truth,) in reply to the anxiety on the subject | idols, will I cleanse you, saith the Lord.' But I shall not enlarge, only to proceed with two or three extracts from Mr. H.'s works. The first is from the "Destruction of Death by the Fountain of Life." Printed in 1805, page 24, speaking of the waters in Ezek xlvii. 8, 9, he says: We are washed from sin by the blood of Christ, and sanctified by the washing of regeneration; but what is it that cleanseth us from all our idols? what is it that removes all these from the heart and affections? I answer, this is done by the Spirit of burning, and the spirit of burning is the the spirit of love. 2 Tim. i. 7. The Spirit having cleansed and justified us, a spirit of judgment then operates, as the spirit of love, and sheds abroad the love of God in the heart; and having much forgiven we love much; and when God is much loved, idols are lightly esteemed; and, to be plain, this is our spiritual circumcision: 'and the Lord thy God will circumcise thy heart, and the heart of thy seed, that thou mayst love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, that thou mayst live.' Deut. xxx. 6. All circumcision in the "The sea is this confused and sin-disorderd flesh is no more than a sign.' Rom. iv. 11. world; the fish are elected sinners, which the God himself declares, it is not in circumcisapostles, who were made fishers of men, were ion which is in the flesh.' Rom. ii. 28. True sent to catch; the blessing that attended these circumcision stands in these two things: first, healing waters is eternal life: every thing in the forgiveness of sins; in whom also ye shall live whither the river cometh. This are circumcised of Christ.' Col. ii. 11. And same blessing is couched under different ordi- the second is, to love and adore a sin-pardonnances such as circumcision and baptism; ing God This circumcision is God's work, for by one spirit are we all baptized into one and he does it that we may love him with all body, whether we be Jews or Gentiles; whe- the heart, and with all the soul, that ther we be bond or free; and have been made we may live; live to him in this to drink into one Spirit.' 1 Cor. xii. 13. And world, and live with him in the world to come. this drinking into one spirit is explained by And it is plain that, when the whole heart Christ himself, Whosoever drinketh of the and soul love God, no room is left for idols. water that shall give him shall never thirst; This is the shining of a flaming fire by night, but the water that I shall give him shall be in and the smoke is the perpetual incense of him a well of water springing up into everlast- spiritual prayer, attended by the fervour of ing life.' John iv. 14. This is the one bap- the spirit and its grace. This is our circumtism of which water is an outward sign; and cision typified under the Old Testament; and circumcision in the flesh is no more than a this is our spiritual baptism prefigured by wasign likewise, for it is said that, 'Abraham re- ter under the New: THE SIGN WENT BEFORE, ceived the sign of circumcision, a seal of the THE SUBSTANCE FOLLOWED AFTER: 'I inrighteousness of the faith he had, being yet deed baptize you with water, unto repentance; uncircumcised.' Rom. iv. 11. For true circum- but he that cometh after me is mightier than cision is performed by God himself, as it is I, whose shoes I am not worthy to unloose, written, and the Lord thy God will circum- he shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost, and cise thine heart, and the heart of thy seed, to with fire.' Matthew iii. 11. love the Lord thy God with all thine heart. and with all thy soul, that thou mayst live." Deut. xxx. 6. Hence, baptism and circumcision art both one thing in the spiritual meaning; for both give life; and hence God says, 'all these nations are uncircumcised, and all the house of Israel are uncircumcised in heart, therefore, I will punish the circumcised with the uncircumcised.' Jer. ix. 25, 26. Yea, more, the New Testament tells us that that is not circumcision which is outward in the flesh; on which account all who are regenerated by the Holy Ghost, are said to be baptized into one Spirit which makes baptism and circumcision to be one and the same thing, in the explanation God gives of them, who is the best judge of his own meaning; and hence it is plain also to be baptized with the Holy Ghost and with fire amounts to the same thing as circumcision," &c, &c., &c. The next extract is from Mr H's work en tilled, "The Emblem of the Spirit," printed in 1808, page 85: "From all your filthiness, and from all your "This text has puzzled many good men, because of the distinction made by the copula tive and: He shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost