his asthma still continuing, he turned to me, and said, with a melancholy air," Brother, I seem to be marked out for misery; you know some people are so." That moment I felt my heart enlarged, and such a persuasion of the love of God towards him was wrought in my soul, that I replied with confidence, and as if I had authority given me to say it, "But that is not your case: you are marked out for mercy."

Through the whole of this most painful dispensation, he was blest with a degree of patience and resignation to the will of God, not always seen in the behaviour of established Christians under sufferings so great as his. I never heard a murmuring word escape him; on the contrary he would often say, when his pains were most acute, "I only wish it may please God to enable me to suffer without complaining; I have no right to complain." Once he said with a loud voice, "Let thy rod and thy staff support and comfort me: and oh! that it were with me as in times past, when the candle of the Lord shone upon my tabernacle." One evening, when I had been expressing my hope that the Lord would show him mercy, he replied; "I hope he will; I am sure I pretend to nothing." Many times he spoke of himself in terms of the greatest self-abasement, which I cannot now particularly remember. I thought I could discern, in these expressions, the glimpses of approaching day, and have no doubt at present but that the Spirit of God was gradually preparing him, in a way of true humiliation, for that bright display of Gospel grace which he was soon after pleased to afford him*.

On Saturday the 10th of March, about three in the afternoon, he suddenly burst into tears, and said with

There is a beautiful illustration of this sudden and happy change, in Mr. Cowper's poem entitled Hope, vol. i. page 177, 178. edition 17. "As when a felon whom his country's laws," &c.

a loud cry, "Oh, forsake me not!" I went to his bed-side, when he grasped my hand, and presently by his eyes and countenance I found that he was in prayer. Then turning to me he said, "Oh, brother, I am full of what I could say to you.' The nurse asked him if he would have any hartshorn or lavender. He replied, "None of these things will serve my purpose." I said, "But I know what would, my dear, don't I?" He answered, "You do, brother."

Having continued some time silent, he said, "Bchold, I create new heavens and a new earth"-then after a pause "" Aye, and he is able to do it too."

I left him for about an hour, fearing lest he should fatigue himself with talking, and because my surprise and joy were so great, that I could hardly bear them. When I returned, he threw his arms about my neck, and leaning his head against mine, he said. "Brother, if I live, you and I shall be more like one another than we have been. But whether I live or live not, all is well, and will be so; I know it will; I have felt that which I never felt before, and am sure that God has visited me with this sickness to teach me what I was too proud to learn in health. I never had satisfaction till now. The doctrines I had been used to, referred me to MYSELF for the foundation of my hopes, and there I could find nothing to rest upon. The sheet anchor of the soul was wanting. I thought you wrong, yet wished to believe as you did. I found myself unable to believe, yet always thought that I should one day be brought to do so. You suffered more than I have done before you believed these truths; but our sufferings, though different in their kind and measure, were directed to the same end. I hope he has taught me that, which he teaches none but his own. I hope so. These things were foolishness to me once, but now I have a firm foundation, and am satisfied."

In the evening, when I went to bid him good night, he looked steadfastly in my face, and, with great solemnity in his air and manner, taking me by the hand, resumed the discourse in these very words. "As empty, and yet full; as having nothing, and yét possessing all things-I see the rock upon which I once split, and I see the rock of my salvation. I have peace in myself, and if I live, I hope it will be, that I may be made a messenger of peace to others. I have learned that in a moment, which I could not have learned by reading many books for many years. I have often studied these points, and studied them with great attention, but was blinded by prejudice; and unless he, who alone is worthy to unloose the seals, had opened the book to me, I had been blinded still. Now they appear so plain, that though I am convinced no comment could ever have made me understand them, I wonder I did not see them bè. fore. Yet great as my doubts' and difficulties were, they have only served to pave the way, and being solved, they make it plainer. The light I have received comes late, but it is a comfort to me that I never made the Gospel-truths a subject of ridicule. Though I dissented from the persuasion and the ways of God's people, I ever thought them respectable, and therefore not proper to be made a jest of. The evil I suffer is the consequence of my descent from the corrupt original stock, and of my own personal transgressions; the good I enjoy comes to me as the overflowing of his bounty; but the crown of all his mercies is this, that he has given me a Saviour, and not only the Saviour of mankind, brother, but my Saviour."

"I should delight to see to the people at Olney, but am not worthy to appear amongst them." He wept at speaking these words, and repeated them with emphasis, "I should rejoice in an hour's conversation with Mr. N-, and, if I live, shali have VOL. IV.-No. III. Q

much discourse with him upon these subjects, but am so weak in body, that at present I could not bear it."

At the same time he gave me to understand, that he had been five years inquiring after the truth, that is, from the time of my first visit to him after I left St. Alban's, and that, from the very day of his ordination, which was ten years ago, he had been dissatisfied with his own views of the Gospel, and sensible of their defect and obscurity; that he had always had a sense of the importance of the ministerial charge, and had used to consider himself accountable for his doctrine no less than his practice; that he could appeal to the Lord for his sincerity in all that time, and had never wilfully erred, but always been desirous of coming to the knowledge of the truth. He added, that the moment when he sent forth that cry*, was the moment when light was darted into his soul; that he had thought much about these things in the course of his illness, but never till that instant was able to understand them.

It was remarkable, that, from the very instant, when he was first enlightened, he was also wonderfully strengthened in body, so that from the 10th to the 14th of March we all entertained hopes of his recovery. He was himself very sanguine in his expectations of it, but frequently said, that his desire of recovery extended no further than his hope of usefulness; adding, "Unless I may live to be an instrument of good to others, it were better for me to die now."

As his assurance was clear and unshaken, so he was very sensible of the goodness of the Lord to him in that respect. On the day when his eyes were opened, he turned to me, and in a low voice said; "What a mercy it is to a man in my condi

On the 10th of March, vide supra.

tion to know his acceptance; I am completely satisfied of mine." On another occasion, speaking to the same purpose, he said; "This bed would be a bed of misery, and it is so-but it is likewise a bed of joy and a bed of discipline. Was I to die this night, I know I should be happy. This assurance I hope is quite consistent with the word of God.It is built upon a sense of my own utter insufficiency and the all-sufficiency of Christ. At the same time, he said; "Brother, I have been building my glory upon a sandy foundation; I have laboured night and day to perfect myself in things of no profit ; I have sacrificed my health to these pursuits, and am now suffering the consequence of my mispent labour. But how contemptible do the writers I once highly valued now appear to me. "Yea, doubtless, I count all things loss and dung for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord." I must now go to a new school. I have many things to learn. I succeeded in my former pursuits. I wanted to be highly applauded; and I was so. I was flattered up to the height of my wishes: now, I must learn a new lesson."

On the evening of the 13th he said, "What comfort have I in this bed, miserable as I seem to be. Brother, I love to look at you. I see now, who was right, and who was mistaken. But it seems wonderful, that such a dispensation should be necessary to enforce what seems so very plain. I wish myself at Olney; you have a good river there, better than all the rivers of Damascus. What a scene is passing before me! Ideas upon these subjects crowd upon me faster than I can give them utterance. How plain do many texts appear, to which, after consulting all the commentators, I could hardly affix a meaning; and now I have their true meaning without any comment at all. There is but one key to the New Testament; there is but one interpreter. I