informed, occurred not long since, elsewhere, in which cases, also, ministers of high character and extensive influence were the preachers. Now from whatever cause such impropriety spring, and it seems difficult to find any quite satisfactory, they naturally occasion to the parties concerned considerable disappointment and regret.

The main design of what is called the sermon to the people, it is apprehended, is to expound and enforce the various and important duties of a church and congregation to their pastor; to him who, by their own voluntary choice, has just been set over them in the Lord. When any important union between two parties, involving reciprocal obligations, is ratified, it is generally regarded as proper and seasonable that both parties should be reminded of their respective duties. The propriety of this is recognized at our ordination services by the " charge to the pastor," and "the sermon to the people." When, however, the precise end of either of these parts of the service is entirely lost sight of, there is an obvious and lamentable impropriety and defect.

The particular evil now referred to is of a practical nature, and, as a little reflection would be sufficient to shew, calculated to prove of serious consequence. When a minister is settled over a congregation, it is certain there will be some in it more or less ignorant of the nature, extent, and obligation of the duties devolving on them towards their pastor; of these there are generally many young persons, some of whom have never before witnessed an ordination, and, probably, never heard the subject now alluded to, explained and enforced. Besides these, it will not be deemed uncharitable

to say, there are likely to be at least some, who, whilst they are not destitute of the needful information, yet require to have their minds stirred up by way of remembrance; and still further, it must be confessed that that congregation is singularly felicitous, in which no individuals are to be found who need to be urged by suitable arguments, to carry into practice what they are acquainted with, and recognise only in theory. In addition to the stated congregation, there are commonly many present on these occasions, from other churches, and, unquestionably, much benefit often results to such, and through them, to the several religious societies with which they are connected, from the instructions and exhortations which are then delivered.

Now when the opportunity afforded at an ordination for introducing and expatiating on the appropriate topics has passed away, no other equally favourable can ever occur during the continuance of the connection that day formed between the pastor and his flock. Those, therefore, who were before uninformed, will, most probably (the majority of them at least), remain so; for few, comparatively, will read on the subject, and the minister cannot, himself, from the nature of the case, introduce it into his pulpit; or if so, it can be only in a slight and cursory manner. Indeed this is, perhaps, the only topic in the whole range of religious doctrine or duty on which he feels a restraint in instructing or exhorting the people of his charge. If these hints should avail to check the evil to which they relate, they will answer the end of,

Your's, &c.

B. J.

From the Rev. John Newton to the Rev. Mr. Lucas, of Shrewsbury. XI. ye 17th Jan. MY DEAR SIR,-When I came home this evening, I found your acceptable letter of the 5th upon my table, and I begin to answer it immediately, because, as I am very much engaged, and every new day brings its own business with it, I feared that if I admitted a short delay, it might prove a long one; and though I am, and must be, in long arrears with most of my correspondents, I was not willing your first favour should lie by

me unanswered.

When our dear friend Mr. Brewer* was living, I used to hear of you; but he is gone. The first news of your indisposition is from yourself. I am glad to hear you are getting better, but still more to find the Lord has given you such a comfortable submission to his wise and holy will. I have heard some ministers wish that they might not outlive their usefulness. Nor do I think a faithful and exemplary minister can cease to be useful, till he ceases to breathe. If the Lord is pleased to lay him aside, he may still be very useful, if he is enabled to exercise himself, those graces which he has recommended to others, and to exemplify, in his own case, what he has often told his people of the all-sufficiency of God, and the faithfulness of his promises. In active service, there is something pleasing to self, but it requires a stronger exercise of grace, to be willing, if the Lord so appoint, to sit still. However, if the Lord has more for you to do, he can, and he will, renew your strength like the eagle's. I trust that he will always do that for you, and by you, which is best, and that you will always think so. I commend you to his blessing, and leave you in his hands; they are merciful hands. He loves us better than we love ourselves. Were it lawful, or possible, for us to procure an alteration in the plan of infinite wisdom and love, we should certainly spoil it.

I have been long, as I still am, wonderfully favoured in point of health. Since my first entrance on the ministry, I believe I have not been once so disabled by illness that I could not preach.

