With the attainment of this object, Mr. Gutteridge felt that his public work was done. He had passed the appointed limit of human life, and though still in the enjoyment of health and a vigorous constitution he naturally sought repose. A gracious providence indeed lengthened out his days to a period of nearly twenty years longer, and he continued in various ways to exert himself in many plans of general usefulness, but he entered upon no new undertaking, and gradually withdrew more and more into the retirement of private life. In the bosom of his family, and the circle of his Christian friends, he found a sphere in which his presence was always welcomed with delight, and the opportunity for enjoying that quiet, and cultivating those affections, which are so congenial with advanced age and with the prospects lying immediately before it. Nor can those who survive him look back upon these last years of his life without a grateful sense of the Divine goodness which notwithstanding some severe trials made them on the whole so peaceful and happy; his character meanwhile unfolding in new forms of matured piety, and exhibiting the rich and mellow fruits of long experience in the ways of God.

PART III.

PRIVATE LIFE-LETTERS-DIARY-HIS EIGHTIETH BIRTHDAY -ILLNESS DECLINE AND DEATH OF MRS. GUTTERIDGE DEATH OF HIS SISTER- - RESTORATION OF HIS OWN HEALTH -INTERVIEW WITH DR. CARSON-ANNIVERSARIES-STANDS ON THE BRINK OF THE JORDAN IN A WAITING POSTURE SETS HIS HOUSE IN ORDER DIRECTIONS TO HIS EXECU

TORS SKETCH OF HIS CHARACTER-CLOSING SCENE -CON

CLUSION.

IN the third and concluding portion of this memoir we return with the subject of it into the scenes and relations of private life. Seldom absent from his family, or separated for any considerable time from his more intimate friends, opportunities for correspondence did not often occur. The letters which have come into my hands are few, and were written not so much in the interchange of the sentiments and familiarities of friendship, as on particular occasions, or in connexion with public business. Still there are some which refer to bereavements in the families of his friends, and in which he suggests consolations to the mourners. From these a few

extracts are subjoined, together with portions of

two or three others.

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To Miss Gutteridge.

Denmark Hill, April 24th, 1804.

Mr. H. positively declines publishing his sermon,* and offers such arguments that I think we must not press it further. The charity is greatly indebted to him for his exertions on its behalf, and the publication of his sermon would certainly have proved a further benefit; but we must be content I believe with what he has already done. Persons of all sentiments seemed highly pleased with him; and he was pressed to preach at the Gravel-pit meeting for Mr. Belsham, which he could not be prevailed on to undertake; which perhaps some persons will attribute to his want of liberality, but which I think is a mark of his good sense and truly serious turn of thinking. There are some persons who tell us that religious sentiment is of no importance. If so deism may be put in competition with Christianity. The one has many fine sentiments respecting the existence and attributes of the Deity, but it is the latter alone that brings us acquainted with the "true God, and Jesus Christ whom he has sent." If religion consist merely in a system of morals, Seneca or

* Supposed to be the sermon preached by the Rev. Robert Hall at the anniversary of "The Widows' Fund."

Socrates have taught these, and their disciples might have continued the practice; but it is only under the idea of sin being an evil that the sufferings and death of Christ can be satisfactorily accounted for. He died the just for the unjust that he might bring us to God.' It is of the last importance that we entertain just views of the divine character, and that we feel ourselves to be not only the creatures of his power, but sinners in his sight, as from a sense of our own Sinfulness must arise a sense of our need of a Saviour. Viewing ourselves as exposed to punishment we fly to him who is able to save to the very uttermost, having obtained eternal redemption for them that believe in his name. Christ is thus precious in our esteem, and we can sing with Dr. Watts,

The next extract is from a paper entitled "Reflections on the death of a young friend." It seems to have been written about the year 1813, and to have been addressed to his friends Mr. and Mrs. Hepburn on the death of their son Henry,

"Are parents called to yield their offspring to the stroke of death? Do they survey a numerous family each filling up an appointed station and all moving together in harmony and love? Which of

these gifts of heaven can I spare? may the parent exclaim. My breast affords an affectionate place for each of these endeared connexions. One removed would indeed leave a sad chasm in my heart. They are my children, my jewels, my joy in life, and I trust I shall find them my comfort and my support in declining age. But am I bereaved? Shall I then murmur and complain? Even so, Father, for so it seemed good in thy sight' is the disposition I wish to feel. The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away,' nor would my unyielding spirit refuse to add, 'blessed be the name of the Lord.' I would be unfeignedly thankful to thee, O God, that my child was not removed from earth till I have reason to

hope he had been led into the way of peace; till a consciousness of sin and guilt had led him to flee to the Saviour. It was thine influence, Almighty God, on his youthful heart that taught him to pour out his soul at thy footstool, and to seek thy favour as his supreme felicity. Are the brothers and sisters of the dear departed weeping for his loss? 'Jesus wept' at the tomb of Lazarus, and wept because he loved him.' But let not your sorrow exceed. How much reason is there to conclude upon a foundation solid as the word of God that your loss is his eternal gain? Say ye to the righteous it shall be well with him,' is the declaration of him who 'cannot lie.' You have beheld the dear deceased sinking from day to day under the power of disease;

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