the beginning of the year of 1850, his sister, also a member of our school, died fully triumphing in the Christian faith; and that decided him to seek the Lord with all his heart. Her last request was, that her brother would prepare to meet her in heaven. He promised, and never forgot that promise to his dying sister, nor was the effect of her death-bed scene ever effaced from his memory. He now became more serious and reserved; was more frequent at the means of grace; the Bible was the constant companion of his solitary hours; and it was now evident he sought with sincerity and anxiety the "pearl of great price." Yet his retiring and diffident disposition, deterred him long from asking the counsel and guidance of any Christian friend. At length, he told the Rev. J. Thompson, to whom he was strongly attached, the state of his mind. James was prayed for, and pointed to Christ Jesus as the only hope and refuge for sinners. On the 15th of January 1851, he obtained peace with God, under an address from Mr. Rae, of Scotland. Frequently have I heard him refer to that Sabbath, during his long illness, with expressions of deepest gratitude and joy. He was wont on such occasions to say, "Bless the Lord for the Saviour, not only able and willing, but who really did bear in his own body all my sins away." This being the sentence used by Mr. Rae, and fastened by the Spirit · of God on his heart. Shortly after this happy change, he was appointed to take charge of a class in the school; he entered on this duty with much anxiety, he did not lightly regard the responsibility of his trust; but laboured like one who believed he would have to give an account of his stewardship; and, so long as he was able to attend, he discharged his engagement with fidelity and zeal. At this period, his love for the Bible was intense, and continued undiminished to the last day of his life. He had a nice and refined discrimination in selecting appropriate passages from the Scriptures; and he had an abiding conviction of the power, truth, and all-sufficiency of the Word of God. One morning, when the writer called to see him, the Bible lay open by his side. I said, "Well, James, I see your body is weaker, but how do you feel in your mind? He replied, "O happy, but I don't trust to feeling, that is a sandy foundation, my feelings are liable to change with my pains; but I rest here, (laying his arm on the Bible) here is my stay, and Christ is my hope. The promises of this book are always the same, and God says, I shall "never perish, neither shall any enemy pluck me out of his hand." After some other conversation, I said, "It seems as though we were just standing on the horizon of both worlds; behind us is the past of our lives, whether of good or of evil; before us a boundless and unknown futurity; tell me that, when I come to be in dying circumstances, I may remember-what it is that gives you peace before such a prospect ?" Never can I forget his answer; his bright eyes speaking the full assurance which he enjoyed. He replied, "Why just this, Christ for the past, and Christ for the future,”—and then looking at the Bible he added— "You know it is written, The word of the Lord endureth for ever,' and that is as long as I shall need it. . . ." Soon after his conversion, his parents removed to a neighbouring village, three miles distant; and many were the anxieties of his friends, lest he should lose his religion, from being unable to attend the means of grace; but it was not so. His place in the school was not often vacant on the Sabbath morning; and very frequently, after the toils of the day, he walked to and fro to the week-evening services of the house of God. Especially was he attached to a Bible-class that met in the school-room on a Tuesday evening; and often has the teacher remonstrated with him for exposing himself to attend it on the cold wet evenings of winter. It is thought that these long journeys were too much for his delicate frame, and induced the premonitory symptoms of that disease which ultimately brought him to his grave. In January and February of the present year, he was much indisposed, and in April last, he left his employment to resume it no more. Pulmonary consumption now appeared in a more virulent form, and from this date no hope was given of his recovery. Too lengthy would be any detail of his Christian experience during the last six months of his protracted illness; suffice it to say, he never seemed to waver in his faith. His was an abiding trust; and oftentimes a joyous hope, and when deepest the suffering, and darkest the clouds about him, he could then say, "I know in whom I have believed, and am persuaded he is able to keep that I have committed to his care.” "The fire his graces did refine, The stamp of perfect love." Mr. Garnett who visited him, says, "His faith waxed stronger as his body failed. I never heard him murmur or complain, but he was always patient and resigned. His views grew brighter as he neared the eternal shore. Once after a most severe week of affliction he said to me, 'Even these pains are all in wisdom, I would not repine, but am passive in the hands of the Lord.' His most ardent desire was for the salvation of all his relations. When I have been praying that this chief wish of his heart might be answered, I have heard him in the stillness of that moment, as if in deepest agony, utter-" My father! O God, save my father!" It should be said, that in the early part of his affliction he indulged the hope, that the Lord would raise him up again, if his father would only give his heart to God. It may not be out of place here, to read the following conversation between the unsaved father and his dying son. A few days before James' death, his father seated himself by his side, and said, “It is not likely you will be long with us; if you have anything to request of me, let me hear it now." After a moment's thought, he replied, “I wish you to make me three promises: 1st. that you will give your heart to God. 2nd. Never taste intoxicating drink. 