over.

A youth came into his family who was so ignorant as not to be able to read or write, and, withal, was a bigoted Roman Catholic. His spiritual condition excited the commiseration of Mr. Sheldon, who assiduously sought to supply his mind with useful knowledge, and to impress his heart with his need of a Saviour; and God crowned his endeavours with success: the youth became an inquirer, a penitent, a believer, a member of this church, a teacher in the Sabbath-school, a minister of Christ, and a missionary to the heathen; and to this day there are many who cherish and venerate, as one of the most honourable names within the church books, or the school lists, the name of Hampson.

The desire of Mr. Sheldon to do good to the souls of men extended beyond the circle of his family: he aimed to benefit all with whom he came in contact. So intent was he upon this, that he seemed ever to be saying, "Wist ye not that I must be about my Father's business?"

In accomplishing this desire to be useful he had not to surmount any difficulty arising from false shame: he never was afraid of its being known that he was a follower of Christ; and he could scarcely be thrown into any company without soon making that fact apparent to all; for he was not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ. He was further aided, as is well known, by a talent almost peculiar to himself, certainly possessed by him in a high degree, of approaching strangers without embarrassment, and of introducing with facility and effect, and without giving offence, the subject of religion. This, indeed, was his forte.

Thus furnished, he paid frequent visits to his neighbours, with a view to awaken their consciences, and to urge them to attend public worship. In his weekly rounds in the way of business, which he had formerly to take, he gave many a tract, dropped many a seasonable hint or reproof, and comforted many a mourner. Travellers and customers did not escape his benevolent regards; and in Whit-week he used to stand at his shopdoor, when in Shude-hill, and distribute thousands of tracts to the crowds going to the races. Much fruit rewarded this constant seed-sowing; but much more will, doubtless, come to light at the judgmentday.

His affection for the church and congregation assembling in this chapel was so warm and constant, that, were it not for the evidences of his general philanthropy, to which I have alluded, it might almost have been imagined that Grosvenor-street engrossed his regards. He rejoiced in every accession that was made either to the hearers or members. He longed, especially, to see the church built up; and prayed fer

vently that God would send it prosperity.

To strangers Mr. Sheldon was particu larly useful. If he saw any new comers in the chapel more than once, he was almost certain to introduce himself to them, and ascertain something of their spiritual condition. He would converse with them, call upon them, provide them with sitting accommodation, introduce them to the pastor, or do whatever else the circumstances might require; and all this without the slightest appearance of forwardness, or producing any other impression upon the parties than that of gratitude for his kind and acceptable attention. There are many living witnesses of the truth of this in the audience before me, individuals who, coming from less populous places, where they were well known and beloved, felt alone and neglected among a wilderness of strangers, until they found a friend in Mr. Sheldon; and whose first emotions of attachment to this church and congregation were called forth by the notice he took of them.

He

He was equally attentive to the young and inquiring. Some years ago he met a class of young women from the school in the vestry, and was useful to several of them. frequently spoke, with pleasure and thankfulness, of that engagement. If he heard of, or beheld, any signs of seriousness in any of the young people of the congregation, he was sure to take the first opportunity of conversing with them. They looked up to him as to a father, in whom they could reckon upon meeting with sympathy and affection, and to whom they could freely repair for advice. A great proportion of the members of our church owe something to our departed friend in the way of counsel and encouragement, in the earlier days of their religious history.

His zeal for the interest of the church, and active habits, pointed him out, at an early period, as a suitable person to sustain the important and honourable office of deacon, to which he was chosen in the year 1812, twenty-five years ago. He was also appointed treasurer of the funds of the chapel, as well as of the fund for the relief of the poor members. These offices he discharged with honour to himself and advantage to the cause. The most scrupulous exactness appeared in all his money transactions, and the warmest zeal in the pecuniary prosperity of the place. When he undertook the treasurership, a heavy debt, incurred by the building of the chapel, remained upon the place, which was entirely liquidated, chiefly through his exertions.

