whose support appeared to be necessary for his success. One day, while reflecting on this subject, and being much harassed in his mind, he casually opened his New Testament, which was then lying by him. This occurrence became a source of lasting benefit to him. Every part of the word of God is good, because every part is true; and therefore, from every part, by pious meditation, spiritual instruction may be derived. But the text which first met Mr. Pennington's eye was peculiarly suited to his case, and was applied to his heart with great light and power: it was, "Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all other things shall be added unto you." As he meditated, the whole truth seemed to open before him; and he was enabled not only to commit his temporal affairs to the direction of his Redeemer and God, but also to rest his guilty soul on Christ crucified, and on the faithful promises of mercy in and through him. He thus became possessed of “the peace of God which passeth all understanding," and felt that he had obtained redemption in the blood of Christ, the forgiveness of his sins. And as he could now magnify the Lord, and rejoice in God his Saviour; so he could commit himself and all his affairs into the hands of his heavenly Father. The precious passage by which he was encouraged to believe to the saving of his soul, was a source of consolation and support to him in all the circumstances through which he was called to pass. He saw that the God of grace was the God of providence also; and that, because God cared for him, it was equally his duty and privilege to cast all his care upon God. Through life, this text was as a favourite motto with him; and he sought not only to regulate his conduct by it, but to experience its influence on his heart. He saw what God required him to do, and he endeavoured to be submissive and obedient. He saw what God promised to do for him, and he was satisfied and thankful. Not long after he had joined the society himself, he was called to take the charge of a class; and he held the office, and faithfully discharged its duties, as long as he lived. The members who were from time to time under his care-some of whom remain to this day, while some are fallen asleep-found in him a faithful Leader, well fitted for the task which was committed to him. He delighted in this particular exercise of the communion of saints, and sought to make it as profitable to others as he found it to be to himself. And it pleased God to bless these endeavours to be useful. His encouraging directions to mourners in Zion were often the means of bringing them to the cross of Christ, where their burden was removed, and their sorrow turned into joy; while his particular advices to those who had believed through grace, contributed largely both to the establishment of their spiritual experience, and the correctness and purity of their religious character. He was the more diligent as a Class-Leader, wishing the members intrusted to him to possess a sound experience, and to maintain an exemplary behaviour,—thus adorning the doctrine they professed, and the cause they had embraced,-because of the strength of his attachment to what he called, "good old Methodism." He had, indeed, this mark of having "passed from death unto life," that he "loved the brethren;" not merely those with whom he was more immediately connected, but those whose spirit and conduct evinced that they were "partakers of the benefit" which he had received. He loved all that loved Christ; and he loved them, because he loved Him. He felt that his spirit could mingle with the spirits of all who were alive from the dead by the quickening power of the Holy Spirit. Still, it was from the ministrations of Methodism that he had derived his own spiritual good. He believed the doctrines which he heard to be scriptural; and he looked on all the arrangements of the system as admirably adapted to promote the salvation of sinners, and the growth and preservation of all who had experienced a true conversion. He beheld its providential origin, and the effects which it had produced from the first. He loved "good old Methodism," and was the more anxious that its members should testify its excellence by walking as becometh saints. At different times, he was called to fill various offices in connexion with the society in his native village; and he endeavoured to discharge the duties arising out of them to the advantage of the cause which lay so near his heart. He was earnestly desirous of the salvation of his neighbours; and for a long time assisted in holding, in various places, meetings for prayer, which were, by God's blessing, rendered extensively useful. His life passed on very evenly, marked by no particular incidents: it was the life of a plain, honest, industrious Christian, who, in labouring to save his soul, felt that he was not to be slothful, but diligent, in business; that every station has its particular duties; and that, if he desired to please and glorify God, he must attend to those which belonged to his own. The pious member of religious society, therefore, was a pains-taking, faithful member of civil society. He was an upright man as living in the world, as well as a spiritual man as living for eternity; a good neighbour, as well as a good Christian. He experienced the power of the Gospel in his own soul, and illustrated its beneficial influence on society at large. He was permitted to see "the prosperity of Zion," and greatly did he rejoice in it. The congregation became larger; and sinners being converted from the error of their way, the society increased in the number of its members. At the last love-feast that he attended at the Walkden-Moor chapel, he expressed his thankfulness and joy that the cause to which he had been so many years attached was in a healthy and flourishing state: he spoke with very great feeling. He said, that he was looking back on the way by which he had been led; that God had never failed him from the beginning to that day. He exhorted the timid and desponding to trust and encourage themselves in God; and affectingly testified to the loving-kindness and faithfulness which he had always experienced from his heavenly Father. He spoke of the beginning of his own course, and of the comparative paucity and feebleness of the society at that time. He then paused a little time; and when he was asked, whether bodily weakness had hindered utterance, he replied, with a voice trembling with emotion, "No; but my very heart seems broken and melted by gratitude to God. I look around me, and I see so many swelling the ranks of the blessed Immanuel, and I compare them with the few of us that used to meet together when I first set out for the kingdom of heaven, and it is almost more than I can bear." The illness of which he died was protracted, commencing nearly two years before its mortal termination. But all this while he was preserved in a state of great tranquillity. It was observed, indeed, that he became increasingly serious. He conversed and acted like one who had received the sentence of death in himself, and whose special duty it was