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early part of life. This is the lovely and noble form induced by inward graces. The graces of the soul are implanted by the Lord, and sometimes called Remains-the remains of what must have been in man's primæval state. These prevail in childhood and youth, and impart to the person its early charms. When young life becomes coarser, from contact with the world, with bad examples and tempting influ ences, then the lower tendencies of the soul are excited. Evil passions, vile habits, and fiery lusts, mar the pure beauty of youth. The carnal mind expresses itself in the spiritual body, and to a certain extent in the earthly body also. The spiritual body becomes the BODY OF SIN (Rom. vi. 6), THE VILE BODY (Phil. iii. 21), the BODY OF DEATH (Rom. vii. 24), of which the Apostle Paul speaks so often. Sin writes fiend on every part. Hence, as a rule, to which also there are exceptions, old sinners become so very unlovely. It is death embodied in ugliness; it is life perverted, the senses perverted, the whole man desecrated, changed, so that heavenly love will chill, heavenly light will blind, heavenly bliss will excite rage and madness. Hence, we read in the chapter immediately going before the one from which our text is taken, "Death and hell were cast into the lake of fire. This is the second death." Each soul confirmed in evil becomes death and hell in miniature, and, when it feels the sphere of heaven, sinks into its own baleful passions and blazing lusts; these are its lake of fire. How infinitely important it is we should be delivered from this death! The Lord places it before us as the one grand thing. "I call heaven and earth to record this day against you, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing: therefore choose life, that both thou and thy seed may live" (Deut. xxx. 19). "I have no pleasure in the death of him that dieth: wherefore turn yourselves and live ye" (Ezek. xviii. 32).

Oh, what a glorious change that is, when a soul turns truly to the Lord. There is a noble life on earth, a spiritual body becoming constantly more beautiful, a glorious life in heaven. This is what is meant in our text, there shall be no more death. And so far as the heavenly principles descending into us are concerned, there shall be neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain. Distress comes nearly or remotely from evil and error. These are abolished, as "the former things are passed away." The excellent friend who has recently passed from amongst us illustrates both sides of this blessed condition. He has finished a healthy, a successful and a useful life, and gone to his home among the blessed, at eightyfive years of age. Mr. Finnie was born at Kilmarnock, in Scotland,

and came to London, to be apprenticed to an uncle in Piccadilly, when he was about seventeen. He brought with him his religion, and an inquiring mind.

Unhappily, this is not always the case. Many young people who in the country among friends have conducted themselves worthily, but not known how much they were propped up by kind relatives and steady companions, come up to London, and, without their usual supports, fall into loose ways, to the astonishment and regret of all who knew them. Young Finnie heard of a remarkable preacher then attracting great attention at York Street Chapel, St. James's, the one lately vacated by the Rev. Stopford Brooke. This was the Rev. Joseph Proud, formerly an eloquent Baptist minister at Norwich. Mr. Proud had heard of the doctrines of the New Jerusalem Church, and believing them to be erroneous, he undertook to refute them. In reading the works containing these doctrines, for the purpose of overthrowing them, he convinced himself that they were true, and thenceforward became one of their most zealous and successful preachers. Young Finnie heard, and pondered, and received the new light from heaven. It seemed to him as a divine voice saying "Arise, shine, for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord has arisen upon thee." He determined to regulate his life by these principles, and his inward thought was that, if he became successful in business, he would do something to foster the truths which he felt would be the greatest blessing to mankind. He had some relatives in Rio Janeiro, South America, and when he was about twenty years of age, he determined to join them, and strive to make his fortune abroad. He went, and after many years of industry and frugality, he returned a wealthy man, and settled at Bowdon, some eight or nine miles from Manchester.

Mr. Finnie occasionally attended Peter Street Church in that city, but was of very modest and retiring habits, and did not for some time make himself known. He wore a pair of handsome gold spectacles, and if those spectacles were at church on a collection day, it was remarked that the sum obtained was considerably larger than usual.

At length he became known to Mr. Smithson, the minister, and afterwards fostered many excellent objects anonymously through him. A very affectionate intercourse arose between Mr. Finnie and Mr. Smithson, and the last labours of my old friend, the latter excellent gentleman, were the lectures he delivered at Mr. Finnie's request in his native town, Kilmarnock. He finished these lectures on March 22,

1864, and on the 26th died peaceably at home in Manchester. The first time I met Mr. Finnie was at the funeral of Mr. Smithson. Mr. Finnie had mentioned to Mr. Smithson his desire to do something helpful to the New Church more decidedly than he had done, and was introduced by him to Mr. Gunton, then, and now, the excellent Treasurer of the Conference.