As a deacon, he was, as long as health allowed him, always at his post. His brother officers could testify to the constancy of his attendance at all their meetings, to

the interest he took in the comfort and relief of the poor, to the zeal with which he visited the sick and dying, and to his deep concern for the spiritual welfare of the church. The sick, the poor, the candidate for communion, and the backslider, had not a kinder or more assiduous visitor than he. I know that he considered himself an unprofitable servant, and often expressed himself as greatly humbled because of his official shortcomings; but all others regarded him as a faithful steward-one who, through the grace given to him, had "used the office of a deacon well, and had purchased to himself a good degree, and great boldness in the faith which is in Christ Jesus."

Mr. Sheldon esteemed the ministers of the Gospel very highly in love for their work's sake. His kind heart and hospitable house were ever open to receive them.

His connexion with my late predecessor, the Rev. W. Roby, was long, intimate, and happy, and productive of mutual satisfaction and advantage: it began with Mr. Roby's first coming to Manchester. Mr. Sheldon went, with four of the members of the church in Cannon-street, to Wigan, to present the call to him; and was one of a select number of friends who proceeded as far as Bolton to meet Mr. Roby, when he was about to enter on his charge, that they might accompany him to Manchester, and give him a welcome introduction to his new sphere of labour. He enjoyed Mr. Roby's ministry greatly, and eminently profited by it.

He rejoiced in the growing usefulness of that eminent and honoured servant of God, and especially in that prosperity which rendered the erection of this chapel necessary.

He was very considerate, too, of his pastor's feelings, and attentive to his personal comfort. One who knew both the parties well observes, "Had Mr. Roby outlived him he could have adopted the language of Mr. Jay, used in reference to one of his members, He never cost his pastor's heart a sigh until he lost him.'"

I

I can say as much in relation to the few years' connexion between Mr. Sheldon and myself. He was one of the deputation who presented the call of the church to me. received from him many kind attentions to my co nfort, and the most soothing sympathy in all seasons of affliction; and he cordially rejoiced in every instance of usefulness, and of the blessing of the Holy Spirit attending my ministry. As a son with a father I served with him in the Gospel; and I feel that I have indeed lost a valuable helper and attached friend.

It pleased God, about eight years ago, to remove from him, by the stroke of death, his beloved wife. Those who knew him previously state that he never fully recovered

from the shock occasioned by that event. He retained, however, a large amount of vigour and activity until about five years ago, when he was struck with paralysis. This broke up his constitution, and enfeebled his mental powers to such a degree that he never was himself again. He so far rallied, however, as to be able to discharge his duties as a deacon, though not with the same energy as formerly. He regarded this seizure as a warning of his approaching end--an intimation that he must prepare for his Master's coming.

On the 31st of December, 1836, he was suddenly seized with another stroke of his complaint. Though he partly recovered, this attack left him weaker and more helpless than before. He could not walk about

as aforetime; and only occasionally got to chapel, and that in a coach. The seizures became frequent and alarming, and it was manifest to all that his end was approaching.

During this latter period, though his mind had lost its former strength and liveliness, he retained his senses, and possessed in his soul, in the prospect of dissolution, "the peace of God which passeth all understanding." Every conversation I had with him was highly satisfactory, evincing clearly that Christ was the rock on which he rested; that the word of Christ and innumerable sacred hymns dwelt richly in him; that the promises of God were his comfort and support; and that heaven was full in his view. As the time of his sickness was considerable, and the conversations which myself and other Christians had with him were numerous, it is impossible to remember them particularly, or relate them minutely; I shall close this account, however, by relating one or two observations which dropped from him.

He was very anxious, on one occasion, to come to chapel, when his medical adviser wished to dissuade him from it, by saying the excitement would be too much for him, and he would probably die if he went: he nevertheless determined to go, saying, “I cannot die in a better place.'

