in want, she might be out at the gate of her garden, as he should pass by the house. As he proceeded in the direction of the house, he saw, at some distance, a woman standing near the spot he had mentioned in his prayer. Coming up to her, he found her to be the person whose case so occupied his mind. He accosted her, inquiring after her general welfare. She replied, “ I trust my soul still prospers in the divine life; but, as to temporal matters, Sir, I am constrained to say, I am at present in distress.” He relieved her with joy, regarding himself as being sent to her by the Lord on a special errand of mercy. He made himself “friends with the mammon of unrighteousness :" “ when the ear heard him, it blessed him ; and when the eye saw him, it gave witness unto him.” To the cause of God he lent his cheerful and liberal aid. His house, and heart, and purse were ever open on its behalf. Every institution of Christian benevolence found in him a friend. Whether aid was required at the Quarterly Board, in behalf of chapels, or for the support of Missionary, Bible, or other kindred Societies, he was ever ready. To the Wesleyan Missions he was especially liberal: on their behalf he was diligent in begging, and generous in giving. When called, about twenty years before his death, to give up his eldest daughter, as the wife of a Missionary, destined to a very remote part of the Mission field, he did it with readiness, and much pious devotion, rejoicing that he was permitted to make such an offering to God for such a cause. One of his last acts of kindness for the public good was, to direct his son, at the Charlestown Missionary Meeting, a few days after he was put into the furnace of his last affliction, to lay on the plate for him his usual donation of five pounds at the collection.

He was cordially attached to Methodism, both in its doctrines and its discipline, and was faithful and useful in every office which he held, whether as Society or Circuit Steward, Managing Trustee, or ClassLeader. To the Ministers of the Connexion he was much attached ; and, during the painful disputes which occurred a few years ago, defended them to the utmost of his power. In discharging the duties of a Class-Leader he particularly excelled. He knew how to teach the first elements, and how to lead on believers to perfection ; how to give milk to babes, and strong meat to young men, and fathers in Christ. His insight into character, his naturally strong understanding, bis extensive knowledge of the Scriptures, his readiness and pertinence in quoting them, and his own rich experience, made him, in this department, a workman who needed not to be ashamed; for he could herein rightly divide the word of truth, and give unto each a portion of meat in due season. To the members of his class he was as a father, a friend, and a counsellor; and great was their attachment to him in life and in death. Debarred, many of them, to their great grief, from a sight of their beloved Leader during his illness; when admitted, agreeably to his previous request, into the room, to view his Vol. XXI. Third Serie.. August, 1842.

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remains, after the spirit was fled, the tears which they shed testified their sincere and warm affection.

The work of grace in this man of God was doubtless above the common order of piety. He walked humbly and closely with God. Baptized with the Holy Ghost, and often “ filled with the Spirit,” his body became the consecrated temple of the living God. The fruits of righteousness were conspicuous in his life, and the richer consolations of Christ dwelt within his bosom. In him there was a blessed maturity of those cardinal graces of the Christian character,—faith, hope, and love. His faith staggered not at the promise of God. Fixed on that rock of

ages, the truth as it is in Jesus, he was steadfast and unmov. able. Whatever might be the character of the trial, he believed, and went forward, in spite of earth and hell. Twenty thousand doubters would fee before the believing glance of his eye. His faith was the same, in prosperity and adversity, in health and sickness, in life and in death. In his last affliction we beheld him walking as at the bottom of the burning fiery furnace; so exercising faith in the Son of God, as to quench the violence of the fire, and prevent a hair of his head being singed. From this faith resulted the full assurance of hope,-a hope unshaken, and ever blooming with immortality. During the last twenty-five years of his life no cloud appeared to obscure his heavenly prospects. He continually laid hold on heaven, as the hope set before him in Christ ; and it was an anchor to his soul, sure and steadfast. With the heavenly prize fully in view, he daily rejoiced in the hope of the glory of God, esteeming the happiness of heaven as certainly his own future portion and inheritance, as pain and death are the portion and inheritance of man in the present world. From a faith so perfect, and a hope so abounding by the power of the Holy Ghost, came forth the celestial fruits of love, even that perfect love, in whose presence

Fear, and sin, and grief expire."

