blessing others; and the more blessings we sincerely confer, or attempt to confer, upon others, the more we shall bless ourselves. What a glorious liberty is enjoyed by the children of God! Having burst the galling fetters of their selfishness, their emancipated spirits can roam at large, and send out their glowing affections beyond the stars.

You

My dear relative, if you have not done it already, I wish you immediately to commence the life of a christian; not indeed, to live at the poor dying rate, that many professors do; but to show yourself continually a consistent, ardent, faithful follower of our Lord Jesus Christ. Do you feel, that you must first gain evidence, that you are a christian, before you begin thus to live a christian life? But is this possible? Can you possibly gain evidence, that you are a christian, before you are really such ?-before you begin to live the christian life, as well as exercise the christian temper? Begin, then, immediately to serve the Lord with all your powers, and persevere in the ways of well doing; and great shall be your reward in heaven; great the good which you shall do to others, and great the glory, which God shall receive. Can you do this? certainly can. God forbid, that in the name of the Lord, I should advise and entreat you to do a work, that you have no power to perform. But can you do this of yourself? The answer must be according to the meaning of the phrase. In a certain sense, you cannot walk, nor stand, nor exist of yourself. But in the same sense, in which you can walk or stand, or desire, you can undoubtedly do what God requires. But is it an easy thing to love and serve God? Certainly it is not; especially for those who have long been sunk in sin, and polluted with corruption. To the young sinner, it is indeed, not so hard. But still I am confident, it is a great and difficult work for him; and in general, every day becoming more and more difficult, while he delays reformation. This is one among several reasons, why every sinner should immediately arise and put forth all his energies to break off sin, to turn unto God, and serve the Lord in newness of life. May we meet in heaven. I fear, we shall not meet again in this world. I shall be exceedingly interested to hear from you, especially if you should feel any special interest in the concerns of eternity. Your sincere friend, JOSEPH EMERSON.

CHAPTER XX.

HIS LAST SICKNESS AND DEATH.

Request for the prayers of his former people-Sympathy in their loss-State of body and mind-Visited by relatives-His will-Views of the millennium and of the heavenly states-Commences a memoir of himself-On zeal in preaching; human power; sacred logic; Watts; etc.-Last conversations-Death.

In the title to this chapter, I employ the term, "last sickness," for want of a better. In one sense, the first sickness of his infancy, was also his last. He was never well after it. Nor was this final assault of his complicated and accumulating diseases, very sudden. The incipient attacks, as we have seen in the previous chapter, had already commenced. Still, the present is perhaps the most distinctly marked period for commencing this last chapter of his labors, joys, and sufferings. Though life was prolonged for some months, he was now prostrate on the bed of dissolution.

Still, he was far from relaxing his desire to be actively useful, or his sense of obligation to work till the going down of his sun. When strength and alleviation from pain, would permit, he sedulously occupied his time in dictating letters and other compositions. The following was addressed to Rev. David Oliphant, then pastor of his former church in Beverly. My brother had before requested the prayers of his pious friends in that place, in times of special sickness.

Wethersfield, Feb. 4, 1833.

MY DEAR BROTHER,-Being almost wholly confined to my bed, and much exercised with rheumatic pains and dyspeptic distress, my little daughter writes in my name. I do not despair of life; and feel it to be my duty as well as

my choice, to use the most hopeful means of restoration. I therefore write, to request your prayers, fully believing, that the prayer of faith may still be efficacious in saving the sick. This kind service, I trust, my christian friends in Beverly will most readily perform. They may be assured, that I make this request with great comfort, not merely hoping that their prayers may be beneficial to me, but absolutely certain, that if sincerely offered through the all prevalent Intercessor, they will be treasured up in heaven for them.

Perhaps you may wish to know a little more particularly the condition of him who begs your prayers. I could state a hundred particulars; but think it best to mention a very few.

I have recently been happily free from those dismal fears and doubts, by which I have been so often distressed. Still I do not feel an assurance of salvation; and I earnestly desire, that God would. search me and try me and show me my real condition. I often feel, that if I could neither do nor suffer more in the cause of the Redeemer, I should rejoice to die immediately. But still I have an earnest desire to live, if I can do any thing further for the advancement of that kingdom which appears more and more glorious.

