The Life And Legacy Of John Jones

Earthen Vessel 1892:

The Stirct And Particular Baptist Denomination And The Legacy Of John Andrews Jones

By W. J. Styles

[Our portrait is copied from an oil-painting which was taken about l842. It was considered excellent, and well indicates to the physiognomist the principal traits of his many-sided character.]

The Christians whose sentiments are advocated in this magazine are at once the oldest and the youngest section of the denomination to which they belong. They are the oldest, for they are, in all essential respects, identical with the Particular Baptists of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. They are the youngest, for they did not assume their present distinct position until the popularity of the doctrinal views of Andrew Fuller (originally promulgated in 1782) and the spread of the practice of open communion (first introduced by Robert Hall about the year 1816) compelled them to make a stand for the faith and order of the Gospel and to withdraw from all ecclesiastical connection with those who had so widely departed from the tenets of their fathers. The events which led to their thus becoming a separate people extended over many years, though it was the Norwich Chapel lawsuit (which occurred in 1860) that broke the last link that bound them to their other Baptist brethren. Fellowship with these, it was felt, would henceforth involve a compromise of principle, and the Strict and Particular Baptists were therefore compelled to pursue their own independent course in the fear of God. Among the great and good men whose influence and labours mainly contributed to our consolidation as a distinct body of Christians, a foremost place must be accorded to the subject of this sketch.

John Andrews Jones was descended from an ancient Welsh family, and was born in Bristol on October 10th, 1779. His father at that time was a large manufacturing tobacconist. Ere long, however, adverse circumstances compelled him to give up business and seek employment in Ireland. His three children were left in charge of their all but widowed mother, who took them to the home of her aged parents with whom they lived for several years.

In the city of Bristol there is an excellent institution called Colston’s School, in which a hundred boys are clothed, boarded, and educated freely for seven years. Into this it was her happiness to obtain admission for her little son, who thus received a good plain education and became a proficient penman. He was no ordinary child. Toys and games had no attraction for him, while he read attentively and retentively all the standard books on which he could lay his hand.

In December, 1794, he left Colson’s, and after some futile attempts to get under way in life, adopted the trade of a bookbinder, and eventually became a thorough and competent workman. The times toward the close of the last century were very hard, and in 1800, having sought employment in vain in the metropolis—to which his mother had removed—he was compelled to go in quest of it elsewhere. At length his steps were directed to Guildford, where he obtained an engagement with a kind and honourable master, with whom he stayed many years.

He was now a little over twenty. His love for books had by no means abated; but it had unhappily led to his reading the works of Thomas Paine and other writers of the same school who were then very popular in England, and he had become a deist. His life must, however, have been consistent and moral, as he soon numbered among his attached friends a worthy Christian man named Miles, who was a member of a Baptist Church, and George Comb, a young heraldic painter, who had recently been called by grace under the ministry of the seraphic John Hyatt at the Tabernacle in the Tottenham Court-road. The influence of these godly men had a most salutary effect upon his character and opinions, although he long remained ignorant of the power of grace in the heart.

In 1805 he married Ann, the daughter of Elisha Turner, of Bentley Hampshire, by whom he had one son and six daughters. She at this time, like himself, was probably destitute of vital religion, though she had been seriously impressed under the preaching of the celebrated W. Alphonsus Gunn, when curate of Farnham in 1798. From the first she made him an admirable helpmeet, clear-headed, warm-hearted, prudent, pacific, and upright. Their married life lasted for forty-three years, and at her death, in 1849, he penned a touching tribute to her memory, which appears as an appendix to some copies of his memorials of the gracious persons who were interred in Bunhill Fields Cemetery in which her mortal body awaits the morning of the resurrection. 

