Preached, on Lord’s Day Morning, Nov. 1st, 1840, in Manchester.

“I will offer to thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving.”—Ps. 116:17.

Under the Jewish dispensation, God had appointed a variety of offerings and sacrifices for the Jews, under certain circumstances, to be attended to; and if you turn to Leviticus 7, you will find that the offering of the sacrifice of thanksgiving was to be accompanied with unleavened bread, mingled with oil, with wafers anointed with oil, and with cakes fried in oil. Now in reality, beloved, there is no sacrifice of thanksgiving without this oil; and it is…

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Preached on Tuesday Evening, Sept. 13th, 1838, in Jewry Street Chapel, London, on Behalf of the Aged Pilgrims’ Friend Society.

“The Lord hath done great things for US, whereof we are glad.”—Ps 126:3.

There are three things in the great mysteries of salvation that many professors of religion seem almost alarmed at. One is that God really saves sinners. If a minister of Jesus Christ is led to describe a sinner half as he really is, for to the bottom of him he never can, he shocks their delicate minds, and they are almost paralyzed, and call it the high road of licentiousness to suppose that God saves such naughty sinners as those; whilst a poor soul under the…

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William Skelton’s Parting Song at Brabourne

The following verses were dropped into the mind of William Skelton, as he sat upon his seat, making shoes: and, after preaching his farewell sermon to the dear people at Zion Chapel, Brabourne, from 2 Corinthians 13:11, on the last Lord’s day, in April, they were given out by our esteemed Brother John Mate, and sung by the congregation.

Father of mercies, God of grace,

Grant us the visits of thy face,

While we would crave with godly fear,
Thy blessing for thy servant here.

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Lord, wilt thou hear a sinner’s plea,
Who humbly begs one thing of thee?
Oh! make my drooping soul alive,
The day that I am twenty-five.

Twenty years of my life has flown,
Before I heat’d an heart-felt groan;

I then was fill’d with worldly life,

And knew nought of the painful strife,

Which since I’ve found within me reign,
Which causeth sorrow, grief end pain . . .

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