Chapter XXIV: Part II (15)

"The closing scene of his life was no less beautiful than impressive; and forces from us the exclamation of the worthless prophet, 'Let me die the death of the righteous! and let my last end be like his!' He is gone! That face on which you have looked with so much pleasure, you will see no more; that voice to which you have so often listened with mingled emotions of awe and pleasure, you will hear no more, till you meet him before the judgment-seat of the Son of God; and, brethren, permit me to ask you, whether you think you are prepared to see him, and hear him there? He has preached to you the gospel of peace, with great fidelity, and with equal affection; but have you received it, not as the word of men, but, as it is in truth, the word of God? He has watched for your souls as one who knew that he must give an account; but have you, by your submission to the truth which he proclaimed, enabled him to do it with joy and not with grief? Is there no one in this congregation who has remained insensible to his moral danger, though that danger has often been pointed out to you in the most awful and impressive manner? Is there no one who has remained impenitent, notwithstanding the various efforts which the venerated deceased employed to bring you to repentance, and to a belief of the truth? Is there no one who has forced the aged pastor to retire from this pulpit to his study, and there to weep and to mourn, and to say, in the bitterness of his mental agony, 'When I speak they will not hear: but put from them the words of life, and the way of peace they will not know?' He is gone to enjoy the reward of his labours, and ere long you, my brethren, will follow him. But are you prepared to give an account of the manner in which you have improved his faithful services amongst you? If you are, you will again meet and again intermingle your social feelings and affections in a world where you will enjoy an endless duration of bliss; but if not, let me beseech you to retire, and on your knees implore mercy and forgiveness, lest you should be taken off in the midst of your sins, and be cast out with the workers of darkness, where there will be weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth for ever."

When this discourse was finished, the corpse was removed to the vault; and when placed in it, the remaining part of the Burial Service was read. When the earth fell on the lid of the coffin, as the impressive words, _ashes to ashes, dust to dust_, were uttered, there was a spontaneous burst of audible weeping from the whole assemblage, which, for a few moments, so overpowered the feelings of Mr. Guion, that it was with some degree of difficulty he could proceed. At length the service was concluded; but on returning from the church the order of the procession was deranged, for while some few walked back to the rectory, others pressed round the tomb; and many stood about the churchyard in detached groups, recalling the various incidents in their history connected with their deceased pastor. "O!" said one athletic youth, who wept while he spoke, "I was a bold transgressor till I heard him preach." "I went to laugh," said another, "but I returned to pray." "He was my friend," said many voices; and all expressed their opinion that they should never see a successor equal to him.

After the concourse of people had dispersed, Mr. and Mrs. Lewellin continued wandering amongst the tombs, reading the epitaphs which surviving friendship had engraven on the head-stones of their departed relatives and friends. The place of sepulture in which they were now walking, was one of the neatest of rural burying places. The walks were free from weeds; there were no gaps in the hedges; the graves bore no marks of being trodden by the foot of beast or of man; the yew trees luxuriated in their native growth, without assuming those fantastic shapes and forms which a capricious taste sometimes compels them to take, and the green ivy overspread the walls of the venerable church. Many of the inscriptions on the earlier tombstones were nearly effaced, and those which were still legible, like too many of the "good old times," recorded sentiments and expressions which are no less offensive to a refined taste, than to a scriptural faith. But in the later stones, which had been erected during the lifetime of the venerable pastor, a striking difference was observable. The inscription bore the name and the age of the occupant of the tomb, and beneath it some appropriate text of Scripture--recalling the words of an elegant writer, "It is meet, pleasant, and soothing to the pious mind, when bereaved of friends, to commemorate them on earth by some touching expression taken from that book which reveals to them a life in heaven."

Mr. Lewellin and his wife now entered the church, resolving to go and indulge their solemn meditations beside the uncovered tomb of the deceased pastor; but on passing down the aisle, were suddenly startled by the deep sounds of sorrow. On looking towards the vault where Mr. Ingleby's remains were deposited, they saw an aged couple leaning on their staffs, looking into the grave, but they appeared too much oppressed by grief to give any other vent to their feelings than by sighs and tears. "Come, Dame, let us be gone," said the old man to his wife; "it won't be long before we see him again." As they turned round from the grave, Mr. and Mrs. Lewellin advanced and kindly endeavoured to mitigate their sorrow. "O! Sir," said the old man, "he was a good man, and a faithful minister of Christ; and many will have to bless God for ever, for sending him amongst us. We thought we loved him while he was with us; but we did not know that we loved him so much till he was taken away. But it won't be long before we shall see him again." "Then," said Mr. Lewellin, "I presume you have received the gospel which he preached amongst you, not as 'the word of man, but, as it is in truth, the word of God.'" "Yes, Sir, we have been enabled to receive it. Before he came to preach in this village we very seldom attended church, and never thought about the salvation of our souls; but, blessed be the name of the Lord, we were both called to the knowledge of the truth through the instrumentality of his honoured servant; and have, for the space of near forty years, been walking together as heirs of the grace of life. It was a great shock to our feelings when we heard of his death, though we expected it; but now he is gone, it is our duty to be resigned to the will of God. But, Sir, resignation may feel its loss; and the Saviour won't condemn us if we weep at the grave of our departed pastor, as He once wept at the grave of Lazarus. He was one of the most excellent of the earth. He preached well, and he confirmed the truth which he preached by the unblameableness of his life. He was a most benevolent man. He obeyed the words of the Scriptures, and did good to all, especially to the household of faith. We shall never see his like again."

