world of peace. But no Christian, on the verge of glory, can feel a less heavenly wish than that his worst enemy may be, by his repentance, the occasion of joy

in heaven.

That same celestial spirit goes out, at such an hour, in longing prayers for the triumph of the kingdom of God on earth and the salvation of all. An aged Christian, when his pastor inquired for what he should specially pray at his bedside, answered,

"With love which scarce collective man can fill,"

and as if all was granted already for himself, "pray for the whole family of mankind." Edward the Sixth, with his dying breath, supplicated that his kingdom might be delivered from "Papistry." "Let the whole earth be filled with his glory," were the words with which the gallant Earl of Derby gave the signal that the axe should fall. Almost the same words broke from the lips of a sweet, pious child just as her spirit passed. It is the utmost ascent of the human heart, before it has lifted its anchor for the voyage of eternity.

LV.

Contrite Peace in Christian Death.

"The last end

Of the good man is peace. How calm his exit!
Night-dews fall not more gently to the ground,
Nor weary worn-out winds expire so soft."

BLAIR.

WHETHER emerging from conflict, or spared it entirely, the soul of the dying believer is generally irradiated with a peculiar grace and peace. If this be in its nature no more than what he has often enjoyed, its degree is higher and more perfect. Already, he seems in spirit to rest from his labours. The world of temptations has passed by. All gentle and pure feelings have undisturbed control; and the most exalted of his thoughts and the sweetest of his affections alone remain. Shut by the necessity of his weakness, as well as by his own wishes, from all except a few friends, he communes with another world and prepares to go forth. It is of the nature of Christian peace to be profoundly humble; for it flows from the hope or sense of forgiveness, and forgiveness supposes a most abasing conviction of unworthiness. If this be strong in life, it can but gather fresh strength when the soul is waiting its speedy call into the more immediate presence of the Lord of glory. The fifty-first Psalm, known as the Miserere, has often been the prayer of dying saints. Rogers said it on the way to the stake. It was repeated by Bullinger on his departing day. It was read at the bedside of Arnold a few moments before he ex

pired. When a minister spoke to the illustrious Grotius, in his sickness far from home, of the prayer of the publican, he cried out, "I am that publican; I place all my hopes in Jesus Christ." The innocent and saintly Archbishop Usher, after a very long life of godliness, uttered these as his last words, "O Lord, forgive me, especially my sins of omission."

But it is not to be supposed that the lowliest depths of confession would be trodden at the very last. Those whose repentance has been delayed till then, if, touched indeed, they obtain the pardon which they passionately implore, yet can hardly be cited as examples which may illustrate how a Christian can die." Through the regrets and pains of penitence, the faithful Christian has passed, before he lay down for his final rest. Humility, rather than humiliation, is the character of his experience, after he has withdrawn within himself and contemplated the close. When his sickness began, or when it first wore the aspect of approaching death, he may have bowed his spirit in one solemn act of confession. If he received the Holy Communion, he earnestly sought to bring that cordial penitence for all his guilt, which has the promise, as well as the seal, of perfect pardon through the blood that cleanseth from all sin; but on that promise he relied, and, though he feels himself a sinner, he feels himself a sinner forgiven. Not to the deathbeds of the pious must we look for anguish and deep shame, for the return of the prodigal or the lamentations of Peter when the cock crew: these are already past. The prodigal is in the arms of his father; the penitent has heard from his Saviour the blessing, "Peace be with you:" and the contrite lowliness which remains, though the deepest and tenderest, is no longer pain.

LVI.

Light in Christian Death.

"Stronger by weakness, wiser men become
As they draw near to their eternal home:
Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view,
Who stand upon the threshold of the new."

WALLER.

THE idea that the departing spirits of good men are at times favoured with intimations, visions, or assurances which would on other occasions be held supernatural, is one which has often occurred to the thoughtful, and which is attended by no appearance of improbability. They who are on the border of two worlds might well look over from one, and catch some glimpses of what lies just within the other. Little proof would be asked by minds not firmly fond of incredulity. Is that little afforded by the last earthly hours of the saints?

The Saviour, in that parable which was designed to afford a glance beyond death, the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, intimated an approach and nearness of higher spirits at the season of departure. The patriarchal ancestors of Israel were possessed at that season with a divine power of prophecy, and spoke the destinies of their posterity. There is, therefore, a foundation for the belief that immortal faculties may receive some development before the boundary of death is crossed. To St. Stephen, certainly, a vision was displayed and heaven was really opened. To St. Peter it shown, that he must shortly put off his mortal tabernacle. We are easily prepared to suppose that something not

dissimilar may have been granted to the faithful but uninspired followers of such leaders. Many are the narrations which sustain a belief so natural and so authorized. Even if some remain unconvinced, and although extraordinary instances are not to be cited as proofs of an ordinary rule, it will still be difficult for most Christians not to recognise a design in a class of facts so numerous and of such surpassing interest.

Basil of Ancyra, who was put to death in the time of Julian the Apostate, foretold the approaching death of the emperor; and George Wishart, at the stake, foretold that of his persecutor, Cardinal Beatoun. The words of Latimer may be regarded as uttered in the same spirit, when he said, "We shall this day light such a candle in England, as, by God's grace, shall never be put out." To John Knox, his friends confidently attributed a power of prophecy.

It is related of the death of St. Ambrose, that Honoratus, Bishop of Vercelli, was at the time in the house, in a distant room, and three times heard a voice, “Arise immediately, he is at the point of departure;" on which he hastened, gave him the sacrament, and saw him expire. Whether the voice was outward or inward, an actual interposition or a powerful impulse, the event has been in many an instance substantially repeated. Clergymen have hastened, under such an incitement, to the bedside of the dying; and friends have felt themselves irresistibly prompted to an interview which they have always remembered with thankfulness. It is impossible, when we speak of death and its circumstances, to discriminate accurately between the natural and the supernatural. What belongs to this world is natural; what belongs to the future world is supernatural; and in death they meet.