and her language he understood in that plain, obvious, and grammatical sense in which her ministers are enjoined to receive it. He was not under the necessity of resorting to any laboured scheme for reconciling the doctrines of the church, as they appear in the Articles, Homilies, and Liturgy, to his own sense of the Holy Scriptures. He found an obvious and perfect agreement between the principles of these formularies and those of his Bible. He was sincere in his attachment to our ecclesiastical establishment, and would have equally professed her ereed whether she were endowed with wealth or oppressed by poverty.

His disposition was most kind and amiable: it excited the affection of all who knew him. His manner had a benevolence and suavity rarely met with, even among good men, which endeared him to his parish, his family, and his friends, and rendered his intercourse with them peculiarly useful.

His publications were confined to two occasional sermons; one in favour of the Society for the Conversion of the Jews, and the other in favour of the Missionary Society, in whose objects he was particularly interested; but he has left behind him a work consisting of a scheme of sermons designed for the younger clergy, part of which he had prepared for the press. Should it be published, it will prove, I doubt not, a valuable present to those for whom it was composed.

ary Institution in the county of Northampton in 1812. He justly considered that Society as both a bright ornament and a powerful support of the cause of Religion and Benevolence. He also believed it to be a pillar of the Established Church of England; a blessing to all foreign nations, and the glory of our own. Under this impression; he united most cordially with that host of wise and good men of all ranks, who have so happily succeeded in promoting the formation of Bible Societies, throughout every part of the British dominions.

A highly valued friend of Dr. Gilbee observes concerning him: "What he was as a preacher is well known. No man understood his subject better, or entered more heartily into the spirit of it. He was lucid and methodical on every subject he handled. His style was classical, elegant, and simple; his attitude and manner in the pulpit highly engaging. All he said came with great effect, because his own mind felt its influence. Those who heard him the oftenest were his greatest admirers. There was great variety in his preaching: he always had new matter; and the Lord blessed his labours to a very considerable degree.

"The leading features of his character were these: He had great compass of understanding; his knowledge was general. In nothing, perhaps, did he excel so much as in humility. And if ever I saw a man without guile, it was Earle Gilbee. Kindness and bene

mind. It was as his meat and drink to lessen human misery and produce happiness. He was a true lover of peace, and would make any sacrifice to maintain it. I never knew a man who was more dead to this world: perhaps he even erred in inattention to his earthly concerns. The cir cumstance in his character which I chiefly lamented, was, that he lived too much in the shade. He was too fond of a retired life.

"It would be unnecessary to add, that he made one of the best parish priests, husbands, fathers, and friends."

After several years passed in the useful and honourable exercise of his ministry, it at length appeared to be the will of his heavenly Father to remove him from the church militant on earth to that triumphant in heaven. For several months before he died, he declined greatly in health, but still retained his usual flow of spirits, with an easy contented mind, under great bodily weakness, and sometimes under excruciating pain.

The following is an extract from a letter written by Dr. Gilbee in August last, from Ramsgate, to a friend, the Rev. Mr. Newcatre :

"After all, my dear friend, life is hardly worth an anxious thought. Were it not for its intimate connection with eternity, it would be a mere nonentity, a dream, a shadow, a nothing. Thus as ministers we teach our people, and as ministers let us exemplify our own lessons; we shall then be solicitous not so much for our continuance in this world as for an honourable departure out of it. I thank God, that in the prospect of my removal, my chief regret is, that I have not served him better. On the other hand, in the prospect of living a few more years, my chief desire is to serve him with more fidelity in the time to come. In that regret and in that desire I see my best evidences. Encouraged by them, I can quietly leave it with God to shorten my life or to lengthen it, to sweeten it or to embitter it, as seemeth to him good.

"You must not, however, suppose that I have no fears with regard to death and a judgment to come: on the contrary, I am at times sharply exercised by them: but still I would not be without them. Our fears I consider as very unpleasant companions; but perhaps they are our best safe-guards, inasmuch as they excite us

to

prayer and watchfulness, discover to us our insufficiency and nothingness, and cause us to cling more stedfastly to the blessed hope set before us in the Gospel. Such I experience to be the blessed fruits of fear; nor will I guarrel with the unpalatableness of this medicine, while it operates thus kindly. I need not detail this argument further. The balance between lifeand death is easily struck by the Christian. The Apostle encloses it all in a nutshell: Phil. i. 21; For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. May the grace of God ena ble us both to attain to his experience in this point!"

He returned from Ramsgate to Barby In September. It was not long before an increase of alarming symptoms began to appear, and he was evidently sinking into the grave.

