The Life And Testimony Of Joseph Parry

Gospel Standard 1872:

Memoir Of The Late Mr. Joseph Parry, Of Allington; With A Brief Account Of The Late Mrs. Parry, His Widow.

Those who have been favoured to read the letters of our late friend, Mr. Philpot, will have noticed the name of the subject of this short memoir amongst his correspondents. The high esteem in which Mr. Philpot held him must also have been perceived, and a desire probably awakened to know a little more about a correspondent so esteemed, and especially about his end upon earth. We shall now attempt to satisfy, in some degree, that desire, only wishing we had more materials, and that it could have been, had it so pleased the Lord, the pen of his intimate friend, Mr. Philpot, to have written this memoir. We do not wish to glorify the man; but we think his name, for the Lord’s sake, was held in such deservedly high esteem by a large number of the Lord’s people that there ought to be some further notice taken of his career and death than has hitherto been done. “The memory of the just”—in his case, as well as his friend and associate Mr. Tuckwell—“is blessed;” and a short memorial may be to the glory of that rich grace on which his heart depended for all its blessedness.

Mr. Parry was born at Allington, Feb. 23rd, 1801. He went to school at Devizes, and was under the tuition there of the father of the well-known minister, Mr. Smart. He has told us of an interesting event whilst at school which makes us mention this. His master used to come to him and speak in a most affectionate way about eternal things, and this produced some impressions then upon his mind. On one occasion he told his master, who found him weeping, that he had been praying for a wise and understanding heart, But, as is commonly the case, these youthful impressions appear to have been very slight and transitory; such as probably most of us can remember, soon overpowered by the vanities of childhood and youth, and yet, perhaps, not without some checking influences upon our after conduct.

The real work seems to have begun afterwards, though in early life, upon the heart of our departed brother, when an inward conviction of the ruin of his state and condition by nature, and his need of the salvation of Christ became more prevalent and lasting. Of this period until about the year 1828 we can give no particulars, except that we believe from what we have heard from his own lips, that neither the preaching at Allington nor the religion of himself and others there had any great depth or peculiarity about it. In 1828 he had an inflammation of the lungs, and at this time the work seems to have been much increased and deepened, so as to produce a decided separation from the world, and standing for the truth as it is in Jesus.

In 1829 he was baptized, and we gather from his own letters that at this period his soul began to crave a more decided testimony from the Lord, and a fuller assurance of his interest and acceptance in the Beloved than he at that time possessed. This work of deepening went forward. Our friend evidently was brought under the influence of a more searching ministry. Mr. Warburton, Mr. Tiptaft, and Mr. Philpot preached at Allington (we name these good men not in any imaginary order of ministerial eminence, but as to the dates of their being raised up amongst us for the maintenance of God’s precious truth) and in the neighbourhood; and the searching, honest ministry of these dear men of God, whose memory should be precious to the churches, no doubt had a great influence upon the honest, sincere mind of our beloved friend and brother, Mr. Parry. He evidently sank into a very low, distressed state of mind; and from the letters of Mr. Philpot we can date the beginning of the great sinkings and state of despondency into which he fell, going down deeper and deeper until the Lord was pleased to give him a full deliverance in the year 1846.

We will here give a quotation or two from the above letters, displaying that tenderness of feeling and Christian sympathy so sweetly manifested by Mr. Philpot to his real friends:

“I desire deeply to sympathize with you in your present distress. I believe you will find it hereafter to contain in it the root and seed of the best of blessings. I know that it is useless to try to comfort you, that being the Lord’s prerogative. He alone can bring your soul out of prison, and, believe he will do it to the glory of his name…You have never been in such deep waters before; but when the Lord shall bring you out, your joys will rise as high.” (Letter 27, to Mr. Parry. See also 28.)

