The tale of a laborious, successful pastorate is soon told. The gathering together of a congregation, the maintenance and gradual increase of its numbers and influence, the conversion of soul after soul and the progressive augmentation of the church, the profiting of souls so converted to God, apparent to all men in their holy character and disposition, the individual cases, or more wide-spread manifestations of infirmity, demanding vigorous, though reluctant discipline, the removal of saint after saint to the church in heaven, the operations of zeal among a people who, having experienced blessing, desire its diffusion; these are the elements of the pastoral history. Many a deeply interesting illustration, were it desirable to present such details, might the history under review doubtless supply. Statements of a more general nature must suffice the chapel became so filled, as to render enlargement expedient; a spacious school-house was built in its immediate vicinity; a smaller chapel was purchased for occasional preaching, and for the purposes of sabbathschool instruction, in a locality half a mile distant from that where the parent society convened; from three to four hundred people were gathered, from first to last, into church-fellowship; several members were from time to time dismissed, to assist in the formation of newly-gathered congregations in the neighbourhood; two pastors now occupying important positions in Lancashire and in Kent,* were sent forth into the ministry by the church of Mawdsleystreet chapel; and all this was comprised in a pastorate of thirty-four years.

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These results were not brought about without arduous and persevering labour. For more than three-andthirty years, Mr. Jones preached weekly four sermons to his own people, three times on the Lord's-day, and once in the course of the week; and during a great portion of his ministry, he added a fifth sermon in some neighbouring *The Rev. Thomas Greenall, of Burnley; and the Rev. James Hamer, of Sutton-Valence.

village. For the last two or three years he also conducted a Bible class, for which he prepared written exercises, and to the immediate duties of which he devoted three hours every Monday evening: several individuals of this class became members of the church. He devoted the Lord's-day mornings to Scripture exposition, a department in which he greatly excelled. These exercises he diversified, by taking portions of the Old and New Testaments on alternate sabbaths; his preparations for exposition were conducted with scrupulous and laborious concern to ascertain the sense of Scripture. His remarks, if necessary, were critical, as well as expository; he did not conceal the objections of opponents, but announcing them, he answered the gainsayers; in a word, he concentrated all his powers on this work, educating his people in the knowledge of the Scriptures, and deducing with much fidelity the practical instructions that bear upon life and character.

Mr. Jones's labours and usefulness were not confined to a single sphere. The estimation in which he was held as a preacher, appeared in the demand made on his services by sister churches. For eleven years also he paid an annual visit to the metropolis, and preached to the congregations of the Tabernacle and Tottenham-court-road chapels. To these scenes of useful labour he became much attached, and his visits were ever welcomed by the people, who will long retain a pleasing recollection of his instructive, pungent ministrations.

Nor was his pen left wholly unemployed. A memoir of the late Rev. T. Jackson, of Bamford, which appeared in this Magazine in the year 1837, was written by him; and another appeared in the Congregational Magazine of 1827, recording the biography of his late mother-in-law, Mrs. Ritchie. A funeral sermon, on occasion of the death of an excellent clergyman of Bolton, the late Rev. W. Thistlethwaite, passed through two editions in the space of a single month. His solici

tude for the people of his charge appeared in two practical essays prepared especially for their benefit-the one in 1831, entitled, “The Celebration of the Lord's Supper, urged upon serious young people;" the other on "Improper and Unhappy Marriages," published in the last year of his life. Besides these, he published an "Essay on the Deity of Christ," and a manual entitled, "The Teacher's or Parent's Assistant in communicating the knowledge of the Holy Scriptures;" together with a few tracts and small books for children. To these must be added, "An Essay on Covetousness," prepared and published at the request of some of his friends on occasion of the proposal of a respected metropolitan physician, who has led the way in securing for the religious public not a few valuable volumes, in the form of prize essays. Mr. Jones's publications were, for the most part, brief, but they all bore the characteristics of his mind.

His domestic life was marked by the wonted vicissitudes of joy and grief. His first wife was the sister of the Rev. T. Greenall, of Burnley; she became the mother of three children, over the grave of one of whom the parents were called early to mourn; and he himself was left a widower when the other two were still in comparative infancy. His second marriage was with Miss Ritchie, one of the earliest members of his church, whose companionship he enjoyed till his death, being a space of nineteen years : greatly respected as the pastor's wife, she cannot but be equally condoled with as the pastor's widow.