One Lord’s-day, in the autumn of 1807, his friend Miles entreated him to accompany him to his place of worship, at which an aged minister named John Gill, the pastor of the Baptist Church at St. Albans, and a nephew of the celebrated Commentator, was expected to preach. He complied. When he entered the building he was (to use his own words) “a poor, thoughtless, careless, prayerless sinner”; but this he was no longer to remain. Some portions of the discourse affected him deeply, and solemn convictions followed him for many months. He now became a frequenter of God’s house, at first attending the Independent Chapel, but subsequently the little sanctuary in which he had been made sensible of his lost condition. The ministry of the pastor, Mr. Thomas Wood, proved instructive and profitable; but the burden of sin still weighed heavily on his heart. About seven months subsequently “joy and peace in believing” were vouchsafed him through a sermon by Mr. Thomas Shirley, afterwards the well-known minister of Sevenoaks Chapel who was visiting the town, and whose gracious conversation on the evening of the same day, so encouraged him that he resolved to confess “whose he was” and whom henceforth he was determined to “serve.”

He was accordingly baptized by Mr. Wood, with his friend George Comb and a person named Head, on July 3rd, 1808, a pool being constructed in the chapel for their accommodation. Of the third candidate nothing is now known. The other two became in God’s good time holy and honourable ministers of the Gospel.

John Andrews Jones was then in his twenty-ninth year. Religion had changed the bias of his mind, but his love for literature was unabated, and he began to find his chief delight in perusing the great Calvinistic writers of former days. He eagerly drank in their teachings. As his knowledge increased his doctrinal convictions deepened. The truth of God into which he was led by the Spirit assumed coherence and harmony in his mind. His views became clear and decided, nor did he afterwards see occasion to change them.

On one debateable point, it is true, his sentiments underwent an important modification. He at first inclined to the opinion so ably advocated by William Huntington, that our deliverance from the penal curse of the law involves our exemption from its claims as a rule of filial obedience. As he himself expressed it in I85I, he “was all but in the quagmire of doctrinal antinomianism.” From this he was delivered by some observations dropped by the venerable Samuel Rowles, of Colnbrook, at the settlement of a minister at Ripley, in 1813—the very year, it will be remembered, in which the “celebrated Coal-heaver fell on sleep.” From that time the opposite view found in him an earnest champion, and he firmly contended that the holy law of God is the rule of spirit and conduct to all true believers in the Lord Jesus. With this exception his creed remained unchanged from the commencement to the close of his long career.

A few months after his baptism he began to preach, and for about eight years served destitute Churches in different localities with great and growing acceptance.

He soon began to use his pen; his earliest published compositions being some short articles signed Andrew, which about this time appeared in the Gospel Magazine. Evangelical and vigorous as his own writings were, it was not, however, by original composition that he was to render his main service to the Church of God. This was ere long apparent. In 1810 a small and long forgotten treatise came into his possession. It was entitled  “An Antidote against Arminianism,” by Christopher Ness, and was dated 1700. It greatly pleased him, and the thought occurred to him that its republication at that time, when, through the popularity of Andrew Fuller’s sentiments, Arminianism was gaining so firm a hold of the evangelical Churches of England, would effect great good. He soon, however, saw that to be widely useful it must be thoroughly revised. Its style was in places quaint to uncouthness. It abounded in Latin, Greek, and even Hebrew quotations. A verbal reprint would therefore have been of small service to plain and unlettered people. He accordingly resolved to follow the course adopted by Toplady in his popular edition of “Zanchius on Predestination,” and to re-write the work in current English, with the omission of all references in other languages. This he did so ably that his effort was deemed successful by competent judges. An edition of seven hundred sold rapidly, and in time five others followed. His peculiar talent as a reviser was thus discovered and demonstrated, and Ness’ treatise was the precursor of the long series of reprints of rare and valuable works which be eventually published.

The young journeyman bookbinder thus became widely known as an intelligent and laborious advocate of the old-fashioned divinity, and many prominent Calvinistic ministers sought his friendship and assured him of their regard and adherence.

