most holy and established Christian is still a sinner, and feels himself such; that, however high his spiritual attainments in this life, the flesh still weighs down the spirit. I had heard and seen my dear father so strong in faith, that heaven seemed realized, and victory obtained; and I fancied he could never have a doubt of his salvation. But I found that the father in Christ could weep and tremble like the babe, because of the sin that dwelleth in him. 6 My dear father's cough continued, and he became very thin; and every one remarked how ill he looked. But he appeared not to notice it, and we thought he did not apprehend danger we have since found that we were mistaken, and that he always looked on the cough as a summons from above.' He abated nothing of his work, and still continued his visits to the poor. It was in the cottage of sorrow and by the bed of the dying, that my beloved parent's character appeared the brightest. He was the father as well as the minister of his people; and they brought all their difficulties and troubles to him, and ever found in him a tender and judicious adviser. He had particular pleasure in conversing with the pious poor, and said he had learnt some of his best lessons from them; that the religion of the poor in general was more spiritual and sincere than that of the rich; that they lived more simply the life of faith on the Son of God. I have seen my beloved father in public, when the gaze of admiration was fixed on him, and in the private drawing. room I have beheld him the delight and entertainment of the company, and my heart has exulted in him; but it was when smoothing the pillow of poverty and death, that I most loved and venerated him; and discovered the image of that Saviour' who went about doing good.' "In the month of February he went to Cambridge for a fortnight, to enter Henry. This was another subject of great anxiety to his mind he dreaded the temptations of a college life; and expressed much solicitude lest his dear inexperienced boy should be corrupted, and his religion injured. : "When he returned from Cambridge, we thought he looked better. He had been among friends he loved, and he derived great pleasure from his visit, and appeared more cheerful and lively than we had known him for the last two years. He entered into conversation with spirit, and even amused and entertained us in his engaging manner. We spent one week with him in this improved state of health and spirits; but he soon relapsed into his former thoughtful silence. The next week he caught a fresh cold, and his cough returned with greater vio lence yet he would have preached on the following Sunday, if his voice had not entirely failed him. I do not think he imagined that he had seen his people for the last time, but that he anticipated a temporary amendment, sufficient to enable him to go amongst them again. But his ministry was closed; and he was to meet them no more, till they met at the judgment seat of Christ! "To prevent increase of cold, he kept entirely to his study, and never came down stairs after that Sunday; yet he read and wrote as usual. His "It may seem extraordinary that he never spoke to us on the subject of his death, but those can understand it who knew the exquisite tenderness and susceptibility of his feelings. affection indeed was almost his affliction. He could not bear to witness the sorrow which would have filled our hearts in the certain and near prospect of separation. He wished us, I think, to understand his situation and to observe in silence. "There were no violent symptoms to mark the approach of death, but a gradual decay of strength. He sat with us as usual in his study-chair to the very last day,—almost to the last hour. I recollect many things which I did not then understand, but which now shew me that he was preparing for death: with surprising calmness he set his house in order. He made a catalogue of his principal books, with memoranda how they were to be disposed of; also of his minerals and philosophical apparatus; he emptied all the cupboards round the room, which had not been done for many years; he burnt every book which he thought of an injurious tendency. All this was done for the most part in silence, it being painful for him to speak, even in a whisper. I have seen him sit for an hour together in the deepest abstraction of thought-then he would raise his eyes, the tears streaming down his pale cheeks, clasping his hands, as if in the fervency of importunate prayer-and again all was composure, and he looked peaceful and happy. He seemed to be maintaining a constant communion with God. I know he felt deeply for his children, whom he was about to leave young and inexperienced--exposed to a world of sin and temptation. My brother and I have frequently heard him break forth in prayer for us when we had scarcely closed his door. The sounds were faint and broken, but we understood their import; and the unutterable tenderness of his manner towards us is even now too affecting to dwell upon. He would sometimes open his arms for me to come to him, and laying his head upon my shoulder, would fall again into deep thought. His parish also was always upon his mind. He was continually inquiring about the people, and sending me with messages to them; and he listened with much interest to the report I made of them. 6 "One of his converts, a young girl of nineteen, was at this time on the bed of death, and my dear father regretted much he could not visit her; but he was very anxious to comfort and instruct her through me. She survived him two months, and died in the same peace, perhaps with more triumph. She said, just before her death, she longed yet more for heaven, because her dear minister was there to welcome her.' I know that he was full of anxiety for a suitable successor, and the idea of his flock being dispersed hung heavy upon his spirits. One morning, when I was sitting near him, he burst into tears and said, 'Oh! my parish! my poor parish. I feel as if I had done nothing for it, as if it had been so much neglected. I have not done half that I ought.' It was more than I could bear to hear him speak in this way; for I had seen him in weariness, and painfulness, and watchings, spending and being spent, if by any means he might win souls to Christ. I suggested to him his labours, and the singular usefulness of his ministry, especially within the last two years he would still reply,' no thanks