far complied as to write one sermon ; but his resolution then failed him, he laid aside his paper, and entirely abandoned his design. His attention, however, had been for some time directed to an exposition of the Epistle to the Romans, and he now resolved to include the whole of the New Testament in his plan. Having once allotted to himself the task, he entered upon its execution with an energy and vigour that were truly astonishing, considering his personal sufferings and the enfeebled state of his health. He devoted to the work every hour that he could command; his progress in it was rapid and satisfactory, and its influence upon his own mind cheering and salutary. He more than once remarked, "If I die before the work is finished, I shall not lose my labour; for the spiritual benefit to my own mind is worth all the toil." And in these labours he was disinterested. Prior to the meeting of the Conference in 1832 he executed a deed by which he conveyed the copyright of all the works he had published, to Trustees in behalf of the Connexion, excepting his "Conversations for the Young," which he still retained for the benefit of his family. The Conference thus acknowledged this generous act:-"The most cordial thanks of the Conference are justly due, and are hereby affectionately tendered, to the Rev. Richard Watson, for his eminently liberal and disinterested conduct, in having presented to the Connexion the copyright of several of his highly valuable and important works, namely, his Theological Institutes,' Life of Mr. Wesley,' Biblical Dictionary,' and Observations on Southey's Life of Wesley;' and this Resolution shall be inserted in the printed Minutes of Conference."

At this Conference he was once more appointed one of the Resident Secretaries of the Wesleyan Missionary Society; and returning to London, he removed from the City-road to his former residence in Myddeltonsquare. It was hoped that by avoiding the night air, and by being relieved from the necessity of frequent weeknight preaching, he

would yet be able for some years to
come to serve the Mission cause,
and to instruct the world by his
writings. But his days were num-
bered, and his work almost done.
The year on which he had entered
was one of the most melancholy in
the annals of Wesleyan Methodism
for the removal of men of high min-
isterial character and talent from
their labours in "Christ's church
militant here on earth." Scarcely
had the Preachers time to repair to
their new appointments, before an
unexampled scene of mortality was
opened among them. The first that
was called away was the truly vene-
rable Dr. Adam Clarke, to whose
sanctified learning the whole Chris-
tian church bore willing testimony,
and who was especially revered in the
Methodist Connexion for his piety,
zeal, apostolic simplicity, and minis-
terial usefulness. He died of malig-
nant cholera, calmly resting on the
Saviour whom he loved, and had
long preached, on the evening of
Sunday, August 25th. The Rev.
Thomas Stanley, Superintendent of
one of the London Circuits, an
active and useful member of the
Missionary Committee, a most
friendly and upright man, was next
separated from his family and con-
nexions, and summoned to his final
reward. He suddenly died, of apo
plexy, on the 9th of October. The
next stroke came still nearer to Mr.
Watson's feelings. One of his col-
leagues in the Missionary Secretary-
ship was the Rev. John James, a
man for whom he had long cherished
a sincere and very affectionate friend-
ship. On Sunday morning, Nov.
4th, Mr. James appeared in his
usual health, and at family worship
gave out the hymn in which this
impressive stanza is found :-
"Whisper thy love into my heart,

Warn me of my approaching end;
And then I joyfully depart,

And then I to thy arms ascend." In the evening he preached in the City-read chapel, when he betrayed signs of languor, and his mind seemed to be occasionally confused. He was conveyed home in a coach, and during the night was seized with

