clouds in a windy night, breaking the light of the moon, which yet pursues beyond them its calm, clear way. It has even been known, yet perhaps scarcely known, that disease should produce in men whose lives had left no room for doubt in a single witness of their faith, a gloom and even an apparent despair that enfolded their minds till reason disappeared. Scarcely can the triumph of the inner man of the heart, even over the worst darkness of the intellect, be more signally exemplified than in the consoling reflections which one of the brightest minds of a recent age communicated to another, Mackintosh to Hall, when the great divine feared the recurrence of a mental malady, from which he had suffered previous derangement. His friend brought to him Christian strength, which he, as a Christian, knew how to receive. They thought and spoke of passing into the temporary loss of intellect itself, as into a sleep, through which the protection of Him who slumbers not would not be wanting, and from which the spirit would emerge with elevated and expanded pinions. Even so perfect a victory is given to faith, over all the peculiar fears with which some forms of disease may encompass the season of departure. They can but be for a little while their beginning is preceded by a filial submission, and their end is beyond all sorrows.

LII.

Conflicts in Christian Death.

"Oh, fear not Him who walks the stormy wave;

'Tis not a spectre, but the Lord!

Trust thou in Him who overcame the grave;

Who holds in captive ward

The powers of death. Heed not the monster grim,
Nor fear to go through death to Him."

CONDER.

OUR Redeemer said of His own night of agony, "this is your hour, and the power of darkness." It has been the persuasion, and doubtless the experience, of many of His followers, that some special contest with the temptations of their adversary, especially in the forms of distrust and despair, often awaits the dying. Perhaps it was for this cause, that the Reformers of the English Church, in that most solemn service which is performed at the grave, placed such words as these: "Suffer us not at our last hour for any pains of death to fall from thee." It might well have been believed that they who should be kept till the last hour in faith and obedience, would not then be forsaken. But, even if salvation itself could not then be endangered, the comfort and peace of the Christian might be much impaired; his testimony to the power of grace shaken by the onset; and at least a parting sting might be given by the serpent beneath his heel.

Of no such contest do many Christian deathbeds afford any intimation. Not seldom, all which is seen or

told is peace; peace from first to last. The appearance, however, of a peculiar struggle within is sufficiently frequent and sufficiently marked, to be justly viewed as one of the spiritual phenomena of death. When Bucer, on his deathbed, was warned that he should be armed against the assaults of the devil, he answered, "I have nothing in common with the devil; I am only in Christ; God forbid that I should not taste the sweetest consolation." The Viscountess Falkland, a lady of exalted piety, had much feared these assaults, but was quite exempt. But the mild and placid Melancthon said at one time, "I have been in the power of death; but the Lord has graciously delivered me.” George Herbert "fell into a sudden agony," and presently said that he had passed a conflict with his last enemy, and had overcome him by the merits of his Master, Jesus.” Hervey spoke of a great conflict which he felt within; but at last said, "The great conflict is over; now, all is done;" and said scarce any thing more, except that, now and then, he exclaimed, "Precious salvation!"

The occasions of this conflict may probably be very different. It may be a struggle with the innate love of life; for youthful piety, especially, can still enjoy the glory and beauty of this world beneath the sun. Even such a struggle will not be condemned by those who have seen the fading bloom of that most beautiful period, when all joys are most joyful, and have meditated much on the Saviour and His agony. Still more intense may be the strife of soul in fathers and mothers, before a young and dependent family is calmly left behind. In mothers, the victory, once won, is often so complete as hardly to leave a trace of the conflict, and scarcely is there any higher victory of faith; but the

conflict itself may often have been proportionably severe, unless, indeed, the tender and compassionate Comforter had made it easy. Many pious hearts, too, shrink, at times, with an appalled timidity, from "the wide, the unbounded prospect" of an eternal existence; and an hour of heavy conflict may succeed the conviction that all is at hand. With others, "a horror of great darkness," altogether indistinct, may be the inward oppression. John Wessel was even tempted with doubts of the truth of that religion which he had loved and served; but, an hour after, said, "I thank God all my vain disputations are vanished; I now know nothing but Jesus and Him crucified." But commonly, perhaps, it is the conflict with that which makes the sting of death; with conscious sin, with recollections of guilt, and of the law, which is the strength of sin; a conflict in which, if the soul lose its hold upon the hand of the Redeemer, it must sink beneath the waters.

At such a time, such a conflict may well bear some resemblance to the agony in Gethsemane. The cup is felt to be one which, were it possible, the fainting, overwhelmed, quivering soul would wish to pass by its lip untasted. It is one of the most awful struggles of faith, probably the most awful, but the last.

LIII.

Reliance on Christ in Death.

"And oh, when I have safely passed
Through every conflict but the last,
Still, still unchanging, watch beside
My bed of death; for thou hast died!"

GRANT.

THE reliance of the heart upon the love and grace of Christ becomes even simpler, firmer, and more intense in its last trial. If we need the mediation of the Son of God, then surely, if ever, must the need be felt; and if He is indeed the Saviour of sinners, how can a penitent sinner fail to cling then with all His soul to the assurance of His love, when all other supports fall all around? The Lord who loved us and gave Himself for us; who ransomed us with his blood; who went before us, for our sake, in the path of mortal suffering; who died, and dying overcame and abolished death; is seen by the eye of faith as the Good Shepherd, and guides with His rod and staff along the dark valley.

"I know whom I have believed," was the thought of the imprisoned apostle, when he expected his summons to martyrdom. "Yes, He is very precious to me," are the accents that are but whispered by one. dying believer. "I am going to my Lord," exclaims another as he departs. "This day," said Bishop Jewel, just before he expired, "this day let me see the Lord Jesus." "Blessed Jesus," were the last words of the