February, 1675-6., and lived till the Christmas following; but, all the while, was in so ill a state of health, that there were no hopes of his recovery. He continued, still, to retire often, both for his devotions and studies*; and, as long as he could go,

* This, for very many years, had been his habitual practice; and it cannot be doubted, that, at the last, his persevering devotion rendered the chair of sickness (for he could not lie down in his bed) not only easy, but delightful. But his studies, and his prayers, were not for himself alone: he was, indeed, a universal blessing; and in no individual, perhaps, of his own, or after times, was that spirit of supplication more happily exemplified, which has since been pourtrayed, in colours that will never die : . .

Perhaps the self-approving haughty world,
Receives advantage from his noiseless hours
Of which she little dreams. Perhaps she owes
Her sunshine and her rain, her blooming spring
And plenteous harvest, to the prayer he makes,
When, Isaac-like, the solitary saint
Walks forth, to meditate at eventide,
And think of her, who thinks not for herself,

Little they dream, those haughty souls,

Whom empires own with bended knee,
What lowly fate their own controlls,

Together linked by Heaven's decree ;.
As bloodhounds hush their baying wild
To wanton with some fearless child,

So Famine waits, and War with greedy eyes,
Till some repenting heart be ready for the skies.

Think ye the spires that glow so bright
In front of yonder setting sun,

Stand by their own unshaken might?

No: where the' upholding grace is won,

We dare not ask, nor Heaven would tell;

But sure, from many a hidden dell,

From many a rural nook unthought of there,

COWPER.

Rises, for that proud world, the saints' prevailing prayer.a

KEBLE.

a

· Έχοντες έκαστος κιθαρας,

και φιαλας χρυσας γέμουσας θυμιαμάτων,
αἱ εἰσιν αἱ προσευχαι των ἁγιων.

АПОКАЛ.

went constantly to his closet: and, when his infirmities increased on him, so that he was not able to go thither himself, he made his servants carry him thither, in a chair. At last, as the winter came on, he saw, with great joy, his deliverance approaching; for, besides his being weary of the world, and his longings for the blessedness of another state, his pains increased so on him, that no patience, inferior to his, could have borne them, without a great uneasiness of mind: yet, he expressed, to the last, such submission to the will of God, and so equal a temper, under them, that it was visible, then, what mighty effects his philosophy and Christianity had on him, in supporting him under such a heavy load.

He could not lie down in bed, above a year before his death, by reason of the asthma; but sat, rather than lay in it.

He was attended on, in his sickness, by a pious and worthy divine, Mr. Evan Griffith, minister of the parish and it was observed, that, in all the extremities of his pain, whenever he prayed by him, he forbore all complaints or groans, but, with his hands and eyes lifted up, was fixed in his devotions. Not long before his death, the minister told him, there was to be a sacrament next Sunday, at church; but, he believed, he could not come, and partake with the rest; therefore, he would give it to him in his own house. But he answered, 'No: his heavenly Father had prepared a feast for him; and he would go to his Father's house, to partake

of it.' So, he made himself be carried thither in his chair, where he received the sacrament, on his knees, with great devotion; which, it may be supposed, was the greater, because he apprehended it was to be his last, and so took it, as his viaticum, and provision for his journey. He had some secret, unaccountable, presages of his death; for, he said, that if he did not die on such a day, (which fell to be the twenty-fifth of November,) he believed he should live a month longer; and he died that very day month. He continued to enjoy the free use of his reason and sense, to the last moment; which he had often, and earnestly, prayed for, during his sickness. And, when his voice was so sunk, that he could not be heard, they perceived, by the almost constant lifting up of his eyes and hands, that he was still aspiring towards that blessed state, of which he was now speedily to be possessed.

He had, for many years, a particular devotion for Christmas-day: and, after he had received the sacrament, and been in the performance of the public worship of that day, he commonly wrote a copy of verses on the honour of his Saviour; as a fit expression of the joy he felt in his soul, at the return of that glorious anniversary. There are seventeen of those copies printed, which he writ on seventeen several Christmas-days; by which the world has a taste of his poetical genius: in which, if he had thought it worth his time to have excelled, he might have been eminent, as well as

in other things: but he writ them, rather to entertain himself, than to merit the laurel.

I shall here add one, which has not been yet printed; and it is not unlikely, it was the last he writ. It is a paraphrase on Simeon's Song. I take it from his blotted copy, not at all finished; so, the reader is to make allowance for any imperfection he may find in it:..

Blessed Creator, who, before the birth
Of time, or ere the pillars of the earth
Were fix'd or form'd, didst lay that great design
Of man's redemption; and didst define,
In thine eternal counsels, all the scene
Of that stupendous business, and when

It should appear; and, though the very day
Of its Epiphany concealed lay,

Within thy mind, yet thou wert pleased to show
Some glimpses of it, unto men below,

In visions, types, and prophecies; as we
Things at a distance in perspective see.

But thou wert pleased to let thy servant know,
That that blest hour, that seem'd to move so slow
Through former ages, should at last attain

Its time, ere my few sands that yet remain
Are spent; and that these aged eyes

Should see the day when Jacob's star should rise.
And now thou hast fulfill'd it, blessed Lord,
Dismiss me now, according to thy word;
And let my aged body now return

To rest, and dust, and drop into an urn:
For I have lived enough; mine eyes have seen
Thy much-desired salvation, that hath been
So long, so dearly wish'd; the joy, the hope
Of all the ancient patriarchs, the scope

Of all the prophecies and mysteries,
Of all the types unveil'd, the histories
Of Jewish Church unriddled, and the bright
And orient sun arisen, to give light

To Gentiles, and the joy of Israel,

The world's Redeemer, bless'd Emanuel!
Let this sight close mine eyes: 'tis loss to see,
After this vision, any sight but Thee!

Thus he used to sing on the former Christmasdays; but now, he was to be admitted to bear his part in the new songs above: so that day, which he had spent in so much spiritual joy, proved to be, indeed, the day of his jubilee and deliverance; for, between two and three in the afternoon, he breathed out his righteous and pious soul. His end was peace: he had no strugglings, nor seemed to be in any pangs in his last moments. He was buried on the fourth of January, Mr. Griffith preaching the funeral sermon. His text was the fifty-seventh of Isaiah, first verse, The righteous perisheth, and no man layeth it to heart; and merciful men are taken away, none considering, that the righteous is taken away from the evil to

6

* In a former note, (p. 22. of this volume,) the cycnean song of George Herbert, which ushered in his union with the heavenly choir, has been noticed. Here, is a striking coincidence, Bishop Ken's life and practice furnish another. But, in truth, at all times, truly pious men have been similarly affected... I have seen and felt the effect,' says Mr. Gilly, which sacred music produced, in the humble dwelling of the village pastor, where none but human voices swelled the notes; and in the château, where the harp and the organ have mingled their fine sounds, with the well-modulated tones of an accomplished family of sons and daughters. My thoughts, at the moment I am writing this, are at Château Blonay: but most of the voices which I heard there, are now silent in death!?.. Memoir of Felix Neff, p. 67.