not feel very ill; if I could but get up, I should soon recover strength; I shall never obtain it by lying here. He stated his willingness to receive the visit of Mr Monteith. 'Yes,' he said, 'but not to distress myself. It may be my heavenly Father's will still to restore me.' As Mr M. entered the room, Montague held out his arm, and requested him to feel his pulse. Mr Monteith said he had no skill in pulses, yet he could act as a physician notwithstanding; and then, in a few words, announced to Montague the solemn truth that he was a dying manthat he was in so dangerous a condition as to preclude all hope of his restoration. Our dear brother gazed upon him for a few minutes as if incredulous; at length, awakening to a consciousness of the reality of the awful communication, he, in a firm and calm tone of voice, simply said, 'Well; "ye believe in God, believe also in me."" After directing Montague to seek the power and work of the Holy Spirit, Mr M. retired, leaving the poor sufferer, as might have been anticipated, much flushed, and exhausted from the trial. Almost immediately after, however, he burst forth into eloquent and earnest prayer; and conscious of his physical infirmity, exclaimed, God will not judge of me in my weak state, so incapable as I now am to praise and pray, when I gave my days of health and strength to Him. OM! you must look out for all the promises. Pray for me too, that God's Spirit may effectually work in me that Christ may be more fully apprehended and realized; and he petitioned most fervently, that as God had vouchsafed to Stephen a view of Christ in glory, he also might be permitted such a view, and might be enabled by faith to cleave to the Saviour as the protomartyr had. The prospect of death, though thus suddenly revealed, did not terrify him, but with perfect resignation to the mysterious purposes of God, he submissively said, If it is the Lord's will, I am perfectly resigned. The blessed truth was, that religion in his heart had never been dormant, but always an active principle, and his soul had no need that an alarm should be sounded to awaken it from death unto life, for he had become a believer through conviction, and a child of God by adoption. His faith was single, as his reception of the truth was simple; and while it is probable that the habitual preparation of his heart before God made him attach less importance than he should have done to his declining health, and led him to regard his sickness as merely a temporary derangement of the system, and depression of spirits, it also secured for him an abiding peace, and enabled him to meet the summons with a sure and lively hope. He had not to engage suddenly in putting his house in order, for the temple of the Holy Ghost was already being prepared; and he had now but to look beyond the veil and the valley of the shadow of death for a still brighter manifestation of the Spirit and the presence of his God. To Dr M'Lauchlan, who expressed his disappointment at finding no abatement, but an increased degree of fever, he said, 'Why, Doctor, I have been taken very much by surprise; Mrs Stanley came to me greatly distressed from hearing that you had pronounced me in a dangerous state; but,' he added, as if a ray of hope had beamed upon his mind, there are ways, means may be used-removal to the south of France-Madeira.' Dr M L sured him that every thing had been maturely considered, but that for the present a removal was impossible, He enjoined perfect quietness and silence, when Montague addressing him said, Doctor, if it be the will of God that it should be so, I can say, I believe in Jesus Christ and him crucified--all my hope and all my trust is in him. If, when I was in health, and walking along the streets in the midst of

as

221

all the stir and bustle of life, I could lift up my heart to my God, and pray to him, that while health and strength I might dedicate myself unto him, surely, surely, now that I am brought low and weak, and on a bed of sickness, he will not leave me;' and on the doctor retiring to an adjoining room, he burst forth into most fervent prayer, with a voice as strong and clear as when he was in perfect health. The doctor repeated his injunction to maintain silence. Montague assented with, Thank you, thank you, Doctor, I will do what you require of me.' His kind physician then recommended that an intimation should be sent without delay to such relatives as he would wish to have around him. On his retiring, Montague said, Well, then, I must abbreviate-I will just utter a word or two, and you must make out the remainder of the sentence for me.' He directed that I should be communicated with to come immediately, and also expressed a desire to see the Rev Mr. Drummond and the Rev. Dr Mackay. Inward prayer was his constant exercise; and to judge from the unruffled calm which overspread his fea tures, he did enjoy the full realization of that soulcommunion with his Saviour, after which he thirsted.

