66 into hell at last, Christ Himself must go also. Oh what a delightful discourse did he preach from these words of the Apostle : Being confident of this very thing, that He who hath begun the good work in you, will perform it until the time of Jesus Christ." This discourse carried my drooping soul through the day with exceeding joy. I spent the evening with a few of our Christian friends very comfortably indeed. I don't know that I have had such a joyful Sabbath since I have known what a Lord's day means, and think our little company were all in the same spirit, and I believe the Lord was present with us of a truth, for I thought we were (at least for my own part) caught up unto the very suburbs of heaven. This, my friend, was your happy lot some time ago; now, blessed be God, it was my turn, and I think our cases nearly agree. But alas! how soon these seasons are gone. Then I was upon the top of the mount; yet, perhaps, to keep me still humble and dependent, the Lord suffered the enemy to attack me the next morning afresh. He would fain have persuaded me that it was nothing but a mere notion or fancy instead of reality, that the passions were only a little moved, that it was not likely that such a vile, ungrateful wretch as I should be so highly favoured of the Lord, and many more such things which I could not but look upon as the spite and envy of hell; for it vexes the devil to see the Lord's people happy; nevertheless, I could not forget the things which I had seen and heard. My friend, I just mention these things that you may rejoice with me, and help me to praise the Lord. "Since all the downward tracts of time Good when He gives-supremely good, Now, friend, wishing you an abun dance of joy and peace in the Holy Ghost, I once more conclude. Your affectionate friend, DAVID BLIGH. VISITING THE SICK Is a Christian duty, the discharge of which requires much tenderness, sympathy, tact and heavenly wisdom on the part of the visitor, if the engagement is to prove acceptable and profitable to the visited one. The following suggestions relative to this important but difficult department of " pure religion," by the late Canon Miller, are calculated to be very useful to those who are called to engage in it: In all cases seek divine guidance and blessing. Never cross a sick man's threshhold without lifting up your heart in prayer that God, by His Spirit, may give you a word in season for this individual case. Remember that in visiting the sick, tenderness is essential. Enter the chamber very quietly. Tread noiselessly. Get near to the sufferer. Speak as softly as may be. Remember his nerves; noise is often torture. Sympathise with his weakness, restlessness and pain. Enter into his symptoms and his sufferings. Ask what his doctor has said. Avoid a professional, official, conventional air. Avoid fussiness. The case may be too grave for cheerful words; but if otherwise, let your face carry a little sunshine into the sick room. Go with a brother's heart. Always take the sick man's hand, if he can bear it. Be brief-brief in your talk, brief in your readings, brief in your prayers-your whole visit brief. Take up one point. A sick man's brain is soon overtasked, his nerves soon jar, his strength soon fails. Leave a well chosen text behind you, as you say Good-bye!" Let your Good-bye be "God bless you!" Let your last look be one of tenderness and love. unto the Lord; trust also in Him, and He shall bring it to pass." It is impossible for me to describe the effect this was the means of producing upon my mind; I felt as one standing up to his chin in water, but this formed a rock which prevented my sinking deeper. It seemed to say, "It is thy duty to commit thy way to God by prayer and faith; it is His to sustain thee, and in the end He will bring it to pass.' This passage I turned as a swivel-gun every way, as circumstances required, through several months, but could not see how deliverance was to come, except by my removal; and against this my feelings recoiled, till every other door appeared to be closed: then I was ready to say, Lord, any way, only deliver me. During these anxious months, I many times resolved I would disclose my thoughts to some of my ministerial brethren, and tell them my case, so that if any opening in Providence appeared to them, they might communicate with me. At other times I thought the Master, in whose employment I was, knew where to find me if he wished me to labour in another part of His field. Then again, I remembered He usually works by means, and perhaps I ought to do so, as well as pray. Ah, my dear brother, none can tell the sufferings of an anxious mind upon such a subject but the man who feels them. However, this subject was talked over with my deacons repeatedly, but be yond that and my own wife to no other soul. Thus things went on till towards the end of 1831; when one day I was surprised by a letter from a neighbouring minister, which informed me he had been applied to by a deacon of the Baptist Church in Little Alie-street, London, respecting me, as they had heard I was at liberty to remove, and they had been informed I was a likely man to suit them, and wishing to know his mind upon that business. He sent me a copy of his