He got weaker day by day, and spoke less. A little time before his removal, the doctor said he could not lie long, perhaps not many hours; and as we gathered round him we could but shed a few tears as recollections crowded upon ús. I went to him and asked him to shake hands with me; and he did so with a smile. One of his daughters said, "You are weary of earth, my dear father," He gave an upward longing look, and said,

"The harbour, the harbour.

The day previous to his death, another daughter said,

"You are going to be with Jesus, dear grandpa."

וי

He tried to speak and could not; his mouth moved, but no sound, only a loving smile. A few hours later he drew one long, deep breath, and entered his eternal rest. Thus died John Andrews Jones, one of the greatest and most truthful preachers our denomination has known, in the 89th year of his age and 60th of his ministry.

The account of his interment has been given.[25

Mr. Milner preached the funeral sermon to an overflowing congregation, from 2 Timothy iv. and 7; and I preached the following Lord's-day evening to an equally large congregation from those words, "He was a good man, full of the Holy Ghost, and of faith; and much people were added to the Lord."

As a man, Mr. Jones was honest, upright, and gentlemanly. As a husband, faithful, loving, and affectionate. As a preacher, truthful, unctuous, instructive and attentive. As a pastor, feeding the flock of God, faithfully defending the truth, kind and devoted to his people, as a good minister of Jesus Christ. His religion entered into his life--was part of his existence; it was his support in life, his consolation in death. His time was for the most part spent in his study and his pulpit; and it does one good to see his well-used Bible and concordance, not by several the first he has worn out. He studied to shew himself a workman that needeth not be ashamed, ever-standing by his well-known motto, "Buy the truth and sell it not." He could comfortably lay down his pen and resign the conflict, confident of this, that though subject to much weakness and infirmity, he had not shunned to declare all the counsel of God. With his Master's words constantly ringing in his ears, "Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee the crown of life," he cheerfully went on his way, and now inherits the glory prepared for him before the foundation of the world.

P

"In sure and certain hope, his flesh to dust
Commit, and ask, 'Where is thy victory, grave?”
To wait the resurrection morn-august,
In which the upright shall dominion have.

Faithful to death, he now receives the crown,
And does the victor's palm in triumph wave ;→→
Is now with Jesus on his throne sat down:
Such honours shall the saints in glory have.

Farewell, farewell, till round the throne we meet,
To sing with thee the never-ending song,
And cast our crowns at the Redeemer's feet,
While everlasting ages roll along."

I am, dear sir, yours affectionately in Jesus,
Jireh Chapel, East road, City road.

JA

H. FGRIFFIN.

LINES

Written on the death of the venerable John Andrews Jones, who ascended to his rest on July 15th, 1868, in the 89th year of his age.

BY WILLIAM STOKES, MANCHESTER.

"I have kept the faith," 1 Tim. iv. 7.-" And I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me, Write, Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth; yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labours; and their works do follow them."Rev. xiv. 13.

AND has Elijah mounted from the plain,

With his lov'd Saviour, and the saints, to reign?
Has he at last with patriarchal years,
His farewell taken of this vale of tears?
Has he another "Jireh " found above,
Where faithful service ends in perfect love?
Where sorrows die, and tears can never flow,
And where the saints forget all earthly woe?
Yes, from above the Spirit speaks them blest,
Who die in Jesus, but with him to rest;
Who fought his fight, and to his faith stood true,
With zeal and love that hirelings never knew.
And such was Jones. With manly heart and bold,
For truth he braved the tempest and the cold,
His theme was one where'er his home and place,
And that one theme was 76 free and sovereign grace."
From humble Hartley, where in early prime,

He gave to saints a pastor's care and time;
To Brentford's labour, and to "Jireh” dear,
That faith he kept" with every rolling year.
He heeded not that fashion turned away,
From names once valued in a better day;
But firmly stood, when Moore, and Brine, and Hill,
Were slighted with a venerable Gill.

