About a month before his decease he arose on the Sabbath morning free from pain, the spirit of former times came upon him, and he felt that he could get through the labours of the day, without availing himself of the assistance which his neighbour, the Rev. Mr. Guion, had so kindly offered. The text from which he addressed the congregation was taken from 2 Pet. i. 13, 14:—"Yea, I think it meet, as long as I am in this tabernacle, to stir you up, by putting you in remembrance; knowing that shortly I must put off this my tabernacle, even as our Lord Jesus Christ hath showed me." When he read the words, the attention of the people was immediately fixed on him. The effect which was produced by the delivery of this discourse was very powerful. It was undoubtedly much aided by the peculiar circumstances of the speaker, who was grown gray and infirm in the service of the people, and who in his introduction informed them, that he was led to the choice of the subject, under an impression, which left no doubt of the propriety of its application to himself. The aspect of the preacher, pale, emaciated, standing on the verge of eternity—the simplicity and majesty of his sentiments—the sepulchral solemnity of a voice which seemed to issue from the shades, combined with the intrinsic dignity of the subject—perfectly quelled the audience with tenderness and terror, and produced such a scene of audible weeping as was perhaps never surpassed. All other emotions were absorbed in devotional feeling; it seemed to us as though we were permitted for a short space to look into eternity, and every sublunary object vanished before "the powers of the world to come." "I had often heard him," says Mr. Stevens, in a letter which I received from him, "when he was more energetic, but never when he was more impressive; when he discovered more originality of genius, but never when he displayed more intensity of feeling; when he employed a more polished and a more imaginative style of address, but never when he spoke with more authority and power; and, thinking with the rest of the audience, that he was now terminating his labours, I felt a high gratification that he was enabled to bring them to a close with so much credit to himself, as the able and faithful minister of the New Testament. His appeal to the people, after he had finished his discourse and closed his Bible, delivered in simple and unaffected language, subdued the whole audience, and left us, when he had finished it, no alternative but an involuntary burst of sorrow that we should hear no more that voice to which we had so often listened."
The following is an extract from the Rector's farewell sermon:—
"My dearly beloved brethren, I have now served you in the ministry of the gospel for more than forty years, and am on the eve of closing my labours amongst you. Looking back on my life, I discover many defects in my character, and many imperfections in the manner in which I have discharged my public duties; these I most humbly deplore; but I trust they have been only the ordinary infirmities of a Christian minister, who has uniformly aimed to reach a higher point of excellence than he could ever attain. If I cannot, like the great apostle of the Gentiles, appeal to the holiness and unblameableness of my behaviour amongst you; yet I trust I can to the ardour of my affection, and the fidelity of my public ministrations; and while I would entreat you to cast the veil of charity over all the blemishes of my character, I would, at the same time, charge 'every one of you, as a father doth his children, that ye would walk worthy of God, who hath called you unto his kingdom and glory.' The truth which I have preached to you is now my support in prospect of the scene which is before me. The time of my departure is at hand. My course is nearly finished. I shall soon stand before the judgment-seat of Christ. My eternal state shall soon be decided; and I shall soon know the final decision. But I am not alarmed. I do not dread death. The judgment-seat does not appal me. The final sentence awakens no fearful forebodings of sorrow. I am looking for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ unto eternal life. Whether I shall ever be permitted to address you again from this pulpit, is known only to Him who works all things after the counsel of his own will; nor do I feel very solicitous to do so. If I should, I shall appear amongst you in weakness, if not in fear and in much trembling; and if I should not, I hope you will be provided with another minister, who will, either in this church, or elsewhere, as the Lord may direct, preach, to you with more energy, and with more success, the glorious gospel which I have so often proclaimed to you. But I cannot leave you without saying, that as I have not shunned to declare the whole truth of God in the most faithful manner, if any of you should eventually perish, you will not have it in your power to say that it was owing to my unfaithfulness. Any of you perish! What! will you reject the counsel of God against yourselves? Will you refuse to come to Jesus Christ, that you may have life? Will you neglect the great salvation, which has been made known unto you; and sink down to endless woe under the accumulated guilt of your impenitence? Must I be compelled to appear as a witness against any of you, in that day when God shall judge the secrets of men by Jesus Christ according to my gospel? and, instead of seeing you accepted in the Beloved, shall I see you banished from the presence of the Lord for ever? And must I now terminate my labours amongst you, under the awful impression, that while they have been the means of saving some, they have become the innocent occasion of aggravating the just condemnation of others? and thus, like the apostle, while to some I have been the savour of life unto life, must I be to others the savour of death unto death?"
