very unfaithful; but He is merciful-his blood clean seth from all sin: and I trust he has blotted out my sins from the book of his remembrance. O what should we do without Christ ?" "As much debtors to free grace at the end of our course as at the beginning," observed her pastor. "More, far more," she replied, "for we sin against greater light and love, after we are born again. Yes, it is all free grace-if it were not, what would become of me?" It was answered, "You would have perished-justly perished." "Yes," she replied, "what a glorious plan, what a precious Saviour! O that I could love him more! Pray that may love and glorify him for ever!"

I

On Friday, October 31, found her more comfortable. She said, "My mind has generally been in a peaceful frame since I saw you; but I want to realize the presence and preciousness of Christ, more distinctly and constantly than my great weakness permits me to do." In answer to some remarks on the covenant of grace, she said, "Glorious covenant! precious promises! I have given myself and body to Him, in whom they are yea and amen, and I do not fear; I desire him to do with me as it shall please him.”

Tuesday, November 3. To the usual inquiry, she replied," Mrs. Graham accurately describes my feelings, when she says, Thus far the Lord hath brought me through the wilderness, bearing, chastising, forgiving, restoring. I am near to Jordan's flood. May my blessed High Priest and ark of the covenant, lead on my staggering steps, the little further I have to go."" And on December 4, she breathed her last, in the faith and hope of the gospel.

As in the preceding account of Mrs. Huntington, mention is made of Mrs. Graham, of New York, it may be in place to give a few particulars of this wise woman, as she may properly be called, during her last illness. Foreseeing that her end was near, she sent for Mrs. Chrystie, a dear friend, between whom and herself an agreement had been made, that whichever was first summoned away, should be attended, in her last moments, by the other. To her son-in-law,

Mr. Bethune, whom she saw standing by, she said, “My dear, dear son, I am going to leave you; I am going to my Saviour." He answered, "I know that when you do go from us, it will be to the Saviour; but, my dear mother, it may not be the Lord's time now to call you to himself." "Yes," said she, "now is the time; and Oh! I could weep for sin.' Her words were accompanied with her tears. "Have you any doubts, then, my dear friend," asked Mrs. Chrystie. "O no," replied she, "I have no more doubt of going to my Saviour, than if I were already in his arms. My guilt is all transferred. He has cancelled all my debt; yet I could weep for sins against so good a God. It seems to me there must be weeping even in Heaven." When her dear friend and pastor, Dr. Mason, came to see her, they had a very interesting interview-at the close of which, he inquired if there was any thing, in particular, for which he should pray. She said, "The Lord will direct," and immediately offered up this short prayer: "Lord, direct thy servant in prayer." During her sickness, she was for much of the time lethargic, and it was often difficult to arouse her. But when at any time waked up for a moment, she would utter some sweet word-such as "peace," indicating the happy state of her mind. Dr. Mason, in his funeral sermon, said, "This may truly be called falling asleep in Jesus." All terror seemed to be removed, and her countenance was placid, and looked younger than before her illness. At a quarter past 12 o'clock, on the 27th of July, 1814, without a struggle or a groan, her spirit winged its flight from a mansion of clay to the realms of glory.

CHAPTER XXI.

Death-bed exercises of Mr. Baxter, and the Rev. Thomas Scott, D. D.

DR. BATES, in his funeral sermon, occasioned by the death of Mr. Baxter, has given us an interesting account of his last days, some part of which I will extract, as furnishing an example, not of a highly excited state of feeling, but of a truly pious, calm, submissive frame of mind. Few persons, who ever lived, have given more convincing evidence of fervent piety, throughout a long life, than this devoted servant of God. His end corresponded with the tenor of his life, and with the religion which he inculcated in his

sermons.

