being the general state of things in the churches of this city, no marvel that there were so few actively engaged in furthering the interests of the Redeemer;—no wonder prayer-meetings were so rare. And even the few social meetings that were established, were seldom well attended. The dignified precision that characterized these services rendered them too formal and frigid, to be attractive to ardent Christians.

The lamented subject of this biography, however, introduced a new order of things into the Presbyterian Church in Philadelphia. It was his aim, from his settlement here, till the close of his ministry, to engage all possessed of piety and prudence, whether young or old, rich or poor, in plans of active usefulness. Soon after he became the pastor of the First Church of the Northern Liberties, prayer meetings were established, and sustained by his people at his instance. At these meetings, in addition to the usual exercises of singing and prayer, a portion of Scripture was read, accompanied with remarks of an explanatory or hortatory character; or in lieu of these, an extract from an appropriate sermon or religious tract was read. The members of this church were often reminded, in the most solemn and affectionate manner, by their pastor, of their personal responsibility to God, for the manner in which they employed their talents. They were taught, that they had much to do individually, as well as collectively, in rendering his ministrations among them successful; and these instructions were sanctioned with the divine blessing. Not only did his people sustain Sunday schools and prayer-meetings; they were also in the habit of warning the careless of their danger, and inviting them to visit the house of God: and doubtless, much of his success was owing to the important assistance thus rendered by his flock. The church, under such training, became most effective in furthering the cause

of evangelical piety in the northern section of the city; and in the process of time, its indirect influence was felt throughout Philadelphia. In various ways Christians now began to cooperate with the officers of their respective churches in the conversion of sinners, and in advancing the cause of truth.

The prominence of laymen in the prayer-meeting, however, was viewed by many of his co-presbyters as a trespass upon the rights of the clergy, and an unwarrantable liberty with functions appertaining only to the ministry, or at most to the eldership. Hence, the propriety of this "lay-preaching," as it was denominated, was warmly controverted for some time in the Presbytery of Philadelphia, and excited much interest among the laity of the city. In this controversy, Mr. P. stood alone, except as he was countenanced by the Rev. Jas. P. Wilson, D. D., the Rev. Thomas H. Skinner, D. D., and perhaps one or two others. He could not sanction the views of some of his brethren on this subject, or unite with them in forbidding Christians to exhort sinners who might assemble at the place of social prayer, without violating the dictates of conscience. But having taken this stand, he maintained that the ministry of reconciliation was an office of divine appointment, and that laymen could not exercise any of the functions peculiar to it, without danger to themselves, and prejudice to the general interests of religion.

Notwithstanding he magnified his office as an ambassador of Christ, in the true sense, he had no sympathy with those who suspected that the dignity of the clergy would suffer in consequence of the zeal and activity of private Christians. While few had attained a more honourable standing as a herald of the Cross than he, none had a more perfect disrelish of every thing that savoured of affected dignity. The man who had nothing but his clerical robes to entitle him to the confidence and respect of men, and who feared this claim

would be invalidated by the efforts of laymen to bring sinners to repentance, was the object of his commiseration. Yet he venerated the minister who substantiated his title to the respect of his fellow-men by zealous and self-denying labours in his Master's cause. It was this that invested with dignity the subject of this memoir. No one could see the solemnity of his manner in the pulpit, and hear his thrilling and tender appeals to the sinner, without the conviction, "this is a man of God." He had no reason to fear that the exertions of his brethren of the laity would interfere with the respect and esteem that a people ought always to entertain for their spiritual guide.

From the preceding remarks, our readers must not infer that Mr. P. was on all occasions the most judicious in the selection of means for the accomplishment of his pious designs. This would be more than could be said of any man. But, were it conceded that he enlisted in these efforts some who lacked the necessary qualifications, and that the interests of the church would have been better promoted by dispensing with their services, this would not be a valid objection to his main position. It would only illustrate the familiar sentiment, that incidental evils may be connected with the best system. But whatever imperfections may have blended with these efforts, we doubt not, they were more acceptable to God, than that inaction which results from a dread of manifesting zeal, not according to knowledge. The succession of revivals that took place in connexion with this instrumentality, was viewed by him as the testimony of heaven to its utility; hence, he could not concur with some of his brethren in the propriety of laying it aside.

