late excellent James Wood. He then systematically began the great business; and all around him soon saw distinct marks of the change. "I have a very lively remembrance," says his son, "of the earnestness of my father's early religious life; particularly of the length of time he devoted every morning to private prayer, and to the reading of what I then considered very dull books, such as Doddridge's Rise and Progress,' &c. I well remember, also, that he came often to the side of my bed, when he supposed me fast asleep, to pray that his child might be good, and grow up a God-fearing man." These are simple details; but they point to the secret of that deep personal piety which impressed its stamp upon his household, and diffused its sanctifying power through all his intercourse with the world. He determined at the outset to be a man of methodical private devotion; well knowing the immense importance of rule in this matter, and especially to men of business, whose time and whose thoughts are so much in danger of being otherwise engrossed. He was never in the habit of saying much about his own religious affairs, though none could be more strict in the performance of religious duties; and strictness in private devotion cannot long be hid. Numberless letters are still extant in private hands, (written during the intervals of his occasional absence,) which show that his religion went with him everywhere; that no pressure of business could hinder his prayer for his household; and that, while he was working diligently for their earthly sustenance, his supreme concern was the welfare of their souls. Hence his house was blessed, as every house must be, the ruler of which is faithful to God in secret. He encountered more than the common lot of trial and bereavement; but his faith in God never faltered, and no trouble ever laid him prostrate. As his family increased, he filled his dwelling with the sounds of daily gratitude; as his family grew small around him, he resigned himself to the will of God. And, though he mourned the loss of several children, it was never his bitterness to bewail the ungodliness of any.

In 1817,-only a year after his conversion,-the steadiness of his religious character marked him out for office. He was appointed leader; and this, in a Society, and at a time, which gave the office a marked importance. For more than forty years he discharged the functions of a leader with much devotion. Nothing in that office was to him merely perfunctory. He took very special charge of the little company; and concentrated upon their spiritual interests-while not forgetting their temporal-his best thought and care. Those who came into contact with him only in the more public meetings, or in the transaction of financial affairs, would have been scarcely prepared to find him so deeply spiritual, and, as it were, pastoral, in his relations to this little flock. He seemed to reserve for that circle the fulness of his zeal; and to them he was always peculiarly dear and venerable.

The estimation formed of his character was further manifested by his being speedily made Mr. Wood's colleague in the Circuit-stewardship. This office he held at intervals through the whole of his life,

and death found him only just retiring from it. He took great delight in its duties. They gave employment to his special talent for business; they afforded just scope enough for his rather strong instincts as a ruler or administrator; but, above all, they gave him the opportunity of sustaining, comforting, and doing all kinds of service to the ministry. He was always the considerate friend of the preacher. Not that he was profusely liberal. The funds which he managed were never put to hazard by rash administration: in fact, be rather erred, if he erred at all, on the side of an undue distrust of the resources of the Society. For the rest, he was a thorough conservative; carrying his repugnance to the democratic element almost to the verge of obstructiveness. As he grew older in the office, he sometimes looked coldly on schemes and projects which in earlier and more sanguine years he would have delighted to support. But in all things he was entirely conscientious, and loyal to duty; and he studied, like others of that old class of men, not only the advantage, but the dignity also, of the trust which he held. Though a commercial man himself, there was nothing that he resented more than a certain commercial element intruding itself into the meetings of the Society. He perhaps carried too far his impatience of young and untried aspirants to power; especially, of those who were disposed to be demonstrative. But such as lived to earn his confidence had it without reserve. And, now that he is gone, let them all study his example, the example of a faithful, loyal, dignified, Methodist officebearer, who magnified his office, but never forgot to subordinate temporal to spiritual things.

