astonishment and admiration, cried what hath God wrought!'

In his own views of Liverpool, too, a great change was wrought by the remarkable circumstances attendant on his ministry. The kind assiduities of the family under whose hospitable roof he resided, and an intercourse with the pious part of the congregation, which they carefully promoted, tended gradually to weaken his prejudices, and at length completely to turn the bias, and reverse the purpose of his mind. The period of his stay was limited to five Sabbaths; but at the earnest solicitation of the people, he consented, after communicating with his friends in London, to add another to the number. And in the afternoon of the last Sabbath, he preached from Deut. xxxiii. 3, Yea, he loved the people,' in such a style of endearment and affection, as seemed to warrant the indulgence of their warmest hopes. The last week of his visit was spent in the most delightful intercourse with Christian friends; and on Tuesday, the 7th of August, he left Liverpool with reluctance and tears.

6

The following extracts are from his correspondence while at Liverpool.

The

"I had a most uncomfortable journey. distance was so great, the company so disagreeable,

and I so low spirited, that I can truly say, 1 never travelled in such misery before. When I arrived at Manchester, there was no one to meet me at the coach. No one expected me. After a great deal of trouble I found out Mr. Smith's house, and I shall always feel indebted to him for the kindness with which he received me, though unexpected, and for the hospitality with which he entertained me till Saturday morning, when I left Manchester for Liverpool. And say you, what are your sentiments about that? I freely tell you then, that I think it is an excellent town, &c. &e. ; but I had rather any one should be here supplying than myself, and I long for the time when I shall leave for Hoxton.

**

"Depend upon it, if possible, I will set off for London on Monday, July 30th; I wish it were tomorrow-but perhaps I do wrong in complaining. May you enjoy the presence of Him who has shut me up from the society of my beloved companions for a time, perhaps that I might seek more earnestly after his own.

"I suppose you have been looking for a

letter for a day or two past from your friend at Liv

erpool, so here it is come at last.

I did not preach at Manchester, for notice had been given the Sabbath hefore, that there would be no preaching there the next Wednesday evening-nor have I been to

I saw no one from his house when I was at Manchester, nor have I heard any thing from him since: most likely I shall not see him at all. In fact I have quite visiting enough among the people of the congregation.

"Here are some excellent people, very pious, and zealous for the honour of God, and the good of immortal souls, in this town. With some of them I shall be almost sorry to part.

"Last Sunday evening I preached the sermon for Hoxton; we collected about 40l. The place I preach in is called Newington Chapel. I forget the name of the street it stands in. There are many more dissenting places of worship here than you

seem aware of. I am not yet certain whether I stay six Sabbaths.

❝ Mr. bas written me a long and pressing letter for me to go to Plymouth Dock, which he says is just the thing for me-he wishes me to settle there —gives an exceedingly high character of the place. According to his request I must write to him soon, but I scarce know in what manner. It is a large. congregation, and he says, that there is there huge army of the soldiers of the cross.'

a

"I will take care to get you a plan of the town. I hear that a fire has consumed Huntingdon's cha-pel in Tichfield-street-is it true? Dr. W. has written to me, requesting me to supply New Court the first Sabbath in August.

"The Wednesday after I wrote to you, I preached on Psalm lxi. 2. Following Sabbath-morning, Colos. iii. 3 afternoon, John x. 9: evening, Job xxxvi. 18. The next Wednesday evening, Gal. iv. 7. Last Sabbath morning, Zech. vi. 13: afternoon, the same concluded: evening, Zech. iii. 7. Monday evening, at the prayer meetings, I either go over the outline of one of the sermons preached the day before, or else give a short exhortation, as at Hoxton.

"I suppose you know that I have written to D. C― but not to Mr. B. For the fact is, I had rather not. I do not know how, and I do not see that it would do any good, so must decline it. I am out almost every day. Oh why should people be afraid to let me be alone; why will they not let me enjoy my much-loved solitude! On several accounts I feel anxious to get home; and can now indeed say, 'Hoxton, with all thy faults, 1 love thee still.'

"Present my respects to all our friends in town. Give me as much intelligence as you can in your next, and believe me still

"Your sincere friend,

"THOMAS SPENCER."

Very soon after his return to Hoxton, Mr. Spencer received from the church and congregation at Newington chapel, an unanimous and pressing invitation to accept the pastoral office over them. The call was dated on the 8th of August, 1810. After near seven weeks deliberation, Mr. Spencer returned an answer in the affirmative. In what exercises of mind these seven weeks were spent, those who knew the peculiar circumstances of his situation can well

conceive. On the one hand, the unanimous request of a people to whom God had directed him contrary to his wish, and to whom he had become singularly endeared--the imperious call of duty to a sphere of action for which his talents seemed every way adapted, in which his labours had been already remarkably successful, and which promised most extensive usefulness. These were circumstances of no common magnitude. But on the other hand, there were many powerful ties to bind him to the neighbourhood of the metropolis. His family-his best friendships-his most endeared connexions-the scenes of his early and honourable labours-all conspired in the prospect of his removal to so great a distance, to awaken the most painful and distressing feelings in his mind. And resolutely to resist the importunities of friends, the value of whose society we fully know to rise superior to those local attachments which long and happy intercourse cannot fail to form-and to leave the circle to which time and frequent interchange of sentiment have rendered us familiar and endeared, for a land of strangers-involve a sacrifice which only the voice of duty can demand, or the hope of usefulness repay. Yet such are the sacrifices which the Christian minister must frequently be called to make; and whilst on his part they are with cheerfulness surrendered to the call of duty, and the cause of Christ, let those in whose particular behalf they are claimed, seek by every affectionate office of friendship, to blunt the edge of separation, and relieve as much as may be by kindness, the memory of distant friendships and endeared connexions.