Among the causes which he served, none interested him so much as that at Hartley Row, Hampshire. The people, though poor, evinced great attachment both to him and his ministry, and they were at one with him in his zealous love for the doctrines of sovereign grace; and in 1813, though not yet their recognized minister, he was induced to remove his residence to their village. In 1815 he had the joy of baptizing his wife and one of his sisters in their chapel.

As the months rolled by, their mutual affection increased, until in 1816 he was prevailed upon formally to accept the pastoral office among them. To this he was publicly designated on March 13th 18l6: Messrs. John Bailey, of Great Aliestreet; James Castleden of Hampstead; George Comb, his early and devoted friend; George Francis, of Snow’s Fields; S. Parrott, of Reading; and greatest name of all—John Stevens, took part, the last mentioned delivering a luminous and sublime charge from Col. 4:17. The pastor-elect read his confession of faith, which, thirty-seven years afterwards, he published as a tract, entitled, ”A Form of Sound Words Held Fast.”

Two happy and useful years followed, though not, of course, wholly unmixed with perplexity and sorrow. It is related that once, when “trouble like a gloomy cloud had gathered thick and thundered loud” he was so bowed with care and depression that he resolved to preach no more. Toward the end of the week he arranged for someone to occupy his place, while he went to London, determined to spend the Sabbath day in seclusion and silence. When it arrived, he was irresistibly impelled to attend Blandford-street Chapel, of which the eminent John Keeble was at that time the minister. He timidly entered, took a seat in the gallery, and kept his head bowed lest he should be observed. During the long prayer the worthy pastor was led to offer an extraordinary petition on behalf of a brother minister then present who had left his charge through a fit of despondency: “Lord, encourage him to return to his people,” pleaded the good man, “or, if not, constrain him to do so, even though it be by a rod on his back.” When afterwards assured that Mr. Keeble was ignorant of his circumstances, and even unaware of his presence, he could but feel that this was the voice of God to his soul. He therefore retraced his steps and resumed his ministry with a chastened and humbled heart.

It is solemn to reflect how prone the holiest of God’s children are to forget their heavenly Father’s teachings. In course of time another difficulty arose which he allowed to influence him to such an extent that hastily, and, as he afterwards confessed, imprudently he tendered his resignation. “As a bird that wandereth from her nest, so is a man that wandereth from his place.” This he soon proved. He relinquished a sphere in which he had been greatly blessed. He left a weeping people who were tenderly attached to him, and a long period of trial and unsettlement followed.

He first removed in 1818 to Stonehouse, near Plymouth, where, “though blessed to some precious souls,” his sorrows were great. The managers of the chapel had not taken him into their full confidence as to their financial position, and his circumstances became so straitened, that at times he was in actual want. Providence was indeed kind; and in his seasons of sorest need, deliverance always came; but his path was most dark and rough.

While at Stonehouse, he formed the acquaintance of Dr. Hawker, but this does not appear to have ripened into an intimate and cordial friendship.

Dire necessity at length compelled him to terminate the engagement, and, leaving his family behind him, he wended his slow and weary way to London. Here an oft-told incident occurred. Meeting with a poor old Christian woman, whose evident destitution touched his heart, he presented her with his last sixpence. He hath not gone many steps before he encountered an old and attached friend, who, after a few words, pressed a guinea into his hand as he hurriedly bade him farewell.

He next settled at Beccles, in Suffolk. Here, too, his sojourn was short; one of his sermons gave offence to a person of influence in the Church, and his resignation was the result. That the hand of the Lord was in this matter, is evident, for his removal made way for Philip Dickerson, afterwards of Little Alie-street, whose pastorate, though brief, was an exceedingly useful one; and he in turn was succeeded in May, 1823, by George Wright, “the silver-tongued prophet of Suffolk,” whose long and honourable ministry was so blessed, not only to his own Church, but to the Denomination at large.

