and fell on my knees at my bedside, and tried to supplicate the Lord to look upon me if I was his; for I felt I could do nothing to gain his favour; and if he did not appear I should be lost. He must come and bring everything with him. I looked back to former visits, but could not feel anything or see anything in them to rest upon them; and thought if the Lord did not appear for my help, I must give all up. There was at the same time a going out for a blessing, and an entreaty that he would bless me. I went in the evening to chapel. Mr. Hemington preached, and took for his text 2 Cor. i. 9: 'But we had the sentence of death in ourselves, &c.;' and indeed he did reach my heart. I could see how God by his Spirit had been writing death in my heart for years gone by, upon my hopes and expectations, from things that arise from the flesh. He had, I saw, been teaching me, 'here a little, and there a little.' Although I went to chapel fearing that I knew nothing of the Spirit's work in reality, he so pointed out my exercises respecting this matter, that I once more did believe it was the finger of God in my soul; that I should make a good end, and that I was one of those included in those words of Paul, when he said, 'Who delivered us from so great a death, and doth deliver; in whom we trust that he will yet deliver us.' This lifted me above all my doubts and fears, and God gave me strong faith to believe that I did believe. I felt I could speak a little of his goodness to me from a sense of the feeling of it in my heart. My desire was that he might be glorified in, by, and through me; and what I felt coming out of chapel, and walking by myself, I cannot describe. His goodness, love, and mercy in the heart are better felt than described."

Here ends his own account of himself. I continue the narrative.

He went on in the old beaten path, and had several good hearings, whereby his soul was established in the things of God, and confirmed in the truth, and as to the work of God in his own soul. He used often to say he had 15 ounces, but 16 went to the pound, and he wanted full weight.

For some weeks before he died his health seemed to decline, and the doctor advised a little change. But he felt worse away, and soon returned. He led the singing at the chapel about a month before, the usual leader being away from home at the time; and from that time he declined fast. Mr. Hazlerigg was preaching for me the latter end of Sept. of this year (1878), and he was there to hear. Mr. H. asked in his preaching some solemn questions, and they exercised him much; for when he dined with Mr. H. at my house a few days after, he told us of his exercise, and how in the night he weighed up matters; and then he felt he could answer the questions. He spoke with much feeling and emotion.

About 10 days before he died I called to see him. He was then in the garden; and as we sat together, he said, "Covell, last night in the night I looked matters hard in the face, to see what I had to die with, and to meet death, God, and judgment with if I died. While thus weighing matters up, the comforts of God came into my soul, with such sweet promises; and such a spirit of faith sprung up in my heart that I said, 'Father, I will drink the cup; thy will be done.' I then thought, What have I said?

Claimed God as my Father? But I felt the Spirit's witness in my soul, and a sweet peace, and that the Lord was not displeased with me for it." "Why, William," I said, "you have now the 16 ounces you have so long wanted." Many other things he said, so that I felt I should lose him.

Next day, when I called to see him, he said his comfort was gone, but that he had a good hope, and no fear of going to hell. As I left him, I felt, "O! cruel death, to take from me one that I thought would be so useful, even after I was removed"; and I kicked and rebelled in my feelings.

I saw him again two days before he died, when he was full of peace and comfort. "O!" he said, "what fears and doubts I have had that, when I came to die, I should find my religion a delusion, and that I should be abandoned of God! Now I have none. My wife, children, and business (and he had a prosperous one) are nothing to me. O how I long to be gone to be with him, to love and praise him as I desire! I have been, so to speak, an unbeliever all my days, now I am a believer." He then had his children to see him, and spoke to them solemnly and kindly, and then said, "May the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob bless you."

The next day I saw him again, which was the day before he died; and as he was sitting in his chair he said, "I was thinking yesterday of the great and glorious things of God, and of going to heaven to enjoy them; and they seemed too much to expect for such as me; and I tried to put it away; but I cannot. O how I long to be there! I have had a short nap, and I dreamed I was just going into heaven. I made a move towards it, and I awoke; and O how disappointed I was to find I was here.'

