Wicliffe's great achievement in his mournful wail: "And so the Gospel pearl is cast abroad, and trodden under foot of swine, and what was dear to clergy and laity is now rendered, as it were, the common jest of both: so that the gem of the Church becomes the derision of laymen, and that is now theirs for ever, which before was the special property of the clergy and doctors." While the translation was in progress, Wicliffe was smitten with paralysis; his old antagonists, the Mendicants, came to warn the dying man, as they supposed; when, lifting himself up in his bed, he replied: "I shall not die, but live, and again declare the evil deeds of the friars." He did not die, but lived to do what he threatened. Again we are at Oxford, in the spring of 1381. Wicliffe was then a decided opponent of transubstantiation. He published twelve conclusions against it, maintaining that the bread and wine remain unchanged after the words of consecration, and that the body and blood are only figuratively in the sacrament. He was lecturing in the hall of the school of the Augustines-a messenger entered. Solemnly in the name of the chancellor and doctors he was forbidden to proceed, and those who listened to him were threatened with excommunication and imprisonment. There was a pause-the venerable professor rose from his chair, and challenged a refutation of his doctrines; of course, the challenge was in vain. He forthwith appealed to the civil power for protection, and again he thwarted the malice of his foes. The Duke of Lancaster sheltered him for awhile, but at length the faithful champion of truth was banished the university. In his last days we see him simply Rector of Lutterworth, fulfilling the duties of a parish minister, preaching to his people the truths he had learned from God's word, and writing treatises on religious subjects. Cited to appear before Urban VI. at Rome, he declared he was willing to comply, but Christ had "needed" him to the contrary. A stroke of paralysis had rendered obedience impracticable. Still, however, he could quietly pursue his pastoral labours till a fresh attack on the 23rd December, 1384, as he was administering the Eucharist, rendered him insensible. Two days afterwards, and Wicliffe found his home in heaven. Tradition still lingers round the neighbourhood, telling of the famous rector's zeal in the discharge of his parochial duty, how he relieved the poor, and comforted the aged and the sick. Looking at the age in which Wicliffe lived, at the current of opinion in his time, at the few helps for the attainment of pure Scripture truth he had; one is astonished at the clear views he formed on many religious points, at his approximation to sentiments which now distinguish the Protestant Church. His heart was right, he was a lover of truth, and the Holy Ghost the Comforter left him not without gracious helps in learning. Beautifully did he say-" It is now a great sin not to arise and to throw open our windows, for this spiritual light is ready to shine unto all men who will open to receive it." With masculine understanding he grasped the objects of his faith, and with a strong will maintained them against adversaries, and pressed them on the hearts of all. He had none of those mystical habits of thought which were so prevalent in his time among all who were weary of the formalities of a degenerate Christendom, and were sighing for the freedom wherewith Christ makes his people free. He was a type of the Anglo-Saxon Christian, as distinguished from spiritual brethren of the German stock. There was something melancholy in his cast of mind, for he ever looked on the solemn side of life, and death, and all things. But though not what would be called a genial man, there was in his soul that deep fountain of strong and quiet love, which makes the patriot, the reformer, and the benefactor of mankind. "This is out of all doubt, that at what time all the world was in most desperate and vile estate, and that the lamentable ignorance and darkness of God his truth had overshadowed the whole earth; this man stepped out like a valiant champion, unto whom it may justly be applied, that is spoken in the book called Ecclesiasticus, of one Simon the son of Onias: Even as the morning star being in the midst of a cloud, and as the moon being full in her course, and as the bright beams of the sun, so doth he shine and glisten in the temple and church of God.' ”* * John Foxe. MEMOIR OF THE LATE REV. EDWARD MILLER, CHISWICK. THE following brief narrative of a long and very active life will show how much may be accomplished by one individual in whom "the zeal of God" is united with industry and perseverance; and may stimulate some, who, like the subject of this memoir, are engaged in secular pursuits, to attempt something in the service of Christ. Edward Miller, Chiswick, was born at Atherstone, Warwickshire, in the year 1785. At the age of eleven he was bereaved of his mother, and three years later he lost his father, a surgeon in the Military Hospital at Gosport, who was carried off in the prime of life. From his earliest years he was under the restraints of a religious education, residing for a time at Northampton with his grandfather, a clergyman of the Church of England, and afterwards receiving his education at Christ's Hospital. Neither early trials nor early religious advantages led him at first to decision. He says of himself: "For some time I was as diligent in sin as in hearing the Gospel." But at the age of seventeen a considerable change of character took place. About that time he became a constant hearer of the Rev. Rowland Hill, at Surrey Chapel; and at twentyone years of age was admitted a member there. Two years previously, permanent occupation had been obtained in the Commissary-General's office. This position was retained for thirty years; and it was during this period of secular duty -as well as subsequently to it—that many works of Christian usefulness were accomplished. Being of an active turn of mind, the subject of this notice had been, at an early period, accustomed to visit the sick, and