We make the extract, and point to these letters and No. 30, as giving us a clear view of the painfully afflicted state of mind into which our friend had fallen, and also as being a sweet testimony to his uprightness, honesty, and consistency of Christian character and conduct. This was no Antinomian, no careless walker, no abuser of the doctrines of grace upon whom God thus laid the heavy hand of soul trouble almost unto death. It was a good man who now had to cry and shout, and God seemed to shut out his prayer; whose bones waxed old because of his daily complaining; whose hope seemed removed as a tree, and who sank almost into the belly of hell, going down to the bottoms of the mountains. This is the man agonized with the fear of having been presumptuous, whose soul was filled with the sensations of the lost in hell, and who fell down and there seemed none to help him. The poor and the needy sought water, and at present there was none; but he was God’s dear child all this time, and it was no presumption, but the tenderest Christian sympathy in Mr. Philpot which led him to write encouragingly to him, and tell him he firmly believed all would be well and end in sweeter blessing. As Mr. Fox said to the good despairing lady, so might Mr. Philpot have said to good despairing Mr. Parry: “My soul for yours but you will come forth from this trouble, and praise and bless God for it.” But the dear man had to wait God’s time. The work went on. Bodily illness too was superadded: “Ah!” some might say, “God is gone out against him.” Satan doubtless did say it, and his own heart said it; but God said it not. God was with him and Jesus lent an unseen prop. “He shall not die but live, and declare the works of the Lord.”

He goes for health to Malvern; he finds trouble and sorrow; sinks as into a horrible pit; agony of body seizes him; anguish of soul comes on; the pains of hell are felt; he turns him with Hezekiah to the silent wall; he cries to God. Now is come the time of love. Jesus speaks; the soul listens: “I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.” The time of the singing of birds has arrived. Love and blood, righteousness, pardon, and peace flow from the lips of the Son of God into the poor hell-deserving sinner’s heart. He looked for hell, Christ gives him heaven. O the change! What tongue can describe it? From darkness into light, from death into life, from bonds into liberty, from hell into a felt heaven.

But we must let him speak here for himself; for who can do justice to these things like the person who has just experienced them? We turn to the “Gospel Standard” for 1847, March No., and refer to the letters. There are four of them, under the heading, “I was Brought Low and He Helped Me.” Three are from the subject of this little account, one from dear Mr. Tiptaft, breathing the same sweet atmosphere of grace and gospel liberty. The first of these letters describes in some degree the writer’s misery, and gives an extremely interesting account of an interview with some so-called Plymouth Brethren. It is very graphic, and almost provocative of a smile, as we hear the good people asking the poor burdened man, “Do you know the Lord?” and then delightedly exclaiming, “Here is one of the Lord’s children;” but we cannot help suspecting the poor man’s case would prove a nut rather too hard for the good people to crack.

But we pass from this to the second letter of the series. He writes:

“After I had been in bed about an hour, such a violent pain seized me in the lower part of my bowels that I surely thought it was inflammation, and die I must. The agony of my body and soul I can never describe, and I feared I should sink under its power. I lay in this condition for about two hours, begging and praying the Lord to spare me, and not to take me out of the world without some hope of my interest in his mercy. ‘O Lord, I am oppressed! Undertake for me! O do not take me out of the world without appearing for me. O Lord, how can I die unless thou art with me? Do speak one word to my soul’s comfort. Do water my heart with some portion of thy own word, to cause me to hope in thy dear Son Jesus!…I was nearly in despair when the Lord condescended to apply these soft and sweet words to my heart: ‘I will never leave thee nor forsake thee.’

“’Tis well with thee while life endures, 

And well when call’d to die.’

“O my blessed Lord,’ I said, ‘thou hast delivered my soul from the lowest pit; thou hast heard the cry of the prisoner, and hast preserved him that was appointed to die.’ My heart began to melt with contrition, love, and gratitude; a flood of tears began running down my face almost in torrents. If these could not have flowed, my heart seemed as if it would have burst in my body. ‘O Lord,’ I said, ‘thou art my God, and I will praise thee. What shall I render unto thee, O Lord, for having revealed such great love to my soul as to assure me thou wilt never leave me nor forsake me? The Lord is my God; he has promised me never to leave me.’ O the love and praise which my soul was again filled with! These words then dropped in with such sweetness that I never can describe to anyone: ‘If the Son make you free, then are ye free indeed.’ ‘O my blessed, glorious Jesus!’ I cried. ‘Through thy precious sufferings, through thy glorious holiness and matchless righteousness, I, a poor, guilty, filthy, vile, base, hell-deserving sinner, am made to be all fair and glorious in thy sight.’ I felt myself to be holy in his holiness, and righteous in his righteousness. O the vital faith and the love I had in this most precious Jesus! I did forget my poverty, and remembered my misery no more. ‘O blessed Saviour, I do not deserve it; I do not deserve it,’ I kept saying. ‘O, let me never sin against thee any more.’