At times he suffered much on account of his breath, from the weakness of the heart-his disease being Bright's disease of the kidneys. The night before he died, he cried out, "Lord Jesus, take my ransomed soul home to thyself. O! do come." His speech now became feeble; and the last thing he said, in answer to his brother, who spoke to him, was, "An abiding peace. I feel faint." He closed his eyes, and in a moment was absent from the body, and present with the Lord. The spirit dropped its clay, and fled,-fled off triumphant home. He died Oct. 13th, 1878, aged 40.

"Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright; for the end of that man is peace." F. COVELL.

ALL true mourners will be found to have the root of assurance so grafted in them, that in its proper season (a time, perhaps, of trouble) it will undoubtedly flourish.-Owen.

FURTHER, in these days, I would find my heart to shut itself up against the Lord, and against his holy Word. I have found my unbelief to set, as it were, the shoulder to the door, to keep him out; and that, too, even then, when I have, with many a bitter sigh, cried, "Good Lord, break it open. Lord, break these gates of brass, and cut these bars of iron asunder." Ps. cvii. 16.-Bunyan's "Grace Abounding."

"THE VOICE OF MY BELOVED."
CANT. II. 8-15.

THY Voice, O Belov'd of my heart,

Is sweeter than music to me:
What ecstasy does it impart

To hear a soft whisper from thee!
O'er mountains of guilt and of sin
He leaps like the hart or the roe;
And descends to the depths I am in,
His pardoning love to bestow.
Ah! Well I remember the day
When, sunk in delusion and sin,
In death and in darkness I lay,
Nor felt the sad state I was in.
A voice, with awakening power,
Spake of sin and the terrors of God.
Ah me! 'Twas a sorrowful hour,
When under his terrible rod.

I toil'd at the works of the law;
But the law could no comfort afford;
Till by faith my Beloved I saw,
And his voice of deliverance heard,
How he lifted me up by a word,
And call'd me from sorrow away!
As soon as its music was heard,
My soul could no longer delay.
My winter and storms were all o'er;
The rain and the tempest were gone;
I fell at his teet to adore,

And my spirit broke forth in a song.

Obituary.

C. SPIRE.

ROBERT HINDLE.-On Aug. 2nd, 1878, aged 76, Robert Hindle, of Accrington.

When the Lord met him, he was a young man, little over 20 years of age. At that time he went amongst a people then called Ranters; and, being one of them, he was full of zeal; but he used to say, when the law was brought with power into his conscience, it knocked his ranting out of him; and in the trouble and distress of his soul, the Ranters were to him no better than Job's comforters. He then began to go from one chapel to another, in search of a word of relief and comfort for his troubled heart; but all were to him miserable comforters, until it pleased God to direct him to Blackburn to hear Mr. Worrall. There he found the one thing needful; and under Mr. Worrall's ministry was brought out of bondage into the glorious liberty of the sons of God.

At the time the dear Lord set his soul at liberty, he lived with his

young wife in a cellar; but such was the sweetness of the streams of love, blood, grace, and mercy, flowing into his soul, he said the cellar was like a heaven to him.

Some time after this he was baptized, and admitted as a member of the church at Blackburn. Thither he and five others from Accrington travelled, a distance of six miles, in all kinds of weather, for the word of God was precious in those days. On one occasion, when these pilgrims were going to Blackburn to hear the late Mr. Kershaw, the night was very stormy and wet, and the road was very rough. On coming to a hilly part of the road, one of them said, "Let us sing;" and they sang a verse out of Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress":

"Who would true valour see,

Let him come hither;
One here will constant be,
Come wind, come weather.
There's no discouragement
Shall make him once relent
His first avow'd intent
To be a pilgrim."

Shortly afterwards these six-Mr. Taylor, of Manchester, being one of them-with the consent of the church at Blackburn, agreed to open a room in Accrington; but it was with great difficulty that one was procured; for they were looked upon as a very strange people. But the eternal God had determined that his truth should be established in the town, and the same truth remains there to the present day.

