Such were his words; such honour have not all the saints; some who have looked forward through life with triumph to that hour have fainted when it came, and some who feared it most have felt it least: peculiar temperaments and special forms of pain and disease sometimes make death dreadful; and an old writer says, “We are not glad to feel the snake, even when we know its sting is drawn.” Thomas Walsh, one of the holiest and most eminent of the early Methodists, was very angry against John Fletcher, the seraphic vicar of Madeley, because he heard him say that some comparatively weak believers might die most cheerfully, and that some strong ones, for the further purification of their faith, or for inscrutable reasons, might have severe conflicts. “Be it done unto you according to your faith,” said Walsh, “and be it done unto me according to mine.” But when the hour came to Walsh it was clouded, and those eyes which had “looked out of the windows were darkened;” only at the last moment he exclaimed, “He is come! He is come! My beloved is mine, and I am His for ever!” And so he passed. But Fletcher died in a rapture. “I know thy soul,” said his wife, “but if Jesus is very present with thee, lift up thy right hand.” Immediately it was raised. “If the prospects of glory sweetly open before thee, repeat the sign.” The hand was raised a second time, and so his soul breathed itself away. Faith survives the presence of sensible comforts. An aged believer in Southampton, on her death-bed, complained of the absence of sensible comforts to her pastor, the Rev. W. Kingsbury, but so strong was her faith that she said, “It is against the whole scope of Divine revelation that my soul should be lost.” Old Thomas Fuller, having surveyed the various modes of death, arrived at the short, decisive conclusion, “None please me.” “But away,” he adds, “with these thoughts; the mark must not choose what arrow shall be shot against it.” The happiness of a clear, calm departure was given to Watts, his closing days were serene and happy; with all the imaginative glow of his mind, he had naturally a calm character. He had well grounded his convictions; he had long lived like a sunbeam amidst sunbeams in the light. Dr. Gibbons, speaking from his own knowledge, says, “Although his weakness was very great, he knew no decay of intelligence, and was the subject of no wild fancies.” His biographer adds, “He saw his approaching dissolution with a mind perfectly calm and composed, without the least alarm or dismay, and I never could discover, though I was frequently with him, the least shadow of a doubt as to his future everlasting happiness, or anything that looked like an unwillingness to die; how I have known him recite with self-application those words in Hebrews, ‘Ye have need of patience, that, after ye have done the will of God, ye may receive the promise;’ and how often have I heard him, upon leaving the family after supper and withdrawing to rest,