and with fire.' Hence some conclude that the descent of the Holy Ghost upon us is one baptism, and the fire, signifying fiery trials, is another. But as this baptism succeeds circumcision, and in the Holy Spirit's sense IS ONE AND THE SAME THING, baptism by the spirit is receiving him as one everlasting comforter; this is Baptism by the Holy Ghost," &c. Futhermore it may shew that Mr. H. was friendly to the baptism of infants, by the following quotation from his works, "The Loss and Restoration of the Image of God in Man." Printed in 1802, page 127, speaking of the glory that attends a work of grace in the heart: 666 Upon all the glory there shall be a defence;" (Isaiah iv. 16.) and this glory beams forth in every renewal of that work, &c. Put all those fruits of the spirit together (which are before treated of) and it will give you a little light into what the scripture calls the| THE PULPIT AND THE GODLY new man; and the reverse of all these is the MINISTER. DEAR SIR-The following lines of dear Cowper, respecting the pulpit, and the character of a godly minister, may be suitable for ministers and bearYour's affectionately, old man. I shall not trouble you further, thinking I Yalding, Feb. 12, 1858. THE J. WHITE. AUSTRALIAN ECHO REBOUNDING. LINES on reading an Article in the EARTHEN VESSEL for May, 1858, signed, Matilda, Astralia, "There remaineth a rest to the people of God." WE long for that moment the summons shall come To leave this vain world, and arise, From all that oppress'd us we then shall be free And there to his praise ever sing. No place can be found for them there; But all he may say cannot keep us from home; But, alas, how seldom obtained; There no interuption shall we ever know, Then speed on, lagging time, and hasten away, And be with our Jesus above. West Ham, May, 1858. J. W. BECKETT, II. P. THE pulpit, therefore, (and I name it, fill'd own: Paul should himself direct me; I would trace stoop To conquer those by jocular exploits, Memorials of Departed Saints. Many thanks for your previous letter of consolation, which came to hand just as the waves of affliction were rolling most heavily over us. Few in the ministry have evinced towards me much sympathy-the scarcity of it makes me prize more dearly that which I have received. A MINISTER'S TEARS OVER THE GRAVE OF HIS CHILD. AN OBITUARY OF ISABEL SEARLE, WHO DIED THURSDAY, OCTOBER 1st, 1857. DEAR BROTHER BANKS.-Your kind en- | foolish parents do, eulogize the departed one, quiries to my sorrowful note, induces me to as the best, to the wounding of the feelings of send you some particulars of my dear departed sorrowing children; yet would I not detract child, which may be preserved in an EAR- from her well remembered usefulness, for in THEN VESSEL for many days. all domestic duties she bore her full share; so that not a place but tells us of her loss, which her dear aunt (to whose extreme kindness, by the blessing of God, I owe the life of my beloved wife) writing to me says, "your loss is irreparable; for Isabel was the pattern of a child." She was willing and anxiours to attend the house of God; and it has sometimes grieved me, that from the needful care of the little ones, she could not always go where she wished. And many an anxious eye have I directed to the place where she sat, that the word spoken might not be in vain. We have sometimes indulged the hope that the good seed of the kingdom was sown in her young heart, though the earnestly desired developement was not yet come. As she was naturally forward, I may have erred in not fostering an impression yet was I cautious not to force on that which might be merely impressing, instead of divine convictions. I felt that it would be most for her own good to wait, and see if it were the Lord's work. May my most indulgent Lord forgive me, if I have erred in that matter; but had I known I should have lost her thus early, I fear from the anguish which often bows my spirit, that I might have been like Uzzah, and essayed to put my feeble hand to the work. But as it was, we felt it our duty to watch and commend her, with my other children, to God and the word of his grace. The last Sabbath in August, I preached a funeral sermon for my late revered mother, which was the last time my beloved wife was at the house of God, previous to the illness which so nearly carried her off. One more Sabbath after that was the last also which my child attended; my wife, prostrated with fever, for seven weeks, she never crossed the threshold of her chamber door; in the next room lay my suffering child, whose agonizing cries fell harrowingly on her afflicted mothers ear, while unable to move a step towards her, to soothe her dying hours. And though we cherished hopes