And here, I am forcibly reminded of one peculiar feature in the character of our lamented friend: he was most eminently "a brother born for adversity," so much so, that there are, even in this numerous congregation, but few of us who have known sorrow, that have not benefited by his counsels and Christian sympathy.

The truth was, that, by the diligeut and devout study of the word of God, his mind was so richly stored with every topic of Christian consolation; and his heart was so tenderly alive to every plaint of human distress; that few men were better qualified to minister consolation, and by the "comfort also, wherewith he himself was comforted of God."

Nor can I forbear to mention another interesting and instructive circumstance in the character of our friend-I mean, his amiable at tention to the children and youth of this congregation. His affectionate disposition and peculiar gentleness of manner, gave him an easy access to all, but especially fitted him to be a "teacher of babes," and the guide of inquiring youth; and to his important services in both these respects, I feel it my duty, as your pastor, to bear my public and grateful testimony.

It were easy to add to these observations, on the worth of this excellent man: but you know the proof of him; and I must say it has been consolatory to my mind, under this afflictive dispensation, to observe, that the deep regret occasioned by his loss is not confined to his family, or to our own immediate circle: an evidence, I trust, that the grace of God was not bestowed on him in vain, and that his life has been exemplary and useful.

To the dying bed of such a man we look with peculiar expectation. We "mark the perfect, man, and behold the upright"-we expect the

end of that man will be peace." And doubtless it was so in the in

stance of our beloved friend; but not exactly, perhaps, as his piety might have led us to expect. We expected, it may be, that his dying testimony would have been as full and decisive as his walk had been exemplary: at the end of his shining path, we, probably, looked for the "perfect day!" But the will of God was not so. For, by the nature of his attack, the full exercise of his powers was suspended; and in a few hours after his seizure, the mortal scene was closed for ever!

But though we may have been disappointed here, God has not, in the case of His departed servant, left Himself without witness. I am aware, that, by many Christians, the extacies and triumph of a dying believer are regarded as most interesting and desirable; but it may not be improper to suggest, that the EXAMPLE OF A GODLY LIFE, and especially when followed out (as in the case of our friend) in all its most important relations, and for a long course of years, should by them be contemplated as a still more sure and instructive testimony.

Our friend has, by God's grace, left us such an example; and I earnestly "desire" and pray, "that every one of you may shew the same diligence, to the full assurance of hope to the end: that ye be not slothful, but followers of them who, through faith and patience, inherit the promises."

It will be interesting to this congregation to learn, how our friend spent the first Sabbath in the present year, and what was the state of his mind on the last morning of his life. The papers which I hold in my hand are extracts from his diary, and only seen, since his decease. From these it appears, that he began the year by a solemn sur render and dedication of himself, his family, and his concerns to God; and I observe, in the last record of his experience, (March 20), how much his mind was ocen

pied by an increasing sense of his own infirmities; by a tender solicitude for his beloved family, from whom he seemed aware that he must soon be separated; and by a profound and cheerful sabmission to the will of God.

It is remarkable, that, on the last morning of his life, the chapter read, with Doddridge's Observa tions, in the order of his family worship, was the 7th of the Revelation. He was observed to be more than usually animated in every part of this sacred exercise; but more especially while contemplating the state, the society, the employments, the full and everlasting felicity of the blessed, recorded in the last nine verses of the chapter. He carried the delightful impression into his business, and appear ed in all respects better than he had been for some time before.

In this state of mind, my brethren, and in the discharge of his

accustomed worldly duties, was our friend found, when the messenger, of death received his commission; and before five o'clock on the same day," the Lord took him.". But, our friend is gone to his longed-for. rest, and his better record is on high. Let us magnify the grace of God in him. Let us cherish the memory of his eminent piety; for that memory is and shall be blessed. Let us more especially see,. that this event be made a blessing to ourselves. His removal confirms the awful truth, "Behold, the Bridegroom cometh!" and the suddenness of the event further admonishes us, that, "at what hour he cometh, we know not!" But, whether it shall be in the bloom of life, or in the midst of our days-at midnight, or at cock-crowing"Blessed is that servant whom, when the Lord cometh, He shall find so doing!"

C. S. M. P. should explain his scheme.

nerves were so violently agitated upon this occasion, that in many of the sleepless nights which occurred during the subsequent period of his life, his imagination was often strongly and painfully impressed with the representation of a gulf, or precipice, by the side of his bed, from the edge of which he seemed ready to fall.