It was not, however, in the stewardship only, that he exerted his influence. There was scarcely an office in the Society which he did not at some time or other fill. He was from the beginning a visiter of the sick, in connexion with "The Strangers' Friend Society." For twenty years he was a Sunday-school Superintendent,-in Lancashire phrase, a "Conductor ;" and he never lost his deep interest in young people, although some of the modern developments of Sunday and Week-day education scarcely carried his full sympathies with them. He was a tract-distributer all the days of his life. He was a warm friend of Missions; serving that cause in the highest office of Treasurer, at the same time that he personally collected for its funds for very many years. He was a constant attendant, and sound adviser, in the Chapel Committee. He was, from its foundation, an intelligent supporter of the Theological Institution; and, as one of its Treasurers, was never wanting in zeal for its prosperity and extension. In these weighty duties, and in trusteeships innumerable, he served his generation; being pre-eminently active amongst a people who are all activity.

"A truer friend to Methodism," writes his son, "never lived. In all weathers, in storm and sunshine, his support was steady and unflinching. He rejoiced in its doctrines, observed its rules, loved and reverenced its ministers, and to the utmost of his ability (always cheerfully, and with simplicity, without sound of trumpet) contributed

to its support." This testimony there are many still living who cant confirm. During the course of nearly half a century, he was more or less connected with all the schemes and operations of the Methodist people. Manchester, as (in a good sense) one of their high places, was the centre of many of their public movements; and, although he was never found amongst the very first in influence, he was never lower than the first rank in zeal and devotion to every good cause. Methodism had no institution which he did not approve. It never established a fund to which he did not contribute. It never had an enemy that he did not hate.* There were some around him by whom he was surpassed in wealth, in Connexional influence, in the gift of utterance; but none who did their best more heartily and intelligently than he. Manchester Methodism generally had no man on whom it could more firmly rely; whilst in his own Circuit he was literally indefatigable,-to bear his part in all its doings and burdens being a law or necessity of his life. He never begrudged his time; had no hours reserved, into which the business of the Society might not intrude. No Superintendent ever carried to him his cares and found him pre-occupied. Down to the very last, he had the care of all the Committees upon him; and he tried to do his work in them by proxy, even after he was unable to leave his room. This sketch does not claim for him the very highest place in any one department of Methodism; but it aims to describe him as combining more of the elements of influence and usefulness in his own sphere than are generally to be found in one man.

But, however much at home in the labours and activities of the church, Mr. Lomas took still more delight in its religious services. He was not sectarian, but in this respect approached as near it as he safely could. Toward the English Establishment, indeed, he always cherished a kind of hereditary attachment. Nothing that was alleged against the old communion, whether truly or falsely, ever availed to alienate that affection; and, when absent from home, he seldom failed to pay his occasional tribute to the services of the mother-church. But, whether abroad or at home, his heart was with his own people. The Lord's day was to him a day of great joy. He greeted it early with private devotion, and gave it up entirely to acts of worship and charity. He delighted in his own morning service, blending the Liturgy, Hymn-Book, and extempore prayer. He was a man that enjoyed his sermon very much. Outwardly the very picture of attention,-inwardly, perhaps, a little critical,-he was, withal, a devout and self-examining hearer of the word. He lingered among the last in God's house; and if, when he left, he could carry off the preacher for an hour to his hospitable home, no man in Christendom was happier than he. There he would unlock the stores of his memory, and talk of the good old times; and one who had sat under such a ministry as he had been blessed with for half a century, and who had

That is, if not in the oriental sense of the word, (Luke xiv. 26,) yet in the usage vindicated by Psalm cxxxix. 21, 22.-EDITORS.

lived so long in familiar intercourse with the leading men of the Connexion, was never at a loss for profitable and quaint discourse. To trace consecutively the narrative of Mr. Lomas's life would be to give the history of Methodism in Manchester. Deeply interesting such a history would be. But the briefest sketch would lead this memorial beyond its limits. And of his active life generally we can give no historical account. Suffice it to say, that he took a uniform and active part in every good movement. His life, within its own limited sphere, was spent in the unwearied discharge of all public and private obligations. He set out, after a sound conversion and entire consecration of himself to God, on a course of simple and unshrinking duty. The account of his stewardship is with God, to whose mercy in Christ he finally commended his past life, expressly requesting that human comment would spare it. Passing lightly, therefore, over the space of an entire generation, let us see how his life closed.