“‘Jesus, thou art my chiefest good,

For thou hast saved me by thy blood;

Such a cost can ne’er be lost.”’

But we must forbear. We should almost have liked to reintroduce the whole of this series of letters again, but must confine ourselves to the extracts made, commending the letters themselves to the perusal or reperusal of the readers of this periodical. They will, we believe, well repay the reader.

We might notice here what we gather from these letters, that our dear friend, during the time of his sinkings, had some glimpses of the Lord’s countenance, and once in hearing Mr. Philpot was so sweetly encouraged that he half hoped the time of love was then come; but it was not so. He returned into deeper darkness and despondency until as noticed, when, withdrawn from all sound preaching at Malvern, he sank as into a horrible pit, and the Lord, in the sweet manner described, without any human agency, gave him his sweet and full deliverance.

How wonderfully the Lord manages things! The glory is alone his due. He works salvation in the midst of the earth; and he so governs matters that the glory shall be secured to himself and given to his own great name. “My glory will I not give unto another.” We see it here. Even dear Mr. Philpot must not be allowed to boast in this case. His excellent and eminent gifts are not to do the work of deliverance. To put a due measure of honour upon one who was enabled by grace to honour God, Mr. Philpot shall instrumentally go so far; then at Malvern the Lord shall do the crowning part. Thus, “Solomon has a thousand, and those that keep the fruit thereof two hundred.” This is as it should be. Bless the Lord’s holy name, who doeth all things well. Now our friend is brought into a state of soul’s experience into which he had never come before. The liberty with which Christ makes free is enjoyed in the heart and conscience. Peace with God and love to Jesus prevail in the heart. He is sealed by the Holy Spirit. He has not only come out of Egypt, but been brought again from Babylon; from the ends of the earth have songs risen unto Jesus. Glory to that righteous One. This is a standing in divine things not much known, we think, in these days, or much insisted upon, yet scriptural and sweet and good, We seem to discern in many cases a falling short of this; even in ministers there is a perceptible spirit of bondage accompanying much of a gospel sound from an ignorance of this experience. It is a great thing not only to have been at Babylon, but brought again therefrom unto Jesus, and to touch, not only no Egyptian, but no Babylonish unclean thing.” (Isa. 52) The goodly Babylonish garment may be in the tent as well as the other accursed thing.

But we are wandering.

Our dear friend seems after this to have been kept in a more even place, and to have been able, in some good degree, to maintain his interest in Christ. The work of the Holy Spirit in a gracious experience does something for a man. Christ’s people inherit substance. We do not mean that the assurance of our friend was the high unassaulted assurance, as Dr. Owen styles it, of the unexercised man. No! It was the tender, tried, holy assurance of the man spiritually taught and governed. Through what the Lord had done for him, being maintained ordinarily in the power of it by the Holy Spirit, he was enabled to hold his own with some good success against the temptations of Satan, infirmities of the flesh, workings of indwelling sin, and trials of mind, body, and circumstance which came upon him. Thus he walked with God, but walked humbly. The presumptuous assurance of the flesh, the accompaniment of notions of grace in an untender conscience, and the sweet, gentle, tried, godly assurance of the Holy Spirit, are as different one from the other as hell from heaven.

But we will now give a series of extracts from some letters received by us from our dear friend, which will display his state of mind better than our words can do:

“Allington, Aug. 21st, 1862. “My dear Friend, if you will allow me to call you so, I often think of you with affection, and I hope gratitude for past kindness in visiting us. The time is drawing near when we hope again to have the pleasure of seeing you, and hearing your voice with the message of mercy and peace through a blessed Redeemer.. He invites the basest of sinners to come and reason with him, however long and black the tale of sin, woe, and misery he may have to relate; and the Lord answers him with a single sentence: ‘Though thy sins be as searlet, &c., yet, washed in the fountain of my blood, thou shalt be whiter than snow.’ I hope I have known this feelingly. And what could I say against myself then? Why, in spite of all, I should not be saved. Neither law, sin, nor death eternal can seize or afflict this man. He is whiter than snow, and the law is none the worse for him.”