3rd. Be regular in your attendance at the chapel." On the morning before his death he was very urgent for his mother to decide for Jesus, He said, " Mother, do let me you pray; I shall not have the opportunity long." hear When she excused herself, he replied, "Ah, mother, these excuses won't stand at the bar of God; only try, and the Lord will help." On the following morning, he was exceedingly restless and uneasy; his feeble body seemed to writhe under extreme agony, and the cold sweat of death, in profuse perspiration, gathered on his pale forehead. A few Christian friends were hastily summoned around his bed to witness the final scene, and minister, as best they could, to his dying wants. Brother Hampson observing his distress, said, "It is hard work, but it will soon be over." He replied, "It is, it is: yes, glory be to Jesus!" He was much cheered by the presence of those who had often knelt with him at a throne of grace, fixing his eyes first on one, then on another, as though he would gladly read their thoughts, or wished to say something he had no power to utter. He was the first to break the silence, repeating those expressive lines of the poet, "My soul would leave this heavy clay,"-but strength failed him, and Brother Hampson quoted the next line,-"at that transporting word." Then raising his voice, he repeated, "O that will be joyful." And now there appeared some respite to his sufferings, he became more composed and quiet; from the expression of his countenance his mind seemed to be enjoying unseen glories; and from this moment the "house of mourning" was turned into the "house of joy :" each believer felt not as though standing by the bed of death, but, rather, as on the threshold of heaven. Again he was the first to break the silence; fixing his eyes upwards, as though looking at some object that newly challenged his attention; suddenly he roused up, and with a strange energy, and delighted expression, he exclaimed, "The angels are waiting the trumpets are sounding! I think I hear them." The effects of this outburst will not soon be forgotten by those who were privileged to hear it. It was like the first note of the song of triumph. Here death was robbed of its sting, yea rather, it was the wondrous joy of a soul safely landed, and hearing the first peal of heavenly music, than of one yet struggling in the deep waters of death. A little after this excitement, his pains seemed to return with increased violence, he now cried, "Pray, pray!" but seeing them so overcome with emotion, he tried to encourage them, by saying"Come, I won't look to man, only to Jesus." When all were kneeling he was heard softly to repeat, "Come Jesus! now Jesus!" A little after this he enquired for Brother Garnet, and desired him to be sent for. As this brother entered the room, their eyes met, James gave the lingering look of parting love, that seemed to express thanks for acts of kindness, and now must say farewell; but he uttered no words. He was now comforted with the thought that the valley would soon be crossed, and the pearly gate open to receive him; he then remained calm for a length of time. About two o'clock another change was observable; his eye grew lighter, his face assumed a more animated expresion, his lips moved slowly, he seemed to be engaged in mental devotion; then he cried, "Father of mercies, Father of mercies, display thy power:" and after a momentary pause, at the top of his voice he shouted, "there is a crown of bright glory waiting for me "-repeating with increased emphasis "for me, for me!" He again requested them to engage in prayer, prayer was offered and it was asked, that if God had any farther work for him to do, he would grant him strength to perform it, and then give him speedy release." The effect of those words, "a work to do," seemed to strike him like an electric shock; the whole energy of his youth and health seemed for the moment renewed; his features assumed an expression of earnest imploring enquiry, his lips quivered with intense excitement, his last fear, and his last hope for his parents had come; he fixed his bright eye on his father, then on his brother, and then on his mother. And now he entered on his last work for Jesus. Raising his voice to its loudest compass, he cried,—“ Father! will you-will you give your heart to God?" "Yes!" was the response. Then turning to his brother, he said, "Jesse! will you-will you give your heart to God?" Then turning to his mother, he said, "Mother! will you-will you give your heart to 66 |
