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." 66. 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 came to him on some necessary business, he said, Regard the sabbath for the good of your precious soul. Remember, that will live after your body is dead, that will live for ever." He now desired that all his dear friends might see him; "the poor," said he, "as well as the rich, let there be no distinction." Accordingly, many came, and many more, doubtless, would have come to see him, had they known that his eyes would so soon be closed in death. To one he said, "I have lived with you, and loved you, and now I am come to die with you." To another, who had made the obvious remark, that he appeared extremely weak, he replied, "But what a blessed thing to know, that when flesh and heart fail, God will be the strength of our hearts, and our portion for ever." To a young person of his flock, he said, in the most emphatic manner, "It is the truth, love the truth, live by the truth." A short time before he expired, summoning up all his little remaining strength, he expressed himself in the following words to his friends present: "In Christ-He is the only refuge for a poor sinner. That plan of salvation which secures the honour of God, and the eternal happiness of the sinner, is the glory of the Gospel. I am a sinner saved by grace. We deserve damnation; but Christ has suffered and died for us. Excuse," he added, "my plainness, I am going, and I speak as one that must give account. I thank you for all your kind favours. The mercy of the Lord be with you all.” These were nearly the last intelligible words which he spoke. A Christian friend coming into the room, he pronounced his name, and attempted to address him; but the only words which were heard, were, "-Right-Well." The last word he uttered was Rejoice." Such, says Dr. Winter, in the close of his funeral sermon, was the happy, rejoicing death of one of the best men that ever lived. He was an eminently serious Christian, a steady friend, a scribe well instructed in the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven; firm in his own views, but candid to those who conscientiously differed from him; dependent on divine grace in a Redeemer, but actively persevering in that holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord. The doctrines which exalt the person and work of the Saviour which lay man low in the dust, as a depraved and, in himself, a wretched creature-which point out his salvation from its origin to its consummation, to be all of grace, free, sovereign grace, and which bear the most friendly aspect on universal holiness of heart and life, were the doctrines which he taught clearly and fully. He knew his awful responsibility at the great tribunal, and watched for souls as one who must give account. Whosoever might be displeased or offended, it was his desire in public to keep back no part of the counsel of God: and, in private, his whole behaviour was as far removed from flattery on the one hand, as from unkind severity on the other. The meekness and the gentleness of Christ were peculiarly conspicuous in the whole of his ministry and of his conduct. He was one of the most truly affectionate ministers with whom the church of God has been favoured: and his kindness was displayed to the afflicted-to the poor-the ignorant, and the young. He entered with a minuteness, which was almost peculiar to himself, into the concerns of those whom he wished to serve. In the neighbourhood where he lived and died, K |