My friend and his wife felt so deeply interested by the affection and piety of this aged couple, that they walked with them to their little thatched cottage. "This little cottage," said the old man, "was built for us by our pastor, who gave it to us for our life. This is the chair in which he used to sit, and this is the Bible which he gave us, and here is his picture, which we have had for these thirty years--and this is his walking-stick, that he gave me when I took my leave of him at the door of the rectory, the Sabbath before he left us." "And when," said the old woman, "I could not see to read my Bible, he gave me these spectacles; and he used to come, and sit with us, and talk to us of Him who lived and died for sinners, and made us forget the trials of the way, by discoursing to us about the joys of the end of it. But it won't be long before we see him again."

Mr. and Mrs. Lewellin were much affected by this touching account of their old friend, whose charity and benevolence formed a theme of grateful remembrance in the minds of those poor cottagers. Perceiving that their circumstances were much straitened, they presented them with a trifling sum, and then, amid the blessings of the aged couple, took leave and proceeded on their way to Rockhill.

THE NEW RECTORS.

Soon after the death of the venerable Ingleby, the Rev. Mr. Cole, the Rector of the adjoining parish of Aston, whose health had been gradually declining, was taken very ill. He had accompanied several of his friends to a concert in a neighbouring town, and on his return caught a violent cold. No danger was apprehended for several weeks; but having imprudently accepted an invitation to spend an evening at a friend's, where he was detained to a late hour at whist, his favourite amusement, his indisposition gained a fresh accession of strength by exposure to the night air. He now began to entertain apprehensions of a fatal termination to his complaint, and said to his wife, when she was consulting him on the propriety of putting off a party which had been fixed for the following week, "My dear, I shall never appear amongst you again."

"Don't say so, Edward. You are getting low-spirited and unnecessarily anxious. You should keep up your spirits, and anticipate the pleasure which you will yet enjoy amongst your friends."

"I have no _wish_ to die, Emily, but I _must_ die. The doctors can do nothing for me. I should like to see my old friends again, but I have no spirit to entertain them."

"I heard Dr. Bailey say, that he placed great dependence on the prescription which he gave to Mr. Russel. Indeed, I think you look better. He says he has no doubt but you will recover; and all your friends say that you must banish the thought of dying, as nothing will tend so much to accelerate that awful event. I think they had better come: they will put new life into you."

"Yes, they may tell me to banish the thought of dying, but I cannot do it; it forces itself upon me in spite of all my resolutions to avoid it."

"Dr. Bailey suggested to me to read some amusing book to you. Here are the _Pickwick Papers_. Let me read you a chapter about Pickwick and Sam Weller. I know how they used to make you laugh; and a hearty laugh, to my mind, does more good than all the medicine in the world."

"Neither Mr. Pickwick nor Sam Weller, my dear, would be proper companions for me just now. I must pay respect to the sanctity of my character. I should not object, if I get a little better, to your reading me the _Vicar of Wakefield_, or a paper from the _Spectator_ or _Rambler_. But I fear my disease has gone too far to be checked by any human expedient. I must yield to the law of nature, and prepare for death; and it is, I assure you, an awful thing to die--to go from one world to another."

"Well, my dear," replied his wife, "as you have long since made your peace with God, you have nothing to fear; and therefore I hope you will keep your mind composed."

"My mind is tolerably composed, Emily, except when delirious thoughts come and throw it into a tumultuous agitation, and then I feel wandering about in a maze of confusion. Death may be looked upon by some, who have no taste for earthly enjoyments, with peculiar interest, as the forerunner of their future bliss; but I would rather live than die."

When Mr. Cole found himself getting worse, and his most sanguine friends began to fear that the hour of his departure was at hand, he wished to receive the sacrament; and the Rev. Dr. Greig, from a neighbouring town, was requested to come and administer it to him. The Doctor seemed much affected when introduced to his old friend; and, after gently squeezing his hand, as a token of affection, he sat down by his bedside.

"I am sorry, Sir," said the reverend Doctor, "to find you so extremely ill; but I hope you will yet recover."

"That, I fear, is impossible; I must die; and I wish, before I die, to receive the holy sacrament. I think it will put strength into my soul, and enable me to meet death without dread."

"I hope you have no dread of death."

