"While they were conversing he thought he heard a gentle tap at the door, and was informed by his guide that it was the signal of his Lord's approach, and intended to prepare him for the interview. Accordingly, in a short time, he thought he beheld his Saviour enter the chamber, upon which he cast himself down at His feet, when He graciously raised him up, and with a look of inexpressible complacency, assured him of His favor, and kind acceptance of his faithful services; and as a token of peculiar regard, and of the intimate friendship He intended to honor him with, He took up the cup, and after drinking of it himself, gave it into his hands, which the doctor thought he declined, as too great a favor and honor; but his Lord replied, as He did to Peter, with regard to washing his feet: If thou drink not with me, thou hast no part with me.' This scene, he said, filled him with such a transport of gratitude, love, joy, and admiration, that he was ready to sink under it; his Master seemed sensible of it, and told him He should leave him for the present, but that it would not be long before He repeated his visit; and that in the mean time, he would have enough to employ his thoughts in reflecting on the past, and in contemplating the objects around him.

As soon as his Lord was retired, and his mind a little composed, he observed that the room was hung around with pictures; and upon examining them attentively, discovered, to his great surprise, that they represented the history of his own life: all-the remarkable scenes he had passed through being thus portrayed in the most lively manner, it may be easily imag

ined how they would affect his mind. The many temptations and trials he had been exposed to, the signal instances of the Divine goodness to him in all the different periods of his life, which by this means were all fully represented to his view, at once again excited the strongest emotions of gratitude and love, especially when he considered that he was beyond the reach of future distress, and that all the purposes of the divine love and mercy towards him were at length happily fulfilled. The ecstasy of joy and thankfulness into which these ideas threw him were so great that he awoke. For some considerable time, however, after he arose, the impression continued so strong and lively that tears of joy flowed down his cheeks, and he said that he never remembered on any occasion to have felt sentiments of devotion, love, and gratitude equally impressed upon his mind."

It was under the impression of this dream that he wrote the following hymn, to be found in his works.

PHILIPPIANS 1:21.

While on the verge of life I stand,
And view the scene on either hand,
My spirit struggles with its clay,
And longs to wing its flight away.

Where Jesus dwells my soul would be;
It faints my much-loved Lord to see:
Earth, twine no more around my heart,
For Oh, 't were better to depart.

Come, ye angelic envoys, come,
And lead the willing pilgrim home;
Ye know the way to that bright throne,
Source of my joys, and of your own.

That blessed interview! how sweet
To fall transported at his feet;
Raised in his arms, to view his face
Through the full beamings of his grace.

To see heaven's shining courtiers round,
Each with immortal glories crowned;
And while His form in each I trace,
With that fraternal band embrace.

As with a seraph's voice to sing;
To fly as on a cherub's wing;
Performing, with unwearied hands,
A present Saviour's high commands.

Yet with these prospects full in sight,
I'll wait thy signal for my flight;
And in thy service here below

Confess that heavenly joys may grow.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE LAST DAYS OF DODDRIDGE.

WE have followed with interest this great and good man to the zenith of his popularity, laboriousness, and usefulness. It is now with solemn and painful feelings we are to see him removed from the people whom he loved and served so well, from the academy in which he had trained so many learned and godly ministers, and from the domestic circle where he was so ardently loved and so highly venerated. His path had been that of the just, "as the shining light, which shineth more and more unto the perfect day." We shall see that the light of holiness, which he shed around his path, became brighter and brighter until it was lost in the splendors of the world of glory.

The last funeral-sermon which he preached was at St. Albans, for his early friend and benefactor the Rev. Samuel Clarke, D. D. It was a service that cost his precious life. On the journey he took cold, which so impaired his lungs during the winter and spring, that in the following summer he was obliged altogether to lay aside his important occupations at Northampton, and devote himself to medical treatment, recreation, and travel. He was too slow, however, in beginning this course. His physician and friends had for months sought in vain to induce him to intermit his arduous labors as a preacher, tutor, author, and correspondent; but when his danger be

came perfectly obvious, he reluctantly yielded to their advice, regarding it as worse than death to live and not be useful. At this time he was observed by his friends and correspondents to be making uncommon progress in spirituality and heavenly-mindedness, as was fit in one whose further stay on earth was destined to be of very short duration.

Thus, in some of the letters written about this period to his friends, he says, "I bless God earth is less and less to me; and I shall be very glad to have done with it once for all, as soon as it shall please my Master to give me leave. Yet for him I would live and labor, and I hope, if such were his will, suffer too." "Should God spare my life, many opportunities of doing good may arise; but to depart and be with Christ is far, infinitely, better. I desire the prayers. of my friends in my present circumstances. I remember them in my poor way; but alas, what with my infirmities, and what with the hurries to which I am here in London peculiarly obnoxious, and the many affairs and interruptions which are pressing upon me, my praying time is sadly contracted. I feel nothing in myself at present that should give me reason to apprehend immediate danger; but the obstinacy of my cough, and its proneness to return upon every little provocation, gives me some alarm. Go on to pray for me that my heart may be fixed on God; that every motion and every word may be directed by love to him, and zeal for his glory; and leave me with him as cheerfully as I leave myself. May you increase while I decrease, and shine many years as a bright star in the Redeemer's hand when I am set.”