"He continued," says Dr. Bates, "to preach so long, notwithstanding his wasted and languishing body, that the last time, he almost died in the pulpit. It would doubtless have been his joy to be transfigured in the mount. Not long after, he felt the approaches of death, and was confined to his sick bed. Death reveals the secrets of the heart: then words are spoken with most feeling and least affectation. This excellent saint was the same in his life and his death: his last hours were spent in preparing others and himself to appear before God. He said to his friends, who came to see him, 'Ye come hither to learn to die. I am not the only person that must go this way. I can assure you, that your whole life, be it ever so long, is little enough to prepare for death. Have a care of this vain, deceitful world, and the lusts of the flesh. Be sure you choose God for your portion, heaven for your home, God's glory for your end, and his word for your rule, and then you need never fear, but we shall meet in comfort." Never was penitent sinner more humble, never was a sin

He ac

cere believer more calm and comfortable. knowledged himself to be the vilest dunghill-worm (it was his usual expression) that ever went to heaven.He admired the divine condescension to us, often saying, Lord, what is man! what am I, a vile worm, to the great God!' Many times he prayed, 'God be merciful to me a sinner,' and thanked God that this was left on record, in the gospel, as an effectual prayer. He said, 'God may justly condemn me for the best duty I ever performed. All my hopes are from the free mercy of God in Christ.' After a slumber, he awaked, and said, 'I shall rest from my labour.' A minister present said, 'And your works shall follow you.' To whom he replied, "No works-I will leave out works, if God will grant me the other.' When a friend was comforting him with the good which many had received by his preaching and writing, he said, 'I was but a pen in God's hand, and what praise is due to a pen?'

"His resigned submission to the will of God, in his sharp sickness, was eminent. When extremity constrained him earnestly to pray to God for his release, by death, he would check himself, 'It is not fit for me to prescribe when thou wilt, what thou wilt, and how thou wilt.' Being in great anguish, he said, 'O how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out the reaches of his providence we cannot fathom.' And to his friends, 'Do not think the worse of religion for what you see me suffer.' Being often asked, how it was with the inner man, he replied, 'I have a well-grounded assurance of my eternal happiness, and great peace and comfort within.' He said, Flesh must perish, and we must feel the perishing of it,' and that though his judgment submitted, yet sense would still make him groan. He derived great comfort from that description in Heb. xii. 22; that he was going to the innumerable company of angels, and to the general assembly and church of the first-born, whose names are written in heaven; and to God the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect, and to Jesus the Mediator of the new covenant,

and to the blood of sprinkling, that speaketh better things than the blood of Abel. That Scripture,' he said,deserved a thousand and a thousand thoughts.'

"At another time, he said he derived great comfort and sweetness, in repeating the Lord's prayer, and was sorry some good people were prejudiced against the use of it, for there were all necessary petitions for the soul and body contained in it. He gave excellent counsels to young ministers, that visited him, and earnestly prayed to God to bless their labours, and make them very successful in turning many souls to Christ; expressed great joy in the hopes that God would do a great deal of good by them, and that their spirits might be moderate and peaceful. He often prayed that God would be merciful to this miserable, distracted world, and that he would preserve his church and interest in it. He advised his friends to beware of self-conceit, as a sin that was likely to ruin the nation.

"I visited him, with a very worthy friend, Mr. Mather, from New England, the day before he died. I said to him, 'You are now approaching your long desired home:' he answered, I believe, I believe." He expressed great willingness to die, and during his sickness, when asked, 'How he did,' his reply was, 'Almost well.' His joy was most remarkable, when, in his own apprehension, death was nearest; and his spiritual joy was at length consummated in eternal joy. On the day of his death, a great trembling and coldness extorted strong cries from him, for pity and relief from heaven; which cries and agonies continued for some time, till at length he ceased, and lay in patient expectation of his change. The last words he spoke to me, on being informed that I was come to see him, were, 'Oh, I thank him, I thank him,' and turning his eyes to me said, 'The Lord teach you how to die!' To the last I never could perceive his peace and heavenly hopes assaulted or disturbed. I have often heard him greatly lament that he felt no greater liveliness in what appeared so great and clear to him, and so much desired by him