Ringstead, in Northamptonshire, was his next charge, which he assumed in 1821, with sanguine expectation of success, and which he retained for about four years. With the older and more experienced members of the Church he was a favourite; but the village is not far from Kettering, so long the scene of the labours of Andrew Fuller, whose yea-and-nay Gospel was exceedingly popular in the locality. This, John Andrews Jones was the last man to sanction. Troubles, therefore, arose, and once more he was compelled to “arise and depart,” for this was “not his rest.”

The cloud now led him, in 1825, to Old Brentford, in Middlesex, where he and his family were warmly received by an affectionate and truth-loving people, whom he served with abundant blessing for six years, from 1825 to 1831. This must have been a happy period, after the seven preceding years of change and unrest. He resumed the literary work in which he found such delight; his edition of the “Poetical Essays of John Ryland, junior” (afterwards Dr. Ryland), and one or two minor productions, being the fruit of his leisure at this time. Brentford, however, was not to be his final sphere of ministry. The relations between himself and the Church eventually became strained, and, though no open rupture occurred, he thought it wise to signify his willingness to leave them. They assented. His name was, however, fragrant to the people as long as any survived who remembered him, and his son remained for many years afterwards an esteemed inhabitant of the town.

He was now fifty-two. Time had touched him lightly. He was still full of energy and fire. The strength of his well-stored mind was unabated, and his best years were before him.

A door of usefulness was soon opened. The Baptist Church, at Mitchell-street, St. Luke’s, London, had recently lost their venerable pastor, Thomas Powell, who had served them for nearly forty-six years. Their attention was directed to Mr. Jones, whom they invited to occupy their vacant pulpit. In due time a call was given and accepted; and he was thus led to his last and longest pastorate. His recognition services were hearty and well-attended. George Castleden, of Hampstead; George Comb, now of Soho; Thomas Powell, of Peckham, the son of the former minister—all venerated names—and John Stevens, taking part in them.

He had now found a congenial sphere of ministry. The people, though their numbers were diminished, were united, affectionate, and loyal to the ancient Gospel of discriminating grace. He had a large circle of beloved and honoured ministerial friends, with ample opportunities of cultivating their acquaintance both in private and on public occasions. Dr. Williams’ Library, then in Redcross-street, was near at hand; and he could at pleasure ransack the shelves of the many second-hand book-sellers in the locality in search of the musty treasures of old divinity in which his soul delighted.

For seven years he worked steadily and with fair success, till his church and congregation were compelled to remove to the first Jireh Chapel, which was erected for their accommodation in Brick-lane. Here steady blessing continued to attend his ministry. His life was now a busy one. In addition to his pastoral labours he worked hard at his literary pursuits, producing volume after volume with marvellous industry and rapidity. All his well-known reprints—the two we have already named excepted—were produced between 1831 and 1858, the last of the long series being ”Anne Dutton’s Treatise on Walking with God,” which he republished when in his seventy-ninth year.

In 1861, a gas company required the site of their chapel and the erection of the present Jireh in the East-road, City-road, was the result. In this he ministered till his failing energies necessitated his final retirement from all public labours.

Useful as his long career in London proved, it was not unattended with circumstances of a painful character. To one only need reference be made. In July, 1851, a trivial misunderstanding led to the withdrawal of some of the members of his church, who formed the nucleus of the congregation which has for so many years assembled in Mount Zion Chapel, Chadwell-street. The precise cause is not our concern, but that no permanent blame attached to him is manifest, and the two causes eventually pursued their separate ways with mutual good wishes for each other’s prosperity.

He did not live long after giving up active work. His beloved wife had fallen asleep many years previously. He had been spared to “see his children’s children and peace upon Israel.” According to his ability be had “served his generation by the will of God;” and he awaited the great change with a calm and assured heart. His last public appearance was on October 15th, 1867, when his friends commemorated his entrance into his eighty-ninth year by a tea and public meeting. Though very feeble, he was able to attend, and in the course of the evening—having been helped to rise—he addressed a few tender and earnest words to the crowded assembly.