During the summer of this year, (1815), Mr. Patterson was engaged for some time in collecting funds for the erection of buildings, &c., for the Princeton Theological Seminary. During this agency he wrote the following letters

to Mrs. Patterson, who was then on a visit to her parents in Newark, which will be read with interest. They exhibit the character of our friend as the tender father, the affectionate husband, and the devoted Christian.

"MY DEAREST SARAH:

"Strasburg, Friday, 18th August, 1815.

"Last night I arrived at my father's house, spent part of this day with my dear aged parents, walked a little over the old place, and sighed and left it. To visit my aged parents is a grateful feeling; but I often sigh to be back preaching the gospel to my own people. My parents are as well as might be expected—my father fails fast. It grieves me to the heart to think that he is still so much attached to this world. To-morrow (God willing), I go up to Conococheague to preach on Sabbath preparatory to begging again. Unless I have an opportunity of preaching on the Sabbath, and explaining a little, it fatigues me excessively, and delays me also in every house to relate my business. In the congregation of Carlisle I got more than $300.

"The people here are very dead as it relates to religion. I go nowhere, where I see as much religion and zeal as amongst my own people; although I do sometimes scold them, when I see them do so little for Him who died to save our wretched souls. I feel unusually solemn this day looking at the ravages which time has made here. Many are gone who used to be here, and some awfully gone to eternity. I sincerely sigh for the bosom of my family and congregation. I am here alone. My dear Sarah, I have not heard a word from you since I left you. I never believed before, family attachments were so strong,

I think of you,

think of your features, how you look, and say, Is it possible I was so attached to you, and so insensible till now? 'Tis well said, that separation makes us realise friendship.' I feel exceedingly anxious to see little William Halsted. I often think and sigh, whilst I think when I used to scold him, how he would put up that little hand before his face. I often think of dear little George Whitefield; but his features are not so impressed on my mind as those of William. How solemnly, melancholy, I feel when I seem to hear little William running to my study door, saying Pa! Pa!

"O! how many interesting and endearing things in a loving and intelligent family to beguile time! O how rapid our time. My dear Sarah, how many things have you and I reason to bless God for. I have seen nobody's situation, or circumstances, since I left home, that I would change for my own. I suspect there is not much danger that I will stay longer than my first contemplated time from my people, unless I should chance to go to Newark before I go to Philadelphia.

"I think if I travel again, it will be with my family. This way is too great a sacrifice of feeling indeed.

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'My dearest Sarah, Strasburg has not the charms that it had last year. No consideration would induce me to visit the high peak on the mountain here now. That extensive prospect would only afford pain by bringing to my mind the pleasures it gave on a former occasion, with my dearest earthly friend. Oh! that little tree-top in which we sat together and looked on many a hill and dale!

"I feel unusually solemn and melancholy this evening. It would afford me an indescribable pleasure to see you. The world appears a blank to me, and I sigh and grieve at the gain-seeking disposition of all this people, whilst the pleasures of learning, and the anticipated glories of immortality are neglected and despised. Oh! what infa

tuation !

"Sometimes I sigh (I think sincerely,) to be away from this world, and be at rest. I think, so far as I know my mind, nothing would keep me here except you and our dear little children. Oh, my dearest Sarah, take a little time every day to bear our dear little children to the throne of grace. God never said to the seed of Jacob, 'Seek ye me' in vain. And may the good will of Him that dwelt in the bush be with you and them!

"I think about next Thursday week I will take the stage at Chambersburg for Philadelphia, whether I get much or little. If I get little, I'll say to Sarah, as Cincinnatus did to Atilia, I fear, my Atilia, that for this year our little field must remain unsown.' So he left the plough to head the army. So I fear, my Sarah, the money of this presbytery must remain ungathered this year."