that the mother might be spared, yet it was fully evident by the rapid progress of that violent disease, that death had marked my child as its own. At length the dear sufferer's cup was full, exhausted nature could endure no more; the sun went down while it was yet day. Just fifteen years and three months she lived, and then "she died." And all though God has mercifully spared our other eight children, yet do we feel there is a vacuum made in our home, which never will be filled up till we shall all meet again, if sovereign mercy permit, in that heavenly home where death shall never invade, or cause grief to those who dwell there. During all these weeks of trial, I was strengthened to preach in the evenings, save one. The next Sabbath after my dear child's departure on the Thursday, Mr. Rothery most kindly sent an offer to preach for me as soon as he heard of our bereavement. His kinkness in the hour of woe, I shall never forget. My dear brother Messer came to see me the same night, previous to his departure for the country. After the sermon, I administered the Holy Supper, with an anguished heart to my sorrowing and sympathising flock; one of my members, Mr. F. Cave, had kindly preached for me in the morning, while I watched at home by the couches of my loved ones. On Sabbath evening, Oct. 11th, I preached her funeral sermon to a densely crowded congregation, from 1 Cor. xv. 16, 17, 18; after which, I gave the following account of her illness and death. My departed Isabel was the child of many prayers; and though I would not, as some It was observed by many how deeply she was affected on the occasion of her dear grandmother's funeral sermon. Dear girl, she little thought how soon her own would be preached by the same lips-she was there but once more! when I preached from Isaiah xxviii. 16, 17; a solemn text to be the last that mortal ears should listen to. I was led to speak very solemnly on the last time that some should ever hear the words of life: little did I think I was giving the warning to my own child, But so it proved; for never did she enter there again. Owing to the serious progress of my beloved wife's illness, I kept her away from the sick room as much as possible, and attended so closely myself, that twice, through sheer exhaustion dur ing that fatal mouth, I thought I should be laid down, having sat up eleven nights successively, with but one interval, and without rest even by day. I spared not myself, all though by God's mercy, I took not the infection; I was carried through ten times more danger than my dear girl had, and yet she took the fever, and in one sad fortnight, was no more. Apparently the strongest amongst us-yet though hidden from our view, the recording angel had written, “that her days were numbered." The attack at first seemed slight, but a change took place the fearful disorder rapidly progressed-medicine was of no avail-we gave up all hope-on! on! with fearful strides, the deadful fever pressed, through her panting veins; night and day did I pour out cries and tears to God; yea, the very walls would tell ye, had they tongues, how in burning agony of soul I have sought the sparing of her life; and, oh! when one morning, I looked at her a few days before she died, my heart sank within me, I felt all hope was gone in agony almost unsupportable, I paced the room alone, while I thought of David's heart rending cry, "Would to God I had died for thee, oh, Absalom, my son! my son!" Not that I adopted the word as my own, for 1 am not insensible to the mercy of life spared for my family and my flock. But as no ray of light dawned on my darkening sky, I felt the solemn need of seeking some token from the God of heaven of the safety of her soul,-that priceless soul, for whose eternal happiness I had so often wrestled with the Lord, with earnest words and tears. The terrible disorder of which my child died, was of that character as to preclude the possibility of gathering up much that, as a dying testimony, shall console the hearts of those who are left to mourn her loss. When not racked with intense pain, the sufferer is mostly, in a state of dreamy unconsciousness called, Comma; yet are we left not altogether in the dark. About two nights before she died, I was called to see her at three o'clock in the morning, she anxiously expressing her wish for me to come to her, to give her something to drink. As I gazed at her in deep anguish of spirit, I felt that now was the time for me to elicit something from her if possible as to the state of her mind. I said, "my dear,'Bel, you are very ill, do you think you shall get better?" "I think I shall," was the reply; at which I sorrowfully shook my head, and said, "but if you do not get better you will die. Do you think you shall go to heaven?" After a pause, she said, "I am not fit to go to heaven." It smote my soul with anguish, though it was not uttered in the tones of despair, but diffidently, and in much humility. I felt the need of words from God, Oh! 