apoplexy, which was quickly followed by paralysis. He remained in a state of stupor, deprived of the power of speech, till the following Tuesday, when he yielded up his soul to God. Mr. Watson felt this event very severely. He was strongly attached to Mr. James as a man, and he knew his worth as a Missionary Secretary. He felt, too, how precarious was his own state, and the solemnities of death and eternity now engaged his constant attention. He was himself confined to his house at the time of Mr. James's funeral, and was too ill even to pay the last mark of respect for his lamented colleague, by following his remains to the grave. On Sunday morning, the twenty-eighth of October, he attended his appointment at the Hinde-street chapel, Manchestersquare. When he entered the pulpit, he was exceedingly unwell, and his wan and emaciated appearance deeply affected the congregation, many of whom were painfully apprehensive that his end was near; but as he proceeded in the service, he appeared to forget his infirmities, and delivered a discourse which was made a special blessing to the hearers. His text was, Thy Spirit is good; lead me into the land of uprightness." It was his last sermon. He closed his public ministry by a most glowing description of the goodly land in which the established Christian dwells, and by encouraging his hearers in an application of uncommon pathos and power, to go up at once and possess it. The influence which attended the sermon was very powerful; deep and salutary impressions were made upon many minds, as to the nature and value of true religion, and its attainableness under the gracious aid of the Holy Spirit. He was in a state of great suffering when the service concluded, and hastened to his beloved home, which, ere many weeks had elapsed, was a house of mourning for the removal of its honoured head.

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He himself began to consider his own recovery as hopeless, and was apprehensive that his end was nearer than he had anticipated. He was anxious to leave behind him a finish

ed statement of his views of what he conceived to be the legitimate meaning of the Epistle to the Romans, and that to the Hebrews. He had now proceeded with his Exposition of the New Testament as far as the twelfth chapter of Luke, and passing over the remaining chapters, the Gospel by St. John, and the Acts of the Apostles, he entered without delay on the Epistle to the Romans; but when he had reached the third chapter, his strength failed, and he closed his theological labours by an admirable note on Romans iii. 22, 23. Throughout life the Christian doctrine of the atonement had been one of the most prominent subjects of his ministry; it was the basis of all his hope and confidence towards God; it supplied in his mind the principal motives to personal piety, as well as to ministerial and Missionary exertion; and now that his right hand was ceasing from employment in which he delighted, the explanation of the word of God, it finished by recording his final testimony to the glorious and wonderful method of a sinner's justification before God, through faith in the sacrifice of Christ.

The efficacy of the atonement, which he thus forcibly inculcated so long as he was permitted to teach, he fully and most happily realized during the few remaining weeks of his suffering life. From this time his strength rapidly declined, and the pain which he often endured was frightful and overwhelming. All that medical ski! could do was attempted in vain. The disease remained in undiminished power, and his case became peculiarly distressing. He had, indeed, intervals of comparative ease, but his paroxysms of pain were increasingly severe. They sometimes rose to agony, and continued, with scarcely any abatement, for twelve or fourteen hours together. Such, however, was the energy of his mind, strengthened and sustained by the truth and grace of his almighty Saviour, that his patience and self-possession never forsook him. "I have seen him," says Mr. Hunter, his esteemed medical attendant and friend, “in such

a state of suffering that nature could not have endured the slightest augmentation of his pain, but must have fainted under the pressure; and his cry was, not so much that the chastisement might be withdrawn, as that it might be overruled to the improvement of his piety. Let it be sanctified,' was his constant prayer: 'O God, let it be sanctified!""

While he was in this state of affliction, waiting for the final summons, the great question of Negro Emancipation was approaching its crisis; and in this hopeful state of things, Mr. Buxton wrote to him, requesting his advice as to the plan to be adopted. Feeble as he was, he called for his desk, and wrote a long and valuable letter in reply. The writing was so tremulous that it was a matter of some difficulty to decipher it, but, with some assistance from himself, it was transcribed and forwarded. This was in the course of December; and just after he had finished it, his friend Mr. Mason called to see him; and after some observations on the subject, he remarked, with considerable feeling, "I am now a dying man; but it is a privilege to have lived to see the time when the day of liberty begins to dawn upon those poor oppressed people in the West Indies."

He was now confined to his sick room; life was ebbing out apace; and the time was come that he must die. He had a "great fight of affliction" to endure, and to resign his life in obedience to the call of God. In what manner he sustained the fiery conflict, and realized the power of Christianity, will best appear from the accounts supplied by friends who visited him, and especially by members of his own family, who attended him night and day.

