THOMAS BATEMAN, M. D.

It has often been lamented that the gentleman belonging to the medical profession, discover a fatal propensity towards scepticism; and not unfrequently step forward as its abettors or apologists. The scenes with which they are familiar, harden their hearts against the fear of death; and though when death approaches, like others, they shrink back from his grasp, yet it is but rarely we find them taking refuge under the shades of the cross. On some occasions they press the authority of their profession into the service of infidelity, by interdicting the visits of the ministers of grace to their patients, under the frivolous and impious excuse, that they will prove injurious, by neutralizing the efficacy of their skill. But here and there, we see one and another reclaimed by sovereign grace from this state of delusion, and of guilt; devoting their talents to the service of God: availing themselves of the opportunity which their professional attendance gives them, to direct the sick and the dying to Christ Jesus, who came into the world to save sinners: and after a life of honour and of usefulness, departing in peace.

THE late Dr. Bateman settled in London, in the year 1801, where he soon became confirmed in his leaning to the wretched doctrine of Materialism, which he had been already tempted to adopt during the pursuit of his anotomical and physiological studies at Edinburgh. This lamen

table tendency was strongly increased by the society which he now fell into of some men of considerable talent, who had already espoused all the principles of that unphilosophical as well as unchristian system; and though never able fully to embrace those opinions himself, he was yet sufficiently influenced by them to become sceptical respecting the truth of Divine Revelation, and was therefore of course a stranger to the hopes, as well as negligent of the duties of Christianity.

In the summer of 1815 his health began to decline, and after trying for several years every expedient which he could devise to regain it, he candidly told a pious friend who was his companion, that he could not live, and after complaining of the dreadful nervous sensations which continually harrassed him, he added, " But all these sufferings are a just punishment for my long scepticism, and neglect of God and religion." This led to a conversation, in the course of which he observed, that medical men were very generally sceptical; and that the mischief arose from what he considered a natural tendency of some of their studies to lead to materialism. I replied, that the mischief appeared to me to originate rather in their neglect to examine into the evidences of the truth of the Bible, as an actual revelation from God; because, if a firm conviction of that were once established, the authority of the Scriptures must be paramount; and the ten

dency of all inferior studies, in opposition to their declarations, could have no weight. He said, he believed I was right, and that he had in fact been intending to examine fully into the subject, when the complaint in his eyes came on, and shut him out from reading. Our conversation ended in his permitting me to read to him the first of " Scott's Essays on the most important Subjects in Religion," which treats of "The Divine Inspiration of the Scriptures." He listened with intense earnestness; and when it was concluded, exclaimed, "This is demonstration! complete demonstration!" He then asked me to read to him the account given in the New Testament of the resurrection of our Saviour; which I did from all the four Evangelists. I read also many other passages of Scripture, with some of which he was extremely struck; especially with that declaration, that" the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness unto him neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned."*

For two or three days he shewed increasing interest on the subject of religion; and I read to him continually the Scriptures, and other books which seemed to me best calculated to give him the information he thirsted for. When I went into his room a few mornings after, he said, “It is quite impossible to describe to you the change

* 1 Cor. ii. 14.

which has taken place in my mind: I feel as if a new world was open to me, and all the interests and pursuits of this have faded into nothing in comparison with it. They seem so mean, and paltry, and insignificant, that my blindness, in living so long immersed in them, and devoted to them, is quite inconceivable and astonishing to myself." He often expressed in the strongest terms, and with many tears, his deep repentance, and his abhorrence of himself for his former sinful life and rebellion against God; but he seemed to have from the first so clear a view of the all-sufficiency of the Saviour's atonement, and of the Christian scheme of salvation, as freed him at once from that distrust of forgiveness which is so apt to afflict persons at the first sight of their sins, and of the purity and holiness of Him "with whom they have to do." The self-abasing views which he entertained of himself necessarily enhanced his sense of the pardoning love and mercy of God in Christ Jesus, thus graciously extended to him and which he felt so strongly, that he was filled with the liveliest emotions of gratitude and joy, and in this happy state continued for several days.

During the summer months, he began to recover; but about Christmas following he took a walk, rather longer than usual, which produced increased fever and debility; and from that period

his strength and appetite visibly declined, while his spirit was as visibly ripening for heaven. His faith and patience were strengthened; his hope was increased; his charity enlarged: yet he was naturally so extremely reserved in the expression of his feelings, that he rarely spoke of them till within the last month of his life, when he rejoiced "with a joy unspeakable and full of glory," which bore down all opposition; for he experienced a happiness to which all the accumulated enjoyments of his whole previous life could bear no proportion or comparison, even that "peace of God which passeth all understanding,” and which must be felt, or at least witnessed, in order to form any just conception of its nature and effects. What a striking example did he now exhibit! From his early youth he had devoted himself with delight and industry to the acqusition of knowledge and the pursuits of literature and science; and he had "had his reward" in the honour and reputation which his success had procured for him, a reward which he keenly enjoyed and very highly prized.

But in contrasting, as he frequently did, his present happiness with all that he had formerly enjoyed and called happiness, he seemed always at a loss to find words to express how poor, and mean, and despicable all earthly gratifications appeared to him, when compared with that "joy