BERNARD GILPIN, B.D.

Died March 4, 1583, aged 65-6.

If I must suffer a violent death, with my Saviour, it is but mortality crowned with martyrdom. EIKON BASILIKE.

AN English divine, exemplary for his piety, useful labours, and unbounded benevolence. On account of his great zeal and piety he was styled the Apostle of the north. Having read the works of Erasmus, he supported the Reformation in England; and was consequently marked out for destruction by Bonner. Anticipating the fate of martyrdom, he ordered his steward to provide him with a long garment to wear as a shroud, Summoned to London, he already prepared to march to the stake; when the death of Mary stopped the hand of his persecutors, and he was restored to his beloved parishioners. After a life devoted to every virtue that can dignify the character of an ecclesiastic, he found himself, in February 1583, so weak from a fall, and the infirmities of age, as to be sensible that his end was drawing near. He told his friends of his apprehensions, and spoke of his death with great composure. He was soon confined to his chamber, but retained his senses to the last. A few days before his death, he desired that his friends, acquaintance, and dependants, might be called into his chamber; and being raised on his bed, addressed himself to them on matters of eternal concern. To his scholars called in by his

request, he said, "that this was their time, if they had any desire to qualify themselves for being of use in the world; that learning was well worth their attention, but virtue much more so." He also sent for several persons, who had hitherto made no good use of his advice, and upon whom he imagined his dying words might have a better effect; but his speech began to falter before he had finished his exhortations. The remaining hours of his life he spent in prayer and broken conversation with some select friends, mentioning often the consolations of the Gospel; declaring they were the only true ones, and that nothing else could bring a man peace at the last *.

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.

Died Oct. 16, 1586, aged 32.

Death sheathes his shafts in all the pride of life.

An illustrious patriot and pious Christian. A detachment from the English army accidentally met with a convoy sent by the enemy to Zutphen, a strong town in Guelderland, then besieged by the Spaniards. The battle, which immediately ensued, was fought on the 22d day of September, 1586, with such impetuosity, that it became a proverbial expression among the Belgian soldiers to denote a most severe and ardent conflict. The English troops, far inferior in number to those of the enemy, though

Chalmers. Gorton.

they gained a decisive victory, sustained an irreparable loss by the death of Sir Philip Sidney. Having one horse shot under him he mounted a second. Seeing Lord Willoughby surrounded by the enemy and in imminent danger, he rushed forward to rescue him. Having accomplished his purpose, he continued the fight with great spirit, until he was himself wounded by a bullet on the left knee. Among the rest, says Stow, Sir Philip Sidney so behaved himself that it was wonder to see, for he charged the enemy thrice in one skirmish, and in the last charge he was shot through the left thigh, to the great grief of his excellency and the whole camp, who being brought to the Lord Lieutenant, his excellency said, "O Philip, I am sorry for thy hurt." Sir Philip answered, "this have I done to do you honour, and her majesty service."

It may be truly asserted that the pages of ancient and modern biography are not illuminated with a brighter pattern of benevolence, fortitude, and invincible patience than that which was exhibited by Sir Philip Sidney at this most awful season. As he was returning from the field of battle, pale, languid, and thirsty with excess of bleeding, he asked for water to quench his thirst. The water was brought, and had no sooner approached his lips, than he instantly resigned it to a dying soldier, whose ghastly countenance attracted his notice, speaking those ever memorable words, "this man's necessity is greater than mine."

An ode, which was composed by him on the nature of his wound, discovered a mind perfectly serene and calm. It is unfortunately not in exist

ence.

Lady Sidney attended him in his last illness, and administered all that assistance and soothing consolation which the tenderest sympathy could bestow. Suffering under extreme misery and pain, he had now languished sixteen days on the bed of sickness. At length he declared that he smelt the smell of death.

A soldier dying a Christian death, is a noble and animating spectacle. The military character is then really great, when it is exalted by the genuine virtues of a Christian. Our illustrious and gallant knight, while he retained a calm and undisturbed spirit, made a public confession of his faith to the holy ministers of religion who encircled his bed, to men eminent for their goodness and edifying piety. This confession is said to have been such as no book but the heart could truly and feelingly deliver. They then accompanied him, at his own earnest request, in a devout prayer dictated by himself, and uttered with much energy and affection, the free and fervent effusion of a heart deeply penetrated with a true sense of sin. "His sins," he said, "were best known to himself, and out of that true sense he was more perfectly instructed to apply the eternal sacrifice of our Saviour's passion and merits to himself."

In the course of his illness he introduced a topic

of conversation, the most serious and the most sublime that can engage the attention of man, the immortality of the soul. The conjectures of pagan philosophy on this interesting theme, were compared with the sacred truths of revelation, comprised in the Old and New Testament. This discussion was not undertaken to remove doubt, or to satisfy a vain and idle curiosity; but rather to exhilirate his drooping spirits, to increase his faith, and to enliven his expectations of future blessedness.

The day on which he died he called for music to compose his disordered frame. His mind was soothed and tranquillized, anticipating, as it were, those delightful strains of celestial melody, with which the angelic choir encompass the throne of God. With a patient submission to the divine will, that could proceed only from the retrospect of a good life, he bade adieu to his most afflicted brother, in words which deserve to be engraven in letters of gold. Love my memory, cherish my friends; their faith to me may insure you that they are honest. But above all, govern your will and affection by the will and word of your Creator, in me beholding the end of this world with all her vanities. He died in the arms of his dear friend, Mr. William Temple *.

* Dr. Zouch.