In the first volume of the celebrated Rev. Matthew Henry’s works there is an account of the life of Rev. Francis Tallents, which are herewith published in a condensed form.
His grandfather was a Frenchman whom a Sir Francis Leak brought over to England to show him kindness, having been instrumental in saving Sir Francis’ life on some occasion in France.
Mr. Tallents was born in November, 1619, at a little town called Pelsley, in Derbyshire. His parents were religious and good people, but both died when their children were young. He, who was the eldest of six, was then but 14 years of age, but all of those six children, not one died for above 70 years after, but, be it observed to the glory of God, they all lived in reputation and were eminently religious.
His father’s eldest brother, whose name he bore, was a clergyman, and was a wise and tender father to these orphans. His uncle put him first to the free school at Mansfield, and he made such great progress in learning that one of his masters sent his uncle word, “He was not a silver but a golden talent.”
He spoke sometimes of a sermon he heard, when he was very young, on these words, “I hate vain thoughts” (Ps. cxix. 113), which much affected him, and gave him occasion to ask a good grandmother he had, “Whether the devil could know our thoughts?” And he was much satisfied when she told him, “No; God only knoweth our thoughts.”
When he was about 16 years of age he was sent to Cambridge by his uncle. Soon after he came to Magdalen College it pleased God to call him by his grace and to reveal His Son in Him. He sometimes said pleasantly to his friends, “When I began to be serious, I soon became a notorious puritan for which I bless God’s holy name.” I have heard him speak of the strong temptation to infidelity with which he was assaulted, and which for some time he grappled with; but by divine grace he got over them. It was an easy thing, he would say, to believe the being of God, and His providence, and the principles of natural religion, but to believe that Jesus Christ, who was crucified at Jerusalem, is the Son of God, and my Redeemer and Saviour, and to rest upon Him alone for righteousness and life, this is a hard thing. But this was it which he was all his days abundantly filled with, that “Christ is all in all.” He called it a golden saying of St. Austin—”The transaction of two men is the sum of the Christian religion, by one of whom we are sold under sin, by the other we are redeemed.”
About the year 1642 he went to travel in France and other foreign parts as tutor to the Earl of Suffolk’s sons. I have often heard him say that what he saw with his own eyes of the popish religion, and what conferences he had with its advocates, added much to his conviction of the falsehood and wickedness of it, and confirmed him in the Protestant religion.
In the latter end of the year 1645 he began to preach in Cambridge. His first sermon was on Rom. viii. 31: “What shall we then say to these things?” in which he endeavoured to encourage others with the doctrine of Christ’s mediation, which had been so great a support and comfort to him. Over that sermon he wrote, “Then will I teach transgressors thy ways, and sinners shall be converted unto thee.” He was ordained to the ministry at London, November 29th, 1648, being called to the work of the ministry in the University of Cambridge. In 1652 he came to Shrewsbury to be minister of St. Mary’s Church. He was much honoured and respected by all the ministers of those parts. The character Mr. Baxter gives of him is, “That he was a good scholar, a godly divine, and that he was most eminent for extraordinary prudence and moderation and peaceableness toward all.” About 1662 he, with many others, had to quit his charge because they were dissatisfied with the Act of Uniformity. He sometimes observed with thankfulness the care God took of his ejected ones, how wonderfully he provided for them, so as to keep them alive; as the disciples who were sent out without purse or scrip, and yet when they were asked, “Lacked ye anything?” answered, “Nothing, Lord!” Especially that they obtained mercy of the Lord to be faithful. With the silencing of the ministers he said, “Lord, what poor weak creatures are we; when some applaud this as an excellent deed, and yet others look upon it as a great sin.”
He abounded very much in pious ejaculations, as one who had learned to pray always, and to mix prayer and praise with the conversation of the day. When he was in serious talk with his friends, how often would he send his heart to heaven thus, “God look on us!” “God pity us!” When he heard that his friends were in health and prosperity, he would lift up his hands and say, “God be praised!” If he heard of the afflictions of any of them, “God relieve them, refresh them, comfort them!” If of the falls of any, “God give them repentance!” If of the deaths of any, “God fit us to die!” When he sent his regards unto his friends, he would add, “God do them good!” “The Lord refresh their souls with his love, and my poor dry soul too!”
Yet he would sometimes pleasantly say, “The quietest are the best Christians.” And as to the external performances of religion he sometimes said, “Let the work of God be done, and done well, but with as little noise as may be.”
His preaching was very plain and familiar, but very affectionate, and that which manifestly came from the heart, and therefore was most likely to reach to the heart. On one occasion he said, “I would fain speak a good word to-day concerning Jesus Christ, for the good of you here present, and of my own soul.” On another, “What I have now to say is that which has somewhat affected me in my own private thoughts, and I hope may affect and work upon you for good, through the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ.” He would often in his preaching speak with application to himself, “This word is to me, O that it may reach my heart.” I remember once, when I came to visit him not long ago, he told me he had been preaching the day before concerning the Holy Ghost, and had observed, among other things, that he thought it was a defect among us that we only prayed for the Holy Spirit (as we are directed, Luke xi. 13), and did not pray so much as we should to the Holy Spirit, for His gifts and graces and comforts which we ought to do; for He is God, and therefore to be prayed to. He earnestly pressed upon young ministers to preach Christ much, and the mystery of the gospel, wherein (says he) if I may judge of others by myself, we are generally so ignorant, and live so little by it. He was much in his judgment for extolling free grace, and the imputation of Christ’s righteousness to us for our justification, and the operation of the Spirit in us for our sanctification.
A little before his death he said that scripture, Isa. lv. 1, “Without money and without price,” had often been his comfort and support. “For,” said he, “I have nothing but a poor naked soul to bring to Christ.” In a paper written with his own hand is found: “I prayed much for the pardon of my sins, so great and many even to this day: for great mercies and forgiveness, that righteousness may be imputed to me (Rom. iv. ii. 23). That I may be justified, as holy Abraham was, by a righteousness imputed . . . by the righteousness of Christ wrought for us, the righteousness which is of God by faith. Let me live by that, and have peace with God by it; if others despise it, let me highly praise it . . . let it be my joy, my crown, my life, my peace, my glorying, my all.”
He took occasion sometimes to speak the hopes he had of the flourishing of the Christian Church in the latter days; that the Jew should be converted, the papal anti-Christian Kingdom destroyed, and religion, in the power of it, should prevail.
When he was 89 years of age, while still apparently in health, he took suddenly ill. He charged all about him that they should not pray for his life, but that he might be enabled patiently to wait for the change. He complained very little of pain or sickness, but gradually decayed. He often prayed to God for a blessing on those about him, and said, “Here I lie waiting, waiting. After some time he began to think it long that he had not his release, and to cry, “Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly.” On Lord’s Day, April 11th, 1708, he said he would have those about him go to worship God in the solemn assembly, and would have only one to stay with him. Divers savoury words dropped from him; and he continued very sensibly, calling upon God, till about nine or ten o’clock that evening, when he sweetly slept in Jesus, and on that day of rest entered into his everlasting rest. Praised be that God by whose grace he was enabled to finish well.