Wednesday, April 24.-(Ps. lxii. 1; Gen. xlix. 18.)-Montague's pulse continued at 120, and he was gradually becoming weaker, though he certainly at times evinced such physical energy as seemed to belie any immediate apprehension of death, if such trifles as his exchanging a large for a small cup, a tumbler for a wine-glass, and the displacement of every article of weight for others of lighter construction, had not too plainly indicated that the fatal disease was surely and rapidly running its course. In writing, which had now become his almost sole medium of communication, he asked M. to' turn to that passage in the Word which sets forth the power of Christ's blood to cleanse from all sin.' M accordingly, read to him the first chapter of 1 John, and afterwards the 55th of Isaiah. On the previous day, he had expressed his consciousness that Satan would not forego this opportunity to tempt and trouble him, and said, 'The devil will likely try me now, and strive to prevent me from finding rest in Christ, but God will not suffer him to have power over me,' appealing to M-with,Will He, do you think?' as if he sought in her faith a confirmation of his own as to the faithfulness of the promises. With the Rev. Mr Craig he engaged in a long and deeply interesting conversation, the result of which was most comforting to him, and the motion of his lips testified how fervently he was engaged in praise and thanksgiving. The language of petition was also heard, beseeching his heavenly Father to vouchsafe to him the exercise of his reason unimpaired to the last moment of his life. And that no want of caution or decision on his part should impede the blessing, he thenceforward resolutely refused all sedatives and sleeping draughts, apprehensive of their effects upon his head in his weak condition; and he likewise prayed, that, if consistent with the Lord's will (and that humble reservation invariably accompanied every wish he breathed or prayer uttered), he might be permitted to depart and fall asleep as quietly as a weaned child.

"Thursday, April 25.-(Ps. ciii. 2, 3).-Montague awoke this morning from a troubled and broken rest, and wrote in pencil, Satan will not be idle. He put oaths, sounding in my ears, as if I had spoken them, and blasphemous words; but the shield of faithGod knows his child-God knows and keeps me from him. God knows his child could not utter such things: He keeps my mind in peace. To all such as were conversant with his active habit of mind and body, and his almost overwrought enthusiastic tem

perament, it was wonderful, yet delightful, to reflect upon the various changes which had been gradually passing over his spirit in the progress of time:-from the wild and speculative opinions of his earlier years, to his vigorous grasp and zealous maintenance of the truth when first it shone upon his soul, and then the maturity of his faith sanctifying to the noblest and holiest of purposes the exercise of his gifted intellect, yet never relaxing the spring, the energy, and unchanging buoyancy of his nature. In the last scene of all, the subdued and settled calm, and the childlike simplicity of his faith, were triumphantly evidenced as he now lay stretched upon his death-bed. Though the painter's eye and the poet's fancy had coloured with their influence most of the actions and events of his brief pilgrimage, and given a tone and elevation to his earthly thoughts, yet their ideal fascinations had never tinged, with even the faintest glow of sentiment, the truth and purity of his religious views. It was now made clearly manifest while passing through the deep waters, that the foundation he had built his hopes upon was indeed the Rock of Ages, and that in staying his mind upon his Saviour, he abundantly realized the promise, and was kept in perfect peace. We all know how ardently he was attached to his profession, and how diligently he prosecuted its pursuit. Even to the day when the summons, Prepare to meet thy God,' was sent to him, he had been eagerly anticipating the resumption of his sketching from nature, and preparing his materials for that purpose; yet when the message came, all his former dearly cherished pursuits appeared to fly like shadows from his thoughts, for he never once recurred to them, or allowed any object to divert his mind from the contemplation of his Saviour. If his pursuits had ever proved temptations, they were no longer indulged, even in the retrospect or in association, for he ordered the removal of a small easel from the apartment, as if determined that nothing should stand between him and the absorption of his thoughts in Christ. All was peace and placid resignation, and the Lord mercifully spared him from intense pain. He delighted in watching the floating clouds as they sailed past, and noting the ever-varying effects upon the water, and was continually exclaiming, How beautiful! how beautiful!" On again repeating to Mthe verse, I, even I am he,' he wrote, 'Do you remember in Edinburgh, as we sat alone by the fireside, those words, "my own sake," and the sweet sense of pardoned sin the Spirit gave me then? I was well apparently. Do you remember the sweet counsel we took together there ?'

*

.