On Lord's-day, Feb. 14, 1834, the room was opened, and a church formed. God Almighty so blessed and prospered his own cause, that in 1850 a commodious chapel was built, which at the present is too small. In 1842, Robert was chosen to be a deacon of the church, and for many years he attended to all communications. For this work of corresponding he had a special gift, and by this means he became widely and well known to many of our ministers, and also to other friends.

His path was one of great tribulation; yet, notwithstanding his many trials and conflicts, he never was driven from the truth. At one time, when I called upon him, he was in deep trouble. He said, "Whatever could I do now if I had no God to go to? But God is our Refuge and trength, a very present help in trouble. He has not left me in a trouble yet; no! nor never will."

For some years before his death he suffered much from bronchitis. A few months before he died, he said to me, "I shall not be here long. The Lord is taking down my tabernacle gently; but I hope I have a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." I repeated the first verse of hymn 103. "Yes," he said, "what could I do without that now? What an awful position those must be in that have no God! And what has been done for me is not of my doing. It is all of grace." At another time, he had a desire to sit down at the ordinance of the Lord's supper on the first Lord's-day in July. "Then," he said, "I shall have sat down with the Lord's dear people fifty years." "9 But he was not able to do this. He gradually got worse. The doctor came in, and in conversation said, "He will soon bring you home." "Yes," he replied, with all the strength he had, "and the devil cannot stop it."

Shortly before he died, he read 1 Cor. xiii., and prayed earnestly for his sorrowing, but kind and affectionate wife and family, and the church with which he was united as a member and a deacon. Then his speech began to fail. He could not speak distinctly, but patiently waited for the coming of the Lord, to bid him come up higher.

As one that did believe he has now entered into that rest,

"Where ransom'd sinners sound God's praise,

The angelic host among;

Sing the rich wonders of his grace,

And Jesus leads the song;"

I remain, yours, &c.,

J. EDDISON.

ANN BROWN.-On May 11th, 1878, aged 78, Ann Brown. The following account is furnished by her dear friend, Miss Toms, and corroborated by the experience and testimony of the members of the church and congregation at Zoar, whose affectionate member, friend, faithful servant, and chapel-keeper, she had, in connection with her mother, been for a period of nearly 60 years. In this humble capacity, as we can bear an honourable testimony, she displayed the value of the religion she possessed and professed, and by which she, through the Spirit, worked out her own salvation with fear and trembling, and adorned the doctrine of God her Saviour in the exhibition of godly fear, meekness, humility, and love. The Lord was very gracious to her, in sending many Phoebes to succour her, in connection with the church's care over her in the Lord. In the City of London cemetery, followed by the senior deacon and a goodly number of the members of the church and congregation, she was well laid in the grave by Mr. Vaughan, of Bradford, awaiting

“That great rising day,

That shall her flesh restore;
When death will all be done away,

And bodies part no more."

D. P. GLADWIN.

Mrs. Brown was well taught in the things of God, and had much of the Master's loving spirit. We felt a great union to her; and although of late years we were not able, by reason of distance, to see so much of her as we wished, yet the opportunities we had of conversation with her were much valued by us, and we invariably left her presence encouraged, strengthened, and refreshed. She had usually some new instance of the Lord's goodness to relate. Well do we remember her delight and thankfulness when she received an account of the conversion of a beloved daughter, the child of many prayers, who had accompanied her husband to America some years before. It had been a sore trial to part with her; but she felt the Lord had dealt kindly with her in taking her child to a distant land, there to meet with her; and this display of his favour to her and hers much affected her. Frequently in our interviews has she alluded to the promise given her by the Lord many years before: "When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee; when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned, neither shall the flame kindle upon thee." And in the midst of trial, to which she was no stranger, she has been enabled to testify to the faithfulness of a covenant-keeping God.

In one of her many attacks of illness, the Lord's manifest presence being withdrawn, she was for a time so weighed down with a sense of her own unworthiness and unfitness to appear in the presence of a holy God, that she was unable to rest, and was almost worn out with mental anguish and want of sleep. It pleased the Lord after a while to appear for her, and apply the following words with power to her:

"For we, as sons in Christ, are made

As pure as he is pure."

Her soul was enraptured; her trouble gone. Sound sleep was mercifully