"Why, no, Doctor, I have no dread of death; but as it is the passage into the eternal world, I feel that it is an awful thing to die--more awful at the crisis than in anticipation."

"It may be awful to the wicked, but it cannot be to you, who have spent your life in the public service of our Church, promoting the cause of virtue and religion."

"I confess, Sir, that I have nothing to reproach myself with. I have spent a long life in the service of our Church, and have endeavoured to teach my parishioners the way to heaven; and as a recompense for my well-meant efforts I hope eternal life will be given to me; but now that death is near, I feel it to be a more awful thing to die than when I viewed it at a distance. I now see the propriety of the passage in our Burial Service--'O God, most mighty, O holy and merciful Saviour, thou most worthy Judge, eternal, suffer us not at our last hour, for any pains of death, to fall from thee.'"

Dr. Greig now proceeded to read the Communion Service; and having partaken of the elements himself, and given them to Mrs. Cole and the nurse, he presented them to his dying friend, who ate the bread, and drank the wine, with great solemnity of manner. The service being ended, he said that he had one more request to make, and then he should die in peace. "I wish, Doctor, you would read the Burial Service at my interment, and preach my funeral sermon on the following Sunday; and you may tell my parishioners, that I _die in charity with all mankind_."

In about six hours after his friend left him, a change took place, and he remained insensible the greater part of the night. Towards the morning he awoke out of a deep sleep; and, having taken a little refreshment, he sat very composedly for a few minutes. Looking at his wife with intense earnestness, he said, "My dear Emily, I suppose I must die;" and then he fell back on his pillow, heaved a deep sigh, and expired. On the seventh day after his death he was buried in a vault, near the communion table of his own church; and Dr. Greig, according to his request, read the service, and delivered his funeral discourse on the following Sabbath. The congregation, which was unusually large, appeared deeply affected, especially when the Doctor pointed to the tomb in which their deceased pastor had just been interred.

In delineating the character or Mr. Cole, Dr. Greig dwelt for some time on his classical taste and his literary acquirements; paid a just tribute of praise to his amiable disposition and obliging manners, and commended him for his uniform attachment to the Church, of which he had been a minister for the greater part of half a century; and concluded by saying, "His religion was not of that austere cast which prohibits the innocent amusements and gratifications of society, and dooms its possessor to a life of perpetual gloom and mortification. It was an enlightened piety--a piety which united the gravity of wisdom with a cheerful and facetious spirit, which courted no popularity by the vanity of its pretensions; which sought retirement rather than publicity; and conciliated the favour of the Almighty by the practice of virtue, rather than by the dogmas of belief. His life is an epitome of moral virtue and social goodness, which may be read by all men with great profit. It will teach us all, and especially the clergy of our Church, how they should live, and what recompense they may expect to receive when called to die, as a reward for their fidelity to their charge. He did not, as we all know, in imitation of the example of some, rob other churches to fill his own; but was contented to preach to the select few who favoured him with their presence and their friendship; and who, I doubt not, will revere his memory as long as the power of recollection remains; and who, when the duties of life are discharged, will go where he is gone, to renew the intimacy of friendship, and enjoy the felicity of social converse. And who is not struck with the dignified serenity of his death! There were no raptures of enthusiasm in prospect of dissolution; no flights of fancy; no rhapsodies of expression, as though he were weary of life and longed to lose it; but a submission to the law of nature, which requires that we must die, accompanied by a sublime avowal which he wished me to make to you, _that he died in charity with all mankind_."

In examining the character of these two clergymen, and reviewing the temper of mind which they displayed in the immediate prospect of entering the eternal world, the intelligent reader will perceive a manifest difference; and though it does not become us to invade the province of the Supreme Judge, and fix the final destiny of any human being, yet we may be permitted to say, that the venerable Ingleby bore the nearest resemblance, in his life and in his death, to the ministers of the New Testament. If Mr. Cole was the most learned man, Mr. Ingleby was the most spiritual; and though Mr. Ingleby derived no gratification from the trifling amusements of fashionable life, yet he uniformly displayed a cheerfulness of disposition which became the sanctity of his office. Mr. Cole consented to die because he could not live; while Mr. Ingleby yielded up his life as a free-will offering to God who first gave it, and then demanded it. In the death of Mr. Cole we can discover no humility on account of the imperfections of his character--no utterances of a mind delighting in communion with the great Supreme--no reference to a Mediator, by whom the guilty and the worthless are reconciled to the offended Sovereign--no ardent anticipations of a state of changeless purity and glory; while, in the closing scene of Mr. Ingleby's life, we behold a spirit, yet inhabiting the tabernacle of earth, springing forward to meet the great Deliverer--hailing his approach with mingled emotions of awe and delight--giving utterance to the sublimest conceptions of future bliss, and in language, such as Paul employed when treading on the narrow isthmus which separates time from eternity. The death of Mr. Cole was certainly the most calm; but it was the calm of a stagnant pool, whose waters move not because they are unaffected by any current; while the death of Mr. Ingleby resembled the peaceful ripple of the crystal stream, as it moves tranquilly from its source to swell the waters of the vast ocean. The one died like a philosopher, over whose mind the light of evidence produced a belief of the existence of an eternal world, which, alas! presented no powerful attractions; the other, like a sinner, redeemed by the precious blood of Christ, and made meet to possess the inheritance of the saints in light, in comparison with which the brightest honours of earth pass away as things of no value.

