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Ezekiel urged, we again and again brought forward. Month after month, year after year, were slowness of speech, timidity, constitutional nervousness, and continual fear of man, urged as so many just reasons why we, of all men, were most unsuitable for the ministry; but the more we contended with the Lord, the more the Lord contended with us. No sooner were we delivered from one trouble than we were plunged into another; rescued for a moment from one temptation we were almost immediately brought into closest contact with another. We did indeed prove by bitterest experience the truth of Bunyan's words::

"The Christian man is never long at ease,

When one fright's gone another doth him seize."

Just emerging from some trial or temptation, we would now and then gain a moment's respite-and, comparatively speaking, it was really but a moment; under the indulgences of the interval, with Newton"Lord, why is this? we trembling cried, Wilt thou pursue thy worm to death?"

And at times it would be

"'Tis in this way, the Lord replied,

I answer prayer for grace and faith."

Then with this explanation we used to long to speak a word of encouragement to poor tempted, sin and Satan-harrassed souls; if we found comfort ourselves, we wanted directly to share it with them. Oh! what times of wrestling and entreaty we had with the Lord for them. Again we used to swim, as it were, in an ocean of trouble. Numberless times we have said to the Lord, "One ounce more trouble, Lord, without additional strength to endure it, and we shall sink to rise no more." "Remembering mine affliction and my misery, the wormwood and the gall. My soul hath them still in remembrance, and is humbled in me" (Lamentations iii. 19, 20.) God grant that they may never be forgotten, or that we should ever cease to sympathize with and pray for those who are in the like furnace of temptation and trial. "If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning."

Under a

We so often found the mingling of trial with temptation. long and agonizing train of the latter, in which it seemed at times as if either the mental powers would give way, or the very heart-strings break, we especially remember one evening, when (after a season of much brotherly intercourse and communion with a beloved Christian friend, Mr. F—, of Edmonton) the Lord was about to open a new channel of suffering. At its appearance we writhed with anguish. Immediately after separating from the friend referred to, the very fears just before expressed, the Lord seemed about to bring on in all their agonizing reality. An interval of strength was given. Intense

struggling with the Lord was vouchsafed, followed by increased interest in the welfare of fellow-sufferers, but still great opposition to the ministry. There was experienced that of which the prophet Jeremiah speaks (xx. 9), "His word was in mine heart as a burning fire shut up in my bones, and I was weary with forbearing, and I could not stay." It appeared as if utterance-an expression of our sorrowing exercises-would alone give relief; and yet there was such aversion to it. At this season, dear readers, we became acquainted; and with the scene of anguish which followed most of you are already familiar. The heart-breathings with which we were indulged through the medium of this Magazine, we thought might afford the desired relief, and might probably, after all, be that occupation in the Lord's vineyard to which, for so many years, the mind had been directed; but it proved otherwise. Relief was experienced certainly; but not to the exclusion of that deep soul-travail which a repeated inward reference to the ministry was the means of producing.

But to hasten. The opposition of mind which had continued so many years, began at times, in the year 1841, to loosen. There was great weight with the argument (Ex. iv. 11), "Who hath made man's mouth, or who maketh the dumb, or deaf, or the seeing, or the blind? Have not I, the Lord?" And Jer. i. 7, " Say not I am a child, for thou shalt go to all that I shall send thee, and whatsoever I command thee thou shalt speak." The annexed promises came with much power and sweetness to the heart (Ex. iv. 12): "Now therefore go, and I will be with thy mouth, and teach thee what thou shalt say." And when we still pleaded our weakness and unfitness, the word spoken concerning Pharaoh was read into the heart with peculiar force, (Romans ix. 16), "Even for this same purpose have I raised thee up, that I might show my power in thee." Thus we saw it was to be the Lord's strength shining through and in the midst of our weakness, that no flesh should glory in his presence.