The night before this excellent man'departed, he sent for a few of his most intimate friends in the town, in order to leave with them his dying testimony. He addressed them to the following purpose :

"I do not think it right to quit this world without leaving behind me my dying testimony, for the comfort of my people. I charge you, therefore, to tell them from me, that the truths which I have preached to them bear me up now above the fear of death. My faith in Christ is without a cloud, and makes me happy in the prospect of death. The Gospel supports my soul; but I have to repent that I have not been more faithful and zealous for the Lord. The religion of Jesus is so consoling to me, that it suppresses all doubts and fears. For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.' Though my family at this time want a father's care, yet with Christ 1 can confidently trust my soul, my family, and my people; knowing that Infinite Wisdom cannot

err.

"Tell my people, that I feel myself a sinner, a penitent sinner, a sinner saved by Divine grace; and charge

them to cleave to the Lord with full purpose of heart, and they will find the blessed effects of this in life, and the comfort of it in the prospect of death. Tell them to be rooted and grounded in the truths of that Gospel which I have declared unto them. Yes, tell them from me, their dying pastor; from one who has a regard for their immortal interests; to watch and pray much, that their spiritual enemies may not get the advantage over them. I entreat them to attend diligently on all the means of grace, waiting upon God, that they be not moved from the hope of the Gospel; and let them not be ashamed to declare to the world that they are on the Lord's side. Let them act a faithful part, that they may in their last moments say, from heartfelt experience, Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation.'

"Tell those of them who have some thoughts of religion, not to put off such concerns to a future time, but to be in earnest now; for time fleeth fast away, and death is at their door. O bid them from me, not to trifle with their precious time, but to seek Christ with their whole hearts while he may be found. The work is most important; let them no longer halt between two opinions, but be decisive, seeing their eternal salvation depends upon it.

"Tell those of my parishioners who have made light of the truths which I have preached, now to reflect and consider how many opportunities they have lost, how many sermons they have heard with in difference, how many Sabbaths they have trifled away, and how much time they have squandered which can never be recalled. O tell them, that it is my earnest prayer that the death of their minister may be the life of their souls. Assure them, that I find the world to be now what it has been to me for a long time, nothing more than a shadow, a vapour, a bubble, a nothing. Tell those who have treated me and the truths

which I have preached with scorn and contempt, that I now solemnly declare my firm persuasion, in the prospect of my speedy dissolution, that nothing but faith in the crucified Redeemer, and a full dependance on his mercy, can render a sinner acceptable in the sight of God."

The manner in which these words were delivered was truly affecting : the tears of affection flowed down his cheeks; his eyes and hands were lifted up to Heaven, while he earnestly prayed for a blessing on his last efforts to benefit the people of his charge, by leaving with them his dying testimony to the truth of the Gospel. He seemed also greatly to rejoice in the prospect before him~~~ in the anticipation of the glory on which he was soon to enter.

On the next day he sent for the Rev.Mr.Newcatre, who has given the following account of this his last interview, in a letter to a friend :→→→→

"He expressed great joy on see ing me, and clasped me in his dy◄ ing arms. He said he was very thankful to die in the bosom of his family; that he would not turn over a straw to live, unless it were the will of God. I know,' said he, whom I believe.' I wished him to spare his little strength; but he was de sirous rather of turning the short time yet left him to a good account. I could wish,' he said, to have some of my people here. I could wish to preach Christ to them once more; but tell them how I die, and how I love them.' He was so collected, as to send his love to one whom he knew to be near and dear to me. He embraced Mrs. Gilbee with great tenderness, expressTM ing his strong attachment to her, and his esteem for her worth.

"When his strength failed him he grasped my hand, smiled, and bowed his head, to express that all was well. This he did till he became quite insensible.

"About six he left this world to enter on an eternal Sabbath, and to see Him whom his soul loved."

Another friend, describing his last:

moments, says," His conversation was most heavenly and interesting, and his mind most deeply impressed with the importance and glory of Divine things. He said, among other things, If I were in the pulpit now, how I should preach Christ to my people, and leave with them my dying testimony for Christ!' He then called on those who were present, to join him in singing the hymn which begins,

"Come ye that love the Lord,

And let your joys be known."

He repeated the whole with great feeling, and soon after fell into a kind of slumber, spoke no more, and departed without a sigh or a groan.' His funeral was conducted in the following manner :-Before the corpse walked two medical men, who had attended him; his attorney, and the clergyman who read the burial service. Six clergymen, as pall-bearers; the widow and her eight children; and several of his nearest relations, followed as mourners. At the gate before his house the whole parish met the funeral train of their revered minister. Every one who could at all afford it, had clothed himself in black. They thus followed him in regular and mournful procession to the church, where (an interesting and pathetic address was made to the numerous hearers, by the Rev. Mr. Newcatre. Weeping and sighing were heard from every part of the congregation. The cause was not trivial: Dr. Gilbee was no longer there. He died on Sunday, October 2, 1813, while his people were at church.

The three last texts from which Dr. Gilbee preached were the following: Phil. i, 23; "I am in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to depart, and to be with Christ, which is far better."-2 Tim. i. 10; "Who hath abolished death, and bath brought life and immortality to light through the Gospel."-2 Tim. ir. 1; "Who shall judge the quick and the dead, at his appearing and his kingdom."