* Rev. S. Brewer, Stepney.

I was confined three Lord's-days under a surgeon's hands in 1777, and two in 1791, by a strain from a fall. But from the year of my great trials, 1790, I have been almost a stranger to sickness or pain. And now that I am more than I seem to preach with as much liberty, half-way through my seventy-third year, ease, frequency, and acceptance, as at any former time. But a change cannot with the Lord. I desire only that while now be very distant. My times are I do live I may live to him, and that I may wait his call with my loins girded up, and my lamps burning. Oh! for grace and faith to live as becometh a sinner, renouncing every plea or hope, saint, and then to die as becometh a tor, when he said, Lord, remember me. but what supported the dying malefac

I can still write and read by candleMy eyes grow old in the sockets, but light, though often I cannot recognize readily the face of an intimate friend. especially as to names, but it seldom My recollection, likewise, is weakened, fails me in the pulpit. I have formerly been a great walker, but now three or four miles in a day is as much as I wish for. Thus there is a very gentle, gradual decay, so gradual, that in most respects I hardly feel myself older than when you saw me last. I seem a wonder to

many. I am a wonder to myself. Too long I was an infidel, a blasphemer, and a profligate, but he spared me, and called me to preach the faith Í had laboured to destroy. In Africa I was a servant of slaves, but since his sovereign mercy put me amongst his children, I have been honoured and comforted on every side.

But enough of self! The singularity of my case often drives me into egotisms, when writing to a friend.

"Thy wond'ring saints rejoice to see

A wretch like me restor'd;
And point, and say, How chang'd is he,
Who once defied the Lord."

O, what a Shepherd, to lay down his life for such wandering sheep! to die for his enemies, who, both by nature and practice, were alienated from him, who would have gone to the last moment of life, despising his love, and crucifying him afresh, if mighty grace had not compelled them to come in; for such he died, even (I trust) for me. I not

only preach Paul's faithful saying, but I am a living proof that Jesus came to save the chief of sinners.

Please to return my duty to Mrs. Lucas, and tell her that my second anniversary is annexed to Letters to a Wife, which may possibly have reached Shrewsbury, as they were published in the year 1793. I mean to inclose the fourth and fifth, for I cannot wait the uncertainty of Mr. Longman's conveyance at present. I wish you to know, as soon as possible, that I still remember old times, and love you dearly. No more of the second were printed in England than those for the letters.

I preached a sermon on the late Thanksgiving day, which, or the substance of it, is now in the press; when it comes abroad, I will make use of Mr. Longman to send you a copy, and one to Mr. Olney. He and his wife are the only persons, except yourselves, whom I know in Salop. If you are acquainted with them, I beg you to mention my love and best wishes, with Miss Catlett's, to them. Our love and best wishes likewise to Mrs. Lucas. We should be glad to see you both again in town, but if not, we hope to meet you in a better state, where all the chosen race shall meet before the throne.

You said, in the beginning of yours, that you must fill the paper, but you left one side blank; so that I send you more lines than I received. I shall be glad to hear from you always, but I cannot promise to be always so punctual as I am this time. But I trust we shall often meet at the throne of grace, the central point of all believers. When we are there, though absent in body, we cannot be far distant in spirit from each other.

May the Lord bless you and yours in all things. May he guide you with his eye, support you by his arm, comfort you with his presence, and, at length, bring you home to himself in glory! May it be thus, likewise, with me and mine! I know you will say Amen.

I am, dear Sir,

Your very affectionate friend and brother,

JOHN NEWTON.

20th Jan. 1798.

HAVING been able to say, the Lord has healed the wound he made, what could I say more? Therefore I have written no anniversaries since 1795.

Rev. Mr. Lucas, Shrewsbury.

XII.-From the Rev. Aug. Toplady, to George Flower, Esq.

