, "You must not heed me but when I am got three feet
above the earth," that was, into the pulpit.

Mr. Grimshaw's life was written by Newton, Cowper's friend; and from it
may be gathered some curious particulars of the manner in which a rough
population were swayed and governed by a man of deep convictions, and
strong earnestness of purpose. It seems that he had not been in any way
remarkable for religious zeal, though he had led a moral life, and been
conscientious in fulfilling his parochial duties, until a certain Sunday
in September, 1744, when the servant, rising at five, found her master
already engaged in prayer; she stated that, after remaining in his
chamber for some time, he went to engage in religious exercises in the
house of a parishioner, then home again to pray; thence, still fasting,
to the church, where, as he was reading the second lesson, he fell down,
and, on his partial recovery, had to be led from the church. As he went
out, he spoke to the congregation, and told them not to disperse, as he
had something to say to them, and would return presently. He was taken
to the clerk's house, and again became insensible. His servant rubbed
him, to restore the circulation; and when he was brought to himself "he
seemed in a great rapture," and the first words he uttered were, "I have
had a glorious vision from the third heaven." He did not say what he had
seen, but returned into the church, and began the service again, at two
in the afternoon, and went on until seven.

From this time he devoted himself, with the fervour of a Wesley, and
something of the fanaticism of a Whitfield, to calling out a religious
life among his parishioners. They had been in the habit of playing at
foot-ball on Sunday, using stones for this purpose; and giving and
receiving challenges from other parishes. There were horse-races held on
the moors just above the village, which were periodical sources of
drunkenness and profligacy. Scarcely a wedding took place without the
rough amusement of foot-races, where the half-naked runners were a
scandal to all decent strangers. The old custom of "arvills," or funeral
feasts, led to frequent pitched battles between the drunken mourners.
Such customs were the outward signs of the kind of people with whom Mr.
Grimshaw had to deal. But, by various means, some of the most practical
kind, he wrought a great change in his parish. In his preaching he was
occasionally assisted by Wesley and W