He sought no smile from men who boast of "taste,"
Yet ancient churches make an "6 open" waste,
Who the old "landmarks” trample with their tread,
That vain inventions may appear instead.

When early manhood budded fresh from youth,
He chose the theme of everlasting truth;
And through long years, unmoved by mortal shock,
That
t truth he held as solid as a rock.

Alas for Britain when such men are few!

When churches leave the faithful for the "new."
When olden truths that gave our land a name,
All "ears polite" discard as vulgar shame.
Alas! that "sovereign grace" is not the bread,
With which those masses hunger to be fed ;
They crave for "mixtures," and prefer a hash,"
And all they seek they have in learned "trash."
Woe to the land when "babies" never grow,
When children's " milk" is all they care to know;
When at scant meal they take contented seat,
And never mourn the absence of "strong meat."

Not so the giant fathers lived of old,

Not so they grew to stern and mighty mould;
Not so matured an Owen, Gill, or Brine,

Whose drink was heavenly, and whose food divine.
Not so a Jones lived out beyond the span,
Long since allotted to degenerate man ;
The flock he fed with all a shepherd's care,
And long will "Jireh" that rich pasture share.

But say, ye saints, who watched his chariot flight,
And saw him enter on the realms of light;
As he ascended, may ye watchers" tell,
On whom his mantle and his spirit fell ?*
* 2 Kings ii. 13-15.

Life and Death of the late Mr. Thomas Telall.

DEAR SIR,-By request of my brethren in office with me at Zoar Chapel, Gravesend, I send you a brief account of the life and death of Mr. T. Wall, the late much beloved pastor of the Church in that place.

We are but little acquainted with his early life; but according to his own statement, he was brought to know himself as a lost sinner when young, and also to enquire after those things which relate to the salvation of his immortal soul. I have often heard him say that his whole life had been spent in endeavouring to do good to his fellow creatures.

He was called when a young man to go forth and speak in the name of the Lord; and when an itinerant preacher (which he was for years) he has walked many miles on a Lord's-day; and those days he would say were among the happiest of his life. His first pastorate was at Hailsham, in Sussex; from thence he removed to Rye, where he was much blest in his Master's work for about ten years. When it was known in the town that he was about to leave, a meeting was convened, at which the Mayor and the Ministers of the town were present; and handsome purse with more than £40 were presented to him, to which about 300 of the town contributed; and the names of each subscriber was written in a handsome album, which he prized till the day of his death. His labours at Rye were extensive, in the school as well as preaching the word. But his Master had determined he should labour in another part of his vineyard; the Church at Gravesend invited him to preach the word of life to them. After a few visits gave him an unanimous invitation to the pastorate, which he accepted, and it was manifest from time to time that this union was of the Lord: and had it been the will of our God we should have liked to have heard his voice at Zoar for years to come. Under his six years pastorate the Church gradually increased, the chapel filled, so that we have scarce a seat to let the people were growing more than ever attached to him; he was a labourer indeed, and has travelled hundreds of miles in a week to preach the Gospel, besides attending to his duties among his own people.

For some time before his death, he had suffered much from pain at the heart, and two or three times on a Lord's-day morning has been

obliged to leave off in the sermon, and the friends have closed the service by prayer. This prepared our minds a little for what was speedily to come upon us. He preached his last sermon at Warboys, from Philippians i. 6, "Being confident of this very thing, that He which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ." He returned home on the Monday, attended the prayer-meeting at the chapel. In his address, in the hymns he selected, and in prayer, the friends remarked what a blessed frame of mind he was in. After prayer-meeting, he visited one of the members of the Church who was ill, prayed and conversed with her; then returned home, happy and cheerful (his family remarked), more so than usual. His labours were ended. retired to rest, till about half-past six in the morning, when he was seized with violent pain in the heart. He got from the bed into the chair, making a remark to Mrs. Wall that the pain was worse than ever, but in a few minutes he had a little relief. He said, "Bless the Lord!" “Oh, magnify the Lord with me!" Mrs. Wall said, "We will, my dear, we will praise the Lord," and went to call her mother, who was in the next room. Hearing him make a strange noise she returned, but HE WAS GONE; the spirit had fled; the labourer was at rest. He died on Tuesday, July 21st, 1868.

