Cardinal Newman in one of his theological works written before his departure from the Church of England, has a powerful passage bearing upon this point. He is criticising the evangelicals for their one-sided way of setting forth what it must mean to "preach the Gospel." No less a person than Legh Richmond is the object of his strictures. "A remarkable contrast between our Church's and this false view of religion," he says, "is afforded in the respective modes of treating a death-bed in the Visitation of the Sick, and a popular modern work, the Dairyman's Daughter. The latter runs thus: My dear friend, do you not FEEL _that you are supported_? The Lord deals very gently with me, she replied. Are not his promises _very precious to you?_ They are all yea and amen in Christ Jesus.. . Do you experience any _doubts or temptations_ on the subject of your eternal safety? No, sir; the Lord deals very gently with me and gives me peace. What are your _views_ of the dark valley of death now that you are passing through it? _It is not dark_. Now, if it be said that such questions and answers are not only in their place innocent but natural and beautiful, I answer that this is not the point, but this, viz., they are evidently intended, whatever their merits, as a pattern of what _death-bed examinations should be_. Such is the Visitation of the Sick in the nineteenth century. Now let us listen to the nervous and stern tone of the sixteenth. In the Prayer Book the minister is instructed to say to the person visited: Forasmuch as after this life there is an account to be given to the _Righteous Judge_ . . . I require you to examine yourself and your estate both toward God and man. Therefore I shall rehearse to you the _Articles of our Faith_, that you may know whether you do believe as a Christian man should or no . . . 'Then shall the minister examine whether he repent him truly of his sins, and be in _charity_ with all the world: exhorting him to forgive from the bottom of his heart all persons who have offended him, and if he hath offended any other to _ask their forgiveness_, and where he hath done injury or wrong to any man that he _make amends_ to the utmost of his power.' . . . Such is the contrast between the dreamy talk of modern Protestantism, and 'holy fear's stern glow' in the Church Catholic."[18] In this striking, though perhaps somewhat unnecessarily harsh way, Newman brings out a point which is unquestionably true, namely, that the language of the Prayer Book is of the sort which it is just now the fashion to call realistic, that is, a language conversant with great facts rather than with phases of feeling and moods of mind; which after all is only another way of saying that it is a Book of Common Prayer and not a manual for the furtherance of spiritual introspection.