retained its full vigour: but, in his last illness, his mind became emaciated as well as his body; and it need not be remarked, that a paralysis often makes as fatal an attack on the mind as on the body: in all cases it weakens, and frequently deranges.

* The view of Mr. Cecil's final disease, and the effects of it on his mind, are so justly stated by the Rev. Daniel Wilson, in the second of the two Sermons which he preached at St. John's on occasion of Mr. Cecil's death, that, with his permission, I here insert it :—

"During the whole period of his last illness, a space of nearly three years, the state of his mind fluctuated with his malady. Every one, who has had opportunities of observing the operation of palsy, knows, that, without destroying, or, properly speaking, perverting, the reasoning powers, it agitates and enervates them. Every object is presented through a discoloured medium. False premises are assumed; and the mind is sometimes more than usually expert in drawing inferences accordingly. In a word, the whole system is deranged and shattered. An excessive care and irritation and despondency are produced, under the impression of which the sufferer acts every moment, without being at all aware of the cause. His morbid anxiety is, besides, fixed on some inconsiderable or ideal matter, which he magnifies and distorts; whilst he remains incapable of attending to concerns of superior moment; and any attempts to rectify his misapprehensions quicken the irritation, and increase the effects of the disorder.

"Under this peculiar visitation it pleased God that our late venerable father should labour. The energy, and decision, and grandeur of his natural powers, therefore, gradually gave way, and a morbid feebleness succeeded.. Yet even in this afflicting state, with his body on one side almost lifeless, his organs of speech impaired, and his judgment weakened, the spiritual dispositions of his heart displayed themselves in a very remarkable manner. He appeared great in the ruins of nature; and his eminently religious character manifested itself, to the honour of divine grace, in a manner which surprised all who were acquainted with the ordinary effects of paralytic complaints. The actings of hope were, of course, impeded ; but the habit of grace, which had been forming in his mind for thirty or forty years, shone through the cloud. At such a period there was no room for fresh acquisitions. The real character of the man could only appear, when disease allowed it to appear at all, according to the grand leading habits of his life. If his habits had been ambitious, or sensual, or covetous, or worldly, these tendencies, if any, would have displayed themselves; but as his soul had been long established in grace, and spiritual religion

Nevertheless, through all obstacles, his mind, like the compass, tended ever and only to his one grand object-his interest in his Saviour, and the

had been incorporated with all his trains of sentiment and affection, and had become like a second nature, the holy dispositions of his heart acted with remarkable constancy under all the variations of his illness: so that one of his oldest friends observed to me, that if he had to choose the portion of his life, since he first knew him, in which the evidences of a state of salvation were most decisive, he should, without a moment's hesitation, select the period of his last distressing malady.

"Throughout his illness, his whole mind, instead of being fixed on some mean and insignificent concern, was riveted on spiritual objects. Every other topic was so uninteresting to him, and even burdensome, that he could with reluctance allow it to be introduced. The value of his soul, the emptiness of the world, the nearness and solemnity of death, were ever on his lips. He spent his whole time in reading the Scripture, and one or two old divines, particularly Archbishop Leighton. All he said and did was as a man on the brink of an eternal state.

"His humility, also, evidently ripened as he approached his end. He was willing to receive advice from every quarter. He listened with anxiety to any hint that was offered him. His view of his own misery and helplessness as a sinner, and of the necessity of being entirely indebted to divine grace, and being saved as the greatest monument of its efficacy, was continually on the increase.

"His simplicity and fervour, in speaking of the Saviour, were also very remarkable. As he drew nearer to death, his one topic was--Jesus Christ. All his anxiety and care were centred in this grand point. His apprehensions of the work and glory of Christ, of the extent and suitableness of his salvation, and of the unspeakable importance of being spiritually united to him, were more distinct and simple, if possible, than at any period of his life. He spake of Him to his family, with the feeling, and interest, and seriousness of the aged and dying believer.

"His faith, also, never failed. I have heard him, with faltering and feeble lips, speak of the great foundations of Christianity with the fullest confidence. He said, he never saw so clearly the truth of the doctrines which he had been preaching, as since his illness. His view of the certainty and excellency of God's promises was in Christ unshaken.

"The interest, likewise, which he took in the success of the Gospel, was prominent, when his disease at all remitted. His own people lay near his heart: and, when a providence had occurred which he hoped would promote their benefit, he expressed himself with old Simeon, 'Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.'