He

His mortal remains were interred on the following Friday. They were taken to Zoar Chapel, which was filled with friends to witness the solemn service. Mr. Neville, of Sutton-at-Hone, read and gave an address; Mr. Lingley, of Maidstone, also gave an address. One of the Deacons gave out 975th hymn, Denham's Selection. The service was solemn. Some weighty remarks were made. Prayer closed the service at the chapel. A procession was then formed, which consisted of a hearse and three mourning coaches: the first conveyed the family; the second, the deacons; the third, the ministers. There were also five private carriages; and a great number of the friends of the Church and congregation walked behind. Arriving at the cemetery, there were hundreds of people waiting to witness the interment. Mr. Neville spoke solemn words to those who were standing around; Mr. Klute (Independent minister), gave an address; Mr. Jull, of Ryarsh, engaged in prayer; the 989th hymn was sung, and the service closed.

On the following Lord's-day, Mr. Neville, of Sutton-at-Hone, preached the funeral sermon from Rev. xiv. 13, "Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord," &c. The chapel was crowded, and profound attention paid to the seasonable discourse.

I pray the Lord of the harvest to send more labourers to supply the place of those He has taken home; and that we may be ready, knowing that in an hour when we think not, the Son of Man cometh. Yours in Christian love, A DEACON.

LINES TO THE MEMORY OF MR. THOMAS WALL.

So very old, and yet so young;
Gladness was ever on his tongue;
And holiness, and peace, and truth,
In him all wore the garb of youth.

That snow-white hair, and brow of care,
Spread looks of wonder everywhere;
As sweetly rolled through the stilled fold,
The raptured numbers which he told.
We, who now weep, remember well,
How sweet the words, how strange the spell
That bound us to him as we heard

His visions of the risen LORD.

His thoughts would seem like a fond dream, ?.
When life in glory was his theme;

His last sleep o'er he dreams no more,
But realizes all he saw.

1

And Zoar is like an orphan child,
Thrown fatherless upon the wild;
The mother-church will wed again,
And the new pastor will sustain
The names he bore who is no more ;
But never to that orphan poor,
Will the church send so true a friend,
As he whose work is at an end.
Our hearts are bleeding at our loss,
But mercy weights the Christian's cross,
And we can look with sorrow sweet,
Into the cavern at our feet;

The snow-white hair is buried there;
The worn-out limbs a white shroud wear;
But our eyes scan, as Christians can,
The spirit of the dear old man.

Winging its way to Jesus' side,
Catching the smile of Him who died;
There left him in that blissful hour,
All lingering thoughts of his own power.
"The work was thine, oh! Saviour mine,
To bring me to this joy divine."
And angels hide their harps aside,
To hear him praise the Crucified.

The greenest wreath his fellows bring,

Fades in the presence of the King;

Nor song of mortal greets his ear,

Where crystal rivers gurgle near,
Yet let me crave upon his grave,

Room for the flowers I weeping weave.

Since all will own these flowers have blown
From seeds which he himself had sown.

Great Baddow, Essex.

*་

MRS. T. CHAPLIN.

A BRIEF ACCOUNT OF THE HAPPY EXPERIENCE AND PEACEFUL END OF MRS. ANN BUNKER,

WHO FELL ASLEEP IN JESUS, APRIL 17TH, 1868.

It is not the intention of the writer to give his own thoughts on the subject; being separated by distance from his departed sister, he had not the privilege of seeing her on her bed of affliction, or hearing those precious words as they fell from her dying lips. But a few thoughts