But we must hasten to the closing scenes. From December, 1841, tokens of indisposition presented themselves, which compelled the laborious pastor to abridge the number of his public services, preaching now only twice on the Lord's day. An attack speedily followed, which interrupted the regular fulfilment even of this amount of duty, and which at length terminated in death. Still he was enabled to preach

occasionally, and neither did he himself nor his friends entertain serious apprehensions as to the result of his complaint. His occasional services were conducted till within a fortnight of his removal, and appear to have been characterized by much fulness and unction. In the New Testament he was in course of expounding the epistle to the Hebrews, and his exhibition of the Saviour's priestly office will long be remembered by his people. His last exposition was on the Old Testament, and was delivered on the last Lord'sday in September, 1842; the text was Psalm cxix. 105, and following verses, in which his own estimate of the divine word was exhibited in a form so powerful and affecting as greatly to enhance the sense of its worth in the minds of those who heard him. On the following Lord's-day, he delivered his last discourse in connexion with the administration of the Lord's supper his text was Exod. xii. 47, "All the congregation of Israel shall keep it." Addressing a large body of spectators, he urged with great solemnity and pathos the duty of observing the Christian feast, and the sin of neglecting it. There was a character about that address that led his hearers as they retired to exclaim, Surely this must be a last discourse." He thought not so; but prepared one more sermon for delivery, the strain of which indicated his earnest solicitude for such as had attended his ministry without effect; this was its appropriate text, "Since I came to speak in thy name, neither hast thou delivered thy people at all." This record of his pastoral solicitude remains, but his voice was to be heard no more in the pulpit.

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In the house he still continued the routine of duties, not being confined to his bed for a single day. The evening of the second Lord's-day in October, being the last Sabbath but one prior to his removal, his household observed a special character of devotion about him. He sang the whole of Cowper's hymn on "The fountain opened for sin ;" and two verses of that of Dr. Watts,

"The land of pure delight." His prayers, too, were more than usually distinguished by fervour and solemnity: his spirit seemed to have caught a glimpse of the heavenly world. It was during the quiet of this Sabbath, probably, that he wrote the following verses, which were found after his death

SABBATH MORNING.

"Peace to the day when Jesus rose,

And conquer'd hell and death;
He triumph'd o'er his peoples' foes
With his last dying breath.
The portals of immortal day
His arm extended wide;
Eternal Justice led the way,
With Mercy at her side.

He enter'd the most holy place;

Hosannas fill'd the sky;
And seraphs sang his matchless grace
In strains that never die.

There patriarchs bow with holy joy
Beneath his sacred feet;
And all the first-born church on high
Around his footstool meet.

There angel-bands around his throne
Redemption's theme prolong;
His power, and strength, and glory own
In one eternal song;

O Jesus, from thy throne of grace
Bid us to glory rise;
And grant us mercy in this place
To fit us for the skies."

After this another week elapsed without any more threatening symptoms, and the last Sabbath passed without any fixed apprehension that his complaint would prove fatal. Though greatly debilitated he still left his chamber, retiring on the eve of his death only a little earlier than usual. On first retiring that night he enjoyed a little repose, but after a little while his breathing became very laborious, and he complained of extreme illness. His medical friend was fetched at midnight, and pronounced his case to be beyond the reach of remedies. He heard the statement with undisturbed calm, breathing out his prayer under the pressure of suffering, "Lord Jesus, help me." In reply to his anxious partner's inquiry, whether he was now enabled to commit himself into the hands of the Lord, he rejoined,

"I have done that a long time." When she remarked again, that the Lord would not forsake his people in life or in death, he answered with an enphasis the more striking, as he spoke with extreme difficulty, "No, never." As his wife and daughter sat by his bedside, watching each indication of his last moments, they heard him breathe once and again the filial appeal, "My Father!-my Father!" Uttering these words, his head sunk lower on his pillow, and, without a sob or the distortion of a single muscle, he expired. So terminated the life of the pastor of Mawdsley-street chapel, on the 19th day of October, 1842, in the 59th year of his age, and after a pastorate of 34 years.

The respect in which his memory was held was evinced in the crowded attendance at the funeral services. An impressive address was given at his burial by the Rev. Richard Slate, of Preston; and an overflowing congre gation assembled to listen to a funeral sermon preached by the Rev. John Ely, of Leeds.

His

It is necessary only further to add a slight sketch of Mr. Jones's mental lineaments. His mind was solid, not brilliant; and though he was not without discernment of the ornamental, he chiefly valued the substantial. judgment was clear and sound, nor was its exercise confined to one class of subjects, for he cultivated an acquaintance with many studies not strictly professional. But to divinity he gave his more habitual attention. His theology partook of the characteristics of his mind, and was solid, clear, full; his was the good old divinity; and whatever tended to lower its tone, and all such speculations as were calculated to diminish its authority, were most distasteful to him. He had no relish for metaphysical refinements, yet he accurately understood and carefully maintained distinctions. His heart was in harmony with the intellect : it was the seat of genuine benevolence; but, in his loathing of every thing like sentimentalism, he might sometimes obtain

credit for less feeling than those who knew him best would rightly attribute to him for the sake of performing a substantial kindness, he would subject himself to no small cost of toil and self-denial. There was, undoubtedly, a character of sternness about his virtues: he could not tolerate evil or its appearance, and sometimes, perhaps, there might be of consequence, an air of severity which would wound the innocent, and would fall with undue force on such as were weak rather than criminal; yet this characteristic gave him a power beneath which guilt and meanness quailed. It must be added, that he was distinguished by a remarkable acquaintance with the human heart; and this demonstrated itself, not so much in an accurate and intuitive discernment of individual character, as in a knowledge of human nature: he had strong prepossessions, which might often lead to erroneous judgments as to persons; but the workings of human nature were all familiar to him. He had studied his own heart-he had watched the movements of conscience-he was aware of the deceitfulness of sin-he was observant of all the variations of religious experience; and he was, as might be expected, a skilful moral anatomist.

