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. More interesting by far is the question whether the dying Christian has, before he crosses the boundary of worlds, experience of such "powers of the world to come" as are perceived by none but the dying. Often, like St. Augustin, such have requested, after their farewell words, to be no more disturbed, as if they were intent on something of indescribable earnestness. They have folded their hands, and fixed their gaze, and a calm smile, or an ecstatic joy, or a deep, deep intensity of contemplative adoration, has settled upon their features. So, Gellert died in silent prayer. Such scenes will be in the remembrance of many by whom they have been watched, and who felt as if they saw while one was passing in at the porch of the celestial temple. Others, as they drew nearer to the end, have uttered their astonishment and joy at the new consciousness which was dawning. Light breaks in!" exclaimed the pious Blumhardt of Basle, a little before he expired, "Light breaks in! Hallelujah!" Mrs. East, with "a look of dazzling and indescribable lustre," said at midnight, "He made the stars also," sank into sleep, and never awoke again. Melancthon requested not to be interrupted; when asked if he wanted any thing, said, "Nothing else but heaven;" and begged them "not to disturb his delightful repose." Rivet said, "I am come to the eve of a great and eternal day; I have learned more divinity in ten days than in fifty years before." Doctor Maclaine said, "I can now contemplate clearly the grand scene to which I am going: it appears to my mind very magnificent and very awful; there is no cloud in the prospect." Doddridge said, "Such delightful and transporting views of the heavenly world as my Father is now indulging me with, no words can express.' Hooker fell into a kind of rapturous reverie, meditating on angels, their number, order and harmony. The countenance of Sargent, the biographer of Martyn, kindled into holy fervor; he spoke of glory, glory," and of "that bright light,” and, when asked, "what light?" answered, "the light of the Sun of righteousness." With many, however, there has been a distinct denial of sensations beyond the sphere of common joy in the Holy Ghost. When Doctor Bedell was asked if he saw Jesus, he was already speechless, but answered significantly by pointing to his heart and to heaven, as if he had said, "there only." "I have no rapturous joys," said Rowland Hill, "but peace, a good hope through grace-all through grace." Ecolampadius, laying his hand upon his heart, as the rising sun broke in at the casement, said, “There is light enough here.” But others have seemed to themselves to feel and perceive much more. Nicholas Ferrar assured his friends that he had seen a heavenly entertainment. The Countess of Carbery had fears, but "passed into a kind of trance," and then "cried out aloud, Glory be to God on high! now I am sure I shall be saved." That excellent person, Lady Elizabeth Hastings, a little before she died, cried out, with sparkling eyes and an elevated voice, "Lord, what is it that I see? Oh, the greatness of the glory that is revealed in me! that is before me!" The accomplished Olympia Morata, an exile for her faith, said, as she sank in death, smiling with inexpressible sweetness, "I distinctly behold a place filled with ineffable light;" and her last words were, "I am perfectly happy." Doctor Bateman, a little before he died, said, with the sensations of a Christian physician, "I can hardly distinguish whether this is languor or drowsiness which has come over me; but it is a very agreeable feeling;" and died, crying, "What glory! the angels are waiting for me! Lord Jesus, receive my soul! Farewell!" Gregory the Great tells that his aunt, in her agony, called out to make room for the Lord Jesus, whom she saw coming towards her; and so died. In just the same manner, Doctor Nelson relates, how a pious lady of St. Louis, after a strong spasm, that was strong enough to have been the last, said to her pastor in a faint whisper, "I was in sight of home, and I saw my Saviour!" Such instances, more or less striking, are innumerable, and something of this nature has perhaps fallen within the knowledge of almost every observer. We must not be bold in speaking of what none but the dying can have seen and felt; but certainly there is enough to persuade us, that many of those who, with clear minds and organs unoppressed, approach the shadowy barrier between two worlds, do breathe some airs from that which is beyond; have a solemn, joyous experience till then, in that degree, quite unknown; and perceive, as if within a curtain, the motions of forms, whose outlines and features they cannot discern. LVII. Last Words of Dying Christians. cross. "With lifted eyes, And aspect luminous, as with the light Exhausted; and, while every voice was hushed, WILCOX. THE boundary is now reached; the soul is ready to We stand, and gaze eagerly, to watch the very last of those signs which the faithful leave behind; the utmost link between their pilgrimage here and the world of angels. Their last, last words, though perhaps less significant than many earlier sayings, are yet treasured with a peculiar sense of sacredness. But when they have been uttered with the consciousness that they were the last, they must indeed have a mighty attraction for those who know that they are to pass by the same spot, and who long to pass in the same hope or triumph. No other words, probably, have been so often heard from that spot, as those, or nearly those, with which our Lord commended His spirit to His Father, and with which the first martyr called on the Lord Jesus to receive his spirit. These were the last words, substantially, of Basil, of Luther, of Tasso, of Edward the Sixth and Lady Jane Grey, of Latimer and Ridley, of |