When the service was over, many of the people crowded into the aisle though which he passed; some stood in the porch of the church, others along the pathway which led across the graveyard, and some few followed him to the rectory, to shake hands with him and bid him farewell; sorrowing, like the elders of Ephesus, when they fell on Paul's neck and kissed him, most of all that they should see his face no more. This spontaneous expression of attachment, on the part of the people, deeply affected the venerable man, who wept as he reiterated his parting benediction to the aged and the young; and though he had strength given him to go through this trying hour, yet, on entering his parlour, he complained of a giddiness, and immediately fell fainting into the arms of Mr. Lewellin. This excited considerable alarm through the whole family; and one of the servants, in the paroxysm of her agony, sent forth the report that her master was dead. On his being removed into the open air, however, he soon revived, though, from the distorted appearance of his countenance, it was evident that he had received a slight paralytic stroke. He slept the greater part of the afternoon, but towards evening became very animated, and for several hours conversed, with great cheerfulness, on the immortality of the soul, and its final and blissful destiny.
When Socrates was under sentence of death, he assured his friends, who came to offer him their sympathy, that his chief support in prospect of taking the fatal draught, was an expectation, not unmixed with doubts, of a happy existence after death. From reasoning and reflecting on the subject, he had been led to the conviction that something of man remains after his decease, and that the condition of good men will at last be better than that of the bad; but he could not discover in all his researches, any positive evidence in support of this opinion; and hence, while he expressed a hope of entering the invisible world on passing away from this, he candidly acknowledged that he had his doubts. "My situation," said the venerable Ingleby, "is more enviable than that of the sage of Athens. He doubted the immortality of the soul, while I firmly believe it. And why do I believe it? Not because my nature revolts at the thought of annihilation; not because I feel an instinctive desire to outlive the triumphs of death; but because He who sees the end from the beginning has said, that the wicked 'shall go away into everlasting punishment; but the righteous shall go into life eternal.'"
"We ought," said Mr. Lewellin, "to be very thankful to the Author of revelation, for having announced the fact of our immortality in such a clear and unequivocal manner; for it has always struck me, that no other argument can be admitted as conclusive, but the testimony of one who has an actual knowledge of an endless futurity."
"I quite agree with you," said Mr. Ingleby; "for how is it possible for any being to know that I shall live for ever but that Great Being who knows the end from the beginning? The communications which we have in the Bible, on this subject, are professedly his testimony; but if we reject these communications as fabulous, we must either give up our hope of immortality, as an idle fancy, or abandon ourselves to that state of dubious uncertainty, in which the Athenian sage lived and died. And to this dilemma the infidels of modern times are reduced; hence, while they cannot disbelieve in a future state of existence, they cannot anticipate it with any degree of confidence. If the gospel be, what they say it is, a cunningly devised fable, which has its origin, not in the records of truth, but in the invention of man, it is a fable which is eminently conducive to human happiness; and I should consider that man my enemy, who would even attempt to expose its fallacy. I am now near the close of life, the tomb is opening to receive me, and ere long I shall cease to be an inhabitant of this world. Am I to perish like the beasts of the field? or am I to exist in another state of being? These are questions which now present themselves to my mind, with an air of solemn majesty, which they never before assumed; but to whom can I propose them, with any hope of obtaining a satisfactory reply? There is no voice which speaks, but that which comes from the excellent glory; and that voice tells me, that this mortal shall put on immortality; that death shall be swallowed up in victory; and it teaches me to offer my thanksgivings to God, who hath given me the victory over the fear of death, and the terror of the grave, through our Lord Jesus Christ."
"The language," observed Mr. Stevens, "which our Lord addressed to his disciples, just before his departure, to assuage the violence of their grief, is no less calculated to afford us consolation under our sufferings, especially when we are brought near the verge of eternity:—'Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.'"
"I do believe in Him," replied the Rector, "and enjoy the influence of that belief, in the calm placidity of my mind. I do believe that he is preparing a place for me amongst the mansions of the blessed, and I enjoy the influence of that belief in the sublime anticipations of hope. Yes, I shall soon see him in all the glory of his majesty, and in all the tenderness of his compassion; and with the rest of the redeemed I shall soon bow down in his presence with mingled emotions of astonishment and delight! With astonishment, that he ever condescended to love me, and to employ me in his service; and with delight, at the scenes which I shall then behold, and the voices which I shall then hear. Then shall I be satisfied when I am assimilated to the Divine likeness."