'tis a solemn position to stand by the dying and to feel how powerless we are to choose most fitting words when every moment is precious. "Well, (I replied) whosoever will may come now." Yes! (says she, with clear and distinct utterance) and him that cometh I will in no wise cast out!" "But you can pray now." "Oh! (said she,) I have prayed to him on this bed to save me." "Yes, dear, I doubt not you have prayed to him to restore you to health again; but if he answer not that prayer, where is your hope?" "On Jesus-all else sinking-sinking." I had to supply the words for her to complete the verse. Then you can say, "Jesus! lover of my soul?" "Yes." After a few more words of like character, she paused, when with a marked emphasis which I shall never forget, (I give her own words,)" Christ Jesus died on the cross to save sinners—the very chief of sinners, and I am the chief." "Are you dear Bel ?" I said, (amazed at the fulfilment of the ancient prophecy, "out of the mouth of babes," &c.) "He ever lives to save unto the uttermost all that come unto God by him." This effort wearied her; she relapsed into a stupor, and never more was she able to sustain any conversation, for her throat rapidly grew worse; the disease had been restrained till she gave me her dying testimony; her last hours drew nigh. The next day her revered grandfather called to see her, but even that familiar voice which she had so often heard in prayer, failed to arouse her. The next day, which was her last, she was the subject of painful and constant changes; the sad and sorrowful prelude of the parting hour. I said to her, " Bel, do you know me, dear? she recognised me, but could scarcely articulate, "I know you." In the afternoon, at five, having occasion to go out, and not at all expecting her end was so near, I bade her good bye. As well as she was able, and with full consciousness, she tried with an effort 1 shall never forget to say, good bye. None but the ear of parental love could have caught those broken sounds. Poor dear girl, I had her last dying farewell, and never will my ears lose those parting tones till 1 meet her in that land where partings are known no more. 66 can After this she rapidly grew worse, and it was feared I should not return to see her die; however, I did. About ten o'clock at night, I was watching, with my friends Mr. Sustman, by her side, in conversation respecting her, when all at once that solemn stillness that seems to pervade the chamber of death, pressed its sorrowful seal upon my spirit and forced from my lips the mournful utterance, she be gone?" In a moment I grasped her hand: it was cold; I felt her chest, it was yet warm; and while, as I stooped to kiss the pale cold forehead, one gentle sigh escaped those parched lips. That last sigh-I shall never forget it; I seemed to inhale it as it marked the silent departure of her spirit, I trust, to that tearless land where she is for ever free from the the sins and sorrows of this sin-blighted world. Not a struggle or a groan did mark the moment of her release; she never moved, so placidly did she depart, for it seemed as if she had nestled her poor anguished head beneath the wing of the angel charged to convey her spirit to the eternal throne. Often in the moments of her delirium had she repeated those words." One gentle sigh her fetters broke; and so she found it; for not one ripple moved upon the dark waters of the river of death. "My dead child." I kissed her cheek-her brow-no more could she respond to affection's touch; her poor racked, weary head, had taken its last long sleep, yet there played around those clay cold features, a smile more sweet and gentle even than in life, till the last moment, she was hidden from our eyes which seemed to say," oh! death? where is thy sting ?" Oh! what a night of bitter, agony was that, when her poor mother, on her sick bed in the next room, heard the halfsmothered sobbings-the fearful truth, that the stroke had come, could not be withheld from her; she wept till she had no more power to weep. What added to the intensity of her affliction was the painful fact that she could not once go to see her suffering child, while her shrieks of pain prevented her own rest. On Monday, October 5th, she was, by my dear father, interred in Abney Park. We had our last sorrowful look down that deep, cold grave. I was surrounded by my own children who are spared through mercy; and by my children in the faith of the gospel, who mingled their