On the following Christmas Day a family gathering was held at his residence, on the occasion of the marriage of one of his grand-children. His favourite hymn was sung by his request, and the light of heaven seemed to irradiate his aged face as he joined in the closing verse:—

“Let the sweet hope that Thou art mine 

My life and death attend:

Thy presence through my journey shine, 

And crown that journey’s end.”

He died on July 15th, 1868, and was interred in Abney Park Cemetery; several prominent ministers taking part in the farewell services. John Andrews Jones was a representative pastor of a class now unhappily but little known. They aimed less at the transient pleasure, or even the present profit of their hearers, than at their permanent edification in the things of God. To speak the whole truth rather than obtain immediate results, was their paramount consideration. Certain doctrines which are often concealed on account of their unpopularity, they enforced with all boldness of utterance; nor did they “shun to declare all the counsel of God.” To ignore prevalent error they deemed sinful, considering that they were “set for the defence” as well as the proclamation “of the Gospel.” Christ in His person, character, and offices was their theme, and they ascribed eternal glory to the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, in the salvation of sinners.

He was naturally kind, considerate, generous, and simple-hearted: and though his excitable temperament at times interfered with his equanimity, a wise and gentle word would speedily cause the irritation to subside. An affectionate husband and fond father, he was tenderly loved in his home circle. Abroad, he manifested a little of the stateliness of the old-fashioned gentleman; till assured that he was in trustworthy company, when he would unbend and converse with affable cordiality. The soul of integrity himself, he could not tolerate meanness or duplicity in others. His hot Welsh blood, at times, betrayed him into a vehemence and impetuosity of speech and action which were far from prudent; but his manliness and candour more than counterbalanced this tendency. As a pastor, he was faithful and sedulous; and ”watched for souls as one that must give an account.”

The productions of his prolific pen would, if gathered together, fill many volumes. His original writings, which consisted of fugitive articles in the Gospel Herald (signed Andrew), and the Earthen Vessel {which generally bore his own name), with two ministerial charges, two funeral sermons, a memoir of G. Castleden and some doctrinal and political tracts, though, perhaps, not particularly striking, are sound, scriptural, and savoury; and if not expressed in the choicest English, are invariably clear and intelligible. He engaged in several controversies, but his polemical writings, the chief of which are his tracts on Baptism—in the form of letters to the Rev. J. Irons, of Camberwell, are the least valuable of his productions. His own mental vision was uncommonly strong; his personal perception of truth most clear and definite. He held what he believed with the utmost tenacity; and he was too slow in admitting that demonstrations which were absolutely satisfactory to him, might be less cogent to others. His eagerness at times prevented his holding the balances of the sanctuary with a steady hand, and his arguments occasionally approach too near personalities to be in good taste. 