*

*

*

*

"Sunday, April 28.-(James iv. 8; Ps. lxxiii. 28.)— M- -read to Montague the 23d and 24th Psalms, and the 43d chapter of Isaiah. The 13th and 14th verses of the 41st chapter of that prophet greatly comforted, rejoiced, and strengthened him, and his soul fed continually upon them. At his request, she then read from Tweedie on the Atonement, but after a few minutes he wrote, I find you must not read any thing but the Bible-all else fatigues me, and I cannot follow it. Just part of a chapter or a verse I find quite sufficient for me.' He complained of the difficulty he experienced in collecting his thoughts in prayer as he could wish, since his confinement to bed. The day was a most lovely one-clear and mild; the sun shone brilliantly, and from his open window dear Montague could gaze upon the lovely landscape before him. A Sabbath stillness was upon the waters and in the air; the broad expanse of the beautiful Clyde was unbroken, save by the track of some home-bound steamer or merchant vessel, or the sudden splash of a seagull as it dived after its prey, or left its light trail in skimmimg upon

the surface of the water, while the sun lighted up the distant hills, and exhibited them clothed in the green livery of spring. Stretched upon his bed, Montague watched the people as they passed along the road on their way to the sanctuary-the house of prayer-where he was never again to worship with them but in spirit, where his voice had been so often heard leading the psalm of praise and thanksgiving, and where he had, Sabbath after Sabbath, spoken to the school-children of a Saviour and a God of love. The chapel-bell ceased, and no sound was to be heard but the ripple of the tide upon the beach, and the carolling of the birds; but these were sounds in harmony with his feelings. Every thing in the vegetable world was awaking into life, and nature, after her winter sleep, again sprang forth with renewed vigour and the activity of health; but our dear brother, before the summer of his life had closed was withering away. The gourd which had been apparently so flourishing, was the prey of the worm; and for Montague, all the beauties of nature and the attractions of earth were soon to be no more. know that he was not a worshipper of nature, but of nature's God, and that almost ecstatic as was his admiration of her charms, he never forgot the 'better land,' or ceased to rejoice in the prospect of a heavenly rest. That his mind was at this time occupied in dwelling upon the glories that were yet to be revealed to him, I have no doubt; for when the Rev. Mr Monteith called at the close of the morning service, and as he entered said, 'Well, after all, this is certainly a beautiful world we live in,' Montague placed his finger on his eye and on his ear, and gazed expressively towards heaven. M-interpreted the action, and repeated, Eye hath not seen,' &c., whereon Montague smiled, and nodded assent.

We

"Tuesday, April 30.—(Matt. xi. 30; Prov. iii. 13.) I was early this morning at his bedside. He took both my hands in his, and in a firm, clear voice, and with an expression of joyful resignation, said, ‘HI am in perfect peace, having the assurance that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin, and that I can rest my hopes upon the perfect righteousness of my Redeemer;" and continued in an energetic and earnest strain till M-felt compelled to interpose. His frame did not appear wasted, and I have often seen him look more debilitated than he did upon his death-bed.

"Wednesday, May 1.-(Isaiah xxxiii. 22; 1 Chron. xvi. 35.)-It appeared to me, that until this morning dear Montague had not resigned the hope of his recovery; but the faint gleam was evidently dispelled this day. We received with him the sacrament, administered by Mr Drummond, and at its conclusion, Montague said to me, 'OH, I have enjoyed such a feast of love in this communion!' and for some minutes dilated on the love of God in Christ, until exhaustion compelled him to desist. He afterwards wrote, Do you remember the Sabbath days we used to pass at Ascog church, and the sweet counsel we took together at the school?' His dear and muchesteemed friend, Dr Mackay, came from Dunoon to bid him farewell, and was affected even to tears at parting To M- he remarked that he was a monument of grace, and told her not to grieve, for that there was nothing but rejoicing for him-he was in perfect peace. In no instance did the strength of his faith more clearly manifest itself than in the confidence with which he could cast the burden of his cares for his wife and children upon the Lord. Silver and gold he had not to bequeath to them, but he had the promise of an unchanging God, and he rested upon the Word which said, 'Leave thy fatherless children, I will preserve them alive; and let thy widows

trust in me;' and as he had himself abundantly experienced the goodness of the Lord, and under every adverse circumstance his bread had been given him and his waters had been sure, so now, under the most trying ordeal of his faith, he could leave the dearest objects of his earthly affections in unshaken confidence that the Lord would provide. It was to me most painful to witness the contrast between the dying parent and the laughing countenance and playfulness of the little baby, when she was brought each evening to wish her papa good-night. Poor little dear, her career-with its cares and sorrows, its joys and hopes-was yet before her; while her dear parent's sun was on the point of setting, to rise again, indeed, in glory, and to shine for evermore.