The place which divine love, as resident in the human breast, holds in the philosophy of morality, and the strength, and bliss, and beauty it affords to the Christian character, he well understood. In a light clearer than most men are favoured with, he saw that love was the fulfilling of the law, and the bond of perfectness. It set his heart and tongue at liberty, and was often his favourite theme of conversation. He gloried in this view of Christian perfection, and was unwearied in recommending it to others.

About two years before his removal from the suffering to the reigning church above, these graces were all put to the test by the death of Mrs. Banks. She was the faithful and affectionate partner of his bosom and of his heart above fifty-two years. Pious from her earlier life, and excellent as a wife, a mother, and a friend, after she had suffered from a lengthened affliction, he beheld her die in the triumph of faith.

While others wept, he rejoiced. The reality and the blessedness of that eternal state into which she had entered, were so manifest to his spiritual senses, and her gain so certain to him, and so great, that he could think of nothing so much as the duty of giving thanks and praises to his heavenly Father. Not fully aware of the triumph of his mind under this painful bereavement, the writer called on him some short time after, partly to condole with him in his affliction. But it soon appeared that condolence was not required; for the loss he had sustained, however great, did not occasion one moment's gloom or dejection. As to the ordinary ground of sorrow, that, as they had lived together so long and so happily, it was hard to be parted,-he could not make any such common-place estimate of God's dealings with him : it was the great goodness of God in sparing her to him so long, and making her to him such a blessing, that he fixed his eyes upon; and that He had now so opportunely relieved her, and taken her to Himself. These things so inflamed his love towards God, that he gratefully and joyfully acquiesced in all his will concerning him. Thus he rejoiced evermore, and in everything gave thanks.

The affliction which terminated the valuable life of this eminent Christian, commenced on Tuesday, December 10th, 1839. Throughout a life of more than threescore years and ten, he had enjoyed almost uninterrupted health. His well-made frame, and his robust constitu

him the fine appearance of vigour and freshness in old age. He had, however, a premonition that his time was at hand; and was led, just before his affliction, to make some arrangements in reference to his family, which in the retrospect are seen to be particularly providential, and mark the kind care and guidance of his heavenly Father. His affliction was exceedingly painful and protracted. There is nothing mysterious in the sufferings of the saints, while we look unto Him“ by whose stripes we are healed," and who was made perfect through sufferings.” “The disciple is not above his Master ; but every one that is perfect shall be as his Master.” Thus it was with the venerated subject of this memoir: through fellowship with the sufferings of Christ below, he followed him to his own glory in the heavens, and is now

“ Far from a world of grief and sin,
With Christ eternally shut in."

tion, gave

Throughout the whole of his trying affliction, murmur or complaint never once escaped from his lips. When questioned relative to his sufferings, he would invariably answer with great calmness and resignation ; often saying, “ The Lord makes my bed in my sickness.” When the protracted nature of his affliction was referred to, he would frequently observe, "The Lord's time is best : all the days of my appointed time will I wait, till my change come.'” Wednesday, Jan. Ist.–To-day his mind was sweetly influenced,

and deeply interested, enlarged, and drawn out, while, by his request, his daughter read to him the whole of the First Epistle of St. John. It was a most profitable and edifying season : he repeatedly interposed a great variety of rich expository remarks. Afterwards he desired that the 733d, 734th, and 735th hymns of our own Collection might be read to him. While these fine compositions were being read, he expatiated, in a striking and forcible manner, on their beauty, and suitability to his state and happy experience.

Friday, 10th.—This day the Lord cheered his mind. His heart and tongue were at liberty, and he conversed largely on spiritual things. He was led to dwell particularly on the awful passion of the blessed Redeemer.

