or infidels-that he hardly ever met with a company of young persons, but it excited a kind of gloom on his mind to think what might be their state in life, and the state of the church, when the present generation was gone. He always considered them as the hope of the church; therefore, in his addresses to youth, he was ever pathetically tender and affectionate. He had the heart of a father, he wept over them in life and in death, and his last advice to them was, to weep for themselves. This state of mind was so impressive in his last illness, that for many months before he left us, that of a mourner appeared to be a leading feature in his character. Often, when reflecting upon the deplorable condition of the youth among us, he felt an ardent desire to have them collected around him, that he might once more weep over them, and warn them of the danger which awaited them. When about to take any thing agreeably to the doctor's direction, to mitigate his pain, he would be apt to observe that the best cordial for him would be to hear of the prosperity of Zionthat his careless neighbours were attending to the one thing needful-if it would not remove, it would enable him to bear his burden. He often spake of his own deficiences in the most humbling terms: not so much his want of faithfulness in publicly preaching the word, as his not improving every opportunity in families and with individuals to promote their spiritual interests, and in labouring to do good to the souls of his fellow creatures by recommending the religion of Jesus. He was afraid his brethren in the ministry were criminal in the same way; and would lament that private christians did not

appear to consider it their duty, by every prudent method in their private capacity, to recommend religion; and in that way to be preaching the gospel. He deeply lamented the folly and madness of multitudes in paying no regard to the authority and commands of God, and neglecting the only way of salvation. He would sometimes observe, "that as he saw a propriety in, it, so he felt an inclination to go mourning to his grave."

This was a common theme with him, and he was apt to close his observations in the words of the prophet, "Oh that my head were waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my people." This he would express with emphatic fervor. Having imbibed much of the spirit of his divine master, at a time when it appeared natural that every other thought should be swallowed up in his own sufferings, like Him, they did not make him forget the church, his country, or his fellow creatures through the world, but appeared to quicken his ardor for the prosperity of the one and the happiness of the other.

His anxiety for the promotion of religion, and his seeing or hearing of little or nothing that appeared favourable, at least in this country, gave a colouring to the state of his mind, while the uncommonly distressing nature of his disorder made him fond of repeating and commenting on such passages as these:-"A bruised reed shall he not break, and smoking flax shall he not quench" "Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him,"

&c.

As in all his sufferings his own bodily pain was less distressing than the fear that he might dishonour God and religion by manifesting an unbecoming temper; so, to obviate the effects of such example, frequently would he tell his family and his neighbours that he had great jealousies of himself on this head, and that if, in his long affliction, he should become peevish, he wished them to take notice that he entered his solemn protest against himself for it. When he would be reminded with how much patience and firmness he suffered, he would observe, "You know nothing about me, I know I shall fail if God withdraw the kind supports of his grace from me." Speaking to his much esteemed friend, the Rev. Mr. Abell, he said, "Tell my friends, in their prayers for me, I wish this to be their petition,-that I may not dishonour God before I die." Patience and resignation were the subjects of his prayers; his prayers were answered-he never to the last moment discovered that weakness of mind which utters the impatient sigh.

So far from being in a terror at approaching death, he had full command of all his reasoning powers, like a man about to die in perfect health, with all his senses about him. He frequently directed his family to give him water often, should he become speechless, (which took place about two days and a half before his death) because many, he believed, often suffered greatly for water after they became incapable of calling for it. In attending to this direction, which was done about every ten minutes, when asked if he would receive it, he genally intimated his assent.

He meditated with much pleasure on the dealings of God with him in his youth, in bringing him to an early knowledge of the gospel plan of salvation through a divine Redeemer; particularly on the exercise of covenanting with God, in which exercise he was engaged during the space of about two weeks not long after he received the first manifestation of God's love to his soul. But he said, he feared that he fed too much on past experiences. His present exercises, however, were often very comfortable. On one of his wearisome nights, sitting in his chair, and not able to hold up his head without having it held up for him, "I have been sitting here," said he, "hanging down my head, and meditating upon these words:- When he shall appear we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is; and I trust I was brought to his banqueting house, and his banner over me was love." He dwelt much on the faithfulness of God "He hath made with me an everlasting covenant, ordered in all things and sure,' was the theme of his soul. He would often add, "This is all my salvation and all my desire."-About the last words he was heard to utter were, "O when shall I be free from sin and sorrow.", And on the 18th day of June, 1816, and in the 83rd year of his age, the weary wheels of life stood still at last.

The foregoing gives some imperfect account of the last days of this ancient and faithful servant of Jesus Christ, and of the exercises of his mind at a time when he had a clear, calm, and deliberate expectation every day of receiving the summons to appear before his Cre

ator. The relation is made from memory after his departure, but care has been taken to guard against any incorrect statement; of several who were with him great part of the time embraced in this narration, none have discovered any inaccuracies. It was very desirable to preserve a more detailed account, by committing to writing his observations and remarks as they occurred. Something of this kind was attempted-but, his great distress requiring so interruptedly the attention of all about him, it was found it would be difficult, perhaps impracticable, to have effected it.

Could this have been done, such extracts might have been made as would have shown to the world an instance of age, under an enormous weight of distress, rising, by the supports of divine grace, superior to its infirmities and pains. It would be seen how precious Jesus is to those who put their trust in him-it would be seen how rich a treasure the divine word is to those who thence deduce the rules of their life, and all their hopes of comfort in time, of support in death, and of peace and joy in eternity-it would be seen that in his most distressing moments he often almost forgot his pains while repeating over the precious promises of God's word, and commenting upon them with a perspicuity, diffusiveness, and pertinency, which was surprising to all who viewed his age, his weakness, and his sufferings

that this exercise appeared to afford more relief than any thing else—it would be seen that "the kingdom of God is righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost"-it would be seen that there is a reality in religion which is even tangible-in fine, it would be seen