It was for £2000,
This gift showed

In 1862, he sent his first cheque to Mr. Gunton. to strengthen the National Missionary Institution. his earnest desire that the truths of the New Church should be spread abroad. So modestly was this done, that the name of the donor does not appear in the Conference minute acknowledging it, and I believe this was so at his own request. He reflected, afterwards, that for some time to come the early labourers in the ministry would be scantily paid. In old age he thought they might need some support, and would not have much to leave for their widows. So, in 1863, he sent another cheque for £2000, this time to the Pension Fund. In 1866, desiring to encourage the preparation of pious young men for the ministry, he sent a cheque for £4000, of which £2000 was for the Students' and Ministers' Aid Fund, and £2000 for the College-thus seeking to add to the number of those who spread the glad tidings of the God of Love around. In 1870 he gave to the National Missionary Institution another £1000. Soon after this, indeed in 1871, he learned that with several gentlemen there was a strong desire to have New Church principles unfolded in parts of the metropolis where there had hitherto been no places of worship. From various causes the churches had hitherto been planted in the City and North London. St. John's Wood had been thought of as a desirable locality. Mr. Finnie entered into this idea, and requested Mr. Gunton, with such other persons as he might wish as fellow-counsellors, to look out a site, and he would provide the means. Three gentlemen chiefly took active measures, and while they were considering the subject on all sides, this church was advertised for sale. It was inspected, was reported upon favourably, and though it needed much to be done in the way of internal fitting and adornment, it was ordered to be bought. The purchase money, over £5000, the endowment of £5000, and the cost of internal changes, lighting, warming, organ, etc., £1696-altogether amounted to £11,946; in round numbers £12,000. When we bear in mind that he never saw the church, though he rejoiced very much on learning that all was going on well with it, it will give us some insight into his character. He loved the truth, and wished to know that it was being diffused in this quarter of the metropolis. He trusted those who, he believed, were

earnest for the spread of truth, and he rejoiced in the success of the truth for the good of others, though its reflection never reached himself. The one great love of his Lord and Master animated him, and he looked to no inferior motive. He let not his left hand know what

his right hand was doing.

About the same period he assisted some other Societies who were obtaining new places of worship, or making other efforts, with £100 each, especially Nottingham, South London, Deptford and Brightlingsea. His last considerable benefaction was to our dear friends of Camden Road Society, to enable them to erect and finish their beautiful church. He sent them £1000 in the first instance, and afterwards another £1000. I believe he never saw one of the churches he thus so largely assisted-so modest was his character, so unassuming his benefactions. The sum total of these kind aids to the cause of goodness and truth forms a total of £23,346. There was no claim of merit in this, no self-righteousness, no ostentation.

I rejoice to add, that though there was no New Church place of worship near his home, he, being no sectarian, was liberal to others. He hailed and believed in his own principles, but he respected the convictions of other Christians, and loved religion under every form. It is a leading feature of the New Church, that he who loves the Lord, and is a good man, whatever be his name, or opinions, on other subjects, should always be esteemed as a brother. His convictions are not ours, but they are his, and when we have the opportunity, we should aid him worthily to carry out his religious feelings. Thus would all men become brothers, Catholic, Protestant, Methodist, Calvinist, Presbyterian. Thus would their hearts pulsate with charity, though their eyes might have different colours. This was Mr. Finnie's principle, and he acted upon it, I doubt not, in many other instances; but the one I am about to relate came under my own notice, about fifteen years ago. I was requested to visit a New Church friend, a commercial gentleman just returned from Spain, and staying at Furnival's Inn. After the first compliments, my friend said, I have just had such a curious circumstance related by a business friend from Altrincham, which is close to Bowdon. He has set off just now to be at the reopening of the parish church, which has been pulled down and rebuilt at Bowdon. He has been on the committee for the rebuilding, and now the time has come for opening, and he must be there he says, and so he has gone. But he has mentioned what he calls the best thing about it. It is the very liberal way in which an old Scotch gentleman has acted. He has given more than any one else. He has advised,

watched over, and superintended the building continually, and the wonder of it is, he is not a Churchman at all-he is something they call a Swedenborgian. I don't know what that is, I must inquire into it; but it is something very remarkable, if it produces such men as this. Besides, he added, he's never put out of humour with anything. He takes whatever happens so kindly and gently. We thought we would try to vex him. The committee told him that there was such a demand for the pews, and he not being a Churchman, although he had given so much, they were very sorry, but they could not allot him a pew. He said, as meekly as a lamb, Oh, well, if there is not a seat, when I come, I must stand or sit somewhere. I never saw such a man, and I must inquire about his religion. That man was the excellent subject of this discourse-John Finnie of Bowdon. My friend said, Well, I am a Swedenborgian too, though we prefer the name New Jerusalem Church, but you would do well to inquire into its principles; -the spirit of them all is charity.

Mr. Finnie's reliance on the doctrines of the Divine Love manifested in the Lord Jesus Christ, which he had made the ground of his daily life, led to a peaceful old age, a calm, quiet sunset to his career, and a gentle, lamb-like passage to his home in heaven. He slept as a child sleeps, and so passed away. His last appearance was like that de

scribed by the poet

"He who hath bent him o'er the dead

Ere the first day of death is fled,

Before Decay's effacing fingers

Have swept the lines where beauty lingers,
And marked the mild, angelic air,

The rapture of repose that's there,

Some moments, ay, one treacherous hour,
He still might doubt the tyrant's power,

So fair, so calm, so softly sealed,

The first, last look by death revealed."

Such was the Christian and noble career of one who must ever be remembered with loving respect in the New Church, and especially in this place of worship, which we owe to so large an extent to him.

Let his benevolence and his unassuming virtue lead us, each in his own circle, to do what we can, and all can, to promote the good of others. Let us rise to greater exertions to diffuse and carry out the principles for which this church was dedicated to the Lord Jesus Christ. And, looking to our brother's peaceful close, let the aspirations of our hearts be, "Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his."

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