“I suppose you have read in the papers, or heard of the awful calamity that has taken place amongst my son’s flock of sheep, the small-pox. He has already lost 400, and great fears prevailed at one time that the whole flock would go. I can assure you it has been a most trying and anxious time with us all, not knowing where it would end. I find it a great exercise of faith when I lay down to rest to be enabled to say in faith, ‘I will lay me down in peace,’ &c., and also, ‘The Lord is on my side; I will not fear,’ &c. There has been a great deal of prayer going on, I assure you; and I sometimes hope my heart has been lifted up to the Lord that he would stay his hand. I felt it most acutely at first, as a trying calamity under the opposing hand of God, knowing that no affliction springs from the dust. O! It was to me a heavy stroke. My prayer now is that some good may spring out of this painful dispensation of God’s providence. If I am not deceived, I have felt prayer go up out of my heart to the Lord that the plague may be stayed, and I have been watching and waiting for an answer; [mel do trust it is now in some measure abated. O! May this trial be sanctified to the good of my poor son’s son! I have lately felt a greater desire than common that the Lord would call him out of the world, separate him from ungodly men, and bring him to walk in the strait and narrow path.

“How uncertain is everything here below! Who can tell what lies hid under these thick clouds? How I hope the Lord will turn his heart towards the one thing needful. I do trust my heart is sometimes poured out before him, and that I can show before him my troubles.”

We trust that the readers of this memoir will excuse the introduction of the far too flattering expressions of our friend concerning the one to whom he wrote. These extracts are not given for the glory of one so little worthy of such esteem and respect, but to illustrate the extraordinary humility of him who could sincerely make use of such a self-abasing language. We proceed to give portions of a letter received in 1864:

“And now, my dear friend, how are you getting on in heavenly and divine things? If you are crying out, ‘My leanness, my leanness!’ what ought some of us poor grovelling creatures to cry but, ‘Unclean, unclean!’ What a trying spot it is to be in for those who have in reality by the Eternal Spirit received the Lord Jesus into their hearts as their all- sufficient Saviour, who have been blessed with sweet communion, and have felt the precious blood applied to cleanse them from all their crimson sins, to have it all withheld or withdrawn from them for a season. I think no one can feeI it so much as those who have been highly favoured…I hope the Lord is still working by and in you as he has done in time past, as your only Captain, Lord, and Master…O how sweet it is when we can go to him for wisdom, righteousness, and strength. And if he say, ‘According to thy faith, be it done unto thee,’ or bid us ‘stand still and see the salvation of the Lord!’ O to understand his voice, to be led to himself, to be fed with his own body and with his own blood, this is the all in all to our poor hungry souls. ‘Who is a God like unto our God, pardoning iniquity?’ And I do humbly hope he sometimes sweetly makes it known by our feeling it richly flow into our poor souls.”

“1865…”Really, how our time flies! How quickly a year rolls away! Truly with us the end of all things is at hand! We shall soon be called out of time to stand before the God we profess to love and serve. What a mercy it will be not to be only professors but sincere servers of him who knoweth the secrets of all hearts. I was thinking over these things one night last week on my bed, and these words fell with solemnity and weight on my spirit: ‘He will judge the world in righteousness,’ and you cannot think how sweet the thought was that I worshipped in and through the very Person who would be my Judge. I communed with him on my bed as my Friend who certainly had known me and regarded me for many years, who had comforted my heart in times of trouble; we had been on terms of friendship for many years, and I had known it both by painful and sweet experience. I felt he had sweetly assured me, in times of great trouble and distress, that he would never leave me nor forsake me. Can it then ever be that he will leave me at last to sink into that place which my sins have merited? No! Impossible. O that I could live nearer to him, learn more of his secrets, glorify him more in my body and spirit, which I hope are his, and whose, as I have some grounds for believing, I am. O, is it not a wonderful mercy for you and me, my clear Sir, that we possess a measure of that grace which a dear God in covenant has bestowed upon his people?”