"The principal effect of his distemper was in throwing a cloud over

infinite concerns of eternity: from this his attention could not be diverted by any subject of a temporal nature, save one only, and that, with

his comfort; yet, in producing this, the spiritual tendency of his mind appeared. His diseased depression operated indeed, but it was in leading him to set a high standard of holiness, to bring together elevated marks of regeneration, and to require decisive evidences of a spirit of faith and adoption. The acuteness of his judgment then argued so strongly from these false premises, that he necessarily excluded himself, almost entirely from the consolation of hope. If I may allowed a theological term-the objective acts of faith; those that related to the grand objects proposed in the Scriptures on the testimony of God, such as the work of redemption, the person of Christ, and the virtue of his blood, remained the same; nay, were ripened and strengthened as his dissolution approached: but the subjective acts of faith; those which respected his own interest in these blessings, and which gave life to the exercises of hope; rose and sunk with his disease. He was precisely like a man oppressed by a heavy weight; as the load was lightened, he began to move and exert himself in his natural manner: when the burden was increased, he sunk down again under the oppression.

"About a year before his death, when his powers of mind had for a long time been debilitated, but still retained some remnants of their former vigour, his religious feelings were at times truly desirable. His intellectual powers were indeed too far weakened for joy; but there was a resignation, a tranquillity, a ripeness of grace, a calm and holy repose on the bosom of the Saviour, that quite alarmed, if I may so speak, his anxious family, under the impression that there appeared nothing left for grace to do, and that he would soon be removed from them, as a shock of corn cometh in its season. Even when his disease had made still further progress, as often as the slightest alleviation was afforded him, his judgment became more distinct, his morbid depression lessened, and he was moderately composed. It was only a few weeks before his dissolution that such an interval was vouchsafed to him. He then spake with great feeling from the Scriptures, in family worship, for about half an hour; and dwelt on the love, and grace, and power of Christ with particular composure of mind. I had the happiness of visiting him at this season. He was so much relieved from his disease, as to enter with me on general topics relating to religion, and to give me some excellent directions as to my conduct as a minister. In reply to various questions which I put to him, he spake to me to the following purport; 'I know myself to be a wretched, worthless sinner' (the seriousness and feeling with which he spake I shall never forget,) having nothing in myself but poverty and sin. I know Jesus Christ to be a glorious and almighty Saviour. I see the full efficacy

subordination and submission. Sometimes, when speaking of his continual need of unabating administration, and the consequent demands upon my health and spirits, he would say, looking at me with tender affection, "I earnestly wish that I could reward your labours by leaving you an independency”—but would add, with a firm faith on divine providence "I doubt not but that you and your children will be provided for after my decease. -I can only look to that God who has so graciously taken care of, and provided for me, who entered upon the world without any possessions."

His evangelical views became more and more vivid latterly. He read such authors only, as treated these views most simply. Archbishop Leighton's Sermons afforded him a continual source of satisfaction. He read them perpetually; and particularly his Sermon on 1 Cor. i. 30-that on Cant. i. 3-and two on Rom. viii. 33, 34. He said to me and others, that he earnestly wished all his own writings had been of this description; and that his Address added to the Life of Mr. Newton,

of his atonement and grace; and I cast myself entirely on him, and wait at his footstool. I am aware that my diseased and broken mind makes me incapable of receiving consolation; but I submit myself wholly to the merciful and wise dispensations of God.'

"One or two other interesting testimonies, of the spiritual and devoted state of his heart may be here mentioned. A short time before his decease, he requested one of his family to write down for him in a book the following sentence: None but Christ, none but Christ, said Lambert dying at a stake: the same, in dying circumstances, with his whole heart, saith Richard Cecil.' The name was signed by himself, with his left hand, in a manner hardly legible through infirmity."

could be exchanged for an abridgment of the Sermon on 1 Cor. i. 30, as infinitely more interesting.

It cannot be supposed that I mention this, as though any thing in that Address were defective, (for whoever can read THAT Address without emotion or without a tear, has a proof in his own breast, that he has little experience or a hard heart) but, rather to shew his humility; and, also, how he esteemed every thing as dross, compared with that one object which led him so often to repeat, with the martyr Lambert, "None but Christ!-None but Christ!"-While his fatal malady had much impaired his natural powers, and contracted his former grasp of thought, he retained, like the blessed Apostle John, one faculty in perfection, that of an adherence of heart to the bosom of his Saviour, with that true contrition of spirit described in that Address, and which the High and Lofty One regards with delight in his children.

Mr. Cecil's disease tended to produce frequent irritation: the impulse was sudden, and irresistible; but these irritations were so insignificant in their consequences, that the chief pain produced by them arose from observing his own poignant feelings on such occasions. He would recur, in a moment, to his principles: and would express, in the strongest terms, his detestation and selfabasement; intreating forgiveness, forbearance, and patience. Indeed, it excited exquisite pain, and