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bours; yet it was not confined to them. The language of affection does not always proceed from the heart; but in him the expression was greatly below the reality. He was one of the most truly affectionate ministers with whom the church of God has been favoured. He entered, with a minuteness which was al most peculiar to himself, into the concerns of those whom he wished to serve, placed himself in their stead, and, in the most engaging manner, strove as much in the private circle as in the public assembly, to be useful. In the chamber of sorrow he, who had himself known much of disappointment and affliction, was the sympathizing, consoling, instructive companion. To the poor and the destitute he was a most disinterested and generous benefactor; to the ignorant and the prejudiced, he stooped with the most laudable condescension, that he might be instrumental in opening their minds to the reception of divine truth; to the young, he was like a parent. I am confident that there is not a young person living who knew our friend well, that feels not his loss like the loss of a parent. I greatly applaud his adoption of a plan for catechetical instruction in the principles of religion, for which he was peculiarly qualified; but it was not merely in these exercises, it was on every occasion that the young found him a friend. He strove to please them by a thousand nameless accommodations, that he might win their affections, and be useful to their souls.

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He was also an useful pastor. It was not, indeed, in a sphere of very large extent he was called, or perhaps adapted to shine; but he was indulged with very eminent success in his attempts richly to cultivate this little spot; and the fruits of his ministry are of the most satisfactory kind. But his exertions, although they centered in his beloved flock, were not limited to them. Many, who were not attendants on his ministry, have reason to esteem him as a most beneficial friend. I believe I may say that, in the neighbourhood where he lived, he was universally beloved by members of the Established Church, and by every denomination of Dissenters.

'Mark the perfect man, aud behold the upright, for the end of that man is peace.' Never were these emphatic words more accurately fulfilled than in the closing scenes of his useful life. From the rupture of a blood-vessel in the beginning of Sept. 1807, he had rapidly and unexpectedly recovered, so as to be able to resume every part of his work, with a vigour which astonished all who beheld it To you, my friends of this congregation, the last four months of his ministry must ever appear peculiarly important. You will regard his sermons, his prayers, and his conversation, during this little interval, as his dying testimony to the truth and power of the gospel. May it not have been borne in vain!

On Lord's Day, the 10th of July, he finished his public testimony in this place. In the morning he addressed his auditor

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from Ps. Ixxxiv. 10. For a day in thy courts is better than a thousand.' In the afternoon, his discourse was founded on Job, ii. 10, What! shall we receive good at the hands of the Lord, and shall we not receive evil?' How important a preparation of the minds of his beloved hearers for the calamity, at the eve of which they had unconsciously arrived! Having finished the work of the Sabbath, conversed cheerfully with several friends, and performed the devotional exercises of his family, he discovered symptoms, which convinced him of the third return of the former disorder, by another rupture of a blood-vessel. The attack was awfully severe: the loss of blood excessively great; and the danger of a rapid decline alarmingly obvious. From his extreme debility, however, he mercifully recovered so far, as to have various opportunities of bearing an unequivocal testimony to the power of the gospel over his mind, and of recommending it to the attention of others.

As soon as he was a little recovered, he was recommended to take a journey for change of air. His mind was at once directed to Canterbury, knowing that in the house of his intimate friend (the Rev. Mr. Gurteen) he would be as much at home as at Hammersmith. There he spent nearly five weeks. For the first fortnight he appeared to be mending; and his friends pleased themselves with the hope of his complete recovery. At that time, it is supposed he was led to entertain the same hope. But he appeared perfectly resigned to the divine will, and more than once remarked, that if he felt any desire to live, it was, that he might be useful. His conversation was remarkably pious and spiritual. Whenever he spoke of the Saviour, it was in the most exalted terms. Christ, in the glory of his Person, in the efficacy of his blood, and in the riches of his grace, was his delightful theme. Whenever he spoke of himself, it was with the greatest humility and self-abasemeat.

During the last fortnight which he spent at Canterbury, his health declined very rapidly. One morning, after having had a very bad night, when asked how he felt himself, he replied, Of late I have had many sleepless nights, but not one heavy hour; for in the multitude of my thoughts within me, his comforts delight my soul.' At another time he said, I have often made it matter of prayer, that if this sickness should be unto death, I may experience my mind more and more weaned from earthly objects, and that I may prefer Heaven to earth; and now I find, that my prayer is answered.' He embraced every oppor tunity of saying something profitable to those about him. "O,' said he one day, that I may do good with my dying breath. A minister calling to see him, expressed a hope that his mind was comfortable; he replied, My mind is fixed upon Christ. Those parts of the word of God which speaks of Christ, whether prophetical or historical, are the most sweet and pre

cious to me; and I can say, that I have more than a hope of interest in his love."

Finding that he was daily getting worse, he expressed a desire to return home. It has,' said he, frequently been my prayer, that I might die with my dear people, and that in my dying moments I might testify the reality and importance of those things which I have taught them from the pulpit.' He left Canterbury on Tuesday, Sept. 27, accompanied by a friend. During the journey, he frequently spoke of divine things; and in one instance, what he uttered was particularly interesting. On being taken for a few minutes ont of the carriage, his breath was so much affected with the cold air, that his friend thought he was dying. However, in a little time he recovered, and they proceeded on their journey. As soon as he was able to speak, he said, What a mercy was it, on your account, that I was not taken off! But whilst I was in that state, I said to myself, Are you satisfied with your hope? I replied, Yes, I am; -I know the foundation of it.' He then spoke of the nature of the Christian hope as a good hope, a blessed hope; but above all, a hope full of immortality.