To us, however, it appeared very remarkable, that as soon as our opposition was so far slain, and our rebellious will so subdued, as to enable us to say, "Here I am, Lord; do with me as seemeth thee good;' ;" "Send, I pray thee, by the hand of whom thou wilt send" (Ex. iv. 13); the Lord, as in the days of old, "left off communing," and we, like Abraham," returned to our place" (Gen. xviii. 33). All intercourse, at least upon this one all-important matter, seemed to have closed; and we were left to conjecture what all these things could mean.

The afore-mentioned exercises were, however, forcibly renewed by the following most unexpected circumstance: Spending a few days at P, towards the end of the summer, 1844, the Lord's-day opened upon us with a softness of spirit and tenderness of heart that were perfectly unaccountable. It was a season of sweetness both unlooked for and unsolicited. Quite a "first love" hour. We were the more surprised, because there had been for some days previously, in point

He was

of feeling and realization, a shyness and a distance between the Lord and the soul. No holy familiarity, no refreshing intercourse; but now the Lord drew nigh, and conversed as with a friend. reminded of the prodigal acts of which we had been guilty; but no sooner were they introduced than he put them away-gave the eye of faith another glimpse of the ocean of blood that

"Hides all our transgressions from view,"

and made it, indeed, "a time of love;" caused us again feelingly to exclaim :

"My willing soul would stay

In such a frame as this,

And sit and sing herself away
To everlasting bliss."

"We should

"But what does it all mean, Lord ?" was the inquiry. rejoice to talk to a few poor sinners to-day about this precious love and blood, were it thy will. Is it so, Lord? But who are they? where are they?" Service-time came, and not far from the house where we were stopping was an upper room, in which some half dozen poor tried saints-readers of this Magazine-used to meet to read and pray. We mingled with them; and, after a hymn and a prayer, one not personally known to us asked if we would read a sermon which he then held in his hand. It seemed but a small request-too small to be refused. But all our previous comfort and enlargement being gone, it was with reluctance we stood forward. We however, took the sermon, and began to read; but the confusion of mind and head, together with the distress of heart that instantly took possession of us, exceeds our powers to describe. Something secretly whispered, "You must speak-you must speak." "Speak," thought we, "It is difficult enough to read, much more to speak. That is out of the question." So we stuttered and stammered on, till really a dizziness and a confusion came over us, that we could neither see the book, nor understand a line; and, thus compelled, we stopped. We began to apologize, when a voice said, "We don't want you to read if you can speak." Turning about to sit down, we found the seat had either been removed or we could not see it; and thus compelled as it were to stand, we ventured to begin. But apparently to make things worse, directly opposite was a young man who, having through life, been afflicted with a sort of St. Vitas's dance, every now and then made a spring which was enough to startle a man of the strongest nerves, much more one in such a predicament. This, however, the Lord kindly overruled for good; and, bringing the plea of Jacob (Gen. xxxii. 12), “And thou saidst, I will surely do thee good,' forcibly to the mind, he was pleased to give a door of utterance, and with it such a personal participation in the truths brought forward, as we thought in that short half-hour amply recompensed us for the

sufferings, trials, and temptations of a whole life. It was a never-tobe-forgotten season, and afforded at least a taste of the sweetness and satisfaction of being employed as a messenger to the King of kings. This, as may be expected, brought on the travail again as to what might be the Lord's intentions concerning us.

We would be glad now to bring before our readers a very remarkable train of providential leadings, in which the hand of God was most conspicuously seen, but for the introduction of names for which we do not feel ourselves authorized. We shall be compelled, therefore, principally to confine ourselves to the simple unaffected leadings of our own mind, leaving it to our readers to draw their own conclusions.