When the pastor of a Dissenting church is called away from his flock, to give an account of his stewardship to the great Shepherd and Bishop of souls, an event occurs in its history which generally produces a most powerful effect on the minds of the surviving members. As he, while living, was the pastor of their choice, so, when dead, they cease not to venerate and esteem his memory. They pay him, it is true, no superstitious homage. All they show is the feeling of pure nature, which requires no artificial expedients to express its affection for the object of its esteem when he is taken away. But amongst them, while the pastor dies, the ministry lives. They turn away from his tomb to listen to the voice of his successor; and though they cannot easily transfer that strong attachment and profound respect which have been the growth of a long and close intimacy, yet they receive him in the Lord with all gladness, and hold such in reputation.

In the choice of a successor they have great advantages over their Christian brethren who are members of the Establishment. They are not compelled to receive a pastor, but are left to choose one; and hence, as is natural, they select one whose religious opinions agree with their own, whose manner of preaching accords with their own taste, and whose character is such as corresponds with the sacredness of his profession. And though a popular election is liable to some objections, yet, from the mode in which it is generally conducted amongst them, they are but as the small dust of the balance, when weighed against the sterling value of the privilege which it involves and secures. The argument employed by Dissenters in support of this practice is, in their judgment, quite conclusive. They say, As we claim the right of choosing the attorney whom we consult on a point of law--of choosing our surgeon and physician when visited by sickness--of choosing the tutor under whose care we place our children, we act still more in accordance with the established laws of social life, and the most obvious dictates of enlightened reason, when we exercise the right of choice in relation to the pastor from whose public ministrations we are to receive the consolations of the gospel of peace. In this instance, no less than in others, a preference will be felt; and while we hold all in reputation for their works' sake, who discharge the sacred duties of the pastoral office with fidelity, we shall derive a greater gratification, and higher degree of improvement, from the labours of one for whose manner of preaching we may feel a decided predilection and regard. When this right of choice is denied us, we are compelled to receive a minister who has been appointed over us by the authority of another, and if he be just such a one as we like, no evil is produced; but suppose he reject the doctrines which we receive as true, or suppose his style of preaching be in direct opposition to our taste, or suppose his moral conduct be not in exact accordance with his profession, what in such a case ought to be our line of conduct? Can we expect to become established in our faith, by going where that faith is perpetually assailed? Can we expect to derive consolation, if we go where the manner in which the message is offered offends our taste? Can we expect to venerate the ministry, if the man who holds the hallowed office display not the same mind which was in Christ Jesus our Lord? Impossible! We may make the experiment, but it will not be found productive of the fruits of righteousness and peace; as the laws of nature forbid us to calculate on gathering grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles.

Within a few weeks after the death of Mr. Ingleby, the living of Broadhurst was presented to Mr. Porteous, the grandson of a neighbouring magistrate of the same name,[41] who took offence at the first sermon Mr. Ingleby preached; and though he felt a profound respect for his private virtues, yet he withdrew from his ministry, and usually attended that of Mr. Cole. This young man possessed a fine person, and the graces of a popular and commanding elocution; but he was gay in his manners, volatile in his disposition, addicted to the sports of the field, and decidedly opposed to those peculiar doctrines of the gospel which his predecessor had so long and so faithfully preached.

[41] Vol. i. p. 69.

As his character was generally known through the parish, the pious members of the Church were deeply depressed when they heard that he was appointed to succeed their deceased pastor; but they prudently resolved to hear him preach, having previously met on several different occasions to pray that a double portion of the Spirit of grace might rest upon him. The church was excessively crowded when he delivered his first discourse, which was founded on the following text--"Be not righteous over much."