On reaching Hammersmith, about 5 in the afternoon, he was almost exhausted: yet afterwards, during the evening, he seemed as well as the evening before, except the loss of appetite, which had till this time been very good. On the morning of the 28th his friend saw him much altered, and said to him, You appear to be very weak.' His reply was,' If I am but strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might, that will be sufficient." He now desired that all his dear friends might see him; the poor,' said he, as well as the rich; let there be no distinction.' Accordingly, many came, and many more doubtless would have come to see him, had they known that his eyes would so soon be closed in death. To one he said, I have lived with you, and loved you, and now I am come to die with you.' To another, What a blessed thing to know, that when flesh and heart fail, God will be the strength of our hearts, and our portion for ever!'

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Between 12 and one o'clock, several other friends came into the room; when, summoning up all his little remaining strength, he expressed himself in the following words: 'In Christ, he is the only refuge for a poor sinner. That plan of salvation which secures the honour of God, and the eternal happiness of the sinner, is the glory of the gospel. I am a sinner saved by grace. We deserve damnation, but Christ has suffered and died for us. Excuse,' he added, my plainness: I am going; and I speak as one that must give account. I thank you for all your kind favours. The mercy of the Lord be with you all!' These were nearly the last intelligible words which he spoke. A Christjan friend coming into the room, he pronounced his name, and attempted to address him; but the only words which were heard were,Right, well.' The last word he uttered was, 'Rejoice.'

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Such was the happy death of one of the best men that ever lived. Those who knew him best, loved him most. He was indeed an eminently serious Christian, a steady friend, a scribe well instructed to the kingdom of Heaven, dependent on divine grace in a Redeemer, but actively persevering in that holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord. He has been faithful unto death, and the Saviour in whom he gloried, the Master whom he served, has given him a crown of life.

Mr. Humphryes was interred in the Dissenters' Burial-Ground, Bunhill - Fields, Oct. 6, 1808; when an excellent address was delivered at the grave, by his friend, the Rev. W. Jay, of Bath, which was printed, together with the funeral-discourse, preached on the following Lord's Day at Hammersmith, by the Rev. Mr. Winter, to a very crowded and much-affected audience. We gladly refer our readers to those discourses for a more full account of the deceased, and for many useful observations made on the solemn occasion.

THE LAST ENEMY CONQUERED.

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NUMEROUS and strong are the Christian's foes :- they shall all, however, be eventually overcome, without the exception even of the mightiest for the last enemy, Death, shall be destroyed *; And-is Death the believer's enemy? Is this the idea of it which believers are taught to entertain? Does this sentiment harmonize with other declarations of Scripture, wherein death is recounted as one of the believer's blessings? Do we not speak of Death as a friendly messenger, whose office it is to convey believer from a world of toil and sorrow, to the realms of joy? True but this office it is compelled to perform, contrary to its original design. Death, in itself, is an evil; and though, in virtue of the death of Jesus, it is under the necessity of performing a friendly part to the Christian, yet it acts against him, in no inconsiderable degree, with its natural and determined hostility; for,

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While the believer is in the body, death often fills him with fear and dread, and proves the bane of his peace. Some of the saints are all their life-time subject to bondage through fear of death. Many of them never attain, till a late period, any comfortable assurance of the divine favour; while others do not attain it all. Taught highly to value the celestial bliss, they but feel the keener anguish when they recollect that death may soon ingulph them in remediless woe. Apprehensive of being in a state of condemnation, the idea of death alarms, agitates, terrifies. It is not the thought, that death will cut him off from all the engagements of life, it is the dread that death will find him

* 1 Cor. xv. 26.

unprepared for Heaven, that harrows up the soul! Death is the believer's enemy; it disturbs his peace. Again,

Death, by the separation which it effects between the soul and body, impedes the completion of the believer's happiness in Heaven. However exquisite the bliss which the soul participates in the intermediate state, the felicity of the person must be incomplete, so long as the body, a constituent part of the person, is held in a state of incapability of enjoyment. From the condition of the disembodied spirit we must remove every idea of positive defect of bliss; it experiences no uneasiness. No sensation that will interrupt the joys, or ruffle the serenity of the mind, shall ever be felt. The body, however, is constituted the natural habitation of the soul. The happiness, therefore, of our immortal part in a state of disunion from our material frame, cannot be completely perfect. The body, from its original constitution and design, is the grand mean of increasing our intellectual felicities. All the senses were constituted so many avenues, by which new accessions of bliss should, in quick succession, find their way into the soul. But when these senses no longer perceive,-when the body is no longer susceptible of any impression,-when it has mouldered away into dust, all the pleasures which in the work of glory it may be the organ of conveying to the mind, must be denied to the glorified soul. It is death that first effected, and continues to maintain this disunion of soul and body. Death is, therefore, the Christian's enemy.

Besides, the body as well as the soul is capable of happiness. While death, however, retains it in his palsifying grasp, its powers are suspended, its capacities of enjoyment are destroyed. It cannot taste the bliss which it is destined to know when it shall partake of the glory of Christ! Then pleasures unspeakable shall thrill every fibre of our material frame, as well as possess every power of the soul! In short, the soul and the body are formed to be mutual blessings. All the felicities, therefore, which, in a state of perfection of powers, of capacities, and of bliss, the soul may impart to the body, or the body convey to the soul, are altogether unknown, while Death holds, under his despotic sway, the bodies of the saints. Death then, for a season, prevents the believer from enjoying, in his complete person, the felicities of Heaven. O, what an enemy to the believer is Death! But what a consolation to the Christian, that of all his mighty foes, death is the last!

The enemics of the saint are numerous indeed. They may however be reduced to the following: Sin and Satan, the World and Death. Against these various foes he must, with unremitting assiduity, contend. However splendid his victories over them, they will after all rally their broken forces, muster up their whole strength, and with fresh vigour, renew the contest. He must ever then exercise the utmost vigilance, circumspection, and care. Clad in the armour of God, and marching under the conduct of

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