Always of a grateful turn of mind, he was especially so in his last illness. His children, servants, and dependents, all strove to show him attention, and to render him assistance; and he was deeply affected with their kindness, wondering why every one was so attentive to him. He often contrasted his favoured situation with that of others, and praised God who made him to differ.

One of his relations said to him, one day, "Are you afraid of death?" when he raised himself up in bed, and exclaimed, “ Afraid of death! no, why should I? Death cannot harm me; Christ died that I might live. Oh, what a meeting in heaven! there will

On another occasion he referred to the patriarch Jacob, who, before his death, called his sons to his dying bed, and gave them his blessing, and said, “Come, and hear your dying father's prayer." He then, in a most tender and impressive manner, commended his children, and his children's children, to the care of his covenant God, who had led him and fed him all his life long; and concluded with very touchingly praying, that whatever might be their circumstances in a worldly point of view, "that blessing which maketh rich, and addeth no sorrow with it," might never be withheld.

Among the multitude of hymns he enjoyed, there was one in particular he used to call his favourite, containing, as it does, a beautiful epitome of his views of truth, and his experience of its power; and this, lat

terly, he very frequently repeated with great feeling

"Had I ten thousand gifts beside,

I'd cleave to Jesus crucified,

And build on none but him;
For no foundation is there given

On which I'd fix my hopes of heaven,
But Christ the corner stone.'

Such was the character of his experience throughout his long illness; happy, contented, grateful, peaceful, waiting for his Master's summons, and desiring to be with him; and steadily, without the interruption of doubt or fear, looking forward towards his heavenly rest.

After frequent alarming attacks of late, he was again seized, on the evening of Monday, November 27th, when about to get into bed, and sank into a state of insensibility, in which he continued till about the same time the following night; when, without a sigh or struggle, he gently fell asleep in Jesus, and entered into the joy of his Lord, in the sixty-fourth year of his age.

"I heard a voice from heaven, saying unto me, Write, Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord from henceforth. Yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labours, and their works do follow them."

"Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his."

PROVIDENTIAL REMINISCENCES.

NO. IV.

No delusion of the wicked one can be more unreasonable or unwarrantable than that which justifies procrastination regarding Divine things, during the course of a long or even a short life, under the vain pretext that they may be attended to on a death-bed. To listen to the language of some, we might imagine, that in a dying hour, whatever may have been the previous character or conduct, all is calm and serene within; this world recedes from the thoughts; the world to come attracts the soul; the heart is at once softened, subdued, and saved. Alas, that men should err so egregiously and so fatally! Who that reflects on the nature of religion, on its claims on the heart and the life, on its influence on the principles and the practices, can ever seriously believe that the mighty change which it is destined to accomplish-a change compared to a new creation-can be safely postponed to that awful moment when the sinner stands on the brink of the eternal world? Who that considers the bodily distress and the mental anxiety invariably attending the

progress of disease, and preceding the separations from beloved friends which death effects, can calmly determine, amid such scenes, to begin to learn the great lessons which God inculcates in his word-lessons which demand not only the full exercise of the judgment, but the unreserved surrender of the heart. Blessed be God, there is in Christ Jesus mercy even to the chief of sinners. And well may the child of God, rejoicing that a fountain has been opened for washing away all sin, connect the past with the present, and say,

"The dying thief rejoic'd to see
That fountain in his day;
And there would I, as vile as he,
Wash all my sins away."

But though some have sought and found mercy at the eleventh hour, many who be fore indulged in good resolutions and che. rished fond expectations, have then sunk, without one ray of hope to cheer their dismal course, into the blackness of darkness. It has even been found that there are cases not unfrequently occurring, in which character is developed on a death-bed under circumstances at once the most mournful and the most alarming. The unhappy sinner, left to himself, so far from being

brought near to God, has given full vent to all the vile emotions of his wicked heart; he has filled with distress and horror all who were doomed to witness his wretched departure; he has, in the expressive language of inspiration, been "driven away in his wickedness."

