cannot pray?" "Oh," said Mr. M., "the dispute I find is not between you and me, but between the Apostle Peter and you. Read in Acts viii. 22, what he said to Simon Magus, Repent therefore of this thy wickedness, and pray God, if perhaps the thought of thine heart may be forgiven thee.' Now, I ask you, Was Peter right, or was he wrong ?" His antagonist would fain have escaped the question, but Mr. Mather would have an answer, yes or no; when, at length, he reluctantly said, “I suppose Peter must be right." Nor did Mr. Mather allow him to escape by merely making that admission, but he clearly proved that if it is not the duty of a sinner to pray, he is doing his duty in not praying.

But the circumstance which had the greatest effect in undermining and overturning the errors which had before been prevalent, occurred at a meeting of young persons, who assembled weekly, for the purpose of expounding the Scriptures, and at which the minister presided. The custom was for each one in turn to propose a passage for exposition, upon which the proposer first expressed his .opinion, and the others, in rotation, after which the minister summed up. At this meeting, a shrewd, intelligent, and remarkably clever man, after giving a very clear exposition of a passage which he had selected, took the opportunity of showing, or attempting to show, the absurdity of calling upon dead men to perform living actions, and he supported his views by a variety of apt and striking illustrations, the whole design of which was to throw ridicule upon the sentiments which he was endeavouring to oppose. When each person in the meeting had given his opinion upon the passage under consideration, and it remained for Mr. Mather to sum up, he boldly met the arguments which had been advanced in favour of faith being no duty and, without employing the terms natural and moral ability, he succeeded so far in showing the wide difference between the two, that his antagonist was com

pletely foiled; left the meeting in a passion; and all the rest, without exception, were from that time established in the truth. That was the last conflict of any importance which he had respecting doctrines, during his continuance in Sheffield. He held on the even tenor of his way, and the Lord was pleased to put upon his labours the signal marks of his approbation, both in the conversion of sinners, and the edification of the church.

But success in the ministry of the gospel is seldom unaccompanied with trials. And so Mr. Mather found it: for when the leaders of the party that had been vanquished, were sensible of their defeat, they sought, at least some of them, to revenge themselves on their successful opponent, by circulating slanderous reports injurious to his character; but as they were, happily, without foundation, they produced no sensible effect. His congregation continued to increase; and, although during the nineteen years of his ministry there, it changed more than once, it remained nearly, if not quite full to the last. It was then also, that he was plunged into great afflic tion by the loss of his first wife, in childbirth of her tenth child. At the time they were married, she was as unconcerned about religion as himself; and when he became serious, it was to her a great cross. Nor did she conceal her mortification and indignation, but evinced her feelings, by persecuting him in every way she could. He, however, bore it all with firmness and meekness; and, at length, had the happiness, in answer to his fervent prayers, of seeing her give herself to the Lord, and then to his church and people. This change, instrumentally, was brought about through the loss of a little boy, that was the idol of her heart, which was sanctified to her conversion. She was a humble and retiring Christian, and confined herself principally to her family; but her path was that of the just, and her life adorned her profes sion. Her end was peace, The situation in which Mr. Mather was now

placed was trying in the extremea widower, with nine children-the oldest fifteen years, and the new-born infant two days old. He seemed, for a short while, almost overwhelmed ; but, being naturally of an ardent and buoyant disposition, and also, being supported in a very extraordinary manner by the consolation of the gospel, he was enabled to say, "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." He felt that his charge now was very great; the whole care of his family, as well as the church, and he acted accordingly. And so wise were his plans; so prudent, firm, and affectionate was his management of his family in the fear of God, that he had the happiness, before his own departure to glory, of seeing both his sons in the ministry of the gospel; the elder, at that time, at Bilston, Staffordshire, but now at Shepherd's Market, May Fair, London; the younger, a missionary at Mirzapore, in the East Indies; and his five daughters, the eldest the wife of a missionary in Canada, and the other four all members of churches. Of the son and daughter that he lost by death, he entertained a good hope that for them to be absent from the body was to be present with the Lord.

