(Continued from page 17)
Upon the death of his father, Mr Janeway endeavoured to fill his place in the family, by the tender and affectionate care he took of his mother, his sisters and brothers; and his pious example, his wise instructions, and prudent conduct, had a powerful and pleasing effect on the whole family. The elder, as well as the younger branches, loved, reverenced, and obeyed him; so that he was the comfort of his widowed mother, and the guardian, instructor, and pattern of imitation to his brethren. But some time after this, returning to King’s College, he was invited to become domestic chaplain in the family of Dr Cox, where he fully realized the expectations of his employer. His deportment was so courteous and obliging, and his conversation so pleasing and instructive, that he gained the affection, and even the admiration of all. But ill-health obliged him to relinquish this agreeable situation, and retire to his mother’s house in hopes that the change of air would remove his complaint. While residing at his mother’s, he fell into a weak and languishing state; and finding the malady daily gaining ground, “My days are numbered (said he), and here let me wait with patience for the welcome summons that shall call me home to my Father’s house, and the possession of the heavenly inheritance, to Christ the Mediator, to the glorious company of angels, and the redeemed from amongst men. Can any thing on earth come in competition with objects so transcendently glorious. O that crown that shall encircle the temples of all those who have fought under the banner of Christ, when the God of peace shall have bruised Satan under their feet! O that rest which remains for the people of God, when their warfare is ended, their iniquities forgiven them, and when, from this region of watching and fighting, of sorrow and suffering, they shall return and come to Zion, with songs of triumph over sin and the grave. And, blessed be God, I can say, with all the confidence of faith, they are mine; mine is that crown of righteousness; mine is that Sabbath of eternal rest, and that song of endless triumph. For I know, that when this earthly tabernacle is dissolved, I have a building of God, a house not made with hands durable as the pillars of Heaven, and more immoveable than the foundation of the everlasting mountains! With prospects so glorious, who would wish to linger and languish in this vale of tears? My desire, therefore, is to be dissolved and to be with Christ, which is far better.”
Writing to a friend under perplexing thoughts concerning the state of his soul, he thus addressed him: “Stand still and wonder, behold and admire the love of Christ. Here is an ocean of love, cast thyself therein, and thou shalt be encompassed with the height, the depth, the breadth, and length, of His love, and filled with all the fulness of God. What would you have more? God is an all-sufficient portion, and the only satisfying portion of an immortal soul. Hast thou not known, hast thou not tasted, that He is not only altogether lovely, but altogether love? While I write this, my heart burns within me, my soul is all on fire, I am sick of love. But now, methinks, I see you drowned in tears, because you do not feel such powerful workings of love in your soul. Weep on — love as well as grief, has its tears; and tears of sorrow as well as tears of love, are kept in God’s bottle, and marked in his book. Know, therefore, that these tears are just the streams of Christ’s love flowing into thy soul, and of thy love flowing out towards Him.”
Mr Janeway, however, did not always bask in the cheering beams of the Sun of Righteousness. Like other saints, he had his cloudy as well as his clear and cloudless days. Like the Apostle, lest he should be exalted above measure, the adversary was suffered to buffet him; but armed with the shield of faith, the breastplate of righteousness, and his head covered with the helmet of salvation, with the strength of Christ made perfect in his weakness, he left the field more than a conqueror. He was always afraid of spiritual declension both in himself and others, carefully noticing the smallest departure of his heart from God, as well as God’s withdrawing the light of His countenance from him, watching also, with a godly jealousy, over his intimate friends and relatives. To one of his brothers he wrote thus: “You live in a place where strict and close walking with God hath few examples, and God’s children are apt to forget their first love. Our hearts are prone to carelessness and negligence on our watch. When conscience is put off with some poor excuse, religion withers, and the seeming zealot becomes a Laodicean; and he who once appeared to march with unhaltering pace in the high way of holiness, becomes weary of his journey, lags behind, or steps out of the way, and comes to nothing. Alas! it is too common to have a name to live, and yet be dead. Read this, and tremble lest it be your own case. When we are most asleep, remember our enemy will be most awake — watch therefore. I consider your age, I know where you dwell, neither am I ignorant of the temptations to which you are exposed, I cannot therefore help being jealous over you.”
At the age of twenty-two years, he entered on the sacred work of the ministry, under a deep impression of the worth of immortal souls, and the awful responsibility of his office; but, alas! he never preached more than two sermons, from Job 20:21, “Acquaint now thyself with Him, and be at peace, then good shall come unto thee,” which is said to have been delivered with so much clearness, compassion, power, and majesty, as greatly amazed those who heard him.
During the closing scene of his life, Mr Janeway seemed wholly absorbed in the contemplation of Christ, Heaven, and eternity. He lived as a stranger in the world, as a pilgrim approaching the end of his journey, and now within sight of the land of promise. His meditations, his discourse, his whole deportment, indicated that he was fast ripening for glory. He was never satisfied but when employed in these exercises which brought him nearer to God and the kingdom of Heaven; and from his own happy experience, he could say to others, “Come hither, and I will tell you what God hath done for my soul.” In full possession of all necessary comforts, he longed to be dissolved; and the thoughts of the last Judgment sweetened all his enjoyments. “Were the day of Judgment to come this hour (he said), I should be glad with all my heart. Then should I hear such thundering, and behold such lightnings, and such dreadful convulsions attending the dissolution of nature, as no eye hath seen, no heart hath conceived, and which no ear of man hath ever heard. Our God, arrayed in all the splendour of His divine attributes, appearing in the clouds of Heaven, and seated on a great white Throne, of which justice, judgment, and mercy are the immoveable foundation: the graves opening, the dead arising, the world in flames, and the elements of nature melting with the intensity of heat. All order annihilated, the stars of heaven bewildered in their courses, and suns and systems blending in one universal mass of ruin and disorder. Ah! who can live when God doth this? Who can hold up his head amid the innumerable company there assembled before the universal, the impartial Judge, attended by ten thousands of His saints, and surrounded by all the splendour of Heaven? Nature shrinks back from the all-important transactions, the august and tremendous ceremonial of this decisive day. Those, and only those, who have fought under the banner of Christ, the Captain of salvation, who have built their confidence on the Rock of ages, who have endured as seeing Him who is invisible; while the children if iniquity are afraid, and fearfulness hath surprised the hypocrite, they shall look up with confidence to their Judge, their Father and their friend. Let the sons of God, therefore, no longer hang down their heads. Let them lift up their hearts and rejoice, for the day of their redemption draweth nigh. Meditating on the glory and grandeur of this final scene, said he, has often ravished my soul, and at this moment affords me more sublime pleasure and satisfaction, than all that this passing world can possibly afford.”
Mr Janeway at length found he was far gone in a consumption, with a copious spitting of blood, which indicated the rapidity of the disease; but these circumstances gave him no alarm, Heaven was the port to which he was steering, the harbour where he longed to drop anchor. To him the world had lost all its attractions, his treasures were deposited in Heaven, and there his heart and his affections were unalterably fixed. In the progress of his complaint he was seized with dimness in his eyes, and at last with a total want of sight; and being in the daily expectation of his departure, he called on his mother, to whom he said, “Dear mother, I am dying; but, I beseech you, be not grieved. Through the tender mercies of God I am quite above the fear of death; and I have nothing that troubles me but the apprehension of your immoderate grief. I go to Him whose love is better than life; moderate your sorrow, nor afflict yourself as one that has no hope.”
(To be continued)