A young man, to whom we shall give the name of F., was lately summoned into the presence of God, in a manner but too well calculated to show the folly of indifference to religion during life, and to prove that the sins of men will in some way find them out even in this world. We record his brief but mouraful history, in the hope that it may prove a warning to the young, especially to those who are exposed, from the avocations they follow or the associations they form, to peculiar temptations, in a world where sin fearfully prevails, and where hardened sinners often take a diabolical pleasure in leading the thoughtless and the inexperienced into their own evil ways.

In early life F. enjoyed many opportunities of religious instruction. His parents were pretty regular hearers of the Gospel, and they took their son with them to the house of God. It is much to be feared, however, that they were more concerned about his temporal than his spiritual interest. Indeed it seemed to be their chief desire, that about which they were always "careful and troubled," that he should be comfortably and honourably settled in the world. Perhaps to this engrossing desire after "great things," leading as it did to the neglect of the "one thing" about which every Christian parent ought to be supremely concerned, the ruin of this young man is to be ascribed. Influenced by the views to which we have referred, the parents of F. determined to educate him for a highly respectable profession, one likely to raise him far above them in worldly expectations. While pursuing his studies he became acquainted with several young men of sceptical principles and lax morals. At once introduced into a circle considerably higher than that in which he had been accustomed to move, and where there was much to dazzle and attract him, having no restraint upon him, and having no principle to control him, we cannot wonder that he soon imbibed the spirit, and imitated the example, of those around him. Subsequently he was exposed, in the pursuit of his professional duties, to frequent and protracted intercourse with some of the most vile and worthless of characters. His previous training, it is to be lamented, led him to fall too readily into their ways. The effect of all this was apparent when he returned to his native town to begin business. He withdrew from all fellowship with the friends of his youth; and he even went so far as to state that, whatever

he had done before, it would not now be deemed respectable to attend a Dissenting chapel! Had he sought friends in other circles, where piety and virtue prevailed, and had he attended on the preaching of the Gospel, in any place where it was faithfully administered, there might have been hope regarding him. But when he abandoned every semblance of respect for the ordinances of religion, when he forsook the company of all who were not as indifferent to Divine things as himself, and when he entered upon a reckless course of debauchery, his state became hopeless indeed. For some years he continued to pursue his wicked ways, becoming, as might be expected, a greater adept in sin the longer he addicted himself to it. At last his former pastor, who had long lost sight of him, received a note one Sabbath evening, stating that F. was in great distress, and desired the prayers of the congregation. He was soon found out, and visited. But oh what pen can describe the scene which presented itself to the faithful minister of Christ, when he sought to direct this poor prodigal to the Lamb of God. He was surrounded by evidences of poverty, vice, and wretchedness. He was enduring great bodily pain. He was evidently in the last stage of consumption. Such was only the state of his body. "The spirit of a man will sustain his infirmity; but a wounded spirit who can bear?" He had, and no one can wonder at it, "a wounded spirit." In him, however, there was a strange combination of conscious guilt with self-righteous confidence; a mixture of complacency with alarm, of boldness with terror. When reminded of his guilt, he seemed to acknowledge it, but his confession was not from the heart, it did not lead to contrition before God. He was a sinner, he owned, just as others are; he evidently felt no more than this vague acknowledgment conveyed. When he was directed to Christ, he admitted that he is the Saviour of the guilty; he professed to believe in him, and he boldly asked, "What have I to fear?" Scarcely, however, had he made this profession when, owing to some trifling circumstance of an unpleasant nature, he gave way to a violent burst of passion, and, dreadful to relate! gave utterance to the language of daring blasphemy, and this, too, in a way which showed that he was an habitual blasphemer. On being remonstrated with on this subject, and told that it gave evidence that his heart was not right with God, and that he was still uninterested in the Gospel of Christ, he replied, "I am no infidel; I know what it is to disbelieve the word of God. I am past that infidelity now. I do believe in Christ." And pointing to a small crucifix which now for the first time was