He read the prayers with so much seriousness and propriety of emphasis, that the whole congregation was delighted with him. When he announced his text, there was a simultaneous movement amongst them; and for a few moments they looked at each other as though deeply amazed, and then the eyes of all were fastened on him. After adjusting his position and his attitude with great caution, and surveying his audience with an appearance of complacency, he began reading his sermon, which he delivered in fourteen minutes, and then concluded the service. The sermon was a severe philippic on the labours of his predecessor, and the piety of his hearers; and though in the conclusion he paid a passing tribute of respect to his private virtues, and the benefits which the parish had received from his pastoral visits, yet he gave it as his decided opinion that he had uniformly disregarded the _important_ injunction of the text:--"That he erred from the purest motives we all must admit; and it must be some consolation to know, that his error was all on the side of virtue; but virtue is never so lovely as when she is kept from all excess of feeling--as when she spurns from her those restraints, which, by keeping her out of the circle of _innocent_ indulgences, give her the appearance of grief-worn sadness--as when she enjoys life, and is contented to wait for the reward which the Almighty will confer on her honest and well-meant endeavours to please him. That it will be my endeavour to avoid the error into which my most excellent predecessor fell, my intelligent hearers may calculate on; and I flatter myself by so doing, I shall diffuse over the whole of my parish, the air of cheerful gaiety and social pleasure; and that the gloom which has so long hung over you will soon disappear, as the lowering cloud retires from the face of nature, when the bright orb of day scatters his golden rays in passing from the horizon to the meridian."

When he had finished his discourse, he paused for the loud Amen; but the good old clerk disdained to utter it; and when, on retiring to the vestry, he was asked by Mr. Porteous, the grandsire of the new Rector, why he had neglected his duty, he honestly replied, "Because, Sir, I did not choose to sanction those perversions of the gospel which the Rector has been guilty of this morning; nor appear to commend the severe and unjust animadversions which he has made on the character of my deceased pastor."

"Then, Sir, you shall be turned out of office."

"I will not wait to be turned out, Sir, I will resign it; for I have too much love for the truth to sanction error, and hold the reputation of my deceased pastor in too much esteem to say Amen, after it has been so wantonly defamed."

"Then, Sir, I suppose you intend to raise the standard of revolt against my grandson; but if that be your mind, you shall suffer for it."

"As I live, Sir, in a land of freedom, and was never in bondage to any man, I shall not, now I am grown gray in years, sell my birth-right for a mess of pottage; and therefore, without wishing to give either you or the new Rector any offence, I frankly tell you, that while he continues to preach as he has preached this morning, I will never return to hear him."

"You are an obstinate fellow, and ought not to be suffered to speak to your superiors in this style."

"You asked for the reasons of my conduct, which I have given you; and also for the line of conduct I intend to pursue, and I have told you; and now, as you descend to abuse, I will retire."

This altercation with the old clerk, who was greatly esteemed by the congregation for his superior intelligence and decided piety, was overheard by many of the people, who were much pleased; first, by his silence at the conclusion of the service, and now, by the bold stand which he made against the perversion of the truth, and the unmerited attack on the reputation of the venerable deceased. On coming out of the vestry, he was commended by them, and urged not to suffer any threat to induce him to bend to the authority, which had so unhandsomely endeavoured to intimidate him.

As Mr. Lewellin had acquired a considerable degree of influence among the pious members of the Church, during the short time he had resided in the parish, they very naturally looked to him for counsel at this critical juncture; and though he was unwilling to take any premature steps, yet he gave it as his decided opinion, that they ought not to suffer the gospel to be driven from amongst them. "I am a Dissenter," said he to a few friends who waited on him; "but while the gospel was preached in the Church, I felt perfectly willing to worship there, and should have continued to do so, if the new Rector had followed the example of our deceased pastor, but as he has chosen to make such a bold avowal of his determination to extirpate the serious and devout piety of the parish, that he may propagate his gay and anti-Christian religion, I think we are called upon by the voice of Providence to prevent it."

"I cannot leave the Church," said one.

"Nor I," said another.

"Nor I," said a third.

"I should not like to leave it," said another, "but if I cannot hear the gospel in the Church, I will hear it where I can."

It was finally determined to let things take their course for the next few weeks, during which time they were to consult their friends on the question.

On the Sabbath after Mr. Porteous preached his first sermon at Broadhurst, Mr. Hartley, Mr. Cole's successor, took possession of his living at Aston, and preached his first discourse from Ezek. xxxvii. 3--"And he said unto me, Son of man, can these bones live? And I answered, O Lord God, thou knowest." From these words, taken in connection with the entire parable, he gave a description of the moral condition of man, during the period of his unregeneracy; demonstrated the inefficacy of all human expedients to recover him, without the co-operation of a supernatural power; and traced the progress of his spiritual renovation by the renewing power of the Holy Spirit, from its earliest symptoms to its final consummation in heaven. The sermon discovered some ingenuity, but more judgment; it abounded with striking remarks, expressed in the most appropriate language; but its predominating quality was a regular appeal to the understanding and the heart of the audience, conducted with such force of reasoning, and charm of persuasion, that many expressed their astonishment at their former ignorance of revealed truth; while those who had long enjoyed the ministry of the venerable Ingleby, rejoiced that God had sent another faithful messenger amongst them. Some few, who were the late incumbent's personal friends, and who often participated with him in the amusements of fashionable life, were displeased with the _length_ of the sermon, though they were gratified with the chasteness of the language which was employed; and reprobated the austere requirements of the new religion, while they spoke in very complimentary terms of the elegant composition and the good delivery of the new Rector. The great majority of the people, however, were astonished and delighted; and from the conclusion of the sermon were led to anticipate in Mr. Hartley a very different pastor from Mr. Cole.