to me, no thanks to me. I see it so different now, as if I had done just nothing. I see nothing but neglect, and duties left undone.' I could not help reflecting on the different aspect things must have when eternity is opening upon us. He was considerably cheered soon after this, by the prospect of Mr. H-becoming his curate; it seemed to revive him; he lost sight of other troubles in the thought that his church would be well supplied. "He often recurred to Henry's residence at college, and talked of his fears for his dear boy till he was quite spent. He would say, 'I have seen the ruin of so many promising youths by a college life, and those apparently as amiable and pious as my own dear child. I know the difficulty of maintaining spiritual religion at Cambridge. Even studies which are in themselves lawful, and which he ought to pursue, have a tendency to weaken piety, and interrupt private devotion. Christ has often been crucified between classics and mathematics. I wish him to be diligent in his studies, but the Bible is the proper library for a young man entering into the church. If he does but understand the Bible experimentally, I shall be content. Bid him, F-, to be very careful of his companions, that they be few, and more advanced in religion than himself; and particularly that he attends Mr. S's ministry. It cheers my heart, that there is such a ministry at Cambridge. Be sure you talk to him about these things. Warn him of declensions, and against sacrificing religion to the desire of distinction. That dear boy, and his approaching trials, are never out of my thoughts; I think of him by day, and dream of him by night.' "We found in his desk a sheet of paper on which was written Cambridge documents.' These were directions for Henry, but not finished. He had often expressed a great desire to see a son in the church, ready to take his place. 'If I might but hear a true gospel sermon from one of my children, I should die in peace.' On another occasion, he expressed great delight that his young friend C. H— visited the poor, and said, 'you must recommend this to Henry, as the very best preparation for the ministry. Try, my dear F―, to keep him up to it. Tell him his poor father learnt his most valuable lessons for the ministry, and his most useful experience in religion, in the poor man's cottage.' 6 "The last time he spoke to me on personal religion he endea-} voured to establish my mind in the doctrine of assurance, and enlarged on its importance, and its tendency to promote both comfort and obedience. He pointed to Archbishop Leighton as my pattern: see how holily and lovingly that man walked with God, because he believed that his salvation was safe and settled, that he was chosen in Christ. Try, my dear child, to expand your views; look at the magnificent scheme of salvation-the contract between the Father and his eternal Son. How much better to look out of self, and see all perfected in Christ. You will never be happy and strong, till you grasp the covenant plan of redemption. You live upon self too much; you will get misery and despair, but nothing else, by looking to yourself. You live upon Christ; he has done all for you, if you could but believe it.' "Of the last sermons I read to him, one was entitled, 'Hope amidst Billows,' the other The Believer a Hero.' This last I read twice to him; and he expressed much delight in listening to it. It seemed to suit the state of his mind, and corresponded with his own sentiments. At one part of the sermon he stopped me, that he might meditate on what he heard, and then he said, When I had 'read it again.' It seemed to cheer his mind. finished it, 'this,' said he,' exactly expresses what I would say to you; that is just my sentiment;' and he told me to turn down the leaf, that he might shew it to mamma. I have copied the passage; it appears to me very beautiful, and is greatly endeared to me, as having comforted my dear father a few days only before his death. : "The fear of God is not a perplexing doubting, and distrust of his love on the contrary, it is a fixed resting and trust in his love. Many who have some truth of grace are, through weakness, filled with disquieting fears; but, possibly, though they perceive it not, it may be in some a point of wilfulness, a little latent undiscerned affectation of scrupling and doubting, placing much of religion in it. True, where the soul is really solicitous about its interest in God, that argues some grace; but being vexingly anxious about it, argues that grace is weak and low. A spark there is even discovered by that smoke, but the great smoke still continuing and nothing seen but it, argues there is little fire, little faith, little love; and then as it is unpleasant to thyself, so it is to God, as smoke to the eyes. What if one should be always questioning with a friend, whether he loved him or not, and upon every little occasion were ready to think he doth not, how would they disrelish their society together, though truly loving each other. The far more excellent way, and more pleasing both to ourselves and to God, were to resolve on humble trust, reverence, and confidence, being most afraid to offend, delighting to walk in his ways, loving him and his will in all; and then resting persuaded of his love, though he chastise us, and even though we offend him, and see our offences in our chastisements, yet he is good; plenteous in redemption, ready to forgive; therefore let Israel hope and trust. Let my soul roll itself on him, and adventure there all its weight. He bears greater matters, upholding the frame of heaven and earth, and is not troubled nor burdened with it.' "Three days after, he asked me to read one of Newton's letters, from the volume entitled 'The Aged Pilgrim's Triumph.' He listened to me with interest, but did not speak, except to thank me. "When his meals were brought to him, he used to clasp his wasted hands, and ask a blessing. 'I thank thee, heavenly Father, for these undeserved mercies to such an unworthy sinner.' There may be nothing more in the words than any other Christian would utter; but the humility and reverence of his manner deeply affected us. "Nearly the whole of Good Friday, he sat in a solemn prayerful meditation, with that exquisite print of Guido's before him, the head of our Saviour crowned with thorns, His attention seemed riveted on it, but he said nothing. "On Easter Sunday the sacrament was administered at the |