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with very few exceptions the people are standing to this day.

Some pc ople are opposed to revivals on several grounds, but still we must say with Finney, "That until there is more principle in the Church, and the Church is led to labour steadily for the salvation of sinners, there will be a need for extraordinary revivals." "O Lord, revive thy work."

NEW CHAPEL OPENED.

On Sunday, June 26, 1842, a very neat substantial Chapel was opened for divine service, for the use of the Wesleyan Methodist Association, in Michaelstow, near Camelford. Sermons were preached on the occasion by Messrs. Glazebrook and Jennings, of the Wesleyan Association, Camelford. The Chapel on both occasions was crowded to excess, numbers being unable to gain admission. A delightful influence attended the services. Liberal collections were made on the occasion. For some time after the separation from the Conference, the members and friends at Michaelstow

had to worship in a dwelling house; but the Church minister, by intimidation, cruelly deprived them of that place. John Carpenter, Esq., of MountTavy, Tavistock, having kindly given the ground, they by the help of a few friends in the circuit, have been enabled to erect the Chapel; which is well situated, being in the centre of the parish, and on the high road from Camelford to Bodmin.

WARBSTOW BARROW. The usual annual services at Warbstow Barrow were held on Whit-Tuesday, at Tredown, a little below the Barrow. The day was remarkably fine and the concourse of people great, supposed from 1200 to 1500. Sermons and addresses were delivered on the occasion by Messrs. Robinson, Glazebrook, Stephens, T. P. Rosevear, Esq. and R. A. Kellow. Prayer meetings were also held at intervals. A delightful influence pervaded the vast assembly, and we trust the fruit will soon appear. A collection was made, as usual, for the Association home and foreign Missions.

OBITUARY

Mr. John Moore was born at Hartford, near Northwich, in the county of Cheshire, in the year 1781. At an early period he was a subject of divine impressions, but those impressions were soon erased; he was allured by the snares with which he was surrounded,— and sought for happiness in the pleasures of the world. At the age of twenty-three, he was united in marriage to rite T>ow sorrowful and bereaved widow. Some time after, he went merely out of curiosity like many others to hear the Methodists, who came to preach at Hartford. But the word was accompanied with divine power—he saw himself a lost sinner. Some time alter his burden (of guilt) was removed, and he was filled with peace and joy through believing—he then became a member of the Methodist Society, and remained in connexion with the Conference Methodists until a short time after the secession in the year 1835; when he retired from that body—and united

with the Wesleyan Methodist Association, whose principles accorded with his views of what a Christian Church ought to adopt. For nine years before his death, our dear brother was much afflicted, and was given up by his medical attendants, hut having Christ for his portion—death to him had lost its sting—he knew that for bim to die would be unspeakable gain. Our brother had the charge of the class in connex'on with the Wesleyan Association at Hartford, and as a leader he was very useful and much esteemed by all his members, and indeed by all who knew him. He and his dear class were united as the heart of one man, and all around them had a living practical exemplification of that beautiful portion of Scripture—" Behold how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity." And when his members have visited him when confined to his bed-chamber — and unable any longer to meet his class, he manifested thc greatest resignation to the will of his heavenly Father— and, when speaking to his class around his bed of the amazing goodness of God to his soul, his eyes have been suffused with tears, and his tup of spiritual joy has run over.

About a week before his departure he rapidly declined; shewing various symptoms of approaching dissolution. On being asked, the clay before his death, if he had any thing to say to his family before he left them, he answered "No—I am now ready to depart whenever it pleases the Lord to call me."

Between six and seven o'clock in the evening I called and administered to him the ordinance of the Lord's supper, which seemed to afford him great comfort. He then expressed to me the happy state of his mind, saying, My life is hid with Christ in God. When Christ who is my life shall appear, then shall I appear with him in glory. He after that became much worse, and his end appeared very near,

so that it was thought necessary to sit up with him that night, and which he would never allow any one to do before. During intervals of repose— prayer and praise were his delightful employment—his expressions evinced the strength of his confidence in God— and bis assurance of everlasting rest. His voice became very weak. But among many things be said, the following words were distinctly heard :— "There is nothing like peace and purity —Lord now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace according to thy word, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation— The Lord he is good, for his mercy endureth for ever—Thy Kingdom come— Come Lord Jesus, come quickly." Thus he fell asleep in the arms of his Saviour, early in the morning of the 27th of January, 1842. May my last end he like his. "Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord, from henceforth—yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labours; and their works do follow them.

David Rutherford.

POETRY.

THE ITINERANT.