"Hitherto, many of you have lived," said the preacher, "without any deep repentance on account of your sins--without any active and operative faith in the efficacy of the Saviour's death--without enjoying any spiritual communion with the great Invisible--and without anticipating your entrance into the eternal world with that sublime awe which such an event ought to inspire in your breast. It devolves on me to rouse you from this state of deep insensibility and criminal impiety. You live; but what is that life which you have lived? Has it not been a life of social pleasure--a life of vain indulgences--a life of indifference to the interesting facts, the sublime doctrines, the pure precepts, and the glorious promises of the gospel of Jesus Christ! It now devolves on me to awaken you, if possible, out of this mental delusion, that you may 'yield yourselves unto God as those that are alive from the dead;' then ye 'shall have your fruit unto holiness, and the end everlasting life.' To accomplish this, I shall add private admonition to public instruction; and though I have no wish to pry into the secrets of your families, nor to obtrude myself where my presence would not be acceptable, yet it will be my endeavour, as far as possible, to gain an accurate knowledge of the spiritual state of the whole of my charge, in the hope that by God's blessing I may be able at the last day to present every one of you perfect in Christ Jesus. When you are afflicted, I will visit you; when in trouble, I will administer to you the consolations of the gospel; in your dying hours, I shall consider it a privilege to be permitted to cheer you with the hope of immortality; and as I am placed over you as your spiritual guide and friend, I assure you, that there is no sacrifice which I will hesitate to make, nor any duty which I will not most cheerfully perform, to promote your happiness; and I shall esteem the gratification of serving you an adequate recompense for all my exertions, as I seek not yours, but you."

A SECESSION AT BROADHURST.

When Mr. Hartley took possession of his cure at Aston, Mr. Stevens immediately declined having public worship conducted in his chapel any longer. On being remonstrated with by Mr. Langley, a zealous Dissenter, for breaking up a society which had been flourishing for many years, he said, "I dissented, not from choice, but from necessity; but now I can hear the gospel in the parish church, I think it no less my duty to return to her communion, than I once felt it my duty to withdraw from it. The minister who is appointed over us is a good man; and as the church in which he officiates is large enough to contain the whole of the population, I see no reason why the people should be divided, especially as most of them have no conscientious objections against either the doctrines or the ceremonies of our Episcopal Establishment."

"But, Sir," replied Mr. Langley, "though the gospel be now preached in the church, you are not certain that it will be after the death or removal of the present incumbent; and then what are the pious members of the church to do, if you now shut up your chapel? Would it not be more prudent on your part, to secure the permanent continuance of the gospel in the parish, by perpetuating its public ministrations in your chapel, than thus hazard its entire expulsion? If you adopt this plan, there will be a place of refuge for the piety of the parish, if at any future time it should be compelled to retire from the Established church."

"Such a plan, I have no doubt," replied Mr. Stevens, "would meet with the approbation of many pious Dissenters; but I am not disposed to adopt it. If, under the ministry of our present Rector, the people should receive the truth, not as the word of man, but as the word of God, they will not suffer it to disappear from amongst them, even if they should be deprived of it in the church; but will most certainly avail themselves of their rights as British freemen, and erect for themselves a chapel, in which they may worship God according to the dictates of their conscience, and enjoy a ministry of their own choice."

But while the sun of prosperity was shining on the parish of Aston, dispelling the gloom of ignorance and superstition which had hovered over it for many years, it was setting on the adjoining hamlet, which had for a longer time enjoyed the light of truth, leaving the people in a most disconsolate state. "To lose our old pastor," said an old Christian to Mr. Lewellin, "was a great loss; but to have the candlestick removed from amongst us, and the light thereof extinguished, is a much greater loss. While we had the light we rejoiced in it; but I fear that, like the church of Ephesus, we have lost our first love; and as we have not repented and done our first works, the Lord has visited us with this grievous judgment."

A few of the more influential members of the Establishment met at Mr. Lewellin's to consider what plan they ought to adopt on the present occasion. As they venerated the Church, and felt an ardent attachment to its forms and ceremonies, they were unwilling to withdraw from her communion. One gentleman said, he had been to consult the Rev. Mr. Guion, who gave it as his decided opinion that they should still attend their parish church, and pray for the conversion of the new Rector. "If," he said, "you have not the gospel in the pulpit, you have it in the desk; and though it may not please God to answer your prayers, yet you will have this compensation for the sacrifice you will be called upon to make--that you have remained faithful to your Church."

"I have no wish to leave the Church," replied another; "but I must hear the gospel. I am commanded to take heed _what I hear_; and if I disobey this injunction, how can I expect to enjoy the Divine blessing?" In this opinion they all concurred; and as they could attend the neighbouring church, it was proposed that they should sit under the ministry of the new Rector at Aston.

