voluntarily, until renewed by God the Holy Ghost. Wherever it existed, he supposed it to be comprehended in love; and proved to exist only by the fruits of love visible in the life. His views of his own attainments as a Christian were unaffectedly humble. On this subject he was reluctant to converse; conceiving that real pity is unostentatious, and that mere professions are of little value. Rarely, if ever, has he been known to mention it when numbers were present; and not often before a single Christian friend. He never spoke of himself as a Christian. His humility in this respect was striking in his sermons and his prayers when speaking of the Christians present, never including himself among them. His declarations on this subject, in health and in sickness, always were, that he did not know that he had any personal interest in the mediation of Christ; that the promises of the Gospel were great and glorious; that he was usually free from distressing doubts and apprehensions; and that his hopes were often bright and supporting. He loved retirement for religious meditation, self-examination, and secret prayer; and spent, it is believed, a portion of every day in the discharge of these duties. His prayers in the family and in public exhibited, so far as the human mind can judge, unusual evidence of contrition, self-abasement, trust, resignation, gratitude, and love. We have not known the individual whose powers to instruct or to interest in conversation were superior to his; yet it was his highest pleasure to converse on religious subjects, and where propriety permitted it, on experimental religion. Such was the state of his thoughts and feelings at all times in company, that his mind seemed willing to enter on the contemplation of religion at every opportunity. It was not, however, mere speculation; it was a living exhi

bition of the various affections of piety and benevolence as they came warm from the heart.

His life was a steady course of cheerfulness, as well as of submission; and this under trials well calculated to determine the character. Probably no man, without actual experience, can realize how great a trial of patience it is, to endure pain in the eyes every day for more than forty years, uninterrupted except by the hours of sleep, and often intense and agonizing; to be deprived by it for weeks together, of a great part of his necessary sleep; to be cut off absolutely from the pleasure of reading; and to be continually threatened by it with blindness, and occasionally with apoplexy. Not only, however, did he not murmur nor repine; he was resigned. He was more.-He was universally cheerful and happy; and always ready to contribute to the happiness of those around him. He chose rather to remember his blessings than his afflictions; and felt that he had not deserved the least mercy. Nay, his very afflictions he viewed as among his greatest blessings.

Death often invaded his peace. He lost a father in the prime of life and usefulness, whom he ever mentioned with the highest reverence; three brothers, at the age of manhood, whom he tenderly lamented; a mother, endeared to him by every consideration which could affect the heart of filial piety; two sisters, for whom he felt no ordinary warmth of attachment; and a son, a youth of fine promise, at the age of nineteen, just after he had completed his education. The effect of these repeated strokes was obviously such as a Christian should desire. Their evident tendency was to soften the heart, to subdue the will, to loosen the attachment to terrestrial good, to enliven the conscience, and to assist the soul in its assumption of the

heavenly character. This was peculiarly observable of the death of his son. It occurred before the termination of a remarkable revival of religion among the students of the Seminary, during which he was believed to have become possessed of personal piety. Had he lived, he intended to have been a clergyman. He died at a distance from home; and his father did not arrive in season to be present at his funeral. Rarely have we witnessed parental sorrow equally intense and permanent. Rarely could he mention his son without a faltering voice, and cheeks suffused with tears.

Those who witnessed his sufferings during the two last years of his life, were not more struck with their severity, nor with the fortitude which he discovered under them, than with the marked effect of them upon his mind. Often, for months together, the pain which he endured was not only unintermitted, but, in its severest forms, spasmodical. During the continuance of these convulsions, which recurred frequently during the day, so intense was the anguish, that the sweat would roll down his forehead for many minutes together in continued streams; yet such was his fortitude, that though compelled at times to groan from severity of distress, he never once forgot himself so far as to murmur or complain. But while these sufferings thus ravaged the body, and prepared it for dissolution, their effect upon the soul was obviously salutary. Accustomed for many years to the daily contemplation of death, he now witnessed its gradual approach with serenity and peace. In the midst of his sorrows, he found consolations "that were neither few nor small; he grew continually more and more humble, gentle, meek, and resigned; more and more disposed to give up every trust but in his Saviour. Though his intellect retained all its vigour; yet his temper became in an eminent degree that of a lovely child. His affec

tions were exquisitely tender. Their native character seemed entirely gone, and they resembled the affections of heaven. His views, his hopes, his purposes, and his joys were heavenly; and nothing terrestrial seemed to remain except his earthly tabernacle, which was just ready to be laid in the grave, there to rest in hope. When called to pass through the dark valley, his Shepherd appeared to be with him: his rod and his staff they comforted him. Though frequently bewildered through excess of pain, yet no distressing fear assailed him. He saw the presence of the grim Destroyer with tranquillity and hope; yielded up his soul without a struggle, and, as we trust, with undoubting confidence, found a glorious welcome into the "house not made with hands eternal in the heavens."

His life was eminently useful and lovely. His death was peaceful and happy to himself, but most widely and deeply lamented by his countrymen at large, as well as by his family, his many friends, and the Church of Christ. His eternity we trust will pass among angels and the spirits of the just, in their immortal progress in knowledge, happiness, and virtue.

Dwight's Memoirs.

SIR WILLIAM JONES.

THE name of Sir William Jones is dear to every lover of truth and virtue; and his memory will be held in reverence, so long as genius, and talents, and piety, maintain their influence among mankind. He was acquainted with no less than twenty-eight languages, and pursued with unabated ardour, almost every species of knowledge. He was the founder, president, and very soul of the society established in Calcutta, for the en

couragement of Persian and Sanscrit literature; a society which has already removed much of the gross darkness that had so long enveloped Oriental subjects. He was amiable in private life, exemplary in his public capacity, the delight and ornament of the most polished circles. To express the various excellencies of his character in as few words as possible, he was an accomplished scholar, a perfect gentleman, and a sincere Christian.

"In matters of eternal concern," says his pious and elegant biographer, Lord Teignmouth, "the authority of the highest human opinions has no claim to be admitted as a ground of belief; but it may with the strictest propriety be opposed to that of men of inferior learning and penetration; and whilst the pious derive satisfaction, from the perusal of sentiments according with their own, those who doubt or disbelieve should be induced to weigh with candour and impartiality, arguments which have produced conviction in the minds of the best, the wisest, and most learned of mankind."

"Among such as have professed a steady belief in the doctrines of Christianity, were shall greater names be found than those of Bacon and Newton? Of the former, and of Locke, it may be observed, that they were both innovaters in science: disdaining to follow the sages of antiquity through the beaten paths of error, they broke through prejudices, which had long obstructed the progress of sound knowledge, and they laid the foundation of science on solid ground: whilst the genius of Newton led him to discoveries of an amazing extent. These men, to their great praise, and we may hope to their eternal happiness, devoted much of their time to the study of the Scriptures. If the evidence of Revelation had been weak, who were better qualified to expose its unsoundness? Why were