now to walk as on the verge of eternity. But there was no gloom in his seriousness: his "heart" had evidently been "directed into the love of God, and into the patient waiting for Christ." His experience, throughout this long period of wearying affliction and decaying strength, illustrated the text,—“ Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed upon thee, because he trusteth in thee." : His weakness at length became so great, that he was, for the most part, confined to his room. But though he saw that the end was drawing nigh, his mind was not disturbed. He knew his condition; and there is enough in the prospect of certainly-approaching death, to make any man thoughtful: but he knew, likewise, Him in whom he had believed, and that his spirit, when absent from the body, would be present with the Lord; and this inspired him with the confidence of a lively hope. His conversation with his friends was very pleasing to them, as indicating the happy state in which he was preserved it was also instructive and admonitory. At one time he said, "I have done little for God. Perhaps he sees that suffering is needful, and has therefore laid me on this bed of afflic tion; but whether I am doing or bearing the will of the Lord,' it is all right; it is all well." Then, checking himself, he said, "Should I have said, 'It is all well?' Does not that seem to savour of pride? We are poor, erring things. God must have all the glory." To some persons, who had called to see him, he said, “ Whatever you do, live for heaven. Thirty years ago the Lord found me as in a desert land, a waste, howling wilderness;' but he brought me into green pastures, and made me lie down by the still waters; and he has mercifully kept me ever since." He never lost sight of his own unworthiness; but he was enabled always to view it in connexion with the divine goodness and compassion; so that humility and faith were combined in him. He said one evening, after he had been reflecting a little while, O, no! never! "Didst thou ever see a soul More in need of help than mine? Then withhold the balm divine.' It is my Saviour! He suffer me to lack anything? No, He keeps his own: he keeps me! Praise, praise his name!" He was evidently overcome by what was not only a sight, but a sense, of the fulness and mercy of his great Redeemer. His disorder was very lingering. He said, once, 66 Sometimes I am so refreshed in the morning, that I almost think I am going to be raised up again; but at night I feel that death is in these wasted limbs. Yes, it is fixed: my destiny is fixed. It is settled that I must go. But what then? 'Jesus, my all, to heaven is gone.' He will receive me when I go hence. Let the will of God be done : that is all I want." Two members of his class visiting him, he said to them, "Love one another. The world will love its own; and if we are not of the world, it will hate us. We must love and help one another, and pray for the world." He added, "Thank God, I shall soon have done with it: I shall be 'Far from a world of grief and sin, With God eternally shut in."" At one time he appeared to suffer more than usual. "I am very poorly," he said; "very poorly indeed. I do not think that many can get to heaven before me now." He appeared then to be quite exhausted; and the oppression on his chest was so great and painful, that he literally gasped for breath. When he had recovered a little strength, he said, "Can this be death? Well, if it is, 'I soon shall be From all my toils and sorrows free."" He asked his friends to sing "The dying Christian ;" "But," he directly added, "not Pope's; that will not do for me now: the music is very sweet; but there is no Christ in the piece; and fine poetry, without Christ, will not now suit me." He referred them, then, to some verses which they had occasionally sung when they were met together, and which described the feelings of the dying believer; the burden of the song being, "All is well, all is well." The verses were sung, and seemed to revive him. He remarked, in the course of the conversation that ensued, "Likewise Lazarus his evil things;' yes, 'his evil things.' But he had them here. And when he died, they ended; they all ended; they ended for ever. But now he is comforted; the poor beggar is crowned! O praise the Lord!" "You have a bright prospect," one of his friends observed to him. "Yes," he replied, "I have indeed a fine day before me. Bright skies; bright skies! Let us take courage. What have we to fear? The Lord's portion is his people; Jacob is the lot of his inheritance.'" To his family he was much attached; but he committed them all to the merciful guardianship of God. On one occasion, thinking himself near his end, he called for his wife and children, that he might give them his dying blessing. When they came to him, as his strength permitted, he prayed for them, exhorted them, and solemnly blessed them in the name of the Lord. He then exclaimed, in the impressive language of Scripture, "Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, and blessed be his glorious name for ever; and let the whole earth be filled with his glory. Amen, and amen.” Not long before he died, being asked if his mind were still kept in peace, he remarked, "I rest in the Lord: cherubim and seraphim rest there." He observed, at another time, "Christ died, Christ rose again, Christ ascended into heaven; and I shall die, I shall rise, I shall enter heaven. Christ, and all in Christ, is mine. I shall be for ever with the Lord,—for ever with the Lord." And, pointing upwards, he added, "Nobody knows, nobody knows! Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man, what God hath prepared for them that love him.' Blessed be the Lord! What glorious things await me!" Nearly the last words he was able to speak were said in reply to the observation of a friend,-" You will soon be at home." "Yes," he rejoined, "I shall soon be at home. I am very near land. My salvation is now much nearer than when I first believed." The day on which he died, (May 21st, 1841,) he never spoke. It was evident, from the morning, that he was gradually sinking. He was quite composed to the last; and, between seven and eight in the evening, he put off the mortal tabernacle, and entered into rest. Thus lived and died Joseph Pennington, beloved by his religious associates as a faithful brother in Christ, respected by his neighbours as an honest, industrious, and kind man. He possessed none of the advantages of wealth or learning; but as his character was consistent, so his piety was established, and his zeal active. To the duties of his calling, secular and spiritual, he was carefully attentive. He took heed to his ways, and pondered the path of his feet. And that he might do this more effectually, he took care to keep up that inward life without which he would have been powerless, whether for doing or suffering the will of God. Nor was his labour vain. The way in which he walked he found, through life, to be the way of peace. He was not only pious and useful, but happy. Throughout a long and lingering affliction, not only did his peace continue, but his hope was |