reply, and expressed his astonishment that he had not heard I was likely to leave Rattlesden. The receipt of that letter_opened to me a marvellous matter. I was indeed uncomfortable; but how came people nearly a hundred miles off to know it, as I had not made it known beyond what has been stated. However, the above letter was the first visible link in the chain of effecting my removal to Alie-street. Now, then, came the pangs of parting, which were beyond an ordinary degree painful. Some dear friends whom I dearly loved, and who are now, I doubt, not in glory, acted very unkindly, charged me with deceit and even falsehood, so that at times I felt as if my heart would break. But I afterwards saw there was much mercy, as well as wisdom, in my gracious God permitting all this; for had it not been for the unkindness manifested, the actual pain of parting would have been felt more keenly than it was. So true is the poet's remark, "God is His own interpreter, And He will make it plain." It has also led me to look back upon the circumstances in general connected with the removal of ministers, in which there is much to humble, being frequently much unbecoming temper and spirit. Yet our God, wonderful in counsel, overrules it for the advancement of His own glory. He can make darkness and confusion promote His own praise, yet righteously correct the abettors thereof. Thus the providence of God removed me from Rattlesden, a scattered country village, to my present station in the midst of the metropolis of the world. Whenever I think of it, and look back upon it, I am filled with wonder, and constrained to exclaim with the Psalmist, "It is the Lord's doing, and marvellous in my eyes." One thing is always pleasant to reflect upon. I left my little flock in the country in a much better position than I found it. When I went to Rattlesden, the number of members able to attend was not more than thirty-four; when I left it amounted to eighty, after deducting all the deaths and removals in Providence which had occurred during the thirteen years I had been there. When I commenced my ministry there we had no school worth mentioning; when I left there was a very useful one, besides the circumstances of the people for supporting the cause were doubled. Also, after the first feelings had subsided, the affections of the people again turned towards me, so that one of the finest enjoyments I have had has been a visit to them now and then to spend a Lord's-day with them, and never have they been forgotten at a throne of grace; and now my prayer for them 18, "Peace be within thy walls, and prosperity within thy_palaces." For my brethren's sake I will now say. "Peace be within thee." Now, methinks I hear you, Mr. Editor, saying, and some of our readers muttering to themselves, however could the good people at Aliestreet get it into their heads to inquire about you as a minister likely to suit them, a man whom they had never heard nor seen, and of whose character and movements they knew nothing! It will now devolve upon me to explain this seemingly mysterious affair, an affair which the good people at Rattlesden could never reconcile with my statement, that "I knew nothing more about it than they did,” which was the truth, and I wondered as much as they did. Space compels us here to close this letter. Peace be with you. Yours sincerely, En @emoriam. MRS. MARY BLAKE. OUR dear mother was a subject of the Holy Spirit's work very soon after she was twelve years old, and at that time joined the Wesleyans. Some time after, in the order of Divine Providence, she came to London, and was led to hear Mr. Lucombe at Bethel Chapel, City-road, by whom she was baptized, as letters received by her from a friend, Miss Beresford, who addressed her as "my very dear sister in Christ," testify. She afterwards entered, about 1834 or 1835, the service of Mrs. Warren at Kentish Town, then a member at Salem Chapel, under the pastoral care of the late revered Mr. John Stevens. Our dear mother attended his ministry with the family. She joined PHILIP DICKERSON. the church there in 1841, and continued a member until the time of its dissolution, quietly and unobtrusively attending the services whenever her occupation permitted, which was not, however, as often as she wished. We know the precious gospel of the grace of God as there preached was her soul's delight. When by changes in the church the ordinance of the Lord's supper was administered in the evening instead of the afternoon she was much grieved, being scarcely ever able to attend, being bound to time, and her great age and the distance rendered it at last quite impossible. But although the church was dissolved, and she was thus, as it were, left without a spiritual home, she said Salem's God was still her God, and the throne of grace was still open to her. For the last two or three years she has attended Rehoboth Chapel, Pimlico, being the nearest place where she could find the pure gospel, and that was as far as she could well walk. She used to visit us on Sunday afternoons, the only time she could come, and as we have been lately in some trying business difficulties, she was much distressed, but still said she could always, when she got home, go