MEMOIR

OF

TIMOTHY S. CUMMINGS.

DEATH is at all times a solemn thing; and the command, "PREPARE TO MEET THY GOD," must fill every mind with solemn awe. But to one who has made his peace with GoD, through the blood of JESUS CHRIST, and has, by true repentance of sin and a cordial belief in the Savior, cast himself on the Divine mercy, death is usually met with holy composure, -frequently with joy and triumph. And why should it not be so? It is the gate through which we enter our Father's house on high; the messenger which conveys us to a Savior's arms, which places us beside the still waters, and in the green pastures of the heavenly Canaan.

These remarks have been suggested by the recent death of TIMOTHY S. CUMMINGS, who was, for about twelve years, a member of this school, and for several of the latter years, connected with our Bible class. He had attained the age of twenty; and by his domestic habits, his filial respect and affection, his industry and faithful attention to the concerns of one of our most respectable mercantile establishments, had secured the friendship and warm attachment of a wide circle of friends.

Thanks be to GoD, the last end of our young friend was peace,-emphatically peace! He had felt the bitterness of sin, and loathed and hated it. The provisions of the Gospel were exactly adapted to his necessities, and he embraced them; the compassion of his heavenly Father he saw and admired, the condescension and kindness of the Savior he felt and rejoiced in. And how did he arrive at this state of mind? By admitting the claims of GOD,-by perceiving the value of Christ's atonement for the sins of a guilty world,-by giving his affections to the Savior, and by using the little residue of life in speaking well

of Him who has bought us with his blood, and urging those about him to "flee," as he had done, "to the hope set before them in the Gospel."

I had heard nothing of the sickness of Cummings, till Sabbath, the 14th of August last, one of his young companions in the Bible class informed me of it. He had been absent in the country for about three months, and had just returned; but it seems without any improvement of health. His complaint was on the lungs. I called to see him on the afternoon of Monday, the 15th of August. He had been, for several years, in my Bible class, before I took the superintendence of this school. He appeared pleased to see me, though he conversed but little. He said he had been more comfortable that day,—that he was improving,-and that his disease was not seated. When I first saw him, I thought I perceived that death had marked him for an early victim, and I wished to have him take a right view of his situation, as soon as possible. I knew it was the wish of his mother; and, accordingly, in the gentlest and most prudent

way I could devise,-looking to God for a blessing on what I might say,-I observed to him, that his disease was a very flattering one, as he must know; and that if it was consumption, as he apprehended, he must be sensible. that it would baffle all medical skill;-but, at any rate, whether this was or was not to be his last sickness, it was the part of wisdom to prepare for what might take place; and a good hope of heaven, and the favor of GOD, would be infinitely desirable, let the issue be as it might.

I told him I had always felt a deep interest in him, and wished to see him safe for eternity, and building upon the rock Christ Jesus; that I had heard, with great pleasure, of his exemplary and correct moral conduct; but that he must remember this was not religion,—this would not, by itself alone, save his soul. The account of the rich young man, in the Gospel, would prove this. I spoke of the beauty and simplicity of the gospel scheme,—of its perfect adaptation to our wants as sinners, and of the infinite importance of his closing now with the offer of Heaven. I asked him, if God

should think best to call him out of the world by this sickness, whether he was ready to leave? He said, "he was not." I replied, "how amazingly important, then, is it, that you should give attention to this concern now!" This consideration I pressed very affectionately and earnestly, and left him soon afterwards. He thanked me for the call with much cordiality, and requested me to repeat my visit. On the 20th of August (Saturday), I wrote him á few lines, and sent him a couple of little articles, that I thought might direct his mind, and be better, for a day or two, than conversation. On the next day (Sabbath), his mother sent for me, at the Sabbath school-room, to call upon him after divine service in the afternoon. Upon visiting him, I found him much reduced. He had ridden a short distance. At his mother's desire, I read a few verses from Acts, 7: 16-34, and prayed with him. His mind was still dark. His physician had told him his danger, and he had given up his expectation of life. His mother told me she believed that religion now occupied his thoughts, and that his mind was dwelling upon it.