to write to persons upon their religious condition. But his full activity was called forth by a question proposed by the Rev. Rowland Hill, in a sermon in which he spoke of the death of an eminently useful Christian. He asked, “What shall I say to those who do nothing for the cause of Christ ?" This question determined Mr. Miller to new efforts in the service of Christ. He became connected with several religious societies, amongst the most important of which were, the Home Missionary Society, of which he was also Secretary from 1823 to 1826-the Religious Tract Society, the Committee of which he joined in 1826, and the same year he wrote several of its handbills. He was also on the Committee of Cheshunt College, and subsequently assisted in the formation of the London City Mission, and for a time edited the Magazine. In these several positions, and first as a manager of Kennington Chapel, and afterwards as a deacon of Buckingham Chapel, Pimlico, he found much scope for usefulness. During this period, the pen was not allowed to lie idle. Several minor pieces were contributed to newspapers and magazines, and a work of some magnitude was published—" A Scripture History for the Young." It came out in parts, and was illustrated. This work met with favour. It was first written and published in 1815, and was republished, in one volume, in 1833. In 1824, Mr. Miller, still dissatisfied with what he was accomplishing, began to preach at village stations, in workhouses, and wherever an opening could be found. Putney was one of the places often visited. There, in 1827, he was invited to become the pastor. On the 26th of July in that year he was ordained to the work. For the eight following years, his labours for the village and neighbourhood were abundant and successful. The congregation increased, the chapel was twice enlarged, and many members were added to the church. On leaving Putney, Mr. Miller became assistant preacher with Rev. G. Browne, at Clapham. There he continued his labours, with marked success, for two years. But a state of nervous debility and depression which followed rendered cessation from preaching necessary for a time. Visiting, in August, 1838, in the neighbourhood of Chiswick, he was directed to a small congregation of Dissenters worshipping there. At their request, he attempted to resume his labours amongst them, and found on making the effort that his strength was restored. In November of that year he became their pastor. The blessing of God attended his labours. The church, which consisted of fourteen members in 1838, had increased to sixty in 1845, and afterwards was still further augmented. As a new chapel was needed, this subject engaged his earnest attention; and in 1841 a suitable chapel, with schoolroom, was erected at a cost of more than 8007. This sum was, through his persevering efforts, soon paid. After labouring faithfully at Chiswick for twelve years, Mr. Miller was at length, in November, 1850, compelled, by increasing bodily affliction, to resign his charge. When unable any longer to preach, Mr. Miller occupied himself with writing hymns, little books for the young, and religious tracts. Many hundreds of excellent hymns were composed. Some were written on ornamental cards, and given as presents, proving in many cases acceptable and useful. Of the tracts and handbills written not less than five millions were circulated during the writer's life, chiefly by the Religious Tract Society. His last years of suffering were spent in writing tracts for the "Stirling Tract Enterprise," and in getting them circulated amongst his friends. By this means, more than 50,000 were put in circulation. In addition to such efforts, there were in his life instances of usefulness to individuals that deserve mention. One gentleman, now an excellent clergyman of the Established Church, was supported during his whole course at Cambridge, at a cost of several hundred pounds, by money Mr. Miller raised; and was thus prepared for the important work in which he is now engaged. And there were other similar instances. Even to the end, notwithstanding his acute sufferings, his days were consecrated to works of Christian usefulness. His last effort was to raise a good sum for the church which has been erected at Dorchester for the congregation under the ministry of the Rev. J. Miller, M.A., his son. After several years of affliction, the fatal attack began on the 19th of June, 1857. For a few days, body and mind were greatly distressed. Then followed a happy time of composure. During this, he said, "All fear gone,"-repeating it with emphasis; "I know my safety;" and, "I am a wonder of redeeming grace;" and also the words, "Where the weary are at rest." Then followed a state in which he had not strength to communicate his thoughts, but appeared at times to be lifting up devout aspirations to God; and at length, on Sunday the 28th, just as the rest-day began, he entered into rest. His diary, which was kept for many years, and contains many valuable meditations, has the following passage upon death and heaven: "I have had some thoughts about my own latter end-praying that I may be found wrapped in Christ's righteousness. I am thankful that I have been able to weep lately; for it is never better with me than when I can sit or kneel before the Lord, and feel my cheeks moistened with tears of penitence, love, gratitude, and joy. I seem then almost to hope there will be such tears in heaven." Mr. Miller was in his seventy-third year at his death. His remains were interred at Brompton Cemetery, and an impressive funeral discourse was preached at Chiswick, by the Rev. J. E. Richards, on the following Sunday, to a numerous auditory, many of whom lamented the loss of a faithful pastor and a spiritual father. RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY PASTORAL LIFE. I. OLD ROBERT GRAY. IN a village near the town where I began my ministry, more than thirty years ago, lived a very poor labouring man, with one daughter, both of whom were members of my church. Robert bore, for years, an honourable and consistent