"Thursday, May 2.-(Isaiah xl. 8; John v. 39.)Although the consciousness of approaching death was upon our dear brother, yet the near anticipation of it did not appear to be realized; and this will account for his having deferred speaking particularly of those who were absent, or sending such messages of love as, from his known regard and affection for them, was to have been expected. Even his darling children, who, when he was in health, were ever on his thoughts, he but once referred to during his last illness. That we were all frequently upon his heart in prayer there is no reason to doubt, for he was constantly engaged in the inward exercise of it. His being debarred from conversation, and, indeed, his physical inability to indulge in it, was felt by us as a great deprivation.

*

*

*

"Friday, May 3.-(Isaiah xli.10; Matt. xxviii. 20.) -To Mrs Miller, while pressing her hand, he faintly whispered, Grace does all, Christ is all.' To me, on leaving him to go into Rothesay, he said, 'Do not be long;' and added, smiling, I know your rapid rate of walking.' I told him that pace should be quickened, and said that should we not meet again alive upon earth, I trusted we should in heaven. And must,' he answered, if you rest upon the same foundation that I rest upon. Does not Christ's blood cleanse from all sin? What more can you want?'

"Saturday, May 4.—(Isaiah xliii. 25.)— What are you weeping for?' Montague said to M

-. 'You must

not grieve for me-I am going to glory. You know that you have the same hope also, and it is but for a short time-a very short time; and remember this, love, that if I am permitted I shall be waiting for you; shall expect you, and my dear babes too. Bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, that not one of them may be found wanting.' A short time prior to his departure, there was a sweet, peaceful smile over his countenance, as if he had begun to enjoy a foretaste of his heavenly rest. He had his text-book and the various articles which he required placed in order on the table beside his bed, his pillows were smoothed and comfortably arranged, and about one o'clock in the afternoon he said he thought he could obtain a little rest. After sleeping for half an hour he awoke. His lips were parched, and M-applied a spoonful of wine to them. Looking up and smiling, he said, 'Why, I am hardly awake before you give me wine. I have had a most delightful and refreshing sleep.' He soon dropped again into a peaceful slumber. Mwas sitting on one side of the bed, and I at the opposite. On going for a few moments into the adjoining room to write a note, and while absent, I heard M- clap her hands, and upon re-entering the chamber, found that Montague's spirit had returned to God who gave it. Mhad been startled while watching at the sudden cessation of his breathing, and, looking up, perceived too plainly that her dear husband and our dear brother had fallen asleep in Jesus."

223

IT IS TOLD ME I MUST DIE. RICHARD LANGHORNE, a lawyer, was unjustly condemned to death as a traitor, in the reign of Charles II. Just before his execution he wrote the following unique and most exquisite poem. In the language of the Quarterly Review, "A poem it must be called, though it is not verse. Perhaps there is not, in this or any other language, a poem which appears to have flowed so entirely from the heart. Without waiting to search out a complete copy, we give it, as we find it, somewhat abridged."

DEATH-BED REPENTANCE.

AN English clergyman writing on the subject says:"A pastorate of nearly twenty years has made me familiar with scenes of affliction. I can hardly remember a case in which sickness did not dispose the mind to think seriously of religion, especially when early associations had led that way. But how has it been with those who have returned to life again? They have left their religion in the chamber of affliction, and not a vestige of piety has remained to attest the genuineness of their conversion.

"I have seen sinners brought to God amid all the varieties of Christian experience; some by the terrors of the law, others by the attractions of the cross; some by a long and almost imperceptible process, others comparatively in a moment; but scarcely in a single instance have I found conversion, or even real awakening, dated from affliction. If ten were cleaned, where are the nine?

"It has happened unto them according to the true proverb, The dog is turned to his own vomit again, and the sow that was washed to her wallowing in the mire. Would that piety which could not stand the test of a return to life have availed the soul in death? Let conscience say.

