will do so. O Lord, guide me with thy counsel, and afterwards receive me to glory." His conviction that he ought to retire from a situation to which he now felt himself physically unequal, was strengthened by the decease of his only remaining brother, of which he makes the following record : "Nov. 2.-This post brought me the tidings of my brother's death. He departed this life on Tues. Oct. 31. He had been confined to his room two years, in consequence of a stroke of paralysis. Upwards of a year ago, the Lord brought him to himself, and he died well. All my brothers are now gone! I hear the voice of the Lord saying, Be ye also ready.' This event, together with various symptoms which induced him to expect that his own death might be sudden and not far distant, led him to serious consideration and earnest prayer for guidance as to his future course; the interests of the Institution requiring that sufficient notice of his retirement, if determined upon, should be given, to allow of the choice of a suitable successor. “I never thought and prayed so much on any occasion as on this;" he remarks: this change is to my mind peculiarly solemn, as I consider it a prelude to my last change for eternity." The result of consultation with judicious friends, calm and mature deliberation, and fervent prayer, was, a full persuasion that he ought to retire at the next Conference. He therefore concluded to take an early opportunity to give formal notice of his intention to the Committee of the Institution. "My time," he says, "to submit to be a Supernumerary seems at hand. Well, the will of the Lord be done. I am the clay; thou, O Lord, art the Potter." Mr. Entwisle had, as may be imagined, peculiar feelings, after having been actively employed for above half a century, in the prospect of retiring into comparative obscurity. Some of these are expressed in a letter addressed to his oldest living friend, the Rev. Richard Reece, and dated Dec. 18, 1837. After a few general remarks, he says: "Probably you have heard that it is my intention to retire from my present situation at the Conference, if spared. I have conversed on the subject with Dr. Bunting, the President, Messrs. Hannah and Treffry, and others, who think it is quite proper in my case, especially as my medical friends think it would be unsafe for me to remain. There are symptoms, which in their opinion, render it necessary for me to be exempted from the responsibility and care connected with my office here. For the same reasons, it would be improper for me to undertake a circuit. Of course I look forward to that situation in our connexion which Dr. Clarke called Super-miserable.' I have not that view of it. If indeed I were to retire without the opportunity of preaching according to my ability, I should be miserable. Preaching does not hurt me, especially if the chapels are not too large; and I enjoy it more than ever, blessed be God. Happy if with my latest breath, I may but gasp his name; Preach him to all, and cry in death, The change to which I now look forward is, perhaps, my last change before my final remove to a future state. Of course, my mind is solemnly affected, though perfectly satisfied that it is in the divine order. After fiftyone years' uninterrupted labour, I must feel deeply, though not painfully. Still I may and I shall labour. My desire is expressed by our poet, when he says, 'My body with my charge lay down, And cease at once to work and live.' "We have now fifty-two students. They are excellent young men without one exception, studious and pious. The prospect of a succession of faithful ministers in these young men is very cheering. I trust a successor to me will be found that will train them up for Methodist Preachers." The concluding paragraph is quite characteristic. His very soul was bound up with the interests of Methodism, which he believed to be eminently, though not exclusively, the work of God. He forgets himself in his concern for the advancement of this work. When he can no longer do justice to his own convictions of duty in reference to it, he beckons to another more efficient to occupy his post. And in the otherwise gloomy prospect of comparative retirement from a work he loved more than life itself, he is cheered with the hope of a succession of able ministers of the New Testament, and willingly submits himself to decrease, in the assurance that they would increase, and efficiently carry on the work, when he should be gone to his reward. Early in January, 1838, at a General Meeting of the Committee of the Institution, Mr. Entwisle gave formal notice of his desire to resign his office at the ensuing Conference. His brethren, the preachers, and the lay members of the Committee treated him with all possible kindness and respect: they expressed their regret that on account of his infirmities he deemed it expedient to retire; yet unanimously agreed that he was acting aright, and that it was honourable to give them notice of it so early. So much was said expressive of their esteem and love, that his mind was deeply affected. Having now determined to leave the Institution, and communicated his decision to the Committee, his mind was at rest; and during his remaining term of residence at Hoxton, all his powers were exerted for the benefit of the students, who were greatly endeared to him by the prospect of separation at no very distant period. Another important question, however, still remained to be settled: where he should