"One day, adverting to the divine faithfulness, he said, 'Great is the faithfulness of my God. It is nearly sixty years since I first came to him. He gave me then a large bunch of promises, a note on demand. He told me to come to him when I wanted anything. What times I have been since then! Thousands of times! But I never went in vain. I found the bank to be good. It never stopped payment.'

"When I last saw him, I reminded him of the intercession of Christ. He said, 'O, yes; Christ is in heaven. He entered there with his own blood. Yes; he continued his intercession with his own blood: there is no deceit here! You know that the brethren of Joseph took the lad's coat, and dipped it in the blood of a kid: they took it to the old man, and he thought it was the blood of Joseph. But this is the blood of the true Joseph, which still speaketh in heaven; the blood of the real Son of the Father that sprinkles the throne of grace.' Thus did our departed friend enjoy 'perfect peace' in his last sickness. He was manifestly ripe for heaven."

Thus far Mr. Pennington's statement goes. A young lady, nearly related to one of our Ministers, now well known on both sides of the Atlantic, who took great delight in his company, and frequently visited him, has furnished the following profitable reminiscences of this faithful and deeply experienced servant of Christ:

"When I called to see him, a few weeks before his last illness, he said, 'I have been asking myself, Where is my dependence? What are my expectations beyond a few months of possible continuance here? And, glory be to God, I find that my soul is anchored within the veil. I have not a doubt of it. There is no name given under heaven amongst men, but the name of Jesus; and I want no other. I have come to him, a poor, wretched sinner; and he will not reject me.' I asked, if he needed mercy now, as much as at the beginning. Yes, he instantly replied, for every moment. There never was one action of my life, that I can now look at, excepting through the blood of the Lamb. In whatever light I look at it, I see, all is mercy but what a beauty there is in those words, Ye are complete in him! I am a great sinner; but I take the prayer of the poor thief on the cross, Lord, remember me! I have been thinking on that promise, Then shall the righteous shine as the sun, in the kingdom of their Father. I look, and am dazzled; but I cannot see to the end of it, and I shall not, till Christ says, Come up higher.' One foggy morning, he exclaimed significantly, 'There are clouds and mists; but it will brighten, it must brighten. The infirmities of age are coming thick upon me: I have not been out for some time; but before long I shall go to my Father's house. You know I am not at home yet, though it is not far off. Only a step, from this poor, broken-down body, to the mansion preparing for me!' In answer to some inquiries respecting his age, he said, 'O, I may say I am a wonder to many; a monument of mercy and how sweet to know,

that heaven is so near!' When we took leave, he said, 'Remember, the night cometh: hold on your way. Watch unto prayer, and the end will be glory. You will find life a warfare to the last.' I said, You can say, I have fought the good fight!' He replied, 'I can unhesitatingly say, I know that my Redeemer liveth. Christ has fought for me. It is all of grace; and I shall shout, Victory! through the blood of the Lamb.' The next time we called, he said, 'Yet saw I never the righteous forsaken. I am just waiting till my change come; and I am not alone, the Spirit of God is with me. The Lord himself has stood by me, saying, Be of good cheer. At another time, he said, 'You cannot think what a comfort that promise has been to my mind, The God of peace shall bruise Satan under your feet shortly. Yes,' he continued, he was bruised at my conversion, and has never since quite overcome me; and now he is to be trodden under foot. What a mercy!' Then, alluding to a conversation he had had with a Deist just before his illness, he said, 'But I know whom I have believed. What a pity, what a pity, that he will not be persuaded even to wish for happiness! O that my head were waters, and mine eyes fountains of tears; for I could weep day and night for their sins, and for my own too. But nothing that defileth shall enter there,' said he, looking upward: there shall be an eternal separation from sinners. Yes, we must part at the end of the journey. Heaven would not be heaven to me, if there were not two places. The blackest night is not so dark as the unconverted heart; but the sun of the redeemed shall no more go down.' The last time we saw him, when he was able to converse, he said, 'I believe I have had an increase of faith. Every promise seems like a sun to my soul. All is firm as a rock. How beautiful it is to get a near view of the Father, Son, and Spirit, all united for our salvation! Our fellowship is with the adorable Trinity.' I said, 'But a little while, and faith will be lost in sight.' 'O yes,' he exclaimed: 'he has brought me nearly to the gates of the city. My flesh and my heart faileth; but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever. I asked him, if he felt no fear at the thought of the grave; when, after a pause, he said,

