on this subject, he replied, "I do not merely possess hope, but assurance. I know that when the earthly house of this tabernacle is dissolved, I have a building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.""

Contrary to the expectation of his friends, God was graciously pleased to raise him up again. On Monday, November 14th, he thus wrote: "I found my mind divinely supported, during my late illness, with the pleasing prospect of a better world, had it pleased Almighty God to take me from the present state."

On Monday, May 16th, 1842, Mr. Pearse met his class for the last time. One of his members states, that, "having offered a short but solemn prayer, he proceeded to express his thanks to God for the support he had received in his affliction, and also for an opportunity to meet his class once more. He stated, that he had proved the neverfailing faithfulness of the divine promises; that his heart was fixed, trusting in the merits of his Redeemer; and that he rejoiced to hear of the continuing spread of the Gospel. He exhorted us to 'work while it is day.' 'I feel,' he said, 'that my continuance here cannot be long the infirmities of old age are gathering fast upon me. I often think, when I lie down at night, that I may awake in eternity; but, I thank God, this occasions me no alarm. Though I feel myself to be an unprofitable servant, yet I have a good hope, through grace, that to me death will be eternal gain.""

The following Lord's day, the public services had reference to the Launceston Wesleyan Sunday-school. Mr. Pearse was present; and, to the mind of the writer, the place which he occupied, the expression of the countenance of his venerated friend, are distinctly present. His son reports, that "to this anniversary he attended with more than ordinary pleasure. At the conclusion of the services, he expressed his great delight that the schools had claimed so much of interest and support, and that the claim had not been rejected. On his return home, he renewed the theme; especially in reference to the children, and to the joy which he felt while listening to their hosannahs to his God and Saviour. The day of his own redemption and victory now drew nigh. While yet the melodies of these children were softly fading and sweetly dying on his ears, he was called to prepare quickly for that world where praise, more sweet, more loud,' shall never die. Indisposition bade him retire for rest; but he found it not both disorder and disease had begun effectually to do their work. His family became greatly alarmed. Surgical aid was called; but when it was found that this could afford but the mere alleviation of pain, Mr. Pearse said,This sickness is unto death. I feel assured that I shall die. Yet I know whom I have believed.' When in an agony of pain, a friend addressed him in terms of sympathy. He replied, 'I am very ill. How could I endure this, but for the prospect of a better world? Under my sufferings, what a mercy to think,

There is a land of pure delight,

Where saints immortal reign;
Infinite day excludes the night,

And pleasures banish pain!""

Throughout life," his son observes, "he was accustomed to express his sorrows and his joys in the language of our hymns. On Thursday, when, for a short time, his sufferings abated, the comfort and hope of his mind were thus declared :

The pain of life shall there be o'er,

The anguish and distracting care;
There sighing grief shall weep no more,
And sin shall never enter there.'

And soon after, in reply to some kind inquiry from one of his family, he said,

'Rejoicing now in earnest hope

I stand, and from the mountain-top
See all the land below:
Rivers of milk and honey rise,
And all the fruits of Paradise
In endless plenty grow.

'A land of corn, and wine, and oil,
Favour'd with God's peculiar smile,
With every blessing blest;

There dwells the Lord our Righteousness,
And keeps his own in perfect peace,

And everlasting rest.""

On Friday he was visited by Mr. Groves, and with much of cheerfulness conversed with him, especially on a sermon which he had once heard from, "God is love." "I could easily perceive," his beloved Minister states, "that the God of love was not only present with, but also precious unto, him; and that, when he again adoringly said, 'God is love,' he gave utterance to what he both knew and felt." The next Monday, Mr. Pearse was again visited by his Minister. "I perceived," the latter states, "that his strength had greatly lessened; but Mr. Pearse perfectly knew me, and stated that his departure was at hand. He added, 'I have no desire to live or to die: I wish the will of God to be done.' On being requested to commend his soul to God, we knelt around his bed, and, from the devout responses which he made, were assured that God was with him. When we arose, he said, though with several pauses, yet distinctly, and with calm confidence,

Now I have found the ground wherein
Sure my soul's anchor may remain,-
The wounds of Jesus, for my sin

Before the world's foundation slain;
Whose mercy shall unshaken stay,
When heaven and earth are fled away.""

These were almost the last words Mr. Pearse uttered. He gradually sunk; and on Wednesday morning, June 1st, 1842, his happy spirit fled to God.

So lived, and, in the seventy-sixth year of his age, so died, William Pearse, of Launceston,-the writer's early, faithful, and affectionate friend and counsellor. To say, in conclusion, that he was not faultless, is but to say that he was a human being. Yet even his faults leaned to virtue's side. As to those who regard the word "Puritan," or the older term "ascetic," as expressing what, in manner, they dislike in religion,in their estimation, Mr. Pearse was somewhat puritanical; that is, there were certain indications, which the Church of Rome, and her modern Anglican friends, would highly commend. The blandness which reigned in his heart was not always correctly depicted on his countenance. They who know human nature best, and the tale of Zopyrus, Socrates, and his disciples, will not in this matter judge hastily, but seek righteous judgment. Mr. Pearse was carefully clean and neat in his personal appearance; and, in this respect, quite the opposite of clownishness, which he much disliked: yet for that (especially in his own sex) which is vain, fantastic, trim, and affected, he had but little mercy. The same may be said as to what he regarded as covetousness. Eminently liberal himself, he had no sympathy with those of an opposite character; nor with the spendthrift, whose profligacy and waste are the reproach and sorrow of thoughtful, diligent, and prudent parents. Mr. Pearse could reprove what he thought to be wrong. Happy is he who can always do this aright! W. Penn says, "He that suffers his difference with his neighbour, about the other world, to carry him beyond the line of moderation in this, is the worse for his opinion, even if it be true." The writer will not conceal his thoughts, that if some of the reproofs which Mr. Pearse conscientiously thought it his duty both to God and to man to give, had been somewhat differently given, they would have been more effective. But having attempted to forget, for a moment, that Mr. Pearse was his friend, that so he may not be regarded as the mere panegyrist, instead of the faithful biographer, his mind and soul recoil from the pursuit of imperfections. Perhaps anguish of heart sometimes gave utterance to words; and if so, let those who are in haste to censure wait awhile. Instead of too rigidly scanning matters of this kind, we all may be more profitably employed in seeking that religion which will lead us to imitate his virtues. Is it not apparent, even from this imperfect sketch, that, by grace, Mr. Pearse was a right-principled and truly good man? that his great object was to get and to do good, that God might be glorified, and his fellow-men benefited? Do not these appear to have been the ruling principles of his mind and heart? And to what did these lead in affliction, age, and death? "Died Abner as a fool dieth?" Neither died Mr. Pearse as the sceptic, the unprincipled, the mechanical religionist dies! No! but as Abraham, and Stephen, and Paul departed, so did he.