The impaired state of health, from which M. Pascal had been long suffering, and the little benefit which he derived from medicine, had induced his physicians, as we have already observed, previously to this accident, to advise him to discontinue all serious studies, and to unbend his mind, by mixing in society and partaking of its diversions. M. Pascal was seusible of the danger to which he should be exposed on mixing freely with the world, where splendor and elegance might chain his attention, or treacherous pleasures seduce his heart; but his excuses against compliance were not accepted, for it was urged, that to use every means for the recovery of health was a duty he owed to his friends and himself, During this period, it seems probable that his religious fervours had suffered some abatement; which had not escaped the vigilant observation of his younger sister, since it is remarked by Madame Perier, that, during the time that he was following the advice of his physicians, he frequently visited his sister in her retirement, who quickly perceived an alteration in the manners and conduct of her brother, which greatly distressed her. But the late event seemed to revive his religious impressions: he regarded it as an intimation sent to him from Heaven, to induce him to relinquish all secular engagements, and to live henceforth to God alone. His sister Jacqueline, actuated by a tender concern for the welfare of his soul, became very earnest in remonstrating with him on the dan gers to which he exposed himself, and in seriously pressing him to return to his former preciseness of

conduct and sanctity of manners. Her endeavours were blessed with success: he saw it to be his indispensable duty; and thus, she, who had been indebted to her brother (under God) for her first religious impressions, was now, by the same grace, made an instrument of reviving his zeal and fervour. At thirty years of age, M. Pascal began his new course of life, by renouncing all fellowship with the world and worldly men: he considered self-denial, and the renunciation of vanity, as essential to the Christian character, and therefore determin ed, through the remainder of his life, to die to the world, and live only to God.

The complaints which had been brought on M. Pascal by intense study, now seemed to increase daily; and he would sometimes remark to his attendants, "that in the pursuit after human science, sickness always retarded his progress; but since his present busi ness was to learn lessons of heavenly wisdom, afflictions would accelerate his advancement in diving knowledge,"

In this school of Divine discipline, he became an admirable proficient in patient submission: he proved, indeed, an eminent illustration of that beautiful sentiment, that "religion is like, precious odours, most fragrant when it is burnt or crushed."

Among other instances of cheerful acquiescence with pain and its consequences, the following is recorded; which, though seemingly trivial, marks his character in a striking manner. The disease under which he laboured, had, for one of its symptoms, a considerable difficulty in deglutition: so that he could not swallow liquids unless they were heated; and even then they must be taken down in very small quantities at a time. complaint in his stomach rendered it necessary for him to take medicine every other day during three months. The physic that he took

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was extremely unpleasant, but it was rendered more nauseous by being heated before he could swallow it; and in this state his stomach only received it by drops. M. Pascal was never heard to utter a complaining expression while engaged in this disagreeable course; but steadily persisted in following the plan as long as his physician thought it necessary.

It is certainly within the province of medical authority to prohibit an immoderate attachment to study and sedentary employments, and to restrain the feeble and debilitated from an undue exertion of their intellectual faculties; to direct the use of exercise, recreation, and such agreeable occupations as tend to refresh the mind, and abstract it from dwelling on present sufferings, or anticipating with anxiety the incursion of future evils. But to prescribe a life of amusement and dissipation as an important auxiliary to medicine; to advise such indulgences as violate the rules of prudence, and infringe the precepts of morality, under the specious pretext of relieving actual or imaginary suffer ings, is equally at variance with humanity and charity. The fantastic diversions of the age may indeed obstruct the current of serious sorrow, or suppress the voice of solemn reflection; they may repel that train of sober thinking which conducts to penitential remorse, and a dereliction of secular vanities: but, while they act as an opiate on a morbid mind, they render the unhappy sufferer equally inapprehensive of his present danger and of his future destiny."Which condition," says St. Austin," calls for the greater commiseration, that of the man, who, being in a state of great wretchedness, is conscious of his situation; or of him, who, being plunged into the most deplorable misery, remains unconscious of it, and is wholly unaffected with his sad condition?" The sick man, who

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has recourse to amusement and dissipation, as remedies against the progress of a mental distemper, or as means to suppress the awful forebodings of his own conscience, betrays a folly similar to that of the combatant, who should close his eyes amidst the dangers of an engagement, as a protection against the messenger of death.

The better to accomplish the design of separating himself from all seducing or unprofitable acquaintance, he retired for some time into the country; and upon his return he made his love of privacy so very conspicuous, that the world soon left him in an undisturbed possession of that leisure and retirement he so ardently desired. When M. Pascal set out, as it were, anew in the Christian life, the two principal maxims which he adopted were these, that he would renounce all pleasure, and lay aside all superfluity. In conformity with this plan, he dispensed as much as possible with the attendance of his servants; he made his own bed; always went into the kitchen, to bring away his food when it was dressed; and only employed his domestics in such services as he could not with any convenience render to himself. He now employed the most considerable portion of his time in devotional exercises, and the study of the Holy Scriptures. The state of mind with which he pursued this study, may be collected from a sentiment which he often repeated," that the sacred writings are not so much addressed to the understanding as to the heart; and that, consequently, he who purposes by the mere efforts of genius and intellectual acuteness to penetrate into those oracles of spiritual truth, will be more likely to meet with obscurity than information: they ought to be read with the same spirit with which they were written; and are only intelligible to those whose hearts are suitably prepared by divine grace."