pitch his tent during his remaining sojourn in the wilderness. Many suggestions were offered to him. The writer of this Memoir, and his wife, whom Mr. E. loved as his own daughter, and who most tenderly reciprocated his affection, would have esteemed it a great privilege and honour, could they have prevailed upon their revered father to reside with them. His son gave him a pressing invitation to do so, urging as a reason in favour of this arrangement, that it would give both him and the circuits in which he might labour all the advantage of his long experience in the conduct of its affairs, as he would be able to use greater freedom with his son than with any other minister who might happen to superintend the circuit in which he might reside. His son was the more disposed to urge this, as it had long appeared to him that the Connexion sustained serious loss in the retirement of venerable men, who though no longer physically capable of the full work of a circuit, are nevertheless in all other respects better fitted than ever advantageously to direct its affairs. To this, however, Mr. E. objected on the ground, that his son as an itinerant had no settled dwelling-place; that he felt it undesirable to spend his last days among comparative strangers; that having been a housekeeper for forty-six years, it would be most agreeable to have a house of his own; and that his age and growing infirmities rendered it necessary to have a settled home the residue of his days. "Your proposal is kind," he remarked, "but I cannot bear the idea of removing from circuit to circuit. While I was effective, I never felt a desire to remain longer than the usual time in any circuit, however agreeable; nor any reluctance in going to another place. I considered I was in the divine order, and was happy therein. Now, my feelings are different. I must, if spared, be chiefly in one place; and it is pleasing to be at no great distance from one's relatives, and amongst old friends. I cannot rationally reckon upon many years' pilgrimage in this world; and my great concern is to be in a situation retired, and favourable to personal religion, that I may be fully prepared for my change whenever it may come and at the same time endeavour to do all the good I can in my way home. "My mind inclines to some part of Yorkshire: at present, however, I do not determine as to the place." Many were the affectionate and urgent invitations received by Mr. Entwisle from old and esteemed friends, to go and spend his remaining days among them, when they learned that he considered it his duty to retire from the itinerancy at the Conference. Bristol, Manchester, York, Leeds, Birmingham, and many other places contended for the honour of contributing to the comfort of his latter days. And noble-minded friends in several of these places made proposals to him highly honourable to their Christian liberality, would he but fix his residence among them, and give them just so much of his labours as might consist with health and comfort. These marks of affectionate esteem comforted but humbled him. He earnestly sought divine direction. Prov. iii. 6, had ever been a favourite text with him: his life had been governed by an obedient regard to the precept, and he had amply verified its connected promise; he had been in the constant habit of recommending it to the young as their motto and rule of life; for several years in succes sion the compiler of this Memoir seldom received a letter from his father which did not contain some reference to Prov. iii. 6. It was not now the time to desert his principles. He asked counsel of God; he confidently expected it; and in humble reliance upon divine guidance, he endeavoured to exercise a calm and dispassionate judgment. His mind, we have seen, turned towards Yorkshire. Manchester was his native town, but "his world there was dead." His only surviving son had no certain dwelling-place. His only daughter was settled at Tadcaster, in Yorkshire. Towards the latter end of March, he paid her a visit, and took the opportunity likewise to visit old friends at Thorner, Leeds, and Roundhay. At Tadcaster, he found a house which he thought would just suit him. He says,- The sacred cloud seems to rest here. The salubrious air will be conducive to my health: the quietness of the situation, and the convenience and comfort of the house and garden, I feel to be great blessings which I shall enjoy as the gifts of my gracious God. A field of usefulness appears to present itself in connexion with retirement. The population is estimated at 2500, of whom 230 are members of our society. A few old friends remain; and some children and grandchildren of old friends are pious. It is within reach of York, Leeds, and other places, where I may preach as I am able. And I may visit the sick and aged, to my personal advantage and the benefit and comfort of others. Here, then, I think I must pitch my tent. If so, here will I build an altar unto the Lord my God. I am in the last stage of my pilgrimage. I have no desire for a prolongation of life for its own sake. The Lord knoweth, I do not wish to live another day for any other purpose than to get more good to my own soul, and to be useful to others. "I feel a little jealousy over myself, lest I should expect too much from retirement. 'All our removes in this world are from one wilderness to another.' Well ; but if the Lord be with me, I may say, 'Thy presence makes the happy place, A blooming paradise." " |