The coldness of death was now creeping over him, but his mental faculties continued unimpaired to the very last breath of mortal existence. Having expressed a wish to hear some passages from the Old and New Testaments, his ministerial attendants read the 24th, 25th and 26th Psalms: the 53d chapter of Isaiah; the 7th chapter of John, the 5th of the Romans, and many other passages. The saying of John respecting the son of God, he said was perpetually in his mind, “the world knew him not ... but as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of GOD, even to them that believe on his name.” Upon being asked by his son-in-law if he would have any thing else, he replied in these emphatic Words, “NOTHING ELSE—BUT HEAVEN!” and requested that he might not be any further interrupted. Soon afterwards he made a similar request, begging those around him, who were endeavouring with officious kindness to adjust his clothes, “not to disturb his delightful repose.” After some time his friends united with the Minister present in solemn prayer, and several passages of scripture, in which he was known always to have expressed peculiar pleasure were read, such as “Let not your heart be troubled, ye believe in GOD, believe also in me.”—“In my Father’s house are many mansions.”—“My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me;” particularly the fifth chapter of Romans, and the triumphant close of the eighth chapter, commencing “If GOD be for us, who can be against us?” Many other parts of scripture were recited, and the last word he uttered was the German particle of affirmation, _Ia_, in reply to one of his friends, who had inquired if he understood him while reading. The last motion which his friends who surrounded him to the number of at least twenty, could discern, was a slight motion of the countenance which was peculiar to him when deeply affected with religious joy!—“Mark the perfect man and behold the upright, for the end of that man is peace!” At length, “in the midst of solemn vows and supplications,” at a quarter before seven, in the evening, at the age of sixty-three, he gently breathed his last. No distractions of mind, no foreboding terrors of conscience agitated this attractive scene. His chamber was “privileged beyond the common walks of virtuous life—quite in the verge of heaven”—and he expired, like a wave scarcely undulating to the evening zephyr of an unclouded summer sky. It was a “DEPARTURE”—a “SLEEP”—“the earthly house of this tabernacle was dissolved.” Footnote 34: