George Herbert, "Though of myself I have nothing to present to God but sin and misery, yet I know he looks upon me, not as I am in myself, but as I am in my Saviour."

With the names of Donne and Herbert is intimately and pleasingly associated that of the meek and learned Hooker; and who that has heard of the eminently religious, and amiable life of this revered man, but remembers also his deeply penitential confession in the hour of death?" I have lived to see that this world is made up of perturbations, and I have long been preparing to leave it, and gathering comfort for the dreadful hour of making my account with God, which I now apprehend to be near. And though I have by his grace loved him in my youth, and feared him in mine age, and labored to have a conscience void of offence to him, and to all men ; yet if thou, O Lord, be extreme to mark what I have done amiss, who can abide it? And therefore where I have failed, Lord, show mercy to me; for I plead not my righteousness, but the forgiveness of my unrighteousness, for His merits who died to purchase a pardon for penitent sinners." It was this plea of free grace that enabled him to say with his last breath, "God hath heard my daily petitions; for I am at peace with all men, and he is at peace with me; and from which blessed assurance I feel that inward joy, which this world can neither give nor take from me."

After mentioning Hooker, we ought not to pass over that other great apologist of the church of England, Bishop Jewel, from whom we hear similar confessions and anticipations. He was not, he said, afraid to die, but assigned as his reason, not the goodness of his past life, though it had been almost inimitably good, but that he had "a gracious Lord," adding, "there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness.-Christ is my righteousness."

But these persons, it may be said, were divines, and

might therefore be supposed to be more intimately acquainted with the technical language of religion than other men. Select then the case of the virtuous and heroic Philip Sidney.* He was a soldier, and a brave one; yet he died the death of a humble Christian. In him we see a character upon which calumny herself has been able to fix no spot. His country reposed upon him with full confidence as its most hopeful friend and protector, and in defence of that country he lost, in the field of battle, his valuable life. Posterity has vied with his contemporaries in doing justice to his memory and perpetuating his varied excellencies. The venerable Camden speaks of him at once with rapture and regret, as "the great hope of mankind," "the most lively pattern of virtue, and the darling of the world;" the hero "whose virtues have come to perfection," and whom men ought for ever to commemorate not with tears but admiration." Yet this man, of whom historians foretold that "Sidney shall live to posterity," and upon whose virtues and untimely death rival universities poured forth volume upon volume of eulogies and regrets ;-this man, thus flattered and caressed, found at length that "all was vanity," and that nothing could give him peace upon a death-bed but the same humble hope which fills the bosom of the most illiterate and lowly Christian.

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As a soldier, nothing could daunt the mind of Sir Philip Sidney; yet, remarks one of his biographers, "the guilt of sin, the present beholding of death, the terror of God's judgment-seat, which seemed in hot displeasure to cut him down, concurring, did make a

* It may perhaps be necessary to apologize for the triteness of such examples as Johnson, Herbert, Donne, Hooker, Jewel, Sidney, &c. which are selected, not because others equally appropriate, and less hackneyed, might not have been easily produced; but because the celebrity of these persons renders their conduct more interesting and convincing than that of persons less generally known and admired. Novelty therefore has been purposely rejected for the sake of practical effect.

fear and astonishment in his mind." He, however, at length obtained peace through his Saviour, "giving thanks to God that he did chastise him with a loving and fatherly coercion, and to his singular profit, whether to live or die." Deeply feeling his transgressions, he "vowed with an unfeigned heart and full purpose, if God should give him life, to consecrate the same to his service, and to make his glory the mark of all his actions."

The mental distress of Sidney did not arise, any more than that of Dr. Johnson, from the usual remorse attendant upon an irregular and vicious life. On the contrary, both these men had lived virtuously and usefully in the world; but, amidst all their exemplary qualities, they could find no security in their last hours except in self-renunciation and faith in Christ. Sidney's biographer expressly relates that," although he had professed the gospel, loved and favoured those who did embrace it, entered deeply into the concerns of the church, taken good order and very good care for his family and soldiers to be instructed, and be brought to live accordingly; yet entering into deep'examination of his life now in the time of his affliction, he felt those inward motions and workings of* [God's Holy Spirit in his conscience] exciting him to a deep sorrow for his former conduct." Again," his former virtues seemed nothing, for he wholly condemned his former life." "I have no comfort," added he, "in that way [reflecting on his past virtues,] all things in my former life have been vain, vain, vain."

How different these expressions of a renewed heart from that unscriptural common-place gratulation which is so often witnessed on similar occasions! If even a Sidney, that "most lively pattern of virtue," could not look back with complacency or forward with hope, trusting in any measure to his own merits, who under similar circumstances of life can be reasonably consid

*Hiatus in MS.

ered as entitled to a higher degree of self-confidence? The important subject which occupied his time from the moment of his fatal wound to his death, was the ascertaining the real bearings of his religious char

acter.

"He did grow weaker and weaker in body, and thereby gathered that he should die, which caused him to enter yet into a more correct consideration of himself, what assurance he had of salvation; and having, by the promises of God, and testimony of his graces which he felt working in him, gathered his assurance of God's favour unto eternal life, and made him perceive that he did chastise him, as a most kind Father, to fashion him to his will, he said that he feared not to die."

Sir

This paragraph, though couched in language very different from the current phrases of modern theology, being such as to many persons may appear somewhat unphilosophical and enthusiastic, contains, when properly considered, a most important lesson for ascertaining the truth or fallacy of our religious hopes. Philip Sidney, we find, was desirous as every dying man of course ought to be, of ascertaining "what assurance he had of salvation," which, on the ground of human desert, we have already seen he did not venture to expect. In order to come to a decision, he directs his view to the "promises of God" as revealed in scripture, and the "testimony of his graces" as exhibited in his own heart; or, in other words, he first endeavors to discover to whom pardon is offered in the gospel, and then proceeds to examine how far he was himself included in the character described. He founded his hopes wholly and exclusively upon God's immutable "promise "in Christ; yet, at the same time, brought the subject to a practical account, by inquiring whether the " graces" of the Christian life had been implanted in himself.

Thus this celebrated man "wrought out his own sal

vation with fear and trembling," knowing that "it was God that worked in him both to will and to do of his good pleasure." For some time his frequent subject of lamentation was that "he had not a full and sure dependence upon Christ ;" and thus "sowing in tears," he ultimately" reaped in joy ;" for it was not long before he began to exclaim with almost his expiring breath, "I would not change my joy for the empire of the world." From this moment his religious comfort seems never to have left him; for, observes the abovementioned biographer, "It now seemed as if all natural heat and life were almost utterly gone out of him; that his understanding had failed, and that it was to no purpose to speak any more unto him. But it was far otherwise. I spake thus unto him: Sir, if you hear what I say, let us by some means know it; and if you have still your inward joy and consolation in God, hold up your hand.' With that he did lift up his hand and stretched it forth on high, which we thought he could scarce have moved; which caused the beholders to cry out with joy that his understanding should still be perfect, and that the weak body, beyond all expectation, should so readily give a sign of the joy of the soul."

For death thus to become a delightful instead of a terrific image, the spiritual affections as well as understanding must have been duly cultivated. To him who can really say with the apostle respecting his Redeemer, "whom having not seen I love;" or with the Psalmist, "whom have I in heaven but Thee, and there is none upon earth that I desire in comparison of Thee;" the dissolution of soul and body can present no unwelcome theme of meditation. But a cold and speculative theology, even should there be nothing heterodox in the creed, or very exceptionable in the life, will not support mortal sinking into eternity. At such a moment, the helpless soul feels its need of a Father, a Protector, a Guide: it is about to pass into that awful