46

The lamented Mrs. Agnes Bulmer, author of that elegant and truly Christian poem, Messiah's Kingdom," had several interviews with him during the closing weeks of his life. She thus speaks of the last of them, which took place on Thursday, December 27th:-"I was then admitted to see him for a short time, after he had endured that paroxysm of awful suffering which had brought

him to the verge of the grave. Never shall I forget the expression of his countenance, when I first met the glance of his languid and almost tearful eye. It was a look of ineffable kindness and affection; and seemed as if it could be second only to that with which I trust we shall again regard each other in a sinless and unsuffering world. It dissolved my soul in grief. I felt assured that his stay among us could not be long, and the idea of his removal inflicted a poignant pang. His frame bore the impress of the agony he had endured. But his spirit seemed pavilioned in the very divine presence. He said that he felt the sustaining power of God,' and discoursed for a short time, and with frequent intermissions, through great debility, on that delightful topic, peculiarly suggested by the season, 'They shall call his name Emmanuel, God with us.' 'Yes,' said he, God with us,-with us all,-with each of us,with us at all times,-under all circumstances; especially with us in deep sympathy with all our sorrows, dangers, and sufferings." He was evidently giving utterance to sentiments, the truth of which he was then powerfully realizing in his own experience. Faith triumphed over dissolving nature, and the Rock of ages he felt to be the strength of his failing heart. Our parting is indelibly written on mine. With a voice faltering through irrepressible emotion, he expressed a hope that our next meeting might be under more favourable circumstances, and added, If not-if not-may we have a happier meeting in heaven.'"

6

Mr. Beecham, his esteemed colleague in the Secretaryship to the Wesleyan Missionary Society, was in daily habits of intercourse with him during his last illness, and has furnished some most important particulars as to his feelings and deportment. To Mr. Beecham he said, the day before Christmas-day, having passed the preceding night in great pain, "All prospect of my recovery is gone. This return of pain proves that the cause of my affliction remains. I have no hope now. There is no rational ground

of hope left.

NOTHING NOW REMAINS FOR ME, BUT TO ADDRESS

MYSELF TO THE GREAT WORK OF PREPARING TO SUFFER AND DIE.

Mr. Beecham has well remarked, that "it was no common privilege to have the opportunity of witnessing a mind of such an order thus coolly essaying to grapple with the awful realities of death and eternity." At a subsequent interview, December 26th, he said, referring to the great privileges unfolded by the Gospel, "Now, here are two points: first, Are these things so? and,Have you an interest in them?" Having paused, as if in solemn consideration of these questions, he said, with strong feeling, "Yes, these things are so; these principles are true; and, blessed be God, I have an interest in them!" He afterwards enlarged on the sufficiency of the atonement; and, placing his attenuated hands together, and looking up to heaven, with his eyes partly closed, while his quivering lips marked the deep feeling of his soul, he quoted the following lines in his own peculiarly solemn man

that I must now take up those subjects where he had broken off, and finish them. After further conversation, on my preparing to leave him, I gathered up only the papers we had been examining; when, taking them out of my hand, he placed them with the others in the portfolio, and folding it up, said, Here, take all together. If I get better, you know I can take it back again; and if not, I must leave you, and you must leave me.' On a subsequent day," (we still quote from Mr. Beecham,) "as I sat alone with him, he said that his preparations for death were now nearly completed, and talked with me about destroying his useless papers, and respecting the manuscripts he should leave behind, and on his private affairs in general, with a calmness and composure which almost made me forget that I was conversing with one who regarded himself as a dying man. And this fortitude was not an occasional effort of the mind. In this respect I invariably found him the same. His dying was his common topic; and he would dwell on it with a composedness which strikingly indicated that all was right within. He said to me one day, It is possible I may rally so far as to be able to advise with you again. But,' he added, looking up, while the tears glistened in his eyes, if not, blessed be thy name, I am resigned to thy will.'”

