that he (meaning death) should delay his coming. I have no dread,' said he, all is prepared, death is welcome.' A few hours after this, he again committed his partner into the hands of God, telling her, as before, she would soon follow, and that the Lord would be her refuge and strength. Feeling himself exceedingly weak, he said, "I am on the verge of eternity,' and with his utmost remaining strength exclaimed, 'Victory! Victory! Victory! through the blood of the Lamb! Let my soul now take its everlasting flight.' After this he sung the following verse, from one of his favourite hymns: "O could we make those doubts remove, Those gloomy doubts that rise; With unbeclouded eyes. Doubts! gloomy doubts! where are they? I know nothing of gloomy doubts, I have none. Where are they gone?' A friend replied, "I suppose they are fallen at the foot of the cross, where Bunyan's Pilgrim lost his burden.' O!' said our reverend Father, 'but I am now upon the delectable mountains, and, with the shepherd's spying-glass, I view the heavenly country.' "At this time there appeared a favourable change in his complaint, which continued about ten days, during which period, through extreme debility, he was incapable of speaking much, but what he said was strongly expressive of his happy state. I have,' said he, at one time, no pain, sickness, or sorrow, nor a wish to live or die. All is well. Yes,' said he, exerting himself, Heaven already is begun, Everlasting life is won, Is won, is won! I die a safe, easy, happy death! Thou, my God, art present! I feel thou art, precious Jesus! Glory, glory be to God! It is God that justifieth; who is he that condemneth? It is Christ that died, yea, rather that is risen again, who ever liveth to make intercession for us! What shall separate us from the love of Christ?' "Sunday 16th.-Having passed through a very painful night, he thought two more such would carry him off; but he said, 'All is well; my life is hid with Christ in God; and you, my dear partner, will soon follow me.' He then with peculiar energy spoke the following lines: Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying, "Monday 17.-Being asked if he wanted any thing, he replied, 'I want nothing but my blessed Jesus and death. But I have him now; thanks be to God, Christ is mine. I am dying, but I shall live for ever; Christ is all in all to me. Death is indeed desirable, but all the days of my appointed time will I wait, till my change come.' One present said, 'You will have a blessed change.' "Yes,' said he, 'I know I shall.' To one who came to see him, he said, 'My kind friend, I am drawing fast to a conclusion! O! my Jesus! It is all light and glory; I am completely happy, completely happy!' "On Tuesday the 18th, suffering much from difficulty of breathing, he said, "Dying work is hard work; but, now that my strength fails, God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever: Yes, for ever and ever! Christ is my Saviour, my all! Help me to render unto thee the praise so justly due to thine excellent name for the support I feel. Thou dost not suffer me to faint. No! From Zion's top the breezes blow, "Early on Wednesday morning, he lifted up his hands and eyes towards heaven, and said, 'Lord Jesus, receive my spirit!' And in a short space, exclaimed, 'My God! my God! my God!' These were the last words he distinctly uttered. He was now incapable of speaking, and sunk very fast, but was perfectly sensible to the end. He died about twenty minutes past nine o'clock in the morning, apparently without any struggle or pain; leaving a most glorious testimony that he was gone to be for ever with the Lord." Having several times visited our honoured bro ther during his illness, I can testify that in the above account the half is not told (indeed it could not be) concerning the abundant entrance, which the Lord so manifestly gave to his favoured servant, into his everlasting kingdom. While sitting by his bed, I often thought, that I sat in heavenly places with our adorable Master. I have seen many persons die happy; but one to whom death was so completely nothing, I have seldom seen. When a friend, helping him into bed, observed, "Sir, your foot is swelled," he replied, with an ease and cheerfulness that cannot be described, "No matter; I shall never want it again." I know of no parallel to the death-scene of our venerable friend, excepting that given us by Pomeranus and Luther, of the death of Ambrose Bernard, in the University of Wirtemberg. "In this University," says Pomeranus, “ Ambrose Bernard, a man, sober, wise, virtuous, and such a one as loved Christ entirely, chanced certain days before he died to be sick, and to keep his bed; yet felt he no grief of his sickness, but seemed by and by therein transformed, as it had been into another life. solaciously and pleasantly, that he would rejoice with us as one neither feeling death nor disease. He could not fear death, for he felt nothing thereof. And ever as mention was made of Christ, from the very heart he rejoiced, and said, that grace, For he spoke unto us so health and mercy from God, the everlasting Father, hath only chanced to us by his most meek sufferings. An unspeakable love had he unto Christ, and always called upon God the Father in only Spirit and verity. He talked joyfully, , yea, he both dallied and laughed, but all was in spiritual things; so that a man not thoroughly knowing the matter, would have thought him never to have been worldly wise in his life, neither yet to have need of his bed in that hour. In this innocence did our Lord Jesus Christ take him hence, most pleasantly and sweetly, without other pains to all our sight. So that having knowledge of Christian faith, with the entire love of God, and hope of the better resurrection, he neither felt dolour nor death, neither tasted it, nor yet saw it." "This man," says Luther," is surely gone, though he seem still here; for he knoweth no manner of thing pertaining to the flesh, nor yet to death. When we put him in mind of his matters, he knoweth not the world, nor yet this life. He is merry, he joyfully laugheth, and propoundeth unto us, in his innocent state, most wonderful mysteries. But in the end he derideth us, as whoshould say, 'Fare ye well now, I have no more to do with this world.' The Lord, of his infinite mercy, grant me such a gracious end, that, in the hour of death, I nothing remember this world. |