The concluding words of Dr. Ryerson's story of his life were:—
In 1878, I was elected for the third time Representative of the Canadian to the British Conference. After the fulfilment of these functions, I have retired from all active participation in public affairs, whether of Church or State. I have finished, after twenty years' labour, my "History of the Loyalists of America and their Times." I have finished the "Story of my Life"—imperfect and fragmentary as it is—leaving to another pen anything that may be thought worthy of record of my last days on earth, as well as any essential omissions in my earlier career.
At length the end of this great Canadian drew near; and the shadows at the closing of life's eventide deepened and lengthened. I visited him frequently, and always found him interested in whatever subject or topic I might speak to him about. His congenial subject, however, was God's providential goodness and overruling care throughout his whole life. In his personal religious experience, he always spoke humbly of himself and glowingly of the long-suffering tenderness of God's dealings towards him. At no time was the character of his religious experience more practical and suggestive than when laid aside from duty. Meditation on the past was the subject of his thoughts.
To him God was a personal, living Father—a Brother born for adversity—a Friend that sticketh closer than a brother—a great and glorious Being, ever gracious, ever merciful. His trust in God was child-like in its simplicity, firm and unwavering. His conversation partook of it and was eminently realistic. He had no more doubt of God's daily, hourly, loving care and superintending providence over him and his than he had of any material fact with which he was familiar or which was self-evident to him. He entirely realized that God was his ever present friend. There seemed to be that close, intimate union—reverent and humble as it was on his part—of man with God, and this gave a living reality to religion in his life. To him the counsels, the warnings, the promises; the encouragements of the Bible, were the voice of God speaking to him personally—the very words came as living words from the lips of God, "as a man speaketh to his friend." This was the secret of his courage, whether it was in some crisis of conflict or controversy, or in his little frail craft when crossing the lake, or exposed to the storm.
To such a man death had no terrors—the heart had no fear. It was cheering and comforting to listen to him (as I often did alone) and to hear him speak of his near departure, as of one preparing for a journey—ceasing from duty, in order to be ready to be conveyed away, and then resuming it when the journey was over.
Thus he spoke of the time of his departure as at hand, and he was ready for the messenger when He should call for him. He spoke of it trustfully, hopefully, cheerfully, neither anxious nor fearful; and yet, on the other hand, neither elated nor full of joy; but he knew in whom He had trusted, and was persuaded, and was not afraid of evil tidings either of the dark valley or the river of death. He knew Him whom he believed, and was persuaded that He was able to keep that which he had committed unto Him against that day.
Thus the end drew near, and with it, as the outward man began to fail, the feeling of unwavering trust and confidence was deepened and strengthened. At length hearing failed, and the senses one by one partially ceased to perform their functions. Then to him were fully realized the inspired words of Solomon: Desire failed, and the silver cord was loosed, the golden bowl was broken, the pitcher broken at the fountain, and the wheel at the cistern. Gradually the weary wheels of life stood still, and at seven o'clock on Sunday morning, February 19th, 1882, in the presence of his loved ones and dear friends, gently and peacefully the spirit of Egerton Ryerson took its flight to be forever with the Lord!
Servant of God, well done!
Thy glorious warfare's past;
The battle's fought, the vict'ry won,
And thou art crowned at last;
Of all thy heart's desire
Triumphantly possessed;
Lodged by the sweet angelic choir
In thy Redeemer's breast.