nignant government, the generous goodness, the solemn admonitions, and the holy devotion of their father's house.

Towards his brethren in the sacred office, Mr. Barber was uniformly respectful, kind, and friendly. To young ministers, in particular, his conduct was peculiarly affectionate, condescending, and instructive. The person who now addresses you feels his obligation to pay this public tribute of gratitude for the uninterrupted kindness and friendship with which he was honoured by your excellent pastor. He always shewed the most proper respect towards his late reverend colleague in the pastoral charge. He lived in united affection and reciprocal honour with the ministers who have, either formerly or lately, been his associates in that useful and ancient lecture of which, for the term of forty years, he was an ornament.

It is well known that Mr. Barber was held in high estimation by good and worthy persons of religious denominations different from his own; but the fact ought not to be passed without some notice on this solemn occasion.

With Mr. Whitefield he had occasional and friendly intercourse; and he entertained an exalted, but judicious and measured, opinion of that celebrated and eminently useful preacher.

Mr. Romaine professed a high regard for Mr. Barber, as a Christian and as a Minister, and took a peculiar delight in hearing him preach. To those who recollect that gentleman's zealous attachment to the exclusive peculiarities of the esta blished church, this circumstance must appear a striking testimony to the commanding excellence of our venerable friend. With peculiar pleasure I likewise mention Mr. Barber's close and affectionate intimacy with that truly eminent and holy man of God, Mr. Abrahain Booth. These two venerable ministers had that congeniality of mind and feeling which gave them great happiness in the society of each other. They embraced opportunities of enjoying the mutual benefit; and their edifying intercourse was crowned and blessed with united devotion. O! who does not exclaim, Let my son! be joined with theirs! Such sanctified intercourse of such men, must have been, indeed, a heaven upon earth.

The Christian church and congregation, which, for almost half a century, has been blessed with the enjoyment of his labours, entertains a lively and grateful remembrance of its late beloved pastor, which no expressions from me can enhance, or even adequately utter.

You have fully known his doctrine, manner of life, purpose, faith, long-suffering, charity, patience, and afflictions.' That he had none of the errors and failings of sinful mortals, I by no means insinuate. But that eye must have been quicksighted, if not malignant, which could readily espy them. Yet he himself felt the deepest sense of the imperfections

which his conscience and his God knew. Few men ever possessed more unaffected humility; and few have been less apparently conscious of the personal excellencies which all others could perceive.

His conversation and manners in domestic visits and friendly intercourse, were such as became the man of God. He was cheerful, yet serious; lively, yet grave; frank, yet prudent; kind and indulgent, yet ever faithful to propriety and holiness. I may boldly ask, Whose feelings did he ever needlessly and wantonly wound?-whose good name did he ever asperse? -whose character did he ever stab, by subtile insinuation, by affected pity, or by rude reviling? On the contrary, he was the willing and generons vindicator of the injured. If envy or scandal met his eye, he resolutely frowned upon them. Even where he could not approve, his candour ied him to pity, to forgive, and to veil in generous silence; except the interests of holiness and justice compelled his faithful animadversion. As a Christian pastor, he fed the flock of God, and exercised his rule over it, with fidelity, benevolence, and purity. His manner of conducting the affairs of the church was marked with temperate discretion, solid judgment, and “ the meeknes and gentleness of Christ."

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When he led your devotions before the throne of grace, or presided in the celebration of the sacraments of the new covenant, he breathed the simple and fervid utterance of a mind well inured to sweet and humble intercourse with heaven. His public prayers were lively in gratitude, penitent in confession, ardent in supplication, sympathizing and benevolent in intercession. With enlightened zeal and love he gloried in the Redeemer's cross; while he distributed the instituted memorials of the atoning sacrifice; and when he dispensed the ordinance of Baptism, he directed your faith and hope to the covenant influences of the Eternal Spirit, those clean waters which God has promised to sprinkle upon his people, to purify them from all their pollutions. Such were his closing labours. On the last day of the year he baptized one of his grandchildren; and on the following Sabbath-day he administered the Lord's Supper. This was the last public service of his life. In the pulpit he shewed uncorruptness, gravity, and sincerity. He maintained the primitive and holy doctrines of grace, as the vital principles of pure, conscientious, and universal holiness. He preached the eternal love of the Almighty Father, the glorious Source of all blessings: he preached the condescending grace of HIM who came in the likeness of sinful flesh, while he is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever the true God and eternal life. He never relaxed the obligations of the divine law; nor did he covertly suggest excuses for sin. He announced the grace of God, which bringeth salvation,' as a system which

effectually teacheth the cordial renunciation of all ungodliness and worldly lusts; and which pronounceth its blessings upon none but the man who hath clean hands and a pure heart. He enjoined upon you, his beloved hearers, the motives and the precepts of a life universally upright, conscientious, beneficial, and pious; and, in so doing, he directed you to wait patiently, and to hope perfectly, for the glorious appearance of the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ.

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These doctrines he taught with careful judgment and wellapplied learning in the exposition of the sacred text, according to its native and genuine sense. He urged scriptural doctrines with scriptural argument, with a simple felicity of illustration, with affectionate reproof, remonstrance, invitation, and consolation, and with a designed plainness and familiarity of language, which manifestly declared that he 'preached not himself, but Christ Jesus the Lord;' and that he sought the profit of many, that they might be saved. Though, from principle and conscience, he disavowed' the enticing words of human wisdom,' and every kind and form of low and little artifice to buy mens' applause, by flattering their vanity, yet he spoke the great things of God, salvation, and eternity, with feeling, energy, and love, with awakening earnestness, and with interesting solemnity.