For the Christian Observer. CHRIST'S INVITATION TO THE WEARY.

WHEN we familiarly term our present state a "vale of tears," we do not properly mean, that every step in our pilgrimage to eternity is wearisome and painful; but, that each individual has a human share of suffering. The most careless ob servers know, that some of their fellow-travellers are, for example, languishing under disease; others distressed in mind; a third party op. pressed by indigence; a fourth per plexed by the cruelty of a relation, or disheartened by the ingratitude of a friend; several ruined in their estates, and several in their reputation; and that there are numbers who, though they have suffered none of these things specifically, are yet disappointed and vexed by the world, and, with many a bitter sigh, confess to themselves, that whatever else they possess, they have not attained the happiness they once expected. In this sad and disordered state of mankind how welcome ought to be the invitation which Jesus Christ addressed to the world; Come unto me, all ye that labour, and are heavy laden and I will give you rest! It does not appear that this was exclusively addressed to such as mourn for their sins, but generally to every person who feels himself depressed and disquieted; to the man of affluence, and the man of fame. I instance these characters, from a conviction that the first of them has not reached the summit of the golden eminence which his avarice keeps stedfastly in view; nor that the latter is at all satisfied with the applause, which is the envy or boast of his flatterers and dependants. Could we penetra e into their bosoms, we should either smile or mourn at the contemplation of immortal creatures panting after an unknown something, and, burdened by feelings of disappoint ment and insulted vanity. The life of an earthly-minded man, uo matter what shape his earthliness as

sume, is a life of discontent. He may not be conscious of this while engrossed by a favourite pursuit, and sustained by health and general success: but let him be surprised by sickness, or by a derangement of affairs once prosperous; let the career of his happiness be rudely arrested, and then the feebleness of his strength will discover itself; he too will be weary and heavy laden. Under these circumstances he will na turally attribute his inward distress to the secondary cause of it; when the real source is the earthly mind, which neither expected trouble, nor is able to endure it when inflicted. I am not here adverting to such afflictions as are permitted by God to come even upon his most faithful servants; but to such disquietude and dismay as a lover of the world brings upon himself by his very eagerness to possess the world. There is an essential difference between an unsought but heaven-commissioned affliction, and the perplexity which is the natural fruit of human wishes. Leaving, however, this character for the present, let me turn to one of another description, to a humble penitent, whom I will suppose to have lived in a state of false security, indifferent concerning his eternal prospects, at ease in his sins, mingling confidence with ignorance, and practical infidelity with self-righteousness. At length he begins to suspect the stability of his foundations, to inquire, whether he has not been throughout deluded; and proceeds by the first gradations of alarm and conviction, to the great question, "What must I do to be saved?" This is the man who is weary and heavy laden. He looks back on his past life as a long course of mistake and rebellion; he has no consolation in re-tracing a line never to be trod again; his hours are gone, and gone for ever, or rather preceding him, to be witnesses of his folly at the day of judgment; his conscience is loaded with the remembrance of a slothful, wasted life, and regards itself as all but inaccessible to the impres

sions of the Holy Ghost. The time
was, when his solicitude and anxiety
centered in this world: but now
they are transferred to eternity. Sins
which once appeared to be venial
errors, or were never suffered to be-
come matter of reflection at all, now
hang as a depressing weight on his
soul: forgotten follies are restored
to his memory: he becomes his own
judge, and his decisions are unrelent-
ing. He regards a world once flatter-
ed and flattering, as his enemy and
the 'destroyer of souls. Death also,
and the reckoning to come,startle and
alarm him; and the fear of what
lies beyond that reckoning is no
longer dispelled by the society and
example of the unthinking:-
Those awful syllables, hell, deatlı, and sin,
Though whisper'd, plainly tell what works
within ;

His hours no longer pass unmark'd away,
A dark importance saddens every day;
He hears the notice of the clock, perplex'd,
And cries-perhaps eternity strikes next!
Hard task-for one who lately knew no

care,

And harder still as learnt beneath despair. All this, more or less, takes place in the mind of him who is burdened by the discovery and the conviction of sin. It is not, indeed, safe to prescribe a certain course of inward disquietude or terror as an indispensable evidence of repentance; but it would be treachery to the souls of men to deny that a process either of serious uneasiness, or of actual terror (I do not shrink from the use of a strong term), has been experienced by the majority of religious persons at the outset of the Christian life. Jesus Christ grounds his own eternal Gospel on the assumption that his followers feel such a degree of guilty anxiety, as causes them first to examine, and finally to embrace, a doctrine suited to such an exigent case as theirs and theirs only. In fact, what is the promise which he adds to his invitation? I will give you rest.

To recur in this place to the character whom we left in a state of mere worldly suffering, as distin