The other

vice of the Lord's day alone was vacant. duties of the situation were performed by Mr. now *Dr. Robert Winter. He accepted the invitation to the office of morning preacher, only as an experiment, doubting whether his health would permit his continuance. When Dr. Winter relinquished his charge, Mr. Humphries was chosen his successor. On the 22d of March, 1796, he was set apart as pastor of the flock. From this time he rose in the estimation of all who knew him. During the whole period of his residence here, there was not the least dissatisfaction between pastor and people, to interrupt friendship or prevent usefulness.

In other respects he was greatly tried and afflicted. His labours were often interrupted by returns of debility and disease. Three times these interruptions were occasioned by the rupture of a blood vessel. But these, although to himself and to his friends, seasons of great distress, were to both, sources of advantage and instruction. While these seasons were passing over him, he manifested the most devout resignation to his heavenly Father's will, contented either to live or die, as should be most for his glory, and the eternal welfare of his own soul, and of the souls of his dear people. For their sakes, more than for his own, he was desirous of life, and once and again his prayer was heard. Out of the furnace he came forth more refined than before, and had the happiness of meeting in the public assembly and in the circles of friendship, many who had benefitted by his afflictions. The truly Christian spirit with which he bore his trials, had instructed and edified them: and the prayers

The Trustees of Princeton College conferred the degree. of Doctor in Divinity on him in 1808.

which they had offered on his account, had diffused over them an increasing seriousness, which, to such a pastor, must have been unspeakably delightful.

From the rupture of a blood vessel in the beginning of September, 1807, he had rapidly and unexpectedly recovered, so as to resume every part of his works with a vigour which astonished all who beheld it. To his congregation, the last four months of his ministry were especially interesting, and peculiarly important. His sermons, his prayers, and his conversation, during this interval, constituted, as it were, his dying testimony to the truth and power of the gospel.

On the Lord's day, July 20, 1808, he finished his public testimony in Hammersmith. In the morning he addressed his auditory from Psalm 84, 10. "For a day in thy courts is better than a thousand. I had rather be a door-keeper in the house of my God, than to dwell in the tents of wickedness." In the afternoon his discourse was founded on these remarkable words of Job, ch. 2. 10. "What! Shall we receive good at the hands of the Lord, and shall we not receive evil?" How important a preparation of the minds of his beloved hearers, for the calamity, the deep calamity, at the eve of which they had unconsciously arrived! Having finished the work of the sabbath; conversed cheerfully and instructively with several friends; and performed the devotional exercises of his family, he discovered symptoms, which convinced him of the third return of the former disorder, by another rupture of a bloodvessel. The attack was awfully severe; the loss of blood in a very short space of time excessively great; and the danger of a rapid decline alarmingly obvious. From the great debility occasioned by the loss of so large a quantity of the precious vital fluid, he

mercifully recovered so far, as to have various opportunities of bearing an unequivocal testimony to the power of the gospel over his mind, and of recommending it to the attention of others..

As soon as he was a little recovered from the immediate effects of his late alarming attack, he was recommended to take a journey for change of air. He accordingly went to Canterbury, where he spent nearly five weeks. For the first fortnight he appeared to be getting better, and his friends pleased themselves with the hope of his complete recovery. At that time, it is supposed, that he was led to entertain the same hope. But he appeared perfectly resigned to the Divine will, and more than once remarked, that, if he felt any desire to live, it was, that he might be useful. His conversation, during the whole time that he remained at Canterbury, was remarkably pious and spiritual, and will long be remembered with pleasure by those whose privilege it was to be with him. Whenever he spoke of the Saviour, it was in the most exalted terms. Christ, in the glory of his person, in the efficacy of his blood, and in the riches of his grace, was his delightful theme. Whenever he spoke of himself, it was with the greatest humility and self-abasement. On one occasion he thus expresses himself; "I can truly say with Archbishop Usher, Let me die with the language of the poor publican, "God be merciful to me, a sinner.'

During the last fortnight which he spent at Canterbury, his health declined, and the latter part of it, very rapidly. His cough was very troublesome, which deprived him of rest. One morning, after having had a very bad night, when he was asked, how he felt himself, he replied, "Of late I have had many sleepless nights, but not one heavy hour;

for in the multitude of my thoughts within me, his comforts delight my soul." At another time he said, "I have often made it matter of prayer, that if sickness should be unto death, I may experience my mind more and more weaned from earthly objects, and that I may prefer heaven to earth; and now I find that my prayer is answered." He embraced every opportunity of saying something profitable to those about him. To do good was his constant concern. "O," said he, one day, "that I may do good with my dying breath!" To a minister, expressing a hope, that his mind was in a comfortable frame, he replied: "My mind is fixed upon Christ. Those parts of the word of God," said he," which speak of Christ, whether prophetical or historical, are the most precious and sweet to me; and I can say, that I have more than a hope of interest in his love."

Finding that he was daily getting worse, he expressed a desire to return home. "It has," said he,

frequently been my prayer, that I might die with my dear people; and that, in my dying moments, I might testify the reality and importance of those things which I have taught them from the pulpit." Indeed, love to his people, next to love of Christ, seemed the governing principle of his breast. Of this, besides many other proofs, some letters which he addressed to a deacon of his church, during his visit at Canterbury, afford very satisfactory evidence. And the address to the congregation, which, at his request, was read from his pulpit, was expressive of all the fulness of his heart. At that time he appeared to think himself recovering, yet expressed the most expressive resignation to the will of the Lord; and the state of his mind, exhibited in that address, was all that his friends could wish. According to

his desire, he returned to Hammersmith. During the journey, he frequently spoke of divine things, on which, indeed, he always delighted to converse. But, in one instance, what he uttered was peculiarly interesting, as being expressive of the state of his mind. On being taken for a few minutes out of the carriage, his breath was so much affected with the cold air, that the friend who was with him thought he was dying. However, in a little time he recovered, and they proceeded on their journey. As soon as he was able to speak, he said, "What a mercy was it on your account, that I was not taken off! But whilst I was in that state I said to myself, are you satisfied with your hope? I replied, Yes, I am : I know the foundation of it." He then spoke of the nature of the Christian hope, as a good hope, a blessed hope, but above all, a hope full of immortality. What an affectionate consideration did he here discover for his friend! and, at the same time, what a desirable, happy frame of mind, as to his own most immediate prospects!

He observed, also, in the course of this affecting journey, that in former seasons of weakness and disease, there had been always some important object, which made him desirous of living; but now, he had nothing, excepting a view to general usefulness, which made him wish for recovery; and from this consideration, he felt perfectly satisfied as to the result. On reaching Hammersmith, he appeared very faint, and almost exhausted. Yet afterwards, during the evening, he seemed as well as the evening before, except the loss of appetite, which had till this time been very good. To a friend who said to him, "You appear very weak," his reply was, "If I am but strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might, that will be sufficient." To a person who