At length, very greatly to the regret of the church and congregation at Howard-street, as well as to a wide circle of friends, by whom he was held in high estimation, and who cherish his memory with the fondest affection, he saw it his duty to leave a sphere where his labours had been crowned with most abundant success, in order to accept an invitation from the church and congregation assembling in Liverystreet Chapel, Birmingham, formerly under the care of Mr. Eagleton; but after a residence there of fifteen months he removed to London, when Providence directed his footsteps to Upper Clapton. He received from the church there a unanimous invitation to become their pastor; but as there were a few in the congregation who did not cordially concur in that invitation, he

would only accept it for a limited period. At the end of that period, however, his way seemed clear; and he entered, with almost universal approbation, on the full duties of the pastorate. It was the scene of great comfort to himself, and much usefulness among the people. During the ten years that he was there, the church greatly increased; the chapel was enlarged; and two commodious school-rooms were built; and there seemed nothing wanting to crown his wishes, but a revival of religion, and an abundant outpouring of the Holy Spirit, upon which his mind was most intensely fixed, and which had, for a considerable period, been the subject of his special prayers, when circumstances transpired, altogether unexpected, which ultimately terminated in the resignation of his charge. This, at the time, was a dark and mysterious providence; but though he could not trace the hand of God in it, and discover the reason of his ways, his trust in his wisdom and goodness remained unshaken, and he was enabled to bow with submission and resignation to his will, saying, "Let him do whatsoever seemeth him good."

But, although the labours of Mr. Mather, as a settled pastor, had then come to a close, his work for his Master was not done. He was never happy but when he was in that work, and instances of usefulness resulting from his occasional labour, have since come to the knowledge of his friends, of the most gratifying character, and from various places. Indeed, in every period of his ministry, his occasional sermons, wherever preached, seemed to be remarkably blessed. On one occasion, his congregation consisted only of six persons, and five were converted by the sermon which he then preached. Nor was this a solitary instance of success; for many, quite as striking, came to his own knowledge, and greatly encouraged him in his work.

After remaining a widower for more than twenty-one years, Mr. Mather entered a second time into the married state, with the highly respected widow

of the late Rev. Joseph Brookbank, sen., and enjoyed the comforts of the union, particularly after resigning his charge at Clapton. His mind being quite easy as to temporal circumstances, and his constitution rapidly giving way, he, at first, moved from place to place for the benefit of his health; but at length, he settled at Islington, and connected himself with the church at Claremont Chapel, under the pastoral care of Mr. Blackburn, whose ministry he attended when not himself engaged in preaching, and whose preaching he highly appreciated and valued. But he was not permitted to continue here long after his pastoral engagements were closed; for, on the evening of the 7th of May, 1840, he was seized with a violent pain in his bowels, which, at first, seemed to yield to the means employed to subdue it, and about twelve o'clock he retired to bed. In the morning, however, it returned with increased violence, when his daughter went for his medical man. It was an attack of inflammation in the lower intestines, attended with tenporary stricture, and assumed a threatening aspect. From the commencement, however, of his illness, his mind was kept in unbroken peace; and he enjoyed a sweet and heavenly composure which was as delightful to his friends as it was comforting to himself. At every period of his life, he had been accustomed to place considerable reliance upon those things, especially from the word of God, which were deeply and powerfully impressed upon his mind. Nearly at the commencement of his illness, those words were applied to him, "I was brought low, and he helped me ;" and, in consequence, he seemed to think that he should not then die, but live, and declare the glory of God. He had, however, no wish upon the subject. To some friends, members of the church at Clapton when he was the minister, who called to see him on Thursday, May 14th, he said, “I am not, I should say, triumphant, but realizing the fulfilment of that promise, 'Thou

wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trusteth in thee.' You see me brought low; but the Lord has placed me in these circumstances; and he who has been with me in six troubles, will not leave me in the seventh. I know in whom I have believed.' My greatest trial now is, that I cannot keep my thoughts fixed. After the pain, I am so restless and wandering." On its being remarked to him that the body was the cause, he replied, "Yes; it is the effect of disease; but we have not a High Priest that cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities, but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin.'”

Very early in the morning of the 16th, he said to his son, who had arrived from Bilston, after stating that it was strongly impressed upon his mind that he should live and not die, "I have no wish to live, but for one end that I may be useful and glorify Christ." He then repeated the whole of a favourite hymn, the 728th in Dr. Campbell's Hymn-Book, with peculiar emphasis, and then the one beginning—

"Sovereign Ruler of the skies," &c.

In the course of the forenoon of the same day, calling his son to his bedside, he said, "I think we are all wrong." On inquiring, "Why?" the reply was, "Because we have no family worship." But, on being informed that family worship had been regularly observed, though not in his room, he was satisfied. His son then offering to read and pray with him, was asked, what his feelings were when engaged in prayer on his behalf. Having informed him, he, in return, inquired whether the impression to which reference has been made, still remained. He replied, "Occasionally, but not so frequently, nor so powerfully;" when he added, "But is not all this a wish to look into futurity? I desire to leave myself in the Lord's hands, to do with me just as he pleases. My sole wish is to glorify him." He then added, "There is a promise in the