"During the whole of his illness he maintained the greatest calmness and composure; the enemy