ago. Verily there is a secret confiding in the Lord, even when all sensible comfort is denied us, and when our path is dark, trying to faith and patience; yea, when no way of deliverance is seen, the existence of a vital faith is evinced by crying out of the depths, and a persuasion that a prayer-hearing and answering God will turn the shadow of death into a morning without clouds.

I rejoice, dear Brother, to inform you of another proof of the Lord's blessing upon your Magazine, instanced in a dear believer in Jesus, who from my first coming to this place became a constant reader and zealous advocate for its distinguishing doctrines and Christ-exalting statements; and to my own knowledge she set a very high estimate upon it, having repeatedly heard her say, "I prefer the GOSPEL MAGAZINE to all the other periodicals, but especially the introductory address, which God has made powerful and unctuous to my soul." On being informed there was no piece from the Editor this month, she was evidently disappointed; yet soon exclaimed, "Ah, I have nearly done with all books now-I shall soon be at home. Read a psalm, and one of dear Rutherford's Letters;" this being done, she said, "Oh how good, how refreshing;" and then exclaimed

"Oh sweet employ to sing and trace,

Th' amazing heights and depths of grace;

And spend from sin and sorrow free,
A blissful, vast eternity."

After this she suffered much from bodily exhaustion, and the temptation lest all should prove a delusion; but as light returned, she said to her dear believing father, "Oh what a wretch I am! I have been, like poor Christian, in doubting castle, shut up in darkness, and forgetful of the promise and faithfulness of God."

From this time a sweet tranquillity of mind was afforded, and followed with expressions of holy longings to be at home. When on the brink of Jordan, and the cold sweat of death fell from her face, her father said, "Mary, are you happy?" In a perfect consciousness of all that was passing, she replied with emphasis, "Oh, yes-oh, yes; Christ is still very precious to me; none but Jesus will do for me now" and without a sigh sweetly fell asleep in Jesus. This has been a great loss to her family and the church, and both myself and dear wife feel it keenly; for verily we have lost a friend, who deeply sympathised with us in the low state of the church, and often strengthened my hands amidst disappointments and sore exercises of mind.

The Lord has sustained me as a standard-bearer among his people for more than thirty years, affording abundant tokens of his presence and approbation; and as my work is evidently closing here, I wait for grace to follow where he leads. And should He, through your instrumentality, be pleased to point out my way, I shall consider it another gracious answer to prayer; and remain, dear Brother,

Yours affectionately in the unity of Christ,
D. DENHAM.

Cheltenham, November 18, 1845.

OBITUARY.

THERE is one part of our labours as Editor which is peculiarly gratifying to our feelings, and that is in recording the closing scene of those who sleep in Jesus. It is not that we stand in doubt of them when living-it is not that we have any apprehension as to their security or final deliverance over each and every foe; for when once recognition by the Spirit hath been afforded—the kindred made known, our mind is at rest as to their security-their final perseverance, and equally is it at rest as to the wise disposal of Jesus respecting them and their completeness and blessedness in Him, here in this time-state; but, under their losses, their crosses, their temptations, afflictions, and pains, we weep, and are permitted to weep, with fellow-feeling, sympathy, and care. Hence, when our brother or our sister in the Lord hath been called up higher-hath exchanged the cross for the crown-sorrow and sighing for eternal rejoicing, we rejoice, and cannot but rejoice. Yea, in their behalf we sing, even though it be with weeping eyes; as did dear Romaine on the like occasions. Upon being informed as he once entered the house of a dear saint who had just departed to her rest, that the spirit had fled, he instantly burst forth in his song of praise,

"Praise God from whom all blessings flow," &c.

singing the whole of the verse with much feeling and rapture. Upon being remonstrated with for singing at such a time, he replied in some such words as these, "What! a saint gone home to glory, and not sing about it?"