"But," said Mr. Lewellin, "though we who have vehicles can easily go three or four miles on the Sabbath-day, to enjoy a pure and an enlightened ministry, yet what are the poor and the infirm to do? They cannot attend; and shall we leave them to spend the remainder of their days in a state of spiritual destitution? Have they no claim on our benevolent feelings? Shall we, by deserting them in this their low estate, allow them to go and utter the mournful complaint at the footstool of the Divine throne, '_No man careth for our souls_?' Shall we provide no spiritual comforter, but suffer them to live and die without having one near them to administer the consolations of religion? Shall we stand still and see this fine moral inheritance falling back into its original state of ignorance and vice; when, by acting that part which our deceased pastor more than once recommended, we may be the means of preserving it from decay? Did he not say, in the last sermon he preached to us, that he hoped the Lord would provide another minister, who would preach the gospel to us either in the church, _or elsewhere_? And in a private conversation, on the evening of his departure, he said, in reply to a question, 'The great Shepherd _may pitch another fold, and lead you to another pasturage_.'"

"If," said a gentleman, "I were to consult my own inclination, I should still attend with my family at Broadhurst; but I do not think we should act a generous or a Christian part if we were to make no effort to establish a gospel ministry in the parish. Cannot we do what Mr. Stevens did under similar circumstances? and then, if it should please God at any future time, to favour us with a Rector who will preach the same doctrines as those which we have been accustomed to hear, we can return to the Church, and live and die in her communion. And if not, we shall have this compensation for the sacrifice which we shall be called to make, that we have acted in accordance with the wishes of our deceased pastor, and, I trust, in accordance with the will of our Lord and Master." This suggestion was eagerly seized by several others; and it was finally determined to build a neat chapel, large enough to contain about 500 worshippers; and to obtain the permanent labours of some good minister of Jesus Christ. As soon as this decision was made known, the pious villagers expressed their gratitude in the most affecting terms; and offered to contribute, out of the depths of their poverty, towards the necessary expenses which would be incurred; but their more wealthy Christian brethren rather chose to bear the whole burden among themselves.

One gentleman gave a piece of freehold land, on which the chapel was erected; and adjoining it, a house for the minister, with a large garden attached. It was built within the space of six months; and by the exertions of Mr. Lewellin, Mr. Drew, a pious and intelligent young man, was appointed to take the pastoral charge of the people. Being of a catholic spirit, and wishing to render his public ministrations generally acceptable, he prudently consented to read the Liturgy of the Church of England. Though, at first, some of the people sighed, and others wept as they passed by the venerable building in which for so many years they had worshipped the God of their fathers, yet in process of time they felt an equal degree of attachment to this second temple, which, if less imposing in its appearance, contained the Shechinah of truth, which departed from the altar when the venerable Ingleby fell asleep in Jesus. Some years after, in a conversation with the intelligent clerk, who held the same office in the chapel as he had filled in the church, he informed me, that his pastor bore a near resemblance to the deceased Rector, in the amiability of his temper, and in the ardour of his zeal for the salvation of his hearers, though he differed from him in the manner and style of his preaching. "The Rector, Sir," he remarked, "was a son of consolation, from whose lips the words of mercy fell in soft and subduing accents on the ears of the congregation; Mr. Drew is a Boanerges, the thunder of whose eloquence awes us by its majesty; but when he has wrought up our feelings to the highest degree of terror, he suddenly shifts the scene, and exhibits to our view the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world. Mr. Ingleby, I think, had the finest imagination, but Mr. Drew has the most powerful intellect; and though the former could enter into all the variations of Christian experience with the greatest ease, yet the latter applies the truth with equal force to the wounded conscience. Mr. Ingleby was distinguished by the gracefulness of his manner; Mr. Drew excels in the force and dignity of his delivery; and though we shall never cease to respect the memory of our former pastor, we are equally attached to our present. Under his ministry, no less than under that of his predecessor, many have been reclaimed from the error of their ways to the wisdom of the just; while the young and the more advanced Christian have been built up in the faith and the hope of the gospel. The poor are visited in their cottages; the dying have a spiritual comforter with them in their last moments; and over the whole parish a moral vigilance is exercised, which receives the sanction of all the wise and the good."