Broad Hembury, April 8, 1774. LONGER time is usually allowed for the payment of large debts, than of trivial ones. By parity of argument, a delay of correspondence on the side of him who has received great epistolary obligations, is the more venial on that very account. If my valuable and valued friend will not admit this reasoning to be fair, I must own that I have nothing better to urge, in extenuation of my having so long omitted to thank him for his last welcome and much-esteemed favour. Yet, as some degree of imperfection is connected with every thing human, I must likewise confess that I cannot extend my thanks for those strokes of undue panegyric with which, dear Sir, your kind partiality so profusely honours me; sincerely I say it (may it be said once for all), that I would much rather be told of my faults, than of those supposed excellencies which the extreme benevolence of my friends is so ready to place to my account; candor and politeness like your's, first illuminate every object on which they shine, and then ascribe to the object itself those communicated rays, of which it is no more than the humble and obliged receiver.

Let me now advert to a superior subject; and thank you for the improving particulars so kindly forwarded, concerning the lamented decease of our honoured and deserving friend, the late truly excellent Mr. Hitchin;* that amiable and precious man of God, whose

On

The Rev. Edward Hitchin, M. A. entered the Dissenting ministry about the year 1743, as the assistant to the Rev. R. Rawlin, pastor of the ancient Independent Church, Fetter Lane, London, in which, for seven years, he secured, by his preaching and conduct, the regard of that valued minister and his numerous friends. the melancholy death of the Rev. M. Andrews, pastor of the Independent Church, Artillery Lane, Bishopsgate, Mr. H. was invited to become his successor, and such was the success of his ministry amongst that people, that it became necessary to erect a more spacious place of worship. In 1755, the White Row Meeting House was erected, at that time the largest in London, to which the congregation removed, and where he continued to labour until 1774, when he also was cut off by death, to the sorrow of a deeply afflicted people, in the 49th year of his age.

grace was as solid as his parts were shining; his steady faith, and his calm unruffled departure, amidst such circumstances of bodily pain, can only be attributed to that everlasting love, and to that atoning blood, which made him more than conqueror. Looking the other day into my book of occasional collections, I found two remarks which dropped from Mr. Hitchin, in a conversation I had with him, July 18, 1769, and which were well worthy of being preserved from oblivion. They run verbatim thus: "The greater our sanctification is, and the more advanced we are in holiness, the more we shall feel our need of free justification."

"An architect cannot say to his rule, or his line, or his other instruments, go build an house; he must first take them into his own hand, ere the wished-for effect will follow. What are ministers of God, but mere instruments; and if ever they are useful in building up the church of Christ, 'tis his own hand must make them so.

Such improving observations as these, such valuable reliques of saints indeed, are too precious to be lightly forgot. May they be engraven on our hearts! I rejoice to hear of dear Mr. Ryland, sen.'s liberty and sweetness, in his ministrations to Mr. Hitchin's widowed flock. Our Northampton friend is an Israelite without guile; and he is among those who stand highest in my regard. He blames me for seldom writing to him; but was I to correspond regularly with even my first-rate favourites, I should do nothing more than write letters from morning to night; in heaven we shall be all together for ever and ever. Make my affectionate respects acceptable to dear Mrs. Flower, to your daughter, and to the young gentlemen; grace, mercy, and peace; bright evidences, sweet experiences, and growing holiness, be your portion, their portion, and the portion of

Your affectionate servant in Christ, AUG. TOPLADY. To Mr. George Flower, Cannon Street, London.

XIII.-From Rev. John Berridge, M. A. to Mr. Benj. Mills.

Everton, 9th Oct. 1788.

that God may multiply his mercy on yourself, your partner, and your children. Through the Lord's gracious providence, I got to Everton, safe and well, on Saturday afternoon, about five, and not quite so much tired as I expected. On Sunday I preached, and felt the effect of Wednesday's sermon. What a poor do-little I am, next door to lumber ground. Twenty-one good meals in a week, with a bever besides, and one sermon chiefly. Sure no lazy servant was ever so fed; but I live upon a king's bounty, who exceeds not only all deserts, but all our thanks and praises; he delights to make his servants stand amazed at his bounty and grace-bounty too rich to be exhausted, and grace too deep to be fathomed, except in glory. Let others prattle of their works, and one sinner praise another, I will sing of the mercy of the Lord for ever and ever. Thanks to my God for giving me an appetite for this heavenly manna, and a taste of it. His mercy endureth for ever. How sweet the sound, how rich the food, to a gracious soul! A pleasant thing it is to be thankful, and saints will feel a pleasing, growing debt of gratitude for ever, which will fill the heavenly courts with everlasting hallelujahs. May you and I attend and join the choir!