seen to hang from his arm, he added, "I have got this to remind me of my Saviour." He was of course told, that if he really loved the Lord Jesus, no such memento of him was necessary, but that his language was quite incompatible with love to Christ. "No, no," was his reply; "God will not condemn me for a few angry words." All that could be done was to endeavour to awaken his conscience, to convince him of his guilt, and to exhibit to him his danger, while Jesus was set forth as the only way to the Father. All was in vain: he continued in the same awful state of mind, now expressing confidence in the Saviour, now insulting Jehovah by impugning the wisdom and justice of his providential dealings; at one time weeping and praying, and at another time cursing and swearing, till, with all his sins to answer for, he was hurried into the eternal world.

O that the young, who like him have yielded to the artifices of Satan, and become lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God, could have witnessed his dying agonies. O that all who dream of death-bed repentance, and who now say to every appeal and invitation addressed to them, "Go thy way for this time, when I have a more con venient season I will call for thee," could have seen his hardihood, his infatuation, his insensibility, when his soul was about to be required of him. Verily "the ways of transgressors are hard." The path of sin may at present seem smooth and easy, but it conducts to future misery and to final woe. Of religion alone can it be said, "Her ways are ways of pleasantness." Let the young seriously and solemnly ponder the words of Solomon-words the truth of which his own experience attestedwords which ought to be engraven as with a pen of iron on every heart-" Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth; and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes: but know thou that for all these things God will bring thee into judgment."

A VOICE FROM THE OCEAN.

R.

The Address of one hundred Bethel Sea Captains, to the Pastors and Churches of Great Britain.

CHRISTIAN BRETHREN,-It has pleased God in his rich mercy to pour out an unusual measure of his Spirit's influence on our seafaring brethren during the past year, and believing that he is about to effect a great work among them, but, at the same time, convinced that the churches of this highly favoured land have not yet adequately considered their condition and claims, we feel

it a most solemn and imperative duty to lift up our voice on their behalf, and plead with holy importunity, with the blood-bought followers of Christ, that they would, without delay, come forward, and exert themselves for the salvation of our brethren.

There are two hundred and ninety thousand of our British brother-seamen yet in moral darkness and death; thousands of them are perishing every year in the deep; and all of them hastening to an unchanging eternity. But, oh, their souls-their precious souls! What is their condition? What

their prospects? What their destiny? Why is it that such a multitude of our brethren are yet in the gall of bitterness and the bond of iniquity? Have the churches done moral justice to the sailor? Has each Christian done his duty? Has each pastor and minister discharged his obligations to seamen ? Oh our hearts bleed over the lukewarmness and apathy which at present exist among the professing members and pastors of Christ in this land I It affects us to the inmost soul, to think that so many thousands of our brethren have still so much reason to take up the lamentation, "No man careth for our souls!" How long is this to be continued? Are they still to be neglected--still allowed to perish in their sins-and finally to find themselves a wreck on the shores of a dark eternity? God forbid! Now is the time for action-prompt, persevering action. This is all that is required to secure the blessing, even life for evermore.

We are aware, Christian brethren, that there exists the British and Foreign Sailors' Society, and that its operations are being actually carried on, so far as their means admit; but this is not enough. One hundred captains have entered into solemn covenant to maintain the worship of God on board their respective vessels, and to make every possible exertion to bring sailors generally under the influence of Divine truth; but this is not enough. It is indispensable, if seamen are to be evangelised, that the agencies should be multiplied a hundred fold; there is at this moment a moving on the waters; there is a spirit of deep inquiry; there is a power at work of a most animating character; the dry bones are being quickened; the dead are surely hearing the voice of the Son of God! but, oh, there is a sad lack of holy, faithful, devoted labourers. Where are they to be found? We are told they can be obtained. But we are askedWhere are the means? Christians! can we believe that the cause of seamen will be neglected, or even retarded, for want of means? Is God working, and, oh, can you stand still? Is God blessing, and, oh, can you withhold? Brethren! it is high time to awake! The day is far spent, the night