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for such a one who faced death with a holy joy. “That is, said he, very good; I don't speak it because it came from me: God be praised that he enabled me to publish this Book, to comfort others as well as myself.” The next morning, when Mr. Girard came to visit him, he repeated to him the same words that he had given to his son-in-law in charge to tell him; and be delivered to bim a bill, to be prayed for publicly in the congregation. At that time Mr. Daille, Mr. Morus, and Mr. Claud came to see him, expressing their tender affection and concernment for him; at which he seemed to be moved. Mr. Daille made a pathetic exhortation, which the patient kindly accepted; and speaking of the loss the church would sustain by bis death, Mr. Drelincourt answered, “Sir, you are far more useful to her than I can be; my desire is to depart, and to be with Christ, which is far better for me." At which words Mr. Daille asked him, don't you add with the apostle, that it is more necessary for the church that you
should tinue in the flesh? He replied, “God will raise ministers who shall discharge their duty better than I can." When Mr. Daille asked him whether his hope was not in the mercy of God, he answered him in divers texts of scripture, such as these, “I know in whom I have believed; I have fought the good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith, &c. I draw towards the mark of the prize of the high calling,” &c.
Mr. Daille perceiving how painful his speech was to him, advised him to speak to himself, to hinder the increase of his distemper, but he answered, “ how willing he was to glorify God to the last gasp, and edify by his speech, such as were there present." Then having embraced each other at their parting, Mr. Daille told him, he did not altogether despair of his recovery, and that he hoped God would save him, according to the prayers of the church: he replied, " The will of the Lord be done, I resign myself entirely to the order of his providence.” The two other ministers were not wanting in their prayers and exhortations. About noon these gentlemen left him to rest, which he desired then to take; but instead of sleeping, he was heard to pray very earnestly three or four times, and concluded every prayer with Our Father, and I believe in God, &c. He gave his blessing to all his children, and to them that desired it of him. In the afternoon Mr. Claud returned to him again, and continued until six; our patient answered distinctly, but briefly, by reason of his great weakness. About 11 o'clock at night, several physicians came to him, and at the sight of him they agreed, that there was scarce any hopes of him; mean time he was pray. ing and addressing himself to God, but could not be well understood. Yet when a lady, one of his intimate friends, came to his bed-side, he said, “Madam, you are an eye-witness of my groans and sufferings; but I cannot well speak to you." And about 10 at night he called to mind that a pledge of some value had been
committed to his keeping: he ordered it to be taken out of his closet, brought to him, examined if it were all there, and gave orders to restore it to the right owner.
His second son, minister of the Reformed Church of Fontainebleau, came in the room to see bis dear father departing, who knew him, and seemed to be moved at the first sight of him: Mr. Claud then asked him if he knew his son: he answered, Yes; this was the last word he was heard distinctly to speak. His son assisted his dying father with bis exhortation and prayers: he was sensible to the last, his countenance never changed until about an hour before he deceased; and though nature was struggling with the disease, and he tormented with a burning fever, he seemed by his looks to be transported with joy, and full of comfort. On Sunday, the 4th of November, 1669, this reverend divine yielded up his soul to God.
This was the end of this holy and zealous servant of God, who departed this life in the 74th year of his age, the 52d year of his ministry, and in the 50th year after his being called to serve the Reformed Church of Paris. He died in the bed of honour, in the exercise of the duties of his function, preaching the gospel, writing in vindication of the truth, and comforting the sick, &c.
The eloquent tongue of Mr. Daille and Mr. Morus, from the pulpit of Charenton, the tears of the whole congregation that day and the next, when they committed his body to the grave, in expectation of a joyful resurrection (in a word, the commendation of people of both religions) sufficiently verified the saying of Solomon, "The memory of the just is blessed.” The portraiture of bis excellent, learned and religious mind, may be seen in his works, particularly in this useful and comfortable treatise, The Consolations against the Fears of Death.
We doubt not but he is gone to receive in heaven the incorruptible crown of glory, which the great God and Redeemer of our souls promiseth of his mercy to all faithful servants. God grant that we may imitate his excellent life, and follow him in his happy end!
FEARS OF DEATH.
That there is nothing more dreadful and terrible than
Death, to such as have no hope in GOD. A Holy man, speaking of Death, styles it with a great deal of elegance and propriety, THE KING OF TERRORS, Job xviii. 14; that is to say, the most terrible thing in the world. Norindeed is there any thing that presents itself to our imagination, which bears a more formidable aspect. It is possible to escape the edge of the sword, to stop the mouths of lions, and to quench the rage of fire ; but when Death once shoots at us the envenomed arrows, of which his quiver is full, when it
its infernal throat, and vomits forth its devouring flames, it is utterly impossible for us to guard against its fury.
There are a number of warlike inventions wherewith to oppose the attempts of the most powerful and implacable enemy; but neither the stratagems of the greatest captains, the most regular fortifications, nor the most victorious and triumphant armies, can withstand a sin
gle moment the approaches of death. It pierces in an instant, through the strongest bulwarks, the thickest walls, and the most solid towers. It leaps over the widest ditches, the highest forts, and the most inaccessible rocks. It blows down the strongest barricadoes, and laughs at all our military intrenchments ; every where it finds the weakness of our armour, and through the best tempered breast-plate strikes the proudest heart. In the most solitary retirement it comes upon us, and snatches us from the midst of the most faithful and vigilant guards. In short, there is nothing, either in nature or art, which can protect us from its cruel and insatiable hands.
There are none so barbarous, but are sometimes overcome by the prayers and tears of such as prostrate themselves to implore mercy and compassion; and even those who have the least sense of humanity commonly spare the weakest sex and age. But unmerciful Death has no more respect to such as humble themselves, than to those who resist. It regards not the tears of infants sucking at the breast, but plucks them from the bosoms of their tender mothers, and dashes them in pieces before their eyes. It mocks at the lamentations of the fair and lovely, and delights to trample upon their enchanting beauties. It stops its ears to the supplications of trembling old age, and takes a pride in casting to the ground those venerable oaks which have been so long rooted in the world.
In the day of battle, when princes or generals of an army are taken prisoners, they are treated in a different manner from common soldiers; but inexorable Death, who is blind to all distinctions, treads under foot, with the same haughtiness, the prince and the subject, the
master and the servant, the nobleman and the vassal, the rich Dives and the beggar Lazarus. It blows out with the same blast, the most shining luminaries, and the most obscure lamps. It has no more respect for the crowns of Kings, the Pope's triple crown, and the Cardinals hat, than for the shepherd's crook, or the slave's chains. Sooner or later it heaps them altogether in the same dark and loathsome prison, and in the same mortar reduces them to dust.
There is no wars so furious and cruel, but what admits of some days, or at least some hours of truce, and even the most inhuman minds are at last weary of their conquests, and cloyed with shedding blood. But insatiable Death never cries, It is enough. At every hour and moment it mows down whole nations and kindreds. The flesh of all the animals that have lived and died during the space of more than six thousand years, hath not been able to glut the ravenous hunger of this devouring monster.
The fortune of war is various; he that wins the victory to-day; to-morrow may be put to flight; and he that rides at present on a triumphal car, may become the footstool of his enemy. But Death is always victorious, and insolently triumphs over all the kings and people of the earth. It never returns to its den without being loaded with spoils and drenched with blood. The strong Sampsons and the victorious Davids who have torn in pieces lions and bears, and cut off the heads of Goliahs, have at last been devoured and swallowed up by Death. The great Alexanders, and the triumphant Cæsars, who made the world to tremble before them, and subdued most part of the habitable earth, could never find any weapons to defend them against this last