Once more among that people, the doubts and misgivings which probably so troubled the aged preacher on his homeward journey, were happily all put to flight. The good work had gone forward, the prayers of repentance were not hushed; the songs of praise which burst from the redeemed on earth, so far from dying utterly away into a mournful silence, had gathered strength and caught the tone of triumph! the voices of the “ministers of grace” were still adjuring sinners by the love of God to put away the thoughts and deeds of unbelief; the tears of men subdued by the striving spirit were falling yet. It was after his return to the field of his labor at Ephesus, as is supposed, that John wrote his gospel, or a great portion of it, together with the Epistles addressed to his brethren. Even when the day of his death drew near, and the weakness of the time-worn body prevented his moving among them, even then his spirit labored, and they who so loved and reverenced him, feeling that when he was among them their prayers would prove more “articulate in the ear of heaven,” would bear him in their arms to the place of worship, that his so dear, but feeble and faltering voice, might be yet once more heard teaching them with words of inspiration. Well might they love him who had spent himself in their service; well might they venerate the aged preacher, and treasure up his mild and peaceful words in their hearts; well might they give heed to the dying entreaties of the saint, “Little children, keep yourselves from idols,” and “love one another.” In his one hundredth year the faithful missionary died, breathing his last amongst the grateful people for whom he had so successfully labored, and making them, and all the world, heirs of a treasure of blessed example, by which whosoever shall be led, will not _need_ to go through life, “Forever sighing For the far-off, unattained, and dim!” because, in that case, Love, the first-born of the Father, will have entered the heart, and in the brightness of her smile fruits will ripen, which will certainly prove other, far other than the poor “apples of Sodom.” Is it a vain thing to urge upon the reader a careful examination of his character, the scenes of whose life we have now so rapidly glanced over? Is there, my beloved, no reason why we should turn our eyes to the distant Past for lessons of wisdom, because the brightest sunlight streams around us now?