Some works I have begun, and projected others, which if the Lord will, I am exceedingly desirous to accomplish. But I am in danger of placing too high an estimate upon my own performances. Perhaps there is a need be, that I should be cut off from these delightful performances, on purpose to humble me. If so, Father, thy will be done. May others perform these labors in a much better manner, or other labors in their stead, more useful still. Infinite Wisdom may see, that the labors of others may be much more eligible than mine, even in my most beloved field. It is my joy, and sometimes my rapture, that the kingdom of Christ will come,-that whether I labor or not, that glorious kingdom will be hastened-will be established-will forever rise higher and higher, and shine brighter and brighter. Blessed and unspeakably honored are they, who are workers together with Christ for such a consummation. Perhaps I have been selfish in too much coveting this honor for myself; but I trust, my brother, I may be excused in most ardently desiring it for you and

MEETING-HOUSE BURNT.

387

our dear Beverly friends. Such honor, in some degree, have all the saints. Much more they might have, if humbly engaged, as they should be. This request you can communicate to whomsoever, and in whatever manner your wisdom may dictate.

You may well suppose, that the great calamity which has fallen most heavily upon you, was deeply affecting to myself; but really, I have found it more grievous and trying than I should have anticipated.* Day after day and night after night, how did the towering flames of that dear, precious temple, glow and flash in my tortured imagination! What a dreadful sound in my ears, was its crackling, crashing roar! But though fallen in youth, sunk in a moment from its full strength and undiminished beauty, to ashes and ruin, it had not stood in vain. And I do think, my Brother, that in relation to that most delightful sanctuary, we have much more reason to sing of mercy than of judgment. What heavenly seasons have we there witnessed and enjoyed. How often has the glory of Good seemed to fill that house. Of how many will it be said at last, "This and that man was born there." How many more have there been strengthened, comforted, and quickened in their way to glory. And may we not hope, that much seed there sown, that hitherto has seemed dead in the earth, may yet spring up, and bring forth fruit to life eternal. Oh, that the glory of the second house may be far more resplendent as well as more durable, not indeed in external magnificence, but by the indwelling of Christ and the irradiations of the Spirit. And this most assuredly will be. Yes, my brother, my soul is delighted with the prospect of the second house, filled for ages with millennial glory, after you and I perhaps, and three or four successors, are gone to our rest. I do hope none of our friends will be ambitious to decorate the new house with the vain pomp and glory of this world. The other was just what it should be.-Love to your family and the rest of our precious friends at Beverly.

*The place of worship, which my brother's people erected about the time he took the charge of them, was now consumed by fire, at dead of night.

Wethersfield, Feb. 18, 1833. MY BELOVED BROTHER W.-May I not hope to meet my dear younger brother once more in the land of the living? If so, let me beg of you to hasten your journey. Since I wrote last, I have, to appearance, been rapidly descending to the grave. I am now unable to walk a step, and can scarcely turn myself in bed. I am not without hope of some relief. But my prospect is dim indeed in relation to this world; but I do hope it is brighter in relation to the world to come. O my brother, to what a world are christians hastening! What floods of light! What oceans of love! What rivers of pleasure! What songs of praise! What bursts of rapture! What exultations of triumph! What an exceeding and eternal weight of glory! Is it yours? Is it mine? Are we hastening to that ineffable, inconceivable bliss! Is it not better to depart, to be with Christ, than to grope and grovel as we do in this world of imperfection and sin? In some respects indeed, it must be far better. But if the eternal and glorious King has any thing for us to do or to suffer here to prepare or to advance this amazing consummation, it is better on the whole to remain, till the last prayer is offered, till the last work is done, till the last tear is shed, till the last sigh is drawn. Come then, my brother, and let us try to comfort one another with these things, and by our mutual faith, to prepare each other to live and to die.

Wethersfield, Feb, 19, 1833. MY DEAR DAUGhter, and dearER SISTER N.-How strange the loving-kindness of our God! How wonderful his protecting care and preserving mercy. How much beyond my hopes, has he multiplied my days, and added to my years! What myriads of much fairer candidates for life, have been swept away! But after so many escapes and preservations, my time must come to die, and that time appears near at hand. Within two or three weeks, my decline has been very rapid; and probably a few weeks more will shut the scene. I am wholly confined to my bed. My more particular complaints are dyspepsy and rheumatism; while the whole system seems to be shattered, and tottering to ruin. I hope divine grace has made me in some measure ready and willing to die. I have no uncomfortable doubts, and on the whole have much en