Prior to the last-mentioned circumstance, in the month of June or July, 1843, our dear friend and correspondent, Alfred Hewlett, was in London; and, after a most refreshing conversation with him, the Lord was pleased suddenly to arrest the mind by the application of Matthew ix. 37, 38. "The harvest truly is plenteous, but the labourers are few; pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest that he will send forth labourers into his harvest." With the paplication of that passage, attended with a heavenly visitation that for the time completely unfitted us for the worldly engagements in which we were occupied, the Lord seemed as if with an audible voice to make the inquiry, "Shall I now take you home, or continue you here to use you in my vineyard?" Instantly our choice was the latter; and we can with truth say, that habitually as we had before desired to "depart and to be with Christ, which is far better;" from that eventful morning we have (notwithstanding manifold trials, temptations, and sorrows) preferred waiting all the days of our appointed time, until our change come, provided that in the interim we may be found engaged in our Master's service.

Shortly after this we received a letter from Mr. Hewlett, in which he said, "If I were to mention you to the Bishop of ——, would you be willing to go into Ireland for a time?" Our mental reply was, instantaneously, and most determinately, "No, never; to Ireland, indeed, that dreaded place; amongst a mass of Roman Catholics, against whose religion we have always spoken and written; no, that we never will. That point is quite settled, and nothing shall induce us to waver. That thought we will put away at once' and for ever!" Within an hour or so after this very resolute determination, we were walking amid the busy din of London, when the Lord suddenly applied these words, " And Abraham went out, not knowing whither he went ;" and with the application he led the mind back to the days of childhood, through youth up to manhood, affording in a moment a bird's-eye view of life, and at the same time putting the inquiry, "Who took thee, a stripling, from thy father's house, to dwell among strangers; watched over thee-preserved thee-provided for thee?

Did not I the Lord? preserve thee in Ireland? arduous than the past?"

And am I not as able to go with thee and Can the future be more strange or We were mute. How could we deny it? Each objection was silenced in a moment. We wrote back to Mr. Hewlett, "Yes, to Ireland we can go, if the Lord makes the way plain." And, strange to say, great as previously was our opposition both to the place and the people, from that hour to no part did such an interest attach itself as to Ireland and the Irish. Though months again rolled over, without anything having been said or done in connexion with our movements, yet no sooner did the mind recur to Ireland, than a certain something seemed attached to it, which, though altogether indefinable, was fraught with peculiar interest. We felt spiritually what a man would feel naturally, who, coming into possession of some land, longed to explore certain valuable mines said to be in connexion therewith. There was a vein of promise which we longed to investigate. The course of God's providence seemed by no means to further our steps, yet there was a mental leading-a secrét inclination, because it stood associated with two most heavenly seasons, in which the soul being for a time favoured to rise above the selfishness and encumbrances of the flesh, seemed absorbed in the will and pleasure of Jehovah. Its language then was,

for,

"Choose thou the way, and then lead on;"

"Cheerful where'er thy hand shall lead,
The darkest paths I'll tread."

Ah! reader, we have sometimes walked the crowded streets of London, so full, so peaceful, so happy, under the precious sensations of love, and that in connexion with Ireland, that we have been compelled, as it were, to ask Jehovah-Jesus to stay his hand, for the earthen vessel was full. The very thought that there might be one soul in that poor, dark, benighted country to be gathered in by our feeble means, was such as to warm the heart, and fill us with an intensity of desire to be engaged there in our Master's work. Whilst writing, some of these seasons recur to the mind with considerable refreshing, as well as satisfaction from the renewed proofs thereby of the Lord's faithfulness; but we forbear; and hasten onward with our narrative to state that, after the lapse of nearly two years, by means of another friend and correspondent of the Magazine-who had quite a different object in view-we were admitted to an interview with the Bishop before referred to. This was in the latter part of April, 1845. The circumstances attending that interview will never be forgotten. It was as if a whole string of promises had pointed to and concentrated in that altogether unlooked-for hour. The kindness and condescension we met with warmed the heart, and drew from us, most unintentionally, a summary of the exercises of twenty long and anxious years in reference to the ministry.

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