here was obvious the manipulation of skill, the hand of a master; the hearer felt that the workings and motives of his inward nature had been detected; movements of his heart which had passed unobserved even by himself, were shown him, and he was constrained to acknowledge their reality; the preacher met the objections which the unbelieving mind was at the moment secretly conjuring up, and answered and set aside the secret excuses of the heart that trifled with conviction; he silenced the concealed complainings of the rebellious spirit, and soothed the hidden sorrow of the broken heart. Sometimes he might seem, perhaps, roughly to handle the broken bones and wounded spirit, but he always handled them with skill, and with a kind, ultimate design. It was his skill in dealing with human nature that gave to his preaching its character of acceptableness. It was not greatness; it was not oratory; it was not eccentricity; it was not sentiment it was the heart-searching style of his ministry that gave it power and con. stituted attraction. Equally skilful was he in the sick chamber,-nor less assiduous, faithful, affectionate; there also, it may be certain, the sterner qualities would be softened; the sick and dying felt confidence and gratitude, and experienced profit.

Many living monuments remain to attest his usefulness. Many consciences retain the influence of his faithfulness. "Being dead, he yet speaks" in the hidden chambers of many a heart

in the life of many a disciple. But all the success of his ministry would have been ascribed by him, must be ascribed by survivors, to the efficacious blessing of God alone, "to the praise of the glory of his grace."

COMPASSION

DEARLY BELOVED BRETHREN,-Permit me to direct your attention to a most important and affecting subject,

FOR SOULS.

namely, how to act towards the unconverted, if that, by any means, you may save their souls. The feelings which

we should cultivate towards converted persons and unconverted, are widely different, arising from the difference of their state in the sight of God. Towards the converted, we should exercise a love of complacency and delight; but to the unconverted, we should show the tenderest pity and compassion. A converted man is a child of God, and an heir of glory; but the unconverted is a child of wrath, and an heir of hell. The one is going to heaven, to see God, to be like God, to dwell with God; but the other is preparing for the company of the devil and his angels. The difference is almost infinite, and ought deeply to affect our hearts and our conduct, I sometimes think of it in this way: There is a country, which was once overflowed with water, and only eight of the inhabitants were saved; but in process of time, this country has been repeopled again. Beyond this low country is another, and a better, where the gates of the cities are made of pearls, and the streets are paved with gold. The inhabitants are unspeakably happy, for they never hunger nor thirst; neither do they sicken nor die. Now the people in the low country generally wish to go and finish their days in the golden country, but there is a deep and dangerous river to pass, which would certainly prevent any of them from going over. A gracious King, named Emmanuel, out of pure love to these people, erected a magnificent bridge, at an amazing expense, and had the following inscription engraven on it :-" This is the way, walk ye in it; come and welcome, whosoever will, let him come." And as soon as a traveller approached this bridge, a servant of Emmanuel gave him a book, containing an exact description of the road, so that, if proper attention were paid to the "Roadbook," a wayfaring man, a poor peasant, could not err. But notwithstanding the expressive love of Emmanuel, nearly all the people took no heed to the bridge, but huddled together in crowds and masses, into the river, vainly striving to get over by their own exer

tions. Now, what ought I to do in this matter? Should I stand talking to the people over the bridge, who were in the right way, and who had a book so clearly and plainly written, that if they attended to it, they could not go wrong? or ought I to procure a boat, and get into the river among the drowning, sinking, perishing crowds, and try, if possible, to pull out some of them? What think you? Oh, I would get the boat, launch into the river, seize one, pull in another, lay hold of a third, and if there was one just sinking, and into whose mouth the water was already entering, I would try to catch him first, because he was in the greatest peril; and having succeeded in rescuing these from destruction, then lead them to the bridge, give them the book, and say, “Go forward," and then down again into the boat, and pull out more. This is compassion, and it is this kind of compassion that I would urge on you. Attend most to those who most need your help, and attend to those first who are nearest the brink of destruction. A celebrated author says, "Where there are deep impressions, there will be strong expressions," and, doubtless, if true Christians felt more, it would set them upon a laborious and self-denying activity. The compassion awakened in a pious negro's breast, as told me by one of the missionaries, strikingly illustrates this. "I was preaching," said he, "to my sable flock. The only white person present was myself. I wished to interest my congregation especially for Africa, and for this purpose I took a map of Africa into the pulpit. After telling them that the dark places of the earth are full of the habitations of cruelty, I showed them the map. This, I said, is a picture of your fatherland. Down here, pointing to the Cape of Good Hope, is much light; Moravians, and Scottish, and Wesleyan, and London Society missionaries are labouring here, and God has so smiled upon them, that the wilderness is become a fruitful field. Up here, at the north end of the map, is Abyssinia, and here is a little light.