་

His son-in-law, the Rev. James Dixon, states that, "in remarking on the goodness of God in his early conversion, he observed,' How great was his mercy in taking me up by his grace, and putting me into the ministry at so early a period,—an unworthy, and, in some respects, a most obstinate and refractory sinner !' His favourite expression, when speaking of his state, was to call himself a worm.' One night, moved by a sudden impulse, as he lay in bed, he exclaimed, with tears flowing down his languid countenance, I am a worm,-a poor, vile worm,-not worthy to lift up its head. But then,' he added, the worm is permitted to crawl out of the earth into the garden of the Lord, and there, among the flowers

K

and fruits, if it can, to speculate on the palace and ivory throne of Solomon.' Adding,—

'I shall behold his face,

I shall his power adore,
And sing the wonders of his grace

For evermore !'"

On Sunday, during his illness, he requested that the Gospel and Epistle for the day might be read to him; and afterwards said, "Read the Te Deum: I am fond of that when I cannot go out on the Sunday, because it serves to unite one in spirit with the whole catholic church in earth and in heaven." At another time, being in great pain, he exclaimed, "O how much labour and pain it costs to unroof this house, to take down this tabernacle and tent, and to set the spirit free! And when shall my soul leave this tenement of clay! I long to quit this little abode, gain the wide expanse of the skies, rise to nobler joys, and see God!" In a state of high ecstasy, he burst forth, but a short time before he was deprived of the power of connected speech, exclaiming, "We shall see strange sights some day; not different, however, from what we might realize by faith. But it is not this; not the glitter and the glory; not the diamond and the topaz; no, it is God; he is all and in all !"

The following incident will show the perfect composure with which he contemplated death. It is related by his daughter. "One night, on my offering to wind up his watch, he handed it to me, saying, with great emphasis, Here, take it, and wind it up for me a few times more. I shall soon be 'where day and night divide his works no more.' Then, clasping his hands, he exclaimed, Eternity! eternity!' and, sinking back in his chair, seemed absorbed in the contemplations which that momentous word had suggested; whilst his brightening features, becoming impressed with the vastness of his conceptions, assumed an almost supernatural expression."

During three or four of the last days of his life he sunk into a state of lethargy, appearing almost in

sensible to those around him, and was nearly incapable of the use of speech. No conversation could be held with him on any subject, but at intervals he seemed to be engaged in devotional exercises. At length, after many hours of difficult respiration, the moment of dissolution approached, and without any apparent pain or convulsive struggle, his sanctified and happy spirit left its tabernacle of clay, and entered the world of rest and love. Such was the calm and peaceful manner in which this distinguished Minister of Christ closed a life of laborious zeal and usefulness, and almost uninterrupted affliction. He died at ten minutes past eight o'clock, on Tuesday evening, January 8th, 1833, having nearly completed his fifty-second year.

The funeral of Mr. Watson took place on Tuesday, January 15th, at the City-road chapel. All the Wesleyan Ministers stationed in London were present, with a large concourse of Christians of various denominations. The service was conducted by the Rev. Messrs. Joseph Entwisle, George Marsden, and Edwark Oakes, Mr. Entwisle delivering an impressive address. His remains were interred in the burying-ground behind the chapel, where are the ashes of many of the distinguished dead. His tomb is near that of Mr. Wesley; and not far distant are those of Dr. Clarke, Messrs. Benson, Bradburn, Olivers, Walter Griffith; Ministers "famous in their generation, and men of renown." Sermons on occasion of Mr. Watson's death were preached by the Wesleyan Ministers in the principal towns throughout the kingdom, in most of which he had himself ministered the word of life, and in all which by name and character he was well known. The Rev. Jabez Bunting was requested by the Missionary Committee and the family of the deceased to improve the solemn event by a discourse in the City-road chapel. He complied with the request, and preached on the morning of Friday, January 18th, to a very numerous and respectable congregation. The text selected by