tears with ours; and then we left her till the morning of the resurrection, in humble hope that Jesus will then claim every atom of her dust as part of the purchase of his blood. There, on the coffin of her dear sainted grandmother, who just five years ago ascended to her God, my child is laid in the family grave, though the kindness of her beloved aunt; beneath them lies my revered fatherin-law, who also sleeps in Jesus. She lays upon that dear aged bosom where so often, in infancy, she found a resting place. Oh! the estatic joy of their meeting, when that grave is opened by the power of God, and they all three rise together to meet the Lord in the air. Till then we have bidden her a long, a last adieu. We have a little longer to do battle with the cares of time, and in the bivouac of life, to prepare for the struggle, in which we hope to say, "nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors." "&c. Close now thy bosom, faithful tomb; And let them slumber in thy dust. Although I have thus passed through deep waters, a blessing has attended the ministration of the word in conversion and edfication. The spiritual condition of the church is far more encouraging than it has been since we have been at Hoxton. Though we are very poor, peace prevails in our midst: we have had three baptisings in the last five months; twenty members added to us in the course of the year. I am, dear brother, your fellow labourer and companion in tribulation, J. P. SEARLE. GONE HOME. We record the happy departure of our brother Paul, who died at Bath, on Sunday, February 21, 1848, triumphant in the Lord. His funeral Sermon was preached by Mr. Frederick Wheeler, at Providence Chapel, Cook's Ground, King's Road, Chelsea. where, many times, he spoke to the prisoners, who understood English, of the great salva. tion by Jesus Christ. I knew him intimately, while he was in London, for two years; and many were the conversations we had on the work of God for us, and the work of God in us; and, truly, "our fellowship was with the Father, and with his Son, Jesus Christ.” I found him a friend indeed; many times has he come with a message from God, to my soul; and I have found it good. Six years ago he wished me to preach a funeral sermon for him, if he went first; he was a pensioner on the Aged Pilgrims' Society, which Society, I pray, may have the blessing of God. The sermon was preached on Lord's-day, April 10, 1858, from Ezekiel xli. 3 and 4. "Then went he inward." First, the inward wisdom, the inward salvation, the inward strength, and the inward manifestation by the ministry of the Holy Ghost. Secondly, The measurement. All the trials, times, troubles, and difficulties of the Lord's saints are by measurement "Not a single shaft can hit, "Till the God of love sees fit." Fourth verse.— The measuremement of twenty cubits, length and breadth before the temple. The length and breadth of all religion,-all true religion,-must come up to the measurement of Jesus, our Mediator; of God our Father, and of the Holy Spirit of God in covenant, or our religion is nothing worth; for, if that religion does not come direct from God, it will not lead to God. We read the following last words our (written by a neice). On Thursday morning, brother uttered, a few days before he died, I said to him "you are going home!" He said, "I believe I am;-bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name! Precious Jesus! precious Jesus! I want to praise thee more for all thy mercies; but O my sinful, backsliding heart." He said he enjoyed the Monday evening very much-that he had a Benjamin's portion. To a friend who came in after, who expressed regret at seeing him where he was, he said"sorry! why are you sorry? I am not sorry, I am going home." He continued in the same happy state through the day, speaking in the same strain to several friends, who came to him. On Friday morning, to another friend, he rehearsed much of the Lord's dealings with his soul; his confidence in the Lord remained unshaken, though his frame was not quite so bright as the previous day. To one friend he said "if they say anything of me at the chapel-let them say-I am a sinner, but saved by grace." On Saturday, he slept much through the day, and was kept in the same peace of mind Our brother was called by grace, forty-four through the night, though suffering much the years ago, under the ministry of the late Mr. agonies of death, his mind was still peace; he Denham, Baptist minister, then of York-was in mental prayer many times. A short street chapel; he was deacon for many years with Mr. Cromwell, at Widcombe, Bath. He was a Militia man in the Bath Militia; and often on guard at the French prison, time before he died, he moved his hands and |