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shall not depart from me; neither shall the covenant his of peace be removed. I cannot express my joys." In the morning he continued in the same frame, and said, "O death,-glory-what delightful sounds!-My cup runneth over! O Death, where is thy sting!-O Grave, where is thy victory. Thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. It is all of grace." From this period he had but few intervals of recollection; all of which were employed in praise. About four days before his death, when a friend proposed the following question, "Have you nothing to say to us," he replied, "Yes, blessed are the dead that die in the Lord-I know that my Redeemer liveth -Christ is mine, and I am his-whom have I in heaven but thee," &c. After this he spoke but little; but, it was discoverable that his soul was secretly supported by the prospect of eternal and unfading glory.

The writer in the discharge of his professional engagements as a minister of the gospel, has sometimes met with Christians, who have, through age and infirmity, been reduced to such a state of mental imbecility, that they have had effaced from their memory nearly all the impressions which they have ever received, from the objects which strike the senses: but during this period of decay they have still retained, clear and distinct, their knowledge of Christ Jesus as their Saviour and Redeemer: and amidst the gloom that has rested over the apparent extinction of their intellectual faculties, the hope of immortality has broken out to illumine the scene, and to impart to them in

their expiring hour a joy which no language can describe. He has been reminded on such occasions, of the language of the apostle, who says, though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day.*


We are told that in many instances the body and the mind appear to decay together. Hence there is often a loss of the memory with the loss of animal vivacity,-a loss of intellectual vigour with the loss of physical strength,-a loss of imaginative sprightliness with a loss of sensitive acuteness. Yes, I know it. I have seen the mind and the body undergoing something like this reciprocal decay, before the final separation.. But even under these circumstances the soul has preserved its moral and spiritual animation and vigour. Its memory has lost its impression of earthly objects, but not its impression of heavenly. The intellect has fallen down prostrate before the counsels and schemes of human wisdom, as incapable of comprehending them, but it has retained its clear and sublime perceptions of the plan of human redemption. The fancy has been incapacitated, for lofty flights, amongst the conceptions of the judgment, and no longer able, to express thoughts that glow in words that burn," yet even in this darkened hour, it has soared into a higher and purer region, where it has heard sounds to mortal ears unknown, and seen visions of glory, which a Raphael's pencil could not sketch. The affections have died off from the relationships of life on which they once fastened with intense ardour, but it has been to undergo a moral purification that they might be placed more entirely on objects which are unseen and eternal. What a strong collateral argument does this supply not only in favour of the immortality of the soul, but of the supreme excellence of that faith in a Mediator, which can keep the mind in perfect peace, and animate it with the brightest visions of bliss, even when it appears to be sinking into a state of intellectual darkness and extinction.

2 Cor. iv. 16.

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The late Rev. Samuel Lowell, of Bristol, sent the following account to the Editor of the Evangelical Magazine in the year 1808.

On or about the eleventh of February, John Warner, aged 31, being greatly afflicted with an asthma, which had brought on a consumption, came from Wales to Bristol, hoping to receive some benefit from the change of air.

On Saturday evening, February 28, I received a note requesting that I would, if possible, make him a visit immediately. On being introduced to the afflicted man, he appeared to have no more knowledge of me than I had of him. After a few general remarks, respecting affliction, the solemnities of death, and the importance of exchanging worlds, I endeavoured to draw him into a more particular conversation. He once or twice said, that he thought he wanted something, which he had not; but that he scarcely knew

what it was. Excepting what may be supposed to be suggested by this declaration, his mind appeared dark, bewildered, and comparatively unimpressed. With great self-complacency, he told me he had never been guilty of any particular sins; and was not, therefore, uneasy on that score. To every thing I said, he gave that unlimited assent, which, when coming from an unenlightened person, has always appeared to me peculiarly embarrassing. To every truth stated, his monotonous reply was, 'Yes, Sir,'-' To be sure, Sir,

Certainly, Sir;' and the like. I now felt (as I have often done under similar circumstances,) discouraged, perplexed, and grieved; and could not but deeply lament the mental darkness in which the poor man appeared to be enveloped.

After a short pause, I frankly confessed that I knew not what to say to him, observing that he appeared to have no wants; that the blessings of the gospel were for the poor, the wretched, and the lost; that if he were lamenting his sins, crying for mercy, and enquiring the way of salvation, I thought I should know how to address him; but that with his present views, the gospel must necessarily appear to him of very little value.

I represented sin as being infinitely displeasing to the blessed God; and, with mingled fidelity and tenderness, testified that if he died

unpardoned, he would be found in circumstances unspeakably awful. I then asked him, if he had been accustomed to hear preaching of any kind; to which he replied, “ Not during the last six or seven years: my service would not allow of it.' On my remarking that it was a pity he should have accepted of such a service, and that he had better have been in another situation where he ́might have enjoyed religious instruction, even though he had had but half bread, with peculiar earnestness he replied, O! I wish I had, I wish I had.'

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A scene now succeeded which astonished me, and which will never be effaced from my remembrance.

This man, whose language so recently betrayed the benighted state of his mind, and whose words were so ill chosen as very imperfectly to convey his ideas, instantaneously became energetic, impressive, and indeed eloquent.

After a solemn pause, as nearly as I can recollect, he thus exclaimed,- What, and is it too late! Is all lost? Is my poor soul abandoned? Have I lived in the neglect of all these things, and is it come to this? O, what, what shall I do? O, my sins! O, my poor soul! O, my God! my God! shall I be cast off for ever? What must I do to be saved? Is there no way open for me? O, what, what must I do to be saved? These and words nearly to the same

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