After witnessing the changes which a few years had made in the external establishment of religion in these two parishes, while the same moral process was going on in the salvation of the people, I felt how superior, in its nature and tendency, is the spirit of the gospel to that of religious bigotry. Had Mr. Stevens felt a bigoted attachment to the principle of dissent, he would have kept open his chapel after the settlement of Mr. Hartley at Aston, and thus have divided the people into two distinct societies; while the congregation at Broadhurst, if they had venerated the church in which the venerable Ingleby had so long preached, more than the truth which he delivered, would have been left without an evangelical ministry. But by acting the part of wisdom and of piety, they perpetuated the truth in each parish, without occasioning any division amongst those who were attached to it. Though in one village they sat to hear its enunciations on unconsecrated ground, while in the other it addressed them within the walls of the Establishment; yet as it derived none of its importance or worth from the places in which it is proclaimed, nor from the ministers who preached it, they mutually received it with meekness, as the engrafted word which is able to save the soul. Nor can I doubt that the Saviour visited with equal delight each congregation which assembled together in his name--that the Divine Spirit conveyed the same resistless energy to the Dissenting as to the Episcopal ministry--that the angels of heaven hovered over the village chapel with as much pleasure as over the village church; and that those who were made meet for glory on unconsecrated ground, were received with equal rapture by the spirits of the just made perfect, as their brethren who had worshipped within the pale of the Establishment. They differed in their relation to the external forms of Christianity, but possessing its pure and heavenly spirit, they stood in the same relation to Jesus Christ, who was their Saviour--to the Holy Ghost, who was their Comforter--and to heaven, which was their undefiled inheritance; and when, at the appointed time, any of them departed this life, they were neither commended nor censured for their denominative attachments while on earth, but admitted into the joy of their Lord as sinners redeemed by his blood. A friendly intercourse was kept up between the pious members of the two churches and their respective pastors, which demonstrated to the villagers that their religion was substantially the same in its nature and in its design, though it differed in a few external ceremonies. If they went to church, it was to worship God--to confess their sins--and to hear the glad tidings of salvation; and if they went to the village chapel, it was to engage in the same hallowed exercises, and listen to the same gospel of peace. As they felt no superstitious attachment to the places in which they assembled, nor imagined that the Episcopal form of ordination gave to the clergyman a degree of sanctity which the Dissenting minister did not possess, they intermingled in each other's society, not to wrangle or contend for superiority, but to cultivate the unity of their faith, and display the excellence of that grace which "teacheth us, that denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly in this present world." Is it not to be regretted, that a similar spirit has not been uniformly cherished amongst the disciples of Jesus Christ? but, alas! they have in general caught the spirit of the mother of Zebedee's children, rather than that of their Master, and have been struggling for the ascendency, instead of living in harmony with each other. And is it not to this cause, more than any deficiency of evidence, that we may fairly account for the too general rejection of the gospel; for can we expect others to believe in its Divine origin, when they see those who embrace it with the greatest eagerness, displaying an intolerant temper, and refusing to hold communion with each other because they happen to differ on a few points of opinion, which they all acknowledge to be of secondary importance? Every Christian should examine the following prayer of Jesus Christ, and the reason which he assigned for presenting it:--"Neither pray I for these alone, but for them also which shall believe on me through their word; that they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us: that the world may believe that thou hast sent me. And the glory which thou gavest me I have given them; that they may be one, even as we are one: I in them, and thou in me, that they may be made perfect in one; and that the world may know that thou hast sent me, and hast loved them, as thou hast loved me" (John xvii. 20-23).

When the spirit of religious bigotry takes possession of the youthful breast, we naturally feel disposed to attribute it to the immaturity of the judgment, or a deficiency in Christian principles. We therefore conclude, that in more advanced life these unamiable qualities will disappear, and a cordial attachment will be formed for all of every denomination who love our Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity and in truth. This, I believe, is generally the case, though we sometimes see the evil spirit of bigotry souring the temper of aged Christians, contracting their benevolence, and rendering them more disposed to live apart from their brethren, than on terms of friendly intercourse; and if we venture to remonstrate with them, we are gravely told that they must preserve the consistency of their character. Consistency! And why not preserve the consistency of their character as Christians, who are required to love each other as brethren, rather than the consistency of their character as religious bigots, who neglect the weightier matters of the law, to cultivate the mint and cummin of ecclesiastical alienation and intolerance? Why not, when peculiar circumstances require it, overlook the little points of difference that exist between them; and unite as those who are endowed with the same spirit of faith--who are governed by the same authority, and who are moving on to the same state of blessedness and glory?

There were a few Dissenters who could not conscientiously worship within the walls of the Establishment, even though they revered the character of the new Rector at Aston, and approved of his ministry. Not being able to support a society of their own denomination, they subjected themselves to the inconvenience and expense of travelling several miles every Sabbath to enjoy the privilege of communion with their brethren at Broadhurst. But though they could not unite with their fellow-Christians at Aston in the exercises of public devotion, they were, nevertheless, zealous in co-operating with them in the execution of those plans of benevolence which related to the moral improvement and the temporal advantage of the hamlet in which they resided. A latitudinarian would be disposed to censure this unbending spirit in reference to public worship, and feel himself justified in holding it up to general reprobation; but a wise man will be sparing of his animadversions on conscientious scruples, when they are not suffered to disturb the harmony of friendly intercourse, and do not disqualify those who feel them from uniting with others of a different faith in the cultivation of the affections and charities of social life.