I was sorry to see Mr. West look so lank, and walk so feebly; and as Mr. Keen, though seemingly revived, is old and tottering, like myself, I wish another trustee might be chosen before their removal. It would be bad to have the whole trust lodged in a single hand, and him a preacher too. I trust the Lord Jesus, who has removed two high priests from the chapels, and has shewn a providential care of them hitherto, will direct the trustees properly. Solomon's account of old age suits me well; the windows are dark, the daughters of music are low, the grinders cease, for all are gone, and the grasshopper is a burden. Well, thanks be to God, through Jesus Christ, for the prospect of a better world!

Grace and peace be with you and yours, dear Sir, and with your affectionate servant,

T

JOHN BERRIDGE..

THE PAST.

Written Nov. 14, 1825.

As fond affection, by attraction strong, Of joys scarce wither'd, and love burning

still,

Is led to where endear'd remains repose In recent death, and trembling moves the veil

To look again, again, and yet again; Upon the bier once sensitive and warm With friendship's glow--as fond affection thus

The strong attraction owns, yet (nature such)

Not conscious wherefore, shudders as she lifts

The shrouding pall--so, drawn, resistless, oft

My spirit brings to view the mournful past ; So looks intensely as the visions rise, Though nought arise to expectation new. But solemn is the stillness of the past Review'd,--its agitations hush'd, and all As calm as death.--The soul would fain revoke

Its incantations, and, in dread, remand The phantoms it hath rais'd, but cannot

nor

-

Avert its gaze.-Oblivion's gates unfold; In slow succession pass the spectral shades Of griefs yet bleeding, and of follies arm'd With scorpion-stings, as heretofore, when first

They flatter'd and betray'd.--Each bears

its cup

Of bitterness, and, as the sad array Proceeds, each pours the baleful draught of woe

Into one ebon-chalice, till the brim O'erflows-Nor is there here one drop of aught

But may appal the soul--and did so, nigh
To madness, when the cup was real---yet,
Strange fascination! doth its memory dwell
As if it found a welcome in my heart,
And will not be repuls'd--nor let it be.
God of compassion! merciful in frowns;
Sustainer of my life in anguish deep!
Deepanguish, which, tho' partially reveal'd,
None fully understood, nor keenest eye
In all its springs and traversings could trace.
My Sun! my Shield! Uplifter of my head!
To Thee, chastis'd in utter helplessness,
I fled for refuge and for peace, and now
Escap'd the storm and disciplin'd by
grief,

Beneath the shadow of Thy brooding wings,

That peace I find-Celestial Visitant!

Scarce known, and never rightly valu’d, save Where war hath rag'd-thou comest not in pomp,

Nor laughing revelry, nor shrin'd in gold; Thy greetings are not rapture, nor thy joys :

But quiet, safety, cheerfulness serene, With fortitude and virtue fill thy train; While evil, in whatever guise, abash'd, Before the brightness of thy coming shrinks. Still deign to make my bosom thine abode; No wayward passion pluck thy banner hence,

The gift of heaven thou! stay with me, No rebel-folly ruffle thy controul.

stay,

In present duty, or in future cares,

Until to heav'n uprais'd, I with thee dwell,
Secure for ever in my Father's house!
My Father's house! my kindling spirit

And proud his scandal to avow.
True, neither flames nor racks appear,
Chains bind the dragon to his den;
Yet is there venom in a sneer,

And bitterness in scorn of men.
The cross I wear not as 'tis worn,
Gem wrought at feast and masquerade ;
Nor on chivalric banners borne,

That flame along the fierce crusade. These bear no shame in human eyes, Pride claims such trophies as her own; And 'tis the cross which men despise, That is esteem'd by God alone.

A pure meek spirit, humble heart,

A soul of faith, and praise, and prayer; At these the world will aim its dart, And this the cross I fain would bear. Homerton. JAMES EDMESTON.