings in nature and in grace are in many respects analogous. In the former he speaks sometimes by the violence of the whirlwind, of the earthquake, of the volcano, and at other times by the gentle influence of the dew, of the sun, of the zephyr. In the latter he works sometimes in an alarming and arousing; and, at other times, in a gentle and winning manner. Who can profess to prefer one mode or the other, so that God is the operator, and salvation the result? If we turn to the argument depending upon Scripture, we shall have the same result. In the 16th chapter of the Acts of the Apostles is found an account of that sudden, wonderful conversion, by which the Philippian jailor was led to faith and pardon. In that very same chapter the Holy Spirit evinces his diversities of operation In by showing us a silent and most likely a gradual conversion: "Lydia, whose heart the Lord opened." We must not, therefore, depreciate either of these apparently diverse, but really homogeneous results. In the earlier days of Methodism, when faithful gospel preaching was a rare thing, men were oftener suddenly aroused and convinced. It ought not, however, to be forgotten that circumstances are now different. Our preaching is now of a more permanent, perhaps, also, of a less exciting character. Our congregations are more regularly and constantly brought under the influence of gospel truth. Alas! that we should have to confess, that some are gospel-hardened by the long extent of privilege, that they become apparently insensible to the most touching appeals, to the most alarming denunciations. Many, however, are, from time to time, deeply moved by this glorious opportunity. In some, no doubt, the good seed becomes unfruitful from circumstances set forth by our Saviour in his parable of the sower. others, however, the holy influence grows up silently and for a while unperceivedly, until (apt figure for our subject) the beautiful plant with its useful fruit cannot be unobserved by even the most casual passerby. Such was the experience of the subject of this memoir; such is the experience of a large, perhaps an increasing number, among the people of God. We do not make these remarks for the purpose of depreciating, even by implication, the sudden and yet sound call of a soul to justification. Our wish is to encourage a class amongst us who, unable to speak positively as to a time when, and a place where, God spoke peace to their souls, are from that circumstance often exercised by doubts, harassed by fears. But here is the great matter: "Am I now living under God's smile? Have I by God's grace the victory over sin? Is my evidence for heaven now bright?" Happy they who can answer such inquiries in the affirmative. The rest is of little moment. Of such character were the early religious days of Mr. Makinson. He received the greater part of his intellectual education far from home, in the secluded village of Staindrop, Durham, The modern system of travelling was then a thing unknown, and the poor school boy remained long without visiting home; never returning to that cherished spot till his education was finished. The instruction he received at school was of the average quality of those days, when our present system would have been scouted as too good for boys. One thing was, however, wrought in him at Staindrop, whether by the care of Mr. Fraser, the teacher, or not, we cannot say; this was a deep, abiding love for nature, and for that beautiful manifestation of her which we have in English scenery. Hence his delight was excessive when he could escape from the crowded city, in which he so long lived, to the invigorating air, and no less invigorating scenery of the country. The winding lane, with its hedgerow of wild roses; the bank on which grow the enamelled forget-me-not and scarlet pimpernel; the freshened and verdant meadow dotted with sheep; the waving corn-field, with its promise of abundance; in all these manifestations of God's hand he found the highest delight. We have no doubt that beside the noble woods of Staindrop and Raby Castle the boy drank in first those pleasures of the man which are expressed by Cowper. The lines themselves were the exponents of his cherished feelings, and of his frequent quotation: |