character, which commanded the respect of all who knew him. He was remarkable chiefly for the cheerfulness of his piety, and the quiet good sense with which he spoke on religious topics. In his time he had been a great reader of the Bible and of the Pilgrim's Progress, and his conversations was dyed, so to speak, in the sacred element of the purest theology. Hardly anything was more useful to me, as a young preacher, than the long talks I had with Robert on many questions which perplexed me, but which never appeared to him in any other light than that of Scripture, interpreted, by his beautifully simple and clear understanding, according to his own experience; and often it has struck me, in after years, that it would be a great advantage to theological students to be brought into contact with such men. It is to be feared that, for want of such contact, our young men fail in that mode both of apprehending and stating divine truth, which would bring their hearers into conscious communion with the Divine Instructor when reading the Bible, or hearing it expounded in the pulpit. Be that as it may, it was of unspeakable service to me, and, I have reason to know, to not a few in my congregation. Some circumstances have recently recalled some of these scenes of young pastoral labour to my memory, and I know not of any pages in which they can be so fittingly recorded as those of the EVANGELICAL MAGAZINE. Robert Gray had received in his early days what I call a good education for a peasant. He had been taught by his mother to love the Bible as his mother's book,'and he soon learnt to understand it as the book of his own heart. The plainer portions of its histories, its moral maxims, and its broad, shining doctrines of righteousness and mercy, gradually became familiar to him; and the thoughts of them were the most familiar, and at the same time the most reverential and the most practical that ever occurred to him; and they were always occurring to him in the daily labours of the field. No one would have taken him for a clever man. No one suspected him of being a fool. Every one believed at once all he said; and it was impossible to know him without feeling sure that, in all weathers, whether times were good or bad, Robert was a truly happy man. But they were only few that knew how intelligently Robert could speak of the reasons of his being happy. He was naturally of a cheerful habit of mind; but living almost in solitude, and being one of the most orderly and sober men you could meet with in the whole parish, he had scarcely any opportunities of indulging in displays of cheerfulness. His landlord, who was an intimate friend of mine, and an officer in our church, had long noticed his regular attendance at the chapel, and as he usually came a good while before the time on Sunday mornings, had almost weekly opportunities of marking the fine qualities of the good man's mind and heart; and between the Sundays, when his business called him into the country, he often took occasion to call at Robert's cottage, and have what he called "a good crack" with him. He mentioned him to me soon after I took charge of the congregation; and I gladly awailed myself of the opportunities so readily afforded, to improve my acquaintance with him. I cannot tell the times in which I went from my books to walk in the fields and spend an hour with my old friend, but I never spent time which was so profitable to me. When in his company, I was always sure that I was in the company of one whose daily talk and walk was with our Saviour, whose inward life was uniformly with Him, on whom the gentle spirit of Jesus was breathed, and whose simple words had in them a power which I never felt in the words of other men; because I supposed they came fresh from his heart, and that heart was continually renewed by unforced communion with the greatest and noblest Heart in the universe. His religion had the naturalness and beautifulness and perfume of the wild flowers that were sprinkled along the hedges and fields through which I had to walk to and from his dwelling; and as the first lessons of botany are gathered in the hedgerows, so with me the first lessons in real theology were learned in the cottage to which they led me. Robert taught me infinitely more than I ever taught him; though he was the most attentive, and, I may add, the most grateful of hearers. He had evidently no notion of teaching his minister; his whole conception of the Christian ministry, and of the duties of a Christian hearer, would have made him shudder at such an idea, if it had ever crossed his mind, which I believe it never did. The delight of it was to see how inartificially, how unostentatiously, he let one see the unconscious workings of his mind, and how easily one might observe the laws according to which it did work, and produce its blessed results. That he was no hasty, or superficial, or indolent thinker, was most manifest. His movements were slow; his manner of asking questions was singularly modest; and yet the questions he asked would have been quite a capital in the hands of a captious critic. And what a treat it was to see him working his own way in some questions which have puzzled not a few men who deservedly enjoyed the reputation of being profound! Robert's plan, if he had one-which I much doubt-was, to go as straight as he could to the heart of a subject, and, when he had reached it, to grapple with it there, till he saw either how it could be explained, or that it was beyond his powers. He never imagined that his powers were anything particular; but for these powers, and for rightly using them, he felt that he was responsible to God, and he did his best; just in the same spirit in which he left his bed at five o'clock, that he might begin his daily labour with a mind prepared by conscious fellowship with his best Friend, for the toils of the day. Seeing, as he did every day, the outward differences between his own lot and that of many men around him, he avoided the ordinary speculative difficulties, by seeing that if he had been qualified for situations filled by other |