Now, reader, this is just our feeling upon the subject; and, though upon several occasions during the last eighteen months, we have thought that bystanders may misconstrue our feelings for those of a want of susceptibility, or an indifference unbecoming such a solemn occasion; yet, when we have the sweet consciousness that the departing brother or sister is upon the rock Christ Jesus, and his or her happy spirit waiting upon the tip-toe of expectation to wing its flight to worlds of light and glory; that the poor fettered bird is going to be liberated, and about to soar aloft to enjoy boundless freedom and uninterrupted happiness, even through an eternal day; we will not assume a sanctimonious demeanour to please anybody. A dying-day to a Christian is a liberty-day; it is a jubilee-day; it is a day of rejoicing, and not a day as to the wicked, of sorrow, lamentation, and woe.

Such our dear brother Groom found it, blessed be God! And we shout "victory, victory," on his behalf; for he hath through Jesus gained the conquest, and now triumphs in the presence of the Captain of his salvation.

He was specially endeared to us because of his knowledge of human

nature, and of his receiving as brethren and sisters in the Lord, many whom others would cut off. It was true that through bodily disease he would often speak with sharpness, and deal somewhat harshly with those whom had he better known, he would have been the first to have dealt tenderly with, yet, from a long and scrupulous observation of others, and a deep experimental acquaintance with himself, he would most carefully define between the workings of the flesh and the operations of the Spirit in one and the same individual. He expected nothing from the flesh but old Adam, and equally ready was he to ascribe to the Spirit that which seemed to bear his royal signet.

Our first interview took place about five years ago. Its effects were never forgotten by him in this time-state, nor will they be by his survivor. He called (a stranger at that time to us) just as we had returned from Bath, with a mind exceedingly cast down from reading the 22nd and 23rd chapters of Numbers. We were too dejected to talk; he perhaps being the more suspicious from our silence. In his usual plainspeaking way, he managed to express his fears, that the Magazine of which he had been a reader for twenty years had really gone into very different hands to those by whom it had formerly been conducted. was conjectured that he imagined there was a want of vitality. intimation took hold-touched very tenderly at that particular juncture; and the bitter workings of one's heart under a present feeling sense of being but a Balaam, and having but a Balaam's gift and a Balaam's portion, came forth with no small depth of emotion. The old man paused-stood astounded-and then replied with a dignity and power the remembrance of which never passed away, and which proved sufficient to knit heart to heart ever afterwards.

It

The

The first indications of decay seemed to present themselves shortly after the death of a beloved son, which occurred at Woolwich some months since. He took it to heart exceedingly; his noble frame appeared to stoop beneath the weight of that sorrow. Shortly after this was apparent he writes thus (which indeed was the last note we received from him):

"DEAR BROTHER,

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Monday, 25th August, 1845.

"In answer to your inquiries after my health, I can only say I am in the Lord's hands, a poor, feeble, sinful, weak worm of the earth; cast down at every touch, with my poor mind very low, and the poor body sadly diseased; but Satan does not have it all his own way; no, no, for I want to lay passive in the Lord's hands, and know no will but his. Mine is a lingering existence, supported by mercy; but O for one smile from my Lord's presence, and then I could die happy, and be at rest in his dear bosom for ever. Now I seem to feel the absence of friends, and do chatter like the crane and swallow, or mourn like the dove that has lost its dearest companion. I have been sore vexed that I hurt your mind the last time I was at L- L; God knows it was not done intentionally; he does-he does. I felt so ill

Oh

and wearied out at the time, that I appeared to you to be all self. for grace to bear one another's burdens, and to have love and sympathy for each other. At best this world, with all its sordid gain and riches, is but a curse to the proud children of men, without the grace of God. Then let them have it,-I a better crave, I seek my portion far beyond the grave, Where lasting riches I shall there possess, And viewing Jesus,-He my only bliss.

"Yours in Him,

"J. G."

We could but think, when turning over our papers to find this note, how soon-yea, how very soon, the dear man had his wish; thanks be to God!