A poor Itinerant—start not at the sound!
To yonder licensed barn his course is bound;
To christened heathens, upon Christian ground,
To preach—or, if you will, to rant and roar
That Gospel news they never heard before.
Two distant hamlets this same day have heard
His warning voice, and now he seeks the third;
No mitred chariot bears him round his see;
Despised and unattended journeys he:
And want and weariness, from day to day,
Have sown the seeds of premature decay.
There is a flush of hectic on his cheeks.
There is a deadly gasping when he speaks,—
How many a rich one, less diseased than he,
Has all that love can do, or doctor's fee!
Nursed up and cherished with the fondest care,
Screened from the slightest blast of evening

air;
At noon, well muffled in his ermine gown,
Takes his short airing with the glasses down;
Each novel dainty that his taste may suit—
The quivering jelly, or the costly fruit—
Love racks invention daily to present,
And if he do but taste it, is content.
Herald of truth—not such is his reward,
Who takes his cross, and follows Christ the

Lord: A brief, coarse meal, at some unseemly board, Snatched as the hasty intervals afford; Fresh from the crowded preaching-house to

meet The keen night-vapour, or the driving sleet; And more than all, and worse than all to hear, Trial of cruel mockings every where.

Vile persecution, they'who do His will,
And love their Lord in truth, ehall suffer still;
Not such, indeed, as our forefathers saw,
Thanks to the sheltering arm of civil law,
But scorn, contempt, and scandal, and din-
grace,
Which hunt His followers still from place to

place:
Such are the hardships that his sickly frame
Endures, and counts it joy to suffer shame.
Yes, and he reaps the fruit of all his toil-
He sows the seed, and God doth bless the soil:
He sees the wicked man forsake his way,
The scoffing tongue now learns to pray and

praise; The drunkard quits his revelry and strife; And meekly listens to the word of life; The noisy village—wanton and profane,— Grows neat and decent, peace and order reiga: At length, wild districts hail the Gospel rays, And the once savage collier kneels and prays— Through the dark caverns shines the heavenly

light, And prejudice learns silence at the sight. Let the proud son of science boasting man, Do so with his enchantments, if he can 1 Nay, let him slumber in luxurious ease, Beneath the umbrage of his idol treesPluck a wild daisy—moralize on that, And drop a tear for an expiring gnat; Watch the light clouds o'er distant hills that

pass, Or write a sonnet on a blade of grass.

T. C. JOHNS, PRINTER, R»d Lion Court, Fleet Strett.

THE

WESLEYAN METHODIST ASSOCIATION

MAGAZINE

SEPTEMBER, 1842.

MEMOIR OF THE LATE MRS. AMY JERVIS,

OF ECKINGTON, IN THE SHEFFIELD CIRCUIT.
'By Mr- J. Handley.

In tracing the Christian through the world, there are three things that present themselves to our notice.—The commencement, — the progress,— and the conclusion of his religious course. It is with deep interest that the pious mind views the first dawnings of divine light upon the benighted understanding of man, and the first workings of the Holy Spirit upon the human heart, producing conviction of its guilty, polluted state, and exciting those desires after God, and goodness, which eventually ripen into love and holy obedience. Nor is it less interesting to mark the progress a soul makes in the divine life, while under the teaching and powerful aid of the eternal Spirit, successfully waging war against earth and hell, and every day acquiring new vigor, achieving fresh conquests, and receiving additional supplies of hallowing grace. But oh! how much more pleasing still is it to gaze with solemn delight on the closing scene of a life spent in the service of God! When all the storms have passed away—every cloud dispersed —every enemy conquered—all the danger of the voyage over—the port full in view — every sail spread and filled with the breath of God, wafting the departed spirit peacefully and pleasantly into the desired haven. Such events—which through the Divine mercy are of frequent occurrence—are well calculated to heal the bleeding hearts of surviving friends, and to quicken and encourage those who are yet "toiling to make the blest shore."

