than this; and seldom, if ever, had he a more perfect command over the feelings of an audience. But the effort was too much for him, and he was afterwards confined to his room by illness for a week.

Following this indefatigable man of God, we find him on Sunday, the fifteenth of July, notwithstanding his late illness, at Swansea, preaching like a seraph, on the Prodigal Son in the morning, and in the evening on the words of St. Paul "I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ."

The next evening he preached in the church of Mount Pleasant. He said he had taken his model from the day of Pentecost. He described the event of that memorable day, as a great naval battle between Emanuel and the Prince of Darkness. "The Captain of our Salvation" sent out twelve little boats to engage the whole fleet of hell. For a time all was enveloped in fire and smoke, and the issue of the day seemed doubtful; but when the conflict ceased, and the cloud cleared away, it was ascertained that the twelve little boats had captured three thousand of Satan's ships of war.

When the preacher sat down, he said, "This is my last sermon." And so it was. That night he was taken violently ill. The next day he lay in a partial stupor, taking but little notice of his friends. The third day he seemed somewhat better. On the morning of the fourth day, Thursday, he arose and walked in the garden. Toward evening he sunk again, and grew worse during the night. At two o'clock on Friday morning, he said to his friends: "I am about to leave you; I have labored in the Sanctuary about fifty-three years; and this is my comfort and confidence, that I have never labored without blood in the basin," meaning, evidently, that he had not failed to preach "Jesus Christ and him crucified."

After a few more remarks, of a similar character, he repeated a Welsh stanza, expressive of his firm trust in the Redeemer; and then, as if he had done with earth, and desired to depart, exclaimed, in English, "Good bye! Drive on!" He now turned over, and seemed to sleep. friends tried to rouse him. It was too late. The angelic

His

postillion had obeyed the order. The chariot had passed over the everlasting hills.

"Unto the righteous will arrive,

A day of rest serene,

When to their joy they see the Lord,

Without a veil between.

Then from the grave I shall arise,
And take my joyful stand

Among the saints who dwell on high,
Received at God's right hand."

RICHARD WATSON."

THE following account of Mr. Watson's last days has been compiled from the statements furnished by those who visited him during his illness, and especially by members of his own family, who attended him night and day.

The last month of his life was marked by uncommon calmness of spirit. From the time when he gave up all expectation of recovery, he manifested, both in his spirit and language, the most perfect resignation to the divine will. His was not a sullen and compulsory submission to an unavoidable fate, but a deliberate exercise of Christian faith and patience. He resigned his body to the tomb,-his soul to God; and in death only made that sacrifice complete, in the spirit of which he had previously lived.

He remarked on several occasions, "I could have wished to live a few years longer, to finish some works and

From Life by Wickens - Book Room Ed.

designs of usefulness which I contemplated; but the Lord can do without any of us;" adding, "I have often admired the perfect resignation of David, when he said to Zadok, 'Carry back the ark of God into the city; if I shall find favor in the eyes of the Lord, he will bring me again, and show me both it and his habitation: but if he thus say, I have no delight in thee, behold, here am I, let him do to me as seemeth good to him.' So I say, If the Lord has no delight in me, here I am, let him do to me what seemeth good to him." His constant language was, "I have no wish either to live or die, but that the will of God may be done;" and on one occasion, when a member of his family expressed a hope of his recovery, he replied, with great sweetness, "It is the anxiety of affection, without any basis of reason to rest upon."

"It was my father's constant practice," observes Mrs. Dixon,* "when he and my mother were prevented by sickness from attending public worship on the Sabbath, to read with her in the forenoon the whole of the Church service, including the psalms, the epistle, and the collect for the day. My mother read the litany, while my father, devoutly kneeling, responded with the deepest and most fervent devotion. In the evening he selected a sermon, (generally one of Mr. Wesley's) to be read to him; and then, with peculiar feeling and solemnity, repeated one of our hymns, and concluded with prayer.

"On Sunday, December 16th, a day never to be forgotten, he went through the liturgical service in the forenoon, as above described. In the afternoon he exclaimed, 'Another silent Sabbath! This is the sixth Sunday that I have been prevented by illness from lifting up my voice in the sanc

*Mr. Watson's daughter married the Rev. James Dixon, now (1841) president of the Wesleyan conference.

tuary!' Then handing me the hymn-book, he said, 'Read me some of these blessed hymns: I find them very refreshing.' He then selected the following:

'O God of good, the unfathom'd sea;'
'Great God, indulge my humble claim;'
With glory clad, with strength array'd;'
'The earth and all her fullness owns ;'
'O Sun of righteousness, arise;'
'Join all the glorious names.'

In the evening, I read, at his request, Mr. Wesley's sermon on 'The Way to the Kingdom.' As I proceeded, he exclaimed, 'How strong; yet how admirably simple! How beautifully clear and perspicuous! How forcible and convincing! No man ever saw the "way to the Kingdom" more clearly than Wesley, and no man ever made that way so plain to others. The more I study his writings the more I admire them.' After reading a hymn, he prayed for nearly an hour, with astonishing and overwhelming power and energy, remembering not only his family individually, and pleading, nay, wrestling powerfully with God on their behalf, but also the church in general, and especially our department of it, with an intensity of feeling and earnestness of supplication remarkably impressive and affecting.'

On Tuesday, December 18th, he was visited by Mrs. Bulmer, the gifted authoress of "Messiah's Kingdom," who says, "He looked much emaciated, but he was cheerful as usual, and the frame of his mind deeply spiritual and heavenly. He spoke with great calmness of the probable issue of his affliction; and added, 'I have not now to learn, for the first time, that all is right and best, and as it should be, under the divine disposal,-whether restoration to health shall be vouchsafed to me, for further usefulness, or whether the continuance of severe pain shall shortly terminate my

suffering by death.' He then discoursed delightfully on the subject of a special providence, and on the many opportunities he had enjoyed of testing the truth of that doctrine in his personal experience. 'God,' said he, 'in the wise economy of his government, has provided for the answer of prayer.' He instanced such answers given to himself, especially as connected with his ministerial labors, when strength and refreshment had been remarkably vouchsafed to him in the hour of need, appealing, at the same time, to Mrs. Watson for the confirmation of his statements on this interesting point."

"During his illness," says Mrs. Dixon, "my father frequently repeated the following striking saying of Hooker: 'Since I owe thee a death, Lord, let it not be terrible, and then take thine own time; I submit to it. Let not mine, O Lord, but let thy will be done!' When in great pain he would often quote this passage from Jeremiah, 'If thou hast run with the footmen, and they have wearied thee, then how canst thou contend with horses; and if in the land of peace wherein thou trustedst, they wearied thee, then how wilt thou do in the swelling of Jordan?""

While in health, he was never remarkably communicative on the subject of personal religion; but he now became as simple and open as a child: nor had he been accustomed to give vent to his feelings by tears, generally endeavoring to repress his emotions; but he now yielded fully to the feelings of his heart, and when conversing on religious subjects, tears of deep humiliation, intermingled with sacred. joy, often flowed in copious streams from his eyes.

For some weeks Mr. Watson suffered greatly from periodical attacks of pain, to which he was subject during the latter stage of his complaint; and one of these paroxysms