'Where should the dying members rest,
But with the dying Head?

And I have the promise that, when the earthly house of this tabernacle is dissolved, I have a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.' I reminded him of the cheering words of St. Peter, Knowing that the same afflictions are accomplished in your brethren that are in the world.' He immediately rejoined, 'Ah, it is encouraging to think how many are landed beyond the reach of the accuser of the brethren: they have endured the cross, and they now wear the crown.' He often quoted from the

hymn, beginning, 'Jesus, thy blood and righteousness,' &c., and remarked with pleasure upon the circumstance, that it was the last hymn which he was permitted to sing in the temple below. His joy was, that, before long, he should take up the same glorious theme, and continue it eternally in the temple above."

MEMOIR OF MR. JOHN TYRER,

Of Nineveh, in the Birmingham West Circuit :

BY THE REV. THOMAS DICKIN.

He was for many years

MR. TYRER'S father was a truly good man. a member of the Wesleyan-Methodist society at Handsworth, near Birmingham, and had the charge of a class. He governed his family in the fear of God. His son never was allowed to run about the streets or fields on the Sabbath, nor on that day to be absent from the house of God. To young Tyrer this restraint was somewhat disagreeable; but a circumstance occurred which taught him that even this restriction on his youthful liberty might be, permanently, of the greatest advantage to him. One Sabbath, during the American war, a pressgang was perambulating the neighbourhood; and while he was secure in the house of God, under the careful eye of his godly father, several boys of his own age, who were playing at ball, were pressed into the King's service, and suddenly carried away from their friends and home. This event he ever regarded as providential.

When about twelve years of age, he was awakened to a sense of sin, and a fear of its consequences. He earnestly sought for the forgiveness of his sins; but, to use his own words to the writer of this article, "he went a long way round to the Saviour." He thought that he could not be pardoned, while a single thought of evil crossed his mind. There was, however, at that period, a gracious revival of religion in the neighbourhood; and in the prayer-meetings many obtained deliverance from the burden of their sins, and were enabled to rejoice in God their Saviour. Young Tyrer sought it with them; but not seeking it, as he afterwards saw, exclusively through Christ, he found it not for some time, and was much discouraged. "At last," again quoting his own words, "I sought it in the way in which every other sinner must seek it: I sought it for the alone sake of Christ; and then I found it." And great was his rejoicing in consequence.

For some years he went on simply and quietly, manifesting the genuineness and strength of his inward piety by the consistency of his, conduct, and the evidently-increasing stability of his character. When he was about nineteen years old his good father died, very happy in God; and his son was requested to take the charge of his class. Well does the Apostle exhort young men to be "sober-minded," that they VOL. XX. Third Series. AUGUST, 1841. 2 Y

may be equally preserved from undue elation, and from undue depression. John Tyrer suffered from both. Feeling the honour of the office to which he was called, rather than its responsibility, his heart was lifted up within him; and thus grieving the Holy Spirit, the consolations of God were "small" with him. He now sank into a desponding frame of mind, and gave up the charge of the class altogether. He thus suffered for about two months, when he saw the errors into which he had fallen. He deeply humbled himself before God, regained the peace he had lost, and again took the charge which he had given up. But, though these early chastenings were painful, they were also profitable. He saw more clearly the nature of the path in which it was his duty to walk, and the extremes, on either hand, which he had to avoid. For more than half a century after this, he diligently, successfully, and honourably sustained the office of Class-Leader in the Wesleyan society.