The subject of the following brief notice was born at Normanton, in the county of Derby; and it would seem, was not favored in early life with such religious advantages as many are; and, as a natural consequence, her childhood, and a part of her youth, passed away without manifesting any serious concern about divine and eternal things. The first time when anv thing of a serious kind was noticed in her, was at the death of a sister, who was about sixteen years old. Mrs. Jervis was then in her fourteenth year, and became so alarmed at the idea of her sister being called away so young, that through Divine mercy, a deep conviction of her own fallen guilty state then fastened powerfully upon her mind, and she clearly saw, that if called away in such a condition, eternal ruin would be the consequence; and there is very little room to doubt if she had then possessed those religious privileges, which many, who have them within their power, do not prize, or scarcely use, she would, at that time, have been brought into the liberty of the children of God. But although these events transpired in the year 1838, our sister remained without the "knowledge of salvation by the remission of sins" until the year 1840; a period of twelve years. This was owing, partly, to her great ignorance of divine things, and partly, to her lot being cast, as a servant, in those families in which neither the worship nor the fear of God existed. Hence, it was with the greatest difficulty that she could ever obtain permission to attend preaching in the Methodist chapel; but, notwithstanding she was shut out from those means that were calculated to bring her to the saving knowledge of the truth, God still continued to follow and strive with her by his Spirit, so that she was never able entirely to shake off the deep impression which had been made upon her mind; but she looked forward with eager desire for some opening of Providence that would enable her to wait upon the Lord in his house without restraint.

In the year 1839 she entered the marriage state, and came to reside at Eckington, and as all lets and hindrances were now removed, and being at liberty to employ her Sabbaths and leisure time as she thought fit, our sister entered herself as a teacher in our Sabbath school in the above-named village. Here she soon found " the word of God," as preached in the chapel, was "quick and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart." Her convictions for sin were renewed and became deep and strong. The necessity of seeking and obtaining redemption, through the blood of Christ, even the forgiveness of sins, was now most evident to her mind; and the impressions which had been made thereon continued to increase, until, seeing the necessity of using every help, to the enjoyment and possession of salvation, and in the service of God, she resolved to join the Church, and to become a member of our Society. Accordingly, our sister met in class for the first time, on the 7th of January, 1840.

Mrs. Jervis now strove in earnest to give herself up entirely to God, but many and severe were the struggles which she had between hope and fear, and with the great adversary of souls, before that object was accomplished: still she was determined to persevere, and one day, about a month after having joined the Society, while praying in private at home, the Lord graciously answered for himself, and filled her soul with peace and joy through believing. She could now sing,—

"Not a cloud doth arise to darken the skies,
Or hide for one moment my Lord from my eyes."

From this time our sister walked before the Church, and before the world, as a devoted Christian. Her leader rays,—" Her uniform experience was that of one truly devoted to God. Thoughts of death, and of the importance of a preparation for eternity, appeared to be always deeply fixed in her mind. She had a great desire to be useful, and prayed earnestly for the salvation of sinners."

In the autumn of 1840 Mrs. Jervis began to show symptoms of declining health, and of that malady which eventually took down the , clay tenement. She suffered much through the winter, and early in March, 1841, gave birth to a daughter, and never recovered from her confinement so as to be able to exert herself; but began to sink more rapidly, and exhibited unequivocal signs of approaching dissolution. Yet, in all her protracted and painful afflictions, she was never once heard to murmur, or to wish her sufferings less. Throughout the whole trying period, God was with her, in a most gracious manner enabling her to be "patient in tribulation," and to rejoice in hope. Death having lost his sting, our sister contemplated the solemn scene with composure, and spoke of dissolution with holy joy. It is true, her infant sometimes pressed heavily upon her spirits, but God was pleased to take it home to himself when it was about two months old. Our departed friend now made a full surrender of her all into the hands of God, whose presence was her daily and continual support. To her leader and other friends who frequently visited her, our afflicted sister declared at all times that she felt a longing desire to depart and be with Christ, but invariably expressed a willingness to wait the Lord's time. Indeed, throughout the lengthened period of affliction, her mind was kept in almost one continued state of trust and confidence in God; the enemy never being permitted, seriously, to disturb her tranquillity.

Her bodily frame and strength were now reduced almost to the last extremity,—it was "Feebleness extreme;" but the sweet composure of her mind bespoke the firmness of her trust in the everlasting covenant, and the solidness of that foundation upon which her hopes of approaching glory were built. Several of the brethren being in her room a few days before the closing scene, one of them inquired " Upon what ground do you build your hope of heaven?" She replied, "I rest solely upon the atonement made by Jesus Christ for my acceptance with God; and liis Spirit does bear witness with mine, that I am indeed a child of God. And in a little time I shall be—

"Far from a world of grief and sin,
With God eternally shut in."

A similar testimony she often gave to the writer of. this memoir.

The Wednesday before her death, one of our pious females called to see her, and asked whether she "was quite ready for death?" To which Mrs. Jervis answered, " O yes. I am waiting for the Lord to call me, but am willing to suffer a few weeks longer if it be his will.'' After prayer, during which the parties engaged felt in an unusual degree "the powers of the world to come," the friend took leave of the dying saint, who bade her a last " farewell."

The night before our late sister died, her husband was reading in the room, and perceiving that the pain was great, and her end near, he

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