32. JAMES HERVEY.

"Since the dear hour that brought me to thy foot,
And cut up all my follies by the root,

I never trusted in an arm but thine;

Nor hoped but in thy righteousness Divine,
My prayers and alms, imperfect and defiled,
Were but the feeble efforts of a child;
Howe'er perform'd, this was their brightest part,
That they were offerings of a thankful heart;

I cast them at thy feet, my only plea

Is, what it was,-dependence upon thee;

While struggling in the vale of griefs below,

This never failed, nor shall it fail me now."-CowPER.

THIS eminent Christian and zealous minister was born February 26, 1713, at Hardingstone, near Northampton. In early life, he was impressed with the importance of religion, but unacquainted with its nature. The state of his mind at this time is illustrated by the following anecdote.

In the parish where he preached, there resided a ploughman, who attended Doddridge's ministry, and who was well acquainted with the doctrines of grace. Mr. Hervey sometimes accompanied this ploughman, and one morning said to him: "What do you think is the hardest thing in religion?" To which he replied, "I am a poor illiterate man, and you, sir, are a minister; I beg leave to return the question." Then said Mr. Hervey, "I think the hardest thing is to deny sinful self," and applauded, at some length, this kind of selfdenial. The ploughman replied: "Mr. Hervey, you have forgotten the greatest act of the grace of self-denial, which is to deny ourselves of a proud confidence in our own obedience for justification."

In repeating this story to a friend, Mr. Hervey observed: "I then hated the righteousness of Christ; I

looked at the man with astonishment and disdain, and thought him an old fool. I have seen clearly since who was the fool-not the wise old Christian, but the proud James Hervey." Little as he knew at this time of the way of peace, light soon afterward shone upon his mind. "The light," says he, "was not instantaneous; it did not flash upon my soul, but arose like the dawning of the day. Now were I possessed of all the righteous acts that have made saints and martyrs famous, in all generations, could they be transferred to me, and might I call them all my own, I would renounce them all that I might win Christ."

Being himself taught by the Spirit of truth, it now became his delight to display the glories of the Gospel to others. His pulpit no longer resounded with discourses on mere heathen morality; but Christ crucified was the theme on which he dwelt.

By his labours he was made a blessing to many, during his life; and, since his removal from this world, the God of grace has condescended to make his writings the means of advancing the immortal good of many more. In them, though dead, he yet, with affectionate earnestness, preaches to the living, and points them to "the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the world."

Some time before the close of Mr. Hervey's mortal course, repeated sickness and weakness warned him that he would soon be removed to the rest he had sought. In 1747 he was attacked with so severe an illness that death appeared to him to be at hand. At this time he wrote to a friend: "My health is continually upon the decline, and the springs of life are all relaxing; medicine is baffled. Now I apprehend myself near the close of life, and stand, as it were, on the brink of the grave, with eternity full in my view. Perhaps you would be willing to know my sentiments of things; in this awful situation, at such a juncture, the mind is most unprejudiced,

and the judgment not so liable to be dazzled by the glitter of worldly objects. I think, then, we are extremely mistaken, and sustain a mighty loss, by reading so much, and praying so little. Were I to enjoy Hezekiah's grant, and have fifteen years added to my life, I would be much more frequent in my applications to the throne of grace.

"Truly, my hope, my whole hope, is even in the Lord Redeemer. Should the king of terrors threaten, I flee to the wounds of the slaughtered Lamb, as the trembling dove to the clefts of the rock. Should Satan accuse, I plead the surety of the covenant, who took my guilt upon himself, and bore my sins in his own body on the accursed tree, on purpose that all the nations of the earth might be blessed. Should hell open its jaws, I look up to that gracious Being who says, 'Deliver from going down to the pit, for I have found out a ransom.' Should it be said, No unclean thing can enter heaven, my answer is, The blood of Jesus his Son cleanseth us from all sin. Though my sins be as scarlet they shall be white as snow.' Should it be added, None can sit down at the marriage-supper of the Lamb without a wedding-garment; and your righteousnesses, what are they, before the pure law and piercing eye of God, but filthy rags? These I renounce, and seek to be found in the Lord my righteousness. It is written in the word that shall judge the world at the last day, 'By His obedience shall many be made righteous;' so that Jesus, the dear and adorable Jesus, is all my trust; His merits are my staff, when I pass through the valley of the shadow of death; His merits are my anchor, when I launch into the boundless ocean of eternity. If the God of glory pleases to take notice of any of my mean endeavours to honour his holy name, it will be infinite condescension and grace; but his Son, his righteousness and his sufferings, is all my hope and salvation."

Mr. Hervey recovered from this attack, and survived it over ten years. His last illness was of considerable length, but during its continuance he evinced the same happy and devotional spirit.

The following expressions, extracted from some of his letters, point to the source of all his consolations during this season of weakness and pain.

"I am now reduced to a state of infant weakness, and given over by my physician. My grand consolation is to meditate on Christ, and I am hourly repeating these heart-reviving lines of Dr. Young, in his fourth night :

This, only this subdues the fear of death:

And what is this? Survey the wond'rous cure,
And at each step let higher wonder rise!
Pardon for infinite offence! and pardon
Through means that speak its value infinite!
A pardon bought with blood! with blood Divine !
With blood Divine of Him I made my foe!
Persisted to provoke! though woo'd and awed,
Bless'd and chastised, a flagrant rebel still!
A rebel 'midst the thunders of his throne!
Nor I alone-a rebel universe!
My species up in arms-not one exempt!
Yet for the foulest of the foul He died;
Most joy'd for the redeem'd from deepest guilt,
As if our race was held of highest rank,
And Godhead dearer as more kind to man!'

The Doctor, seeing the great difficulty and pain with which he spoke, (for he was almost suffocated with phlegm and frequent vomitings,) and finding by his pulse. that the pangs of death were then coming on, desired him that he would spare himself: "No," said he, with peculiar ardour, "Doctor, no; you tell me I have but a few minutes to live; O let me spend them in adoring our great Redeemer!" He then repeated the twentysixth verse of the seventy-third Psalm, "Though my heart and flesh faileth, God is the strength of my heart,

and my portion forever;" and he expatiated in a most delightful manner on these words of Paul, 1 Cor. iii, 22, 23, "All are yours, whether life or death, things present or things to come," referring his friends to the exposition of Dr. Doddridge. "Here," said he, "here is the treasure of a Christian; death is reckoned among this inventory, and a noble treasure it is! How thankful am I for death, as it is the passage through which I go to the Lord and Giver of eternal life, and as it frees me from all the misery which you see me now endure, and which I am willing to endure as long as God thinks fit; for I know that he will, by-and-by, in his own good time, dismiss me from the body. These afflictions are but for a moment, and then comes an eternal weight of glory. O welcome, welcome, death! thou mayest well be reckoned among the treasures of the Christian; to live is Christ, and to die is gain."

He then paused a little, and with great serenity and sweetness in his countenance, being raised a little in his chair, repeated these words: "Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy most holy and comfortable word, for mine eyes have seen thy most precious and comfortable salvation."

About three o'clock he said, "The conflict is over;" after which he scarcely spoke any other word intelligibly, except "precious salvation." During the last hour he said nothing. At length, leaning his head against the side of the easy chair, without a sigh, groan, or struggle, or the least emotion, he shut his eyes, and departed, between four and five in the afternoon, December 25, 1758, in the forty-fifth year of his age.