Wednesday, 15th.—This day he received the sacrament of the Lord's supper. During the administration of the ordinance, his spirit was deeply engaged with God: Calvary absorbed his soul. On being asked if he had clear views of heaven, he replied, "I feel I have an interest in my blessed Saviour,-a deep interest; and where He is, there soon shall I be.” One of his children said, “ Father, it is hard to part with you.” IIe replied, “I know it is hard, my dear, for those who are left behind; but you must remember, you have a mother in heaven, and shortly you will have a father there also : live to God, and we shall meet again. It is a great thing to keep the world under our feet, and to have Christ to be all in all.” On being asked if he

any wish to recover, he said, “O no; but if it were God's will, I should not object : yet I would rather, if it were his blessed will, that he would cut short the work in righteousness, and take me to himself; but it is all as the Lord pleases."

Thursday, 16th.—He talked much to-day of God's goodness to him, in providence and grace. He dwelt minutely on particular instances of God's care over him through life. The voyage after that on which he had received a crear evidence of God's pardoning love, he was very near being wrecked on the coast of Kent. The vessel in company with him was lost. His vessel struck two or three times on the same sand-bank, and then beat over it, and at length arrived safe at the port of Ilull. Returning home, by a sudden motion of the vessel he was thrown overboard, and in great danger of being drowned. On the same day they feared they would certainly be captured by a French privateer, and they escaped the horrors of captivity only by a striking and gracious interposition of Providence. After a little irregular sleep, while suffering from extreme thirst, he observed, “ Jesus said, 'The water that I shall give thee shall be in thee a well of water, springing up unto everlasting life.'” He added,

“My Jesus hath done all things well.” “For some time past,” he said, “I have invariably been enabled, in the morning, to view Christ on the cross; but since my illness I have


viewed him also in his glorified state, as upon his shining throne." Feeling, from his weakness, a momentary difficulty in keeping his mind stayed on Christ, he exclaimed, “But, blessed be God, I am confident he will never leave me, nor forsake me.”

Friday, 17th.-On being asked, if he had any doubts respecting his eternal state, he replied, “ Blessed be God, I have never been permitted to be even tempted to doubt, as some good men have.” Referring to his confidence and hope, he said, “ Whosoever believeth in Christ, though he were dead, yet shall he live. I shall soon be removed

• From a suffering church below,

To a reigning church above.'
• 'Tis almost done, 'tis almost o'er.'”

Some time after he said, with a look indescribable, and an emphasis that touched every heart,

“ The heaven prepared for me ;”

referring to the 733d hymn, which was being read to him. When he came to those words,

“But 0, the bliss to which I tend

Eternally shall last !”

he lifted up his eyes and hands, and exclaimed aloud, “ Eternally, eternally! bless the Lord !" Suffering extremely in the night, he prayed thus: “O God, thou hast said, 'Call upon me in the day of trouble, and I will hear, and deliver thee.' O Lord, I do call; I have called on thee, and thou hast before answered me: I call upon thee now, through thy Son Jesus Christ, and ask that thou wilt be pleased to hear my prayer,—and ease me, and give me a little sleep.” This prayer was heard ; and in about five minutes he fell into a sleep, which continued nearly through the night. He observed after, “ The Lord is faithful to his promise, and hath brought me through the fire and through the water; and now I am looking for the fulfilment of the last promise,—that his rod and staff shall comfort me in the valley and shadow of death.”

Sunday, 26th. His sufferings continued to be very great; but his mind was immovably fixed on God, his faith unshaken, and the object of his hope unclouded. He had for many days taken no sustenance but cold water; (nor did he take any other to the end ;) for which he often expressed great thankfulness. Taking the cup into his hand, he remarked, “How greatly am I privileged above my Lord and Master ! When he thirsted, in the agonies of death, he had gall and vinegar given him to drink; but I have this pure water."

Monday, 27th.-He spoke of the certainty of his now drawing near to death with great thankfulness. Referring to the brightness of his

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