and lay all her troubles before her Heavenly Father, and look to Him for help and strength, bidding us to look where she did, and to seek help from the same Almighty source. I As regards her last days there is not much to say, as she was actually laid aside less than two days. When we first went to her in the hospital, where she had been taken to undergo an operation, she said, "This sickness is not unto death;" but when she felt doctors and nurses were correct in saying there was no hope, she said, Thy will be done." When asked if she was happy, she said, “Yes, but not as happy as I could wish. should have liked to see things clearer with you." When spoken to by her sister who was with her for about twenty-four hours, she said, "Yes, I know it is all for the glory of God, but I cannot see how God is to be glorified by my being laid on a sick bed in this hospital; but I suppose I shall know hereafter, and perhaps you will all know very soon. Thus she passed away, and, we doubt not, entered her everlasting rest; for the foundation of her hope was "The Rock of Ages," which never gives way. Almost her last words were, "I am perfectly resigned; His will be done." She " fell asleep," June 30th, 1880, aged 70, and was interred at Willesden Cemetery. Mr. Box, of Soho Chapel, kindly conducted the funeral service, which was very solemn and impressive, and together with his conversation, greatly encouraging to those of us who hope, through grace divine, to enter the same eternal home. JANE R. BLAKE. MR. BARNES. Sudden death at Bethesda Chapel, Ipswich. A SOLEMN proof of the verity of the language that "In the midst of life we are in death," was witnessed at Bethesda Baptist Chapel, Fonnereauroad, Ipswich, in the death of a gentleman, whose immortal soul was called from time into eternity in the space of a few moments. The deceased was Mr. Barnes, residing at 59, Woodbridge-road, and was 75 years of age. He had just arrived at the chapel, and occupied his seat as usual, when his son observed symptoms of illness, and immediately rendered his aid. Assistance was also rendered by others of the congregation, and deceased was carried into the vestry. Dr. Roche, passing at the time, was called in; but it was found that life was quite extinct. During the morning the body was removed to the mortuary, and an inquest held on the following day, when, from the evidence adduced, a verdict of "Death from heart disease" was returned. Mr. Barnes was formerly a farmer, and resident at Redlingfield, Suffolk, and a regular attendant at the Baptist Chapel, Horham. He retired from his occupation as farmer about two years since, and came to reside at Ipswich, during which time he has invariably attended Bethesda. Mr. Barnes made no profession of religion, and was a man of very few words; but, according to outward appearance, was a very consistent and humble person, and from what little conversation various persons had with him, it may be hoped that he was among the number "that thought upon His name," and we do trust that he now beholds the face of Jesus with unclouded joy, and has joined in singing the song of Moses and the Lamb. He was a widower, and leaves an only son for whom great sympathy is felt in the loss he has so suddenly been called to bear. How solemn such events are, and how loudly they speak to us-"Be ye also ready, for in such on hour as ye think not the Son of Man cometh," and a EDWARD JAY OF CHELMSFORD. On Lord's day evening, August 1st, this godly man and faithful preacher fell asleep at the age of 72 years, after a long and most painful affliction of nearly twelve months' duration, by the force of which for part of that time his mind had been quite deranged. While in that sad condition, however, he was alive to spiritual realities, and would at short intervals speak, with great energy, his deep experience and rich enjoyment thereof, after breaking out in song of some favourite hymn, especially those commencing, "In union with the Lamb, from condemnation free," and "A friend there is-oh how He loves!" &c. For the last three months his reason But his was mercifully restored. bodily frame was weakened, and his soul joy was frequently interrupted. He would say, "I want more joy, but I am steady. I rest on the Rock," and he would still often speak unto himself in psalms, and hymns, and spiritual songs. Our dear brother was, many years ago, for a time pastor of the church at Witham, and has long been known as a humble, fervent, experimental preacher of the word amongst many of the churches in Essex. During his mental affliction he would often pray for and mention lovingly these, saying, "Blessed Sabbath! I pray for all in Witham, and Wickford, and Heybridge," &c. Visiting him unexpectedly at this time, he exclaimed, "I bless God I know you, and that you are here. All hail! "There is a land of pure delight, And pleasures banish pain." He was a good man, and honourable-firm in the truth and upright in life; poor in this world, but rich in faith, and the memory of the just is blessed. May as much be said of us. He leaves only a widow to follow after -worn with much patient watching, but waiting in hope-an heir of the same grace. The Lord care for her. Ipswich. S. K. BLAND. |