We next give an extract from a letter dated Sept. 11th, 1867, containing a very sweet account of the death of his friend, relation, and brother deacon, Mr. Tuckwell. The account is so sweet that though an obituary has already appeared from the pen of Mr. Philpot, this letter will, we think, be read with pleasure:

“My dear Friend,—I suppose you may have heard of the solemn bereavement myself and the little church and people at Allington have sustained in the death of our very dear and highly-esteemed friend and brother in the Lord, J. C. Tuckwell. If so, I cannot refrain from communicating it to you again, knowing as I well do that you take an interest in and feel a sympathy with the Lord’s poor and afflicted people. In as few words as possible I will relate what I saw and heard from him. Of late he has been gradually ripening, I believe, for his heavenly inheritance, where he has now for ever entered. It was my privilege to be with him and see his peaceful end. Sweet peace in Jesus he enjoyed. I took him by the hand a little before his departure, nnd said to him, ‘Dear uncle, I once more take your hand to say, Farewell!

“A few more sighs, a few more tears, 

And you will bid adieu to pain!’

He replied with such a heavenly smile on his countenance, looking up in my face, ‘Yes, yes!’ And in five minutes after breathed his last. He was not worse than usual the day before, and in the evening was at our house, and related to us a dream he had had the night before. It was that the last great day was come, and he heard such a loud crash, pointing out to us the direction it came from, and, said he, ‘I was so happy, and hoped that you and I’ (meaning myself), ‘should go together.’ It is a great trial to me, he will be so missed. No other member can fill his place. I do beg the Lord to reconcile me in measure to this very heavy affliction, and lead my affections up to that right hand where I hope to meet him again….My life appears sometimes to hang upon a thread. I hope the Lord may grant me a little of that peace promised to his mournful disciples:

“‘Joys to which the world’s a stranger!'”

“July 19th, 1870.

“My dear Friend,—I feel very unworthy to address you in this way, still, through the mercy of a precious Saviour’s love, hoping we are one in him, I take the liberty. I am glad to tell you we have found since you left us some marked evidences that the Lord’s blessing has been visible upon some poor sinners’ hearts under your ministrations during the short stay with us. I am satisfied the Lord’s hand was in the visit, and that it was according to his gracious will it was made a blessing. You are greatly blessed and very mercifully dealt with in many ways; yet not left without some difficulties, disappointments, and trials, like the rest of us…O that I could trust a covenant and promise-keeping God more than I do. I know that I do not properly trust him and throw my cares and burdens upon him; and for want of faith how many anxious hours, weeks, and even months do I bring upon myself. Our great adversary is stronger than we poor worms, and seldom are we alive to his wiles.”

We now come to the last of our series of letters, by means of which we have hoped to give a view of our dear friend’s Christian character and experience subsequent to the remarkable deliverance at Malvern in 1846, and we think they portray very clearly our brother’s Christianity. The letter we now give was written at the beginning of the year in which his earthly pilgrimage ended. His partner in life had been for some time evidently sinking, though very gradually, from the exhaustion of nature consequent upon advanced years. To see her thus decaying before his years filled our friend’s heart with much sorrow and many forebodings. and, as his letter indicates, he could not bear to think of losing her. But how short-sighted are we poor worms! How many unnecessary anxieties trouble us! How difficult to let the God of our tomorrow take care of it for us! How we place to-morrow’s cares, real or imaginary, upon to-day’s shoulders, and sink beneath the burden. Our friend was taken first, and his partner in life survived him until the 17th of November in the same year, and then quietly, and in the enjoyment of peace with God, breathed her last, and joined her husband in singing the praises of him whom they had served and loved upon earth. We may truly say in their case, with a slight variation, what David wrote of Saul and Jonathan: “They were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their death they were not long divided.”

“Jan. 4th, 1871.

