While he continued at Bristol, some of the principal persons of his congregation came to visit him, with an affection not to be expressed; they brought him an assurance of the high esteem and tender sympathy of his people and friends at home, and informed him that prayer was made by the Church for him three evenings in every week; and that some other Churches were engaged in the same work on his account. This afforded him great satisfaction and refreshment. He knew their prayers would not be, upon the whole, vain; though he considered his own case as desperate, and said, that unless God should interpose in such an extraordinary manner as he had no reason to expect, he could not long continue in the land of the living. He ascribed to the efficacy of the prayers of his friends, the composure and joy he felt in his own soul, and the preservation of Mrs. Doddridge's health, amidst incessant fatigue and concern, which he acknowledged as a singular blessing. But while the outward man was so sensibly decaying, that he used to say to his friends, "I die daily," yet the "inward man was renewed day by day." The warmth of his devotion, zeal, and friendship, was maintained and increased.

As a last means that could afford any hope of restoring his health, he was advised to try a warmer climate. A friend who visited him just before he departed from England, gave the following account of his condition and of the expressions that dropped from his almost dying lips :

"He coughs much, is hoarse, speaks inwardly with a low voice. He is affected with the loss of his voice, being desirous to preach Christ, and to speak for him, while he lives. He is preparing for a journey, through roads rendered exceedingly bad by much wet, to embark at Falmouth. My soul,' saith he, is vigorous and healthy, notwithstanding the hastening decay of this frail

and tottering body. It is not for the love of sunshine or the variety of meats, that I desire life, but, if it please God, that I may render him a little more service. It is a blessed thing to live above the fear of death, and I praise God, that I fear it not. The means I am about pursuing to save life, so far as I am solely concerned, are, to my apprehension, worse than death. My profuse night-sweats are very weakening to my emaciated frame; but the most distressing nights to this frail body have been as the beginning of heaven to my soul. God hath, as it were, let heaven down upon me in those nights of weakness and waking. I am not suffered once to lose my hope. My confidence is, not that I have lived such or such a life, or served God in this or the other manner; I know of no prayer I ever offered, no service I ever performed, but there has been such a mixture of what was wrong in it, that instead of recommending me to the favour of God, I needed his pardon, through Christ, for the same. Yet he hath enabled me in sincerity to serve him. Popular applause was not the thing I sought. If I might be honoured to do good, and my heavenly Father might see his poor child attempting, though feebly and imperfectly, to serve him, and meet with his approving eye and commending sentence, "Well done, good and faithful servant,"-this my soul regarded and was most solicitous for. I have no hope in what I have been, or done. Yet I am full of confidence; and this is my confidence; there is a hope set before me: I have fled, I still fly for refuge to that hope. In him I trust; in him I have strong consolation, and shall assuredly be accepted in this Beloved of my soul. The Spirit of adoption is given me, enabling me to cry, Abba, Father. I have no doubt of my being a child of God, and that life and death, and all my present exercises are directed in mercy, by my adored heavenly Father.'"

He sailed from Falmouth for Lisbon, on the 30th of

September, 1751. On the passage, he several times said to Mrs. Doddridge, "I cannot express to you what a morning I have had; such delightful and transporting views of the heavenly world is my Father now indulging me with, as no words can express." There appeared such sacred gratitude and joy in his countenance as often reminded her of those lines in one of his hymns,

"When death o'er nature shall prevail,

And all its powers of language fail,

Joy through my swimming eyes shall break,
And mean the thanks I cannot speak."

He landed at Lisbon on Lord's day, October 13th. The next day he wrote to his assistant at Northampton, and gave him a short account of his voyage, and, after mentioning his great weakness and danger, he adds:"Nevertheless, I bless God, the most undisturbed serenity continues in my mind, and my strength holds proportion to my day. I still hope and trust in God, and joyfully acquiesce in all he may do with me. When you see my dear friends of the congregation, inform them of my circumstances, and assure them that I cheerfully submit myself to God. If I desire life may be restored, it is chiefly that it may be employed in serving Christ among them; and that I am enabled by faith to look upon death as an enemy that shall be destroyed; and can cheerfully leave my dear Mrs. Doddridge a widow in this strange land, if such be the appointment of our heavenly Father. I hope I have done my duty, and the Lord do as seemeth good in his sight!"

The night of Thursday, October 24th, seemed the last of rational life; his mind continued in the same vigour, calmness, and joy, which he had felt and expressed during his whole illness. Mrs. Doddridge still attended him; and he said to her, "That he had been making it his humble and earnest request, that God would support

and comfort her; that it had been his desire, if it were the Divine will, to stay a little longer upon earth to promote the honour and interest of his beloved Lord and Master; but now, the only pain he felt in the thought of dying was, his fear of that distress and grief which would come upon her in case of his removal." After a short pause, he added, "But I am sure my heavenly Father will be with you. It is a joy to me to think, how many friends and comforts you are returning to. So sure I am that God will be with you and comfort you, that I think my death will be a greater blessing to you than ever my life hath been." After lying still some time, and being supposed asleep, he told her he had been renewing his covenant engagements with God; and though he had not felt all that delight and joy which he had so often done, yet he was sure the Lord was his God, and he had a cheerful, well-grounded hope, through the Redeemer, of being received to his everlasting mercy. He lay in a gentle doze the following day, and continued so till about an hour before he died; when, in his last struggle, he appeared restless, fetched several deep sighs, and quickly after obtained his release from the burden of the flesh, on Saturday, October 26th.

But though he died in a foreign land and among strangers, yet was his departure sincerely mourned and his burial accompanied with many tears. The righteous are had in everlasting remembrance.

5. JOHN WESLEY.

"Then, then I rose; then, first, humanity

Triumphant pass'd the crystal ports of light,

Stupendous guest, and seized eternal youth."-YOUNG.

THIS extraordinary man, upon completing his eightysecond year, says, "Is anything too hard for God? It is now eleven years since I have felt any such thing as weariness. Many times I speak till my voice fails and I can speak no longer. Frequently I walk till my strength fails and I can walk no farther; yet, even then, I feel no sensation of weariness, but am perfectly easy from head to foot. I dare not impute this to natural causes, it is the will of God."

Within the four succeeding years, a great change had taken place; and upon his eighty-sixth birthday, he says, "I now find I grow old. My sight is decayed, so that 1 cannot read a small print, unless in a strong light. My strength is decayed, so that I walk much slower than I did some years since. My memory of names, whether of persons or places, is decayed, till I stop a little to recollect them. What I should be afraid of is, if I took thought for the morrow, that my body should weigh down my mind, and create either stubbornness, by the decrease of my understanding, or peevishness, by the increase of bodily infirmities. But thou shalt answer for me, O Lord, my God!" His strength now diminished so much, that he found it difficult to preach more than twice a-day; and for many weeks he abstained from his five o'clock morning sermon, because a slow and settled fever parched his mouth. Finding himself a little better, he resumed the practice, and hoped to hold on a little longer; but, at the beginning of the year 1790, he writes, "I am now an old man, de