Yes, brethren, ye know what manner of man he was among you, for your sake. His exhortation was not of deceit, nor of uncleanness, nor in guile; but, as he was approved by God to be entrusted with the gospel, so he spoke not as pleasing men but God, who trieth our hearts. He used not the speech of Flattery, as ye know, nor the pretence of covetousness; nor of men did he seek glory: but he was gentle among you, as a nursing mother cherisheth her own children. Ye are witnesses, and God also, how holily, justly, and unblameably, he behaved himself among you; and how he exhorted, comforted, and charged every one of you, as a father doth his children, that ye would walk worthily of God, who hath called you to his kingdom and glory.'

He was a burning and a shining light; and ye have, for a long and favoured season, rejoiced in that light. The season is past. The light is extinguished on earth, to be rekindled in heaven, there to shine unclouded, and never more to

decay and die!

Mark the perfect man! Behold the upright! His end was peace. With his latest breath he invoked blessings on his family and his people, his country and the world; and he literally died in the arins of his affectionate children.

Thus, without a struggle, a pang, or a groan, our venerated father, friend, and pastor, sweetly and calmly slept in Jesus, in the evening of February 14, 1810, having just added eleven days to his eighty-third year.

ON SUDDEN CONVERSIONS:

[Concluded from p. 139.]

WHILE We maintain that such sudden, such powerful, and striking conversions, are neither unreasonable nor unscriptural, we universally admit that the proof of their reality depends on the future behaviour in which those principles on which the first effect depends, expand, operate, and produce that conduct which we call the full-formed character of the Christian convert. Where such effects are not produced, we certainly cease to consider it a conversion; and are sufficiently acquainted with the philosophy of the human mind, to know the causes to which such transient impressions may be ascribed. I think that our inestimable Whitefield, in his earlier days especially, was far too hasty and peremptory in deciding on conversions. With a guileless heart and little experience of mankind, he could hardly conceive it possible that any but a real convert should feel so strongly as many really felt under his preaching; and so readily adopt, as many professed to adopt, his evange lical views of divine truth; and even in his more advanced age, when, by a maturity of understanding, and an extent of observation and experience, he gained more wisdom, still he was not quite dispassionate enough to make the calm and sober decision. To his ardent passions we are indebted, under God, for his uncommon labours and success; but that very torrent of passion to which his eminent usefulness was owing, was unfavourabe to that discrimination which is most acute where passion is to be associated with, and controuled by a strong, preponderating judgment.

But, my good friend, is it not fair to ask, whether the accounts of death-bed repentance, which have been so liberally and incautiously presented to the public, have not led such men to form their views of what they term sudden conversions? On reading in our popular works the obituaries of those who are said to have been converted in their last days, I have asked, 'Supposing such conversions real, what good can their publi cation do? I deny, however, that you can have full proof that such repentances are sincere. We have seen, in our experince, persons as apparently converted as any there recorded, who have, upon recovery, lost all traces of seriousness. And what proof can you have that the repentance of those who die is not equally unsound? In many cases, I grant, the evidence may rise high; it may afford us all the hope that such a circumstance is capable of affording; but it fails, in all cases, far below that proof which a course of uniform holiness, under less Suspicious circumstances, would give; and why we should obtrude on the public, as unquestionable verities, accounts of. conversions which are liable to such serious doubts, I know

not. It is, I suppose, to magnify the grace of God. 'I think its natural tendency is, to make our enemies despise us as presumptuous, in determining without the means of forming a judgment; and to encourage men in health to put off to a dying moment the vast concerns of an eternal world.

Should any adduce the dying malefactor in proof of the pro priety of publishing these reports, I beg leave to say that this case is not to the purpose. We have, first, no proof that the general or previous character of the malefactor was bad. It has been supposed, with no great share of improbability, that he was crucified for some conspiracy or rebellion against the Roman government, which the most conscientious Jews did not consider unlawful in the sight of God; and his acknowledgement of suffering justly, is capable of a fair interpretation in this view of his character; but admitting that he was previously a very bad man, there were some striking peculiarities in his case, which cannot take place now: and there is this especially, that of his conversion there was no doubt, — there could be none; and, unless we have equal certainty of the fact, and there be equal cause for its publication, the instance of the dying malefactor will avail us little.

The munner in which some of these sudden and late conversions are stated, is dreadfully exceptionable. One would imagine, that in visiting a condemned malefactor, whose whole life has been marked with crimes of the deepest die, the only. object was to make him contented and happy. I should feel much more satisfied in reading that such a man died under deep impressions of guilt, and with trembling anxiety for his eternal happiness, than that he went to the gallows with all the triumph of a martyr; and at the place of execution sung louder than all others, From thee, my God, my joys shall rise, &c. An eminent minister of Edinburgh, once of S, in formed me some years ago, that a man, imprisoned at S―― Castle, was under sentence of death. He and others visited him, and were delighted with the extraordinary, and, as it appeared to them, unquestionable marks of a saving change. The night before the expected execution he spent in prayer, praise, and exhortation. He seemed fully prepared to say in sight of the gallows, I am happy! I am going to die! The next morning a pardon arrived. He was soon discharged. The night after his discharge he spent in rioting and drunkenness; and in about twelve months he was again tried, convicted, condemned, and executed. Why don't we learn prudence and modesty from such lessons as these? My two gr at objections, then, to such publications, are, That we decide with certainty where it is impossible to ascertain the fact; and that, admitting the fact, the circulation may do much harm, and can do but little, if any good.

The extravagances which have attended some real or sup