The congregations, under Dr. Raleigh’s inspiring ministry, filled the large chapel in every part. And, with this growth in the congregation, it must have been very encouraging, to all who were interested, to mark the growth in the Church. At one time forty-three members are recorded as having joined the Church, at another time thirty, at another twenty-five, and so on. Many who were of Scotch extraction found their patriotism too strong even for denominational preferences, and came great distances to hear “Raleigh” at Kensington. Brief as his ministry was—too brief, we say, with our imperfect conceptions—it was yet long enough to leave an indelible impression on numbers of his hearers, who will bear the marks of his fashioning to all eternity. His successors in the ministry here alone know, perhaps, how deep and abiding was the spiritual work done in those five years. That, in the enjoyment of these rare spiritual privileges, the Church did not become self-centred, is manifest, not only in the steady interest in missionary and philanthropic work, but in the initiation of a movement, which was not realised until later, for planting a new church at West Kensington. With characteristic generosity Dr. Raleigh welcomed the proposal, but it was not given to him to do more than “greet the promise afar.” The shadow was even now beginning to fall upon him; yet those who had been most apprehensive of a serious breakdown in his health learned with something of stupefaction the doctors’ verdict that recovery was impossible. There is a deeply pathetic suggestiveness associated with the fact that the last sermon he preached was from the text, “And Enoch walked with God: and he was not, for God took him.” Possibly some premonition of the end had come to him; possibly a Higher than he had put the words into his heart for his final address to his beloved people. For the touching story of his last days, we shall still turn to the beautiful narrative of Mrs. Raleigh. It is not too much to say that not only all Congregationalists everywhere kept sympathetic watch, as it were, around the sick-bed; but the larger Church of Christ listened anxiously for tidings of the progress of the invalid. And progress it was, but progress heavenward. Shortly after noon on Monday, April 19th, 1880, he passed away; and, for the first time in its history, Death had sealed the ministry of a pastor of the Kensington Church while he was still in its service. There is a holy discipline for a Church in such a deep common sorrow, such as not the most eloquent preaching can convey. The “still” voice speaks louder even than the strong full voice of life. It is good sometimes for the soul of a people to be humbled by a great grief. At no past time had an experience so searching as this come to the Church at Kensington. Its pastors had left it for other work and other spheres. But this one had died among them; in the very ripeness of his powers he had passed away.