For threescore years and ten Mr. Lomas enjoyed almost unbroken health. Although he was infirm in his earliest youth, plentiful horse-exercise and cold bathing (the latter continued through the winter, in the open air, and when the ice had to be broken) hardened his constitution. He entered on life a strong man; and his strength did not abate till the full term was out. But, soon after passing his seventieth year, he fell under the decree, and suddenly began to fail. A mysterious and insurmountable complaint seized him, which baffled all skill, and never relaxed its hold. In the August of 1860, he returned from his final journey in such a state as to alarm all his friends, although he himself refused to be alarmed. The following morning he attended his last public service, on the day after met his class for the last time, and was afterwards for three months confined to his home. There, waited on by his affectionate niece, surrounded by his son's family, and visited by many friends, he learned the last lesson of submission. He was, for a time, very slow to believe that he was finally shut in from the outer world. But at length he yielded to the decree. And then it became his delight to meditate upon those parts of Scripture which are never fully understood until experience like his throws its new light upon them. He felt the truth and power of the Saviour's words concerning the perfect obedience which, after ploughing and feeding cattle all the day, stands and waits still in the evening. This comforted him much; and the tenor of his conversation ran upon the necessity of the last touches of refining grace, the perfect work of patience, and the supreme preparation for heaven, which, in his case, demanded a season of perfect withdrawal from the world.

But, even after this, there was another decree from which the veteran shrank. Mr. Lomas was for awhile manifestly unwilling to bear the final messenger. In perfect harmony with the Christian law generally, and with his own Christian experience in particular, he recoiled from the surprise of death. There was nothing in death, nothing after death, that he feared: a firm assurance of the virtue of the atonement once offered, and of the power of the advocacy

never ceasing, shone through all his conversation.

But he had led a life almost too active for that habitual anticipation of the last things which sometimes makes them longed for. And death had never once spoken directly to him through all his long life ;-often indirectly, through others dear to him as his own soul; but never face to face with himself. There was a struggle, not long, and not outwardly exhibited, but evident enough to all close observers. It was the will of God, however, that he should not die without his own free and full consent. At length the victory was won; and a fortnight of perfect peace ensued. He began to speak of himself, with a solemn kind of joy, as only now waiting to see the end; and sent for several of his friends," to hear the words of a dying man."

When told that his days were numbered, he received the announcement as one already prepared for it. "It is right, quite right," he said; and he began to make his arrangements for the other world with all the exactitude of one who had been a thorough man of business in this. Innumerable papers were destroyed in his presence; everything relating to his earthly concerns was settled; and advices were given on a variety of matters, as minute and as calm as if he were going a journey, and leaving counsels for his children's guidance till he should return. During this stage, it was very interesting to note the gradual process of entire sanctification for heaven; to mark how, as the countenance was every day more marred, and the light faded from the eye, and death gave more and more manifest tokens of his secret advance, the spirit was refined and rendered every hour more lovely. The Divine Sanctifier suffered, as it were, the very process of His final work to be observed; and made it evident that a change was passing far more deep than could be accounted for by the mere effect of coming death. Whatever before might have hinted at imperfection seemed now to be purged from his spirit. Every spot that had made the mirror less than a true reflector of the Saviour's image was refined away. All silence and reserve about religious things gave place to an absorbed spirituality that forgot everything else. Whatever in the temper might have fallen short of meekness, if there had ever been in it anything austere, or anything that savoured of severity in judgment, or anything that had been less than entirely lovely,-all had manifestly departed for ever, lost in the tenderness of perfect love. In fact, the self of the old Adam, long crucified, now came to its last throes; and here, in the chamber of death, the servant could humbly imitate his Lord, and cry, "It is finished," over the body of sin, before he himself gave up the ghost. For of all this he seemed himself to be conscious. It was the subject of his frequent conversation; and ever and anon he would say, that he felt that the Saviour was removing the last stains from his wedding garment.-The process of final sanctification which has thus been described is simply given from his own testimony; and this part of his experience he would not have suffered to be withheld.

The last Sunday of his life was a high festival, worthy to be the last of time, and the precursor of an eternal Sabbath. He welcomed