And here we may pause a moment, and ask, Should not the humble and obedient Christian, with increasing confidence and comfort, fall back on the divine promises, while he sees in what peace and triumph a Christian can die? "Will any man," Addison demands, "be so impertinently officious as to tell me that this is only fancy and delusion? Is there any merit in being the messenger of ill news? If it is a dream, let me enjoy it, since it makes me both the happier and the better man." Or can men continue to aver that the ministry which leads to religion of this kind is unhonoured, not in the order of God, and without his sanction?-that to the people whom it thus prepares, communion should be refused, as being in a state of uncovenanted schism? Deserve they, in the manifestation of those fruits which declare the tree to be good, to be blown on and blighted, trodden on and supplanted? And for this spiritual, intelligent, living religion, what is to be substituted? Must it be "the commandments of men?" traditions and crosses, cowls and candles, vestments and genuflexions? Hear the church, as an Apostle is the teacher therein: "Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of the world, and not after Christ." Let the holy religion of the Gospel, whether found in this Christian body or in that, as known by Mr. Pearse, be my heart's best choice and portion! "Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his."

This memoir will conclude in the words of Mr. Pearse's eldest son: "Mr. Pearse was much respected in the neighbourhood of his birth, and where he had lived nearly seventy years. About three years before his death, one of his family met the worthy Clergyman of the parish, who was about the same age as Mr. Pearse: they had known each other from their youth. He made very particular inquiries as to the health of Mr. Pearse, and added, 'I have known your father a great many years. I always entertained a very high respect for him, and we have lived on good terms. Though he is a Dissenter, that does not matter: it has never interrupted our friendship. I believe him to be a good man, and I hope we shall meet in heaven.' Yes; if, having received Christ Jesus the Lord, we faithfully walk in him, and endure to the end, we shall be saved; and thus shall we meet all the saints of God in glory everlasting, and, being numbered with them, be ever with the Lord."

SUBMISSION TO GOD, AS CHOOSING OUR INHERITANCE FOR US.

If that state or condition of life be undoubtedly the best, which is least subject to temptation, then this may afford us these two following directions::

1. Let no man, in his prayers, peremptorily importune God for any particular enjoyment or state of life; that is, let him not pray and prescribe to God in the same petition. God alone knows what will help, and what will hurt, us. He only can discern the various windings and turnings, the particular bent and constitution, of the heart, and how this or that thing would affect or work upon it, and how far such or such a condition would agree or disagree with it. He knows the proper suitableness and unsuitableness of every state of life to each mind and temper, which it is hardly possible for the ablest and deepest heads to have a perfect knowledge of. For such very often pray for they know not what, even for their own bane and ruin; and, with equal importunity and ignorance, seek their own destruction. They think they ask for bread, and it proves a stone; and for a fish, but they find and feel it to be a serpent; and, therefore, it is often in mere love to their persons, that God answers not their prayers. In a word, the wisest man living is not wise enough to choose for himself; and, therefore, we have cause to flee to an infinite Wisdom to direct our requests, as well as to an infinite Goodness to supply our wants.

2. As a man is by no means positively to request or pray for any particular enjoyment or state of life; so ought he, with the greatest satisfaction of mind, to accept of, and acquiesce in, that state and condition which Providence shall think fit to allot and set out for him. No man living is in this case fit to choose for himself; and if we refer it to God to choose for us, surely there is all the reason in the world that we should stand to his choice. We all come as suppliants, or rather as beggars, to the throne of grace; and to beg and to choose too, we know, is too much. Is thy condition in the world poor? are thy circumstances low? and thy fortunes, in the eyes of all about thee, mean and contemptible? Repine not at it; for do we not beg of God every day, not to lead us into temptation? And shall we not allow Him to judge which is the best and surest way to keep us from it? Possibly this very thing that thou complainest of, is that by which God is effectually answering that prayer. He denies thee honour, because he intends thee heaven. He who thoroughly knows and truly loves thee, sees that, instead of being high and powerful, it is better for thee to be harmless and safe. In fine, we have nothing to do but to commit ourselves to God as to a faithful Creator; to receive what he assigns us humbly, and to enjoy it thankfully; knowing that, by denying us what are only gaudy nothings, perhaps gilded poisons, he is doing us the greatest kindness in the world; which is, to keep us from temptation; and, by keeping us from temptation, to deliver us from evil, to fit and prepare us for all the good that can be prayed for, even for Himself, the endless, inexhaustible Fountain of it.-South.