I desire not to live. I am unworthy of this.' He then spoke of his hope, and said, that he could only be saved by grace.

"Alluding to his intended journey to Malabar, which his illness had prevented, he said: I am now about to travel not an earthly journey, but still "to unknown regions of the Gospel." I shall now pass over the heads of old men labouring usefully for Christ, and at this early period be advanced to see what "eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive," and behold discoveries of the glory of Christ, "God manifest in the flesh," who hath come to us and kindly taken us by the hand. He will lift us out of the deep waters, and set us at his own right hand. I once saw not the things I now see; I knew not the Gospel. Now I pray that the little I have known may be perfected, and that God would complete his work on my soul.'"

After recovery, the remembrance of this illness, and the impressions which an anticipated death-bed had made on his mind, were ever afterward cherished and retained, and tended to quicken him in his Christian course, and to render him more zealous and unwearied in the service of his heavenly Master.

In 1808 he returned to England, where his various publications excited considerable concern for the promotion of religion in the East.

As the time of his departure to eternal rest drew near, he appears to have risen more and more above this world. On this subject one of his relations said: "The last time that he visited us, which was in his way to Cambridge, I thought him eminently dead to the world, and, as it were, absorbed in heavenly things. His deep domestic afflictions seemed to have been greatly sanctified to him. He appeared to watch for every opportunity of seasoning our ordinary discourse with the salt

of religion. When we were speaking of Carey's Atlas, he took occasion to refer in a solemn and affecting manner to the map of the heavenly city, which St. John has given us in the Revelation. When I spoke of Bonaparte's late astonishing overthrow, he heard it with comparative indifference, and soon adverted to the importance of the conversion of the soul to God, as involving consequences of greater moment than the fall of emperors and the revolutions of the greatest states."

In the latter part of his life he was employed in assisting to provide an edition of the Syriac Testament, while his own mind looked forward to the country which that holy book discovers. He wrote, in 1814: "I walk in the meadows, by the side of the river Lee, and endeavour to meditate on things spiritual and eternal; there are few days in which I do not think of Mary, now among the blessed. I envy her happy lot, but yet I have just strength to pray that I may be enabled to serve God in my generation."

The time of his own departure was now fast approaching. He had been employed in attending to the revision of the Syriac New Testament, and had advanced, on the day preceeding his death, to the 20th chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, in which the apostle expresses his conviction of his final separation from his friends.

He had some previous indisposition, and the following night, without struggle or convulsion, after a short warning, he departed to the rest of glorified spirits, in the forty-ninth year of his age, February 9, 1815. "Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord."

15. REV. R. HALL.

"With lifted eyes,

And aspect luminous, as with the light
Of heaven's op'ning gate, he strove to join

His voice with theirs, and breathe out all he felt;
But in the effort, feeble nature sank

Exhausted; and, while every voice was hush'd,
His flutt'ring spirit, struggling to get free,

Rose like a sky-lark singing up to heaven."-WILCOX.

THE death-bed of the Rev. R. Hall, of Leicester, and afterwards of Bristol, was in full accordance with his simple piety, and with that real humility which has so often characterized true genius. When he first announced his apprehension that he should never again minister among his people, he immediately added: "But I am in God's hands, and I rejoice that I am. I am God's creature, at his disposal, for life or death; and that is a great mercy." Again: "I fear pain more than death. If I could die easily, I think I would go rather than stay; for I have seen enough of this world, and have an humble hope."

When under one of his paroxysms, Mr. Hall said: "Wherefore doth a living man complain,-a man for the punishment of his sins? I have not complained,have I, sir?-and I will not complain." "His sufferings," he remarked, "were great; but what," he added, "are my sufferings to the sufferings of Christ? His sufferings were infinitely greater; his sufferings were complicated. God has been very merciful to me-very merciful. I am a poor creature-an unworthy creature; but God has been very kind, very merciful." Mr. Hall had, during his whole life, suffered at intervals the most excruciating pain; and, in his last hours, he again compared his own sufferings with those of his

Saviour-observing how light his were in the contrast, and saying that "though he had endured as much or more than fell to the lot of most men, yet all had been mercy." This comparison seemed a favourite one with him; and he observed "that a contemplation of the sufferings of Christ was the best antidote against impatience under any troubles we might experience," recommending the subject to others as the antidote to distress or death.

"I was summoned," says his medical attendant, "to behold the last agonizing scene of this great and extraordinary man. His difficulty of breathing had suddenly increased to a dreadful and final paroxysm. . . . Mrs. Hall, observing a fixation of the eyes, and an unusual expression on his countenance, and indeed in his whole manner, became alarmed by the sudden impression that he was dying, and exclaimed, in great agitation, ‘This cannot be dying! When he replied, 'It is death-it is death-death! O, the sufferings of this body!' Mrs. Hall then asked him, 'But are you comfortable in your mind?' He immediately answered, Very comfortablevery comfortable;' and exclaimed, Come, Lord Jesus, come! He then hesitated, as if incapable of bringing out the last word; and one of his daughters, involuntarily as it were, anticipated him by saying, 'quickly;' on which her departing father gave her a look expressive of the most complacent delight."

16. REV. JOHN ELY.

"Trust thou in Him who overcame the grave;
Who holds in captive ward

The powers of death. Heed not the monster grim,
Nor fear to go through death to Him."-CONDER.

THE late Rev. John Ely, of Leeds, was a Christian of energetic picty, and a pastor of commanding influence. All the powers of a cultivated mind, and of a constitution naturally most active, were freely devoted to his Master's service. Charming in his family; beloved beyond an ordinary degree in every pastoral relationthe faithful reprover, the zealous advocate, the untiring public servant, "the eloquent orator;" great as was the space he filled in the public eye, every succeeding year seemed only to enlarge it. But his bow was strained too tightly, and his constitution, overwrought with excessive service, suddenly gave way, amidst the deep lamentations of his personal connexions, his attached Church, and the friends of the cause of God in general. In the commencement of his illness, his mind was, for a time, overclouded, and "the sorrows of death compassed him." His beloved friend, the Rev. Dr. Hamilton-who, after writing his Memoir, himself lay down to die-endeavoured to reason him out of his apprehensions, and after some difficulty succeeded. "Referring, in the presence of Mr. John Wade and Mr. Edward Baines, to the cloud which had passed over him, and giving to each of them one of his hands, he said, 'It is on the fulness, freeness, and sufficiency of Christ, in his person and offices, that I repose my only hope of salvation. This is the doctrine I have preached, and in this I now find my support. . . . "The time of my departure is at hand: I have fought a good fight, I have