"I shall never forget an instance of disappointed hope which occurred in the early part of my career. A young man who had been instructed in a Sabbath school as to the elements of religion, but had never made any pretensions to piety, was stricken with an alarming disease. His concern about his soul was immediate and overwhelming. What must I do to be saved?' seemed the one question which absorbed all his thoughts. Those around him did not fail to expound the reply of Paul and Silas- Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ.' He listened most intently; hope sprung up in his soul, and passages of Scripture which he had learned at school came pouring into his mind with a richness, propriety, and consecutiveness, truly wonderful. Disease now gained upon him; all hope of recovery fled. The surgeon plainly told him that nothing more could be done, and that a few hours would terminate his life. He received the announcement with perfect composure, and said that he had no wish to live, his only desire was to depart and be with Christ. Inexperienced as I was, had he died, I should not have entertained a doubt of his safety. But the surgeon was mistaken; to the surprise of every one, his recovery was soon complete. He went to the house of God the first Sabbath he was able to walk, and returned thanks for his restoration. For the next few Sabbaths following he was there; afterwards I missed him. For some time I was unable to learn what had become of him; at last I ascertained that an act of gross criminality had rendered it expedient for him to leave the neighbourhood.

"After the lapse of twenty years, we very unexpectedly met once again. During the interval he had become a hardened sot. At the time of this interview, however, he was perfectly sober, but he appeared to have forgotten me. I reminded him of his vows in affliction. He then mentioned my name.

I endeavoured to recall his former impressions, but the attempt was hopeless-his conscience was seared as with a hot iron; all I could get him to say of the affliction which once seemed so hopeful, was, 'I have no wish to remember it." "

SELECT PASSAGES FROM M'CHEYNE.*

1. BE SOBER.

BE sober in the griefs of this world. Weep as though you wept not. This world is the vale of tears. It is a Bochim. There are always some mourning. No sooner is the tear dried up on one cheek than it trickles down another. Still the believer should be sober and chastened in his grief. Weep not for those that died in the Lord: they are not lost, but gone before. The sun, when it sets, is not lost; it is gone to shine in another hemisphere. And so have they gone to "shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father." Weep not for those who died out of the Lord. When Aaron lost his two sons, "Aaron held his peace." Weep not over bodily pains and losses. Murmur not. Be sober. If you are in Christ, these i are all the hell you will ever bear. When we win to the presence of Jesus, all our griefs shall look like children's griefs. A day in his banqueting-house will make you" forget your poverty, and remember your misery no more."

Sit loose to this world's enjoyments. Be sober. In a little while you will be at your Father's table above, drinking the wine new with Christ; you will meet with all your brothers and sisters in the Lord; you will have pure joy in God through ceaseless ages. Do not be much taken with the joys that are here. If ever you are so much engrossed with any enjoyment here that it takes away your love for prayer, or for your Bible, or that it would frighten you to hear the cry, "Behold the Bridegroom cometh"then your heart is overcharged. You are abusing this world.

11. THE CHARACTER OF SAVED ONES.

justified people, but a sanctified people. This was All that are on the road to heaven are not only a God's end in choosing us. "Whom he did foreknow, he also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of his Son." If any man be chosen to salvation, it is through sanctification of the Spirit. He world, that we should be holy. This was Christ's has chosen us in Christ before the foundation of the great end in dying for us, that he might make us a holy nation. Christ loved the Church, and gave himself for it, that he might sanctity and cleanse it by the washing of water through the word." He laid down the unspeakable price for this. He became a man, he became a curse, for this. He groaned, sweated blood, was bruised, bowed his head, gave up the ghost, for this-that he might have liberty to make us free, humble, self-denied, loving, pure as he himself is pure. This is the Holy Spirit's end in dealing with us. It would not be righteous in Him to dwell in an unjustified soul. It is no rest for the dove of heaven. He therefore awakens the souldiscovers to the man his guilt, depravity, loathsomeness. He glorifies Christ in the man's soul-destroys the face of the covering that is over the carnal heart. He softens the rocky heart, and inclines and engages the will to cleave to the Lord Jesus Christ alone for righteousness. Then he sees no iniquity in that man. He says of that soul, "This is my rest; here will I

These extracts are from Mr M'Cheyne's valuable contributions to the Christian's Daily Companion, published by Blackie and Son in 1843.