When next we saw him, he was extremely weak, and could talk but little. His mind had been dark, but he said he was stayed upon the unchangeable Jehovah. He rejoiced in the security, the unalterable nature, and eternal blessedness of the Church in Jesus; and come what would, Christ, and Christ alone, was his refuge and stay.

Shortly after, he took to his bed; and whilst conversing with him upon the faithfulness of God, and of his being now about personally to realize all that support of which he had so often spoken and written to others, one of the street organs struck up the tune of Hanover; it seemed sweetly to chime in with the subject and the occasion. And it was remarked, "there is an organ just playing the tune to which those precious lines go,

'Begone, unbelief, your Saviour is near,

And for your relief will surely appear;

By prayer may you wrestle, and he will perform;
With Christ in the vessel, you'll smile at the storm.'"

And thus we parted. We saw him once more, it is true; but he heeded not the gentle pressure of the hand, nor appeared to recognize. About a fortnight after-the day of his dismissal-a letter was put into the hand announcing his release; and just while musing on its contents, and his happiness, in walking towards the Strand, the clock struck five, and the chimes of St. Clement's struck up the same tune so lately played in his hearing Yes, they chimed into the very soul, for that had been a Bethel spot, and those chimes had instrumentally banished unbelief before.-Our brother had but as it were fallen asleep, for he died without a struggle or a groan.

THE EDITOR.

"FRAGMENTS" OF J. G. (FROM A CHRISTIAN FRIEND.)

The blessedness of being taken off from one of the false refuges of depending on frames and feelings for hope of salvation, was most particularly exemplified in the last days of our beloved brother, as well as the desires of the new-born soul after the sensible presence of the Lord. As the disease increased and became more apparently decided

in its character, he complained much of the darkness and dulness of his mind, and deadness in spiritual feelings. It was remarked to him that the nature of the disease might very possibly produce a great torpor and stupidity; he said it might be so-" But oh, I want the presence of my Lord-I want the enjoyment of him." "You have his presence he is with you though you have not the sensible enjoyment," was replied, and the all-sufficiency of Jesus adverted to. "Ah!" he said, "what should I do now if it was not for this? I can set to my seal of the truth of all you have said. I have no other refuge." After a little pause, he appeared to be talking to himself, he then said, "I have been trying to sing, but cannot." He then repeated with all the energy his dear weak frame could muster, a hymn of Dr. Watts's:

"Firm as the heavens' thy 'covenant' stands,

My Lord, my hope, my trust;

If I am found in Jesus' hands,
My soul cannot be lost.

His honour is engaged to save

The meanest of his sheep;

All that his heavenly Father gave,
His hands securely keep.

Nor death, nor hell shall e'er remove

His fav'rites from his breast;

In the dear bosom of his love

They must for ever rest."

I think I shall never forget the energy with which he repeated these lines, nor the hollow voice, and the effort made, nor the smile he gave when he said "What, have you found it?" for I instantly got the book and marked the hymn, under the persuasion I should never hear him repeat another. He had altered two words in the first line, which he said he liked better than the original. This was the 19th of October; he was down stairs for the last time the following Friday, 24th. He never left his room again.

After he was confined to his bed, once when I went to bid him good night, and said, "The Lord in heaven bless you, my brother," he said, "He does, he does." Are you sweetly enjoying his presence?" "I am, I am."

66

After a physician had been consulted, he said, "If the Lord is pleased to bless the means, to him be all the glory and the praise; if not, I can say "Thy will be done."

In a letter 29th September, he writes, "But our life consists not in either the absence or presence of God; no, it does not, or what would have been our lot long ago? we prove it under our present dispensation of fears which, by reason of the body of sin, are many, but none of these things, perplexing as they are to our minds, alter the loving heart of our Almighty everlasting Friend. Let us hope in Him, and take courage, though the sky is so dark and at times our hearts so hard. I have not had much meltings down, but I have been humbled, which led me to inward inquiry, and this is the same. I cannot part with my