His reprints are invaluable. They were occasioned by the danger that was ever menacing the Denomination he loved so loyally. Absolute Arminianism, he was quick to perceive, was less to be feared than Fullerism, with its perilous blending of error with truth, and its inevitable tendency to degenerate into pure Pelagianism. He saw how this delusive system was blighting and sterilising the Particular Baptists, and how pitifully untrue were the misrepresentations of the Gospel of sovereign grace that were made on every hand. With a determination that never flagged, he therefore sought to exhibit what the creed of our predecessors really was; how scriptural its foundation; how practical its tendencies; and how devoted and holy the men who had held it in its integrity. With this object he laboured incessantly to recussitate the long-forgotten works which he deemed best adapted to his purpose. “Gill’s Body of Divinity,'” which he saw through the press, in 1839, for his friend Mr. Higham, the blind bookseller and stationer, of Chiswell-street, was the chief. “John Brine’s Treatise on Various Subjects,” republished in 1851, is a comprehensive manual of sound theology, to which the volume of sermons on God’s matchless love, by John Moore, of Northampton—which he issued three years later—forms an appropriate companion. It is to be regretted that none of his reprints have indexes, either textual or topical, which would have greatly added to their practical value. A peculiarity is also noticeable in all the letter-press for which he was responsible—his fondness for italic characters, which he not unfrequently employs to almost extravagant excess. Still his services to Calvinistic literature were most important. Many great names would ere now have been forgotten; and some of the choicest treasures of our bookshelves would be unattainable but for his labours. A complete collection of his writings will, it is to be feared, never be made; but all who are anxious to be established in the truths of the Gospel may safely be counselled to obtain all of his productions that come in their way, and to make them their own by diligent and prayerful study. The book by which he will be especially remembered is his “Bunhill Memorials,” a series of biographical notices of the more eminent Christians, whose remains are deposited in the ancient Dissenters’ burying-place of the City of London. From the time of his settlement in the Metropolis, this hallowed spot attracted his attention. There lay the mighty dead whose faith had inspired him; whose writings had instructed him; and some of whom he had caused to speak once more in his editions of their works. There he hoped himself to be laid to rest when his labours on earth were over. He spent many profitable hours within its sacred confines, and at length resolved to produce a portable volume in which the story of their lives should be told in alphabetical order. This he accomplished; and his work is a success. The style is easy, the tone devout, the information interesting and comprehensive; while he never loses sight of his one dominant purpose, to exhibit the fulness and glory of the Gospel to which the holy men whose biographies he gives were so firmly attached. His theological bias was perhaps, a little too evident. To John Martin, of Keppel-street, for instance, eight full pages are devoted, while Susanna, the mother of the Wesleys, and Daniel Defoe—to whom the cause of Nonconformity is so greatly indebted—are wholly unnoticed. The book as a whole, however, deserves the warmest eulogy.

Firmly as he was attached to the distinctive principles of his own section of the Church, his sympathies extended to all that ‘ loved our Lord Jesus in sincerity,” and his list of friends included many that did not belong to his communion.

The editor of the Freeman, John Hunt Cooke, who was for some years the minister of Spencer-place Chapel, relates that shortly after his settlement he, one week evening, observed an ancient looking minister, in an emphatic wig of an antiquated fashion, who was sitting among the congregation. He listened to all that was said with the utmost apparent attention, and at the close came forward and thanked his yo:mg brother, whom he begged to accept an old man’s good wishes and blessing, stating as he prepared to retire that his name was John Andrews Jones. In the pulpit, even in his best days, he never figured as a popular orator. Rhetoric as an art, he rather eschewed than cultivated; and only wished to be considered a ”teacher” of divine truth. At times, however, he would take fire and descant with rapid and eager utterance on the glory of the triune God, and the mighty triumphs of His grace in the salvation of sinful men— with the fervour of the truest eloquence. He excelled as a public reader of the Bible; and in the rendering of his favourite hymns had few equals. Whether he often indulged in poetic composition, it is now impossible to determine. One only of his productions of this character is known to exist, which may form an appropriate conclusion to this brief Memoir.

The Changeless Saviour 

When earthly friends their faces change,

I’m not surpris’d nor think it strange, 

Or creatures rashly blame;

‘Twas God ordained it to the end, 

I might the more on Him depend

Who always is the same.

Welcome, my friends, for friends you’ll be

So long as He doth wisely see

Your friendship will be best:

When He sees meet to pull me down, 

My friends shall change, or on me frown

In this, I’m also blest.

Farewell, my smooth and easy way, 

Since God ordains that as my day

My strength shall also be:

Lord, grant me this! let all the rest 

Be managed as Thou seest best,

I’m happy still in Thee. 

Farewell enjoyment of the mind, 

How oft, alas! do Christians find

All discompos’d within;

And yet no changes in my frame 

Change my dear Lord, He’s still the same

As He has ever been.

This is the sum of every bliss,

A God in Christ! what joy is this,

It cannot be express’d!

This God, this Christ, I will esteem 

My only good; for I, in Him,

Have everlasting rest.

(Gospel Herald 1838)