The first Sunday-school at Handsworth was established by him and a few others, like-minded with him; and many living witnesses can bear testimony to the zeal and pleasure with which he laboured for the spiritual good of the children of the poor.

When about forty years of age he married; observing, in this important period of his life, the apostolic injunction, "Only in the Lord." In the year 1809 he removed to London; where, also, he was entrusted with a class, which greatly prospered under his care, being both divided and subdivided, during the five years that he spent in the metropolis.

On his return to his native village, he cheerfully devoted himself, his time, and his substance to the cause of Christ. There was always a peculiar heartiness in all his actions, which awakened a lively interest in the minds of his companions, or the spectators. In his family, in his class, and in the public worship of God, he spoke, sang, and prayed with the warmth of a man who was thoroughly in earnest in transacting the great business of religion. Nor did he ever indulge in the more than doubtful practice of wandering from chapel to chapel, to gratify his attachment to the services of some favourite Preacher. Although the chapel in which he usually worshipped was for some years greatly embarrassed in its financial circumstances, and the congregation often very small, yet he regarded it both as the house of God, and as his own proper place of public devotion; and not long before his death, having made an occasional visit to a neighbouring chapel, and one that is large, and usually well filled, he said that “he liked his own place the best, and never felt so well as when he was there."

As a servant in the Soho works, he was deservedly esteemed, and treated with great liberality by his employer. By the steady and industrious portion of the men employed there, he was greatly respected; and even they who feared not God, and would sometimes

laugh at his Methodism while he was in health, yet greatly sympathized with him in his sickness, and praised him, and regretted his removal, when dead. The consistency of his character was acknowledged and admired.

The affliction which terminated his life came upon him somewhat suddenly, but did not find him in an unwatchful and unprepared state. The religion of his youth was now the ripened religion of his declining manhood; and sustained him in suffering, and more than comforted him in the prospect of death. Sir Matthew Bolton's family Physician being sent to see him, he promptly said, "Doctor, let me speak first, if you please. I have been a steady man, and a religious man from my youth, and I have now no fear of death. I know what religion is: you need not be afraid, therefore, of letting me know the worst." "That is well for you," replied the Physician, "and will contribute more towards your recovery than anything I can do for you."

In the commencement of his affliction I called to see him, and heard many of the foregoing statements from his own lips. He was very ill, but happy in God, and fully reconciled to death. "Religion is a brave thing," said he, "if men only have it right; if they have it here, here :" (laying his hand on his heart :) "I feel I have it here! God makes me happy; and when I lie awake, he gives me songs in the night." I reminded him that he did not depend on his past obedience, or his patience under present sufferings, but upon Christ alone. He replied, with great ardour, "A blessed hope it is; an anchor of the soul both sure and steadfast."

In severe and depressing agonies, he was very graciously supported, and testified of the goodness of his God. "I was brought low," said he," and he helped me." Throughout the whole of his heavy affliction, his conversation was grateful and joyous, devout and heavenly. Towards the last, his mental powers occasionally failed; but he never wandered on religious subjects. Here he seemed always collected and at home.

The Wesleyan Hymn-book was a fruitful source of comfort to him. He loved to repeat, "Rock of ages, cleft for me," &c.; and would frequently request that the hymn beginning, "How happy every child of grace," &c., might be read to him.

The Sunday evening before his death, Satan was permitted to make a fierce assault on him; and he had a severe mental conflict for several hours. But the foe was foiled by the weapon of "all-prayer." The dying saint exclaimed, "I want eternal life! I want eternal life!" and almost immediately added, in a triumphant tone, "Yes; and I have it, through the atonement of Christ."

As he approached the gates of death, he seemed to feel increasingly the insignificance of the world, and the obtrusiveness of all subjects relating to it. "Do not talk to me about anything of a worldly nature," he said to those who watched around his bed. He loved