“My dear Friend,—What almighty grace it must have been that brought us from death to life, from darkness to light. He quickens whom he will, and all our attempts to do it ourselves are vain and fruitless, except his power and grace are put forth. I do hope I can tell you sincerely there are times when my soul goes out in living faith, and ventures on a living Christ to draw comfort and peace from his blessed fountain fulness; and when he is pleased just to give one smile, how I can praise him.

“As you may expect, I have still an afflicted body, and my poor wife gets more feeble; but through mercy we can both keep up through the day. My Wife cannot go to chapel, which is a trial to her; hut we must have something to remind us of our state. You can imagine what a trial the thought of losing her is to me. I try to pray to the Lord to continue her a little longer to tread her weary way with me. Still I know not what the Lord’s will is concerning her. In my right mind I feel that all is ordered in his infinite wisdom who cannot err, and shall work for our good and his glory. She is an honest, meek, and quiet woman, and the Lord has promised ‘the meek will he teach his way,’ ‘the meek will he guide in judgment.'”

Not long after writing this last letter, our friend was taken with that illness which ended his mortal life. It was in the first week in March that it began; the complaint being a recurrence of his old malady, but in an aggravated form. He suffered excruciating agony of body, and this continued with very little intermission until death terminated his sufferings on, as stated in the “Gospel Standard,” the 17th of May, 187l.

During the earlier part of his illness he was much and sensibly supported and blessed by the Lord. Two hymns were made especially sweet to him:

“Jerusalem, my happy home; 

more particularly the lines:

“With Canaan’s goodly Iand in view, 

And realms of endless day.”

And Berridge’s sweet hymn:

“If Jesus kindly say;”

and the lines:

“I long to lay me down and die, 

And find eternal rest.”

But during a part of his illness he fell into much trouble of soul. His mind was very dark, and much severe temptation was upon him. Satan, no doubt, acted upon him through the weakness and suffering of his body, tempting him to wonder why he suffered so much, and even to blaspheme the Lord. But the Lord kept his conscience very tender; so that he was instantly checked as to murmuring, and not allowed to speak against God. Still, through this very tenderness, he was afraid that the temptation was the same as if he had thoroughly yielded to it; and thus from the tenderness of his conscience Satan gained a power of harassing his mind with fiery darts of accusation. But the Lord did not leave him, and after he had been enabled to mention these temptations to another, the force of them seemed to abate, and he regained much of his usual state of mind and good confidence toward God.

We must now pass on to his last days, Mr. Porter, the minister of Allington, having furnished us with accounts of interviews with him. He often said in the midst of much agony how light were all his pains compared with what his sins deserved. He expressed himself very grateful for the least help afforded him, and thanked the Lord that he had so many blessings though many were denied them, who, in his estimation, deserved them far more than be did. As his afflictions abounded, the enemy thrust sore at him; and he once said to his minister that the enemy disputed every inch of the way of his spiritual life. He many times expressed his need of patience and resignation, and, at times, they were most blessedly and conspicuously granted to him. It was very blessed to hear him speak of the favours and blessings the Lord had bestowed upon him; but his soul passed through many changes, and yet he proved in the midst of them all that the Lord’s loving-kindness changeth not. He often expressed a great desire to be gone, longing to lay down the body of sin and death. He told his minister how the Lord favoured him in the beginning of his illness by applying Isa. 43:2 to his mind. He repeated the verse, and said, “I have some deep waters to pass through.”

A few days before his death the Lord favoured him much and supported him most blessedly; and when his minister entered the room he said, “My dear friend, I have been feeling this morning if I never saw you again I shall die in love with you. I thank God I am sensible this morning, and comfortable in my soul. I long to be gone. Pray the Lord to give me patience.” His minister then read and prayed with him, and their fellowship, we believe, was sweet; the psalm read and the prayer being suitable. He then said many kind and encouraging things to his minister, giving him good and wise counsel, and his blessing.

We may say here that it was the firm belief of Mr. Parry that Mr. Porter was providentially sent amongst them at Allington to take the pastorate over the people; and, therefore, like a father in Christ, having minister and people upon his heart, he spoke to, counselled, and blessed him. He spoke on another occasion in the same kind and loving way, and it must be very sweet to Mr. Porter to remember these things, and encourage him in his service to the Lord amongst that people. On the 12th of May, when his minister went into his room, he said, “My dear friend, I shall die loving you. I cannot say much, I am so weak. You can do me no good; you can only look upon me. Now take my hand and say, ‘Good bye;’ for I am going. He did not say much after this. The pain was gone, and he looked very happy. and remained so until his departure in the night of May 16th.

Thus departed this life, in the peace of God, our well-taught, experienced, and deeply-tried friend and brother in Christ, Mr. Parry. At his funeral the love and esteem in which he was held by members of the Lord’s people, and indeed by others, on account of his honourable upright character, was clearly shown, many from various parts congregating upon that occasion. It was a solemn time, and many felt that not only a dear child of God, but a great supporter of the truth of God in those parts, had gone to his eternal rest.

Mrs. Parry, his widow, survived him just six months. There was a remarkable difference in their natural characters, and in the Lord’s dealings with them. Mrs. Parry generally took a low place, and spoke of wanting that full assurance of interest in Christ which her husband, through great depths, had attained to. But she was a constant follower after the things of God; she waited, we believe, day and night for his full salvation and assured peace. She was honourable and consistent in her walk and conversation in the church and in the world. Indeed, seldom have two persons more sweetly and conspicuously adorned the doctrine of Christ than our dear departed friends.

About three years ago, Mrs. Parry received a great blessing under a sermon preached at Bottlesford from the words: “Draw me; we will run after thee. The king hath brought me into his chambers,” &c. (Song 1:4.) The savour and sweetness of this never entirely left her, and was, at times, renewed. It was one of those sealing times of tho soul, leaving a more permanent impression. The bodily health failed very gradually, but as nature decayed the life of God increased and brightened. The soul was brought into a sweet state of peace. She desired to depart and be with Jesus. The hope of this life seemed quite spent since her husband’s death, and she longed to leave this world, and enter into rest. Toplady’s hymn was sweet to her:

“‘When languor and disease invade;” 

especially the lines which seemed to express her state:

“Sweet to lie passive in his hands, 

And know no will but his.”

Mrs. Parry breathed her last on Nov. 17th, 1871, and on the 24th was laid in the same grave as her husband and a godly sister, Mrs. Cannings. Her end was peace.

We thus bring to a conclusion our memoir of Mr. and Mrs. Parry. If we consider Mr. Parry’s character, we cannot help admiring its many excellent features. There was a singular dignity coupled with great humility. He was one who could be loved, but certainly not one that any person would have felt inclined to take liberties with. He was singularly upright, and divested of those meannesses of character so disagreeable in some. His heart was large and generous. Indeed, we may almost use the word princely, not referring to means but to the will to be liberal. He was ever ready to forward the Lord’s cause, sending ministers about the country to help the causes to which such assistance was desirable. He was a man of excellent judgment in divine things, both as it respects men and doctrines. His own religion had passed through fire and water. He had learnt truth in the school of Christ, and was not to be driven about by every wind of false doctrine. His experience, too, of professors and ministers was large. He had but little sympathy with men preaching high and dry Calvinistical doctrines, or equally dry experience, going along in the old beaten track, using the old hackneyed expressions, opening a text according to the most approved method, without originality, without unction, dew, or anything besides abundant self-confidence. For such persons and other ministerial pomposities, the subjects of Luther’s litany: “From all great doctors, good Lord, deliver us,” he had little reverence, and Allington pulpit was rigidly shut against them. But where he received he was a firm and loving friend, and we believe his judgment was much and properly regarded in all his neighbourhood.

He was a sympathizing friend to the Lord’s poor, and a wise church officer. Indeed, we can truthfully say that we have met with few as noble-minded, upright, loving, Christian men as our dear friend Mr. Parry. His wife was, as he writes, a meek, quiet, gentle woman. And we do believe that their children, friends, and the church in those parts have suffered an immense loss.

May the Lord grant, if his blessed will, the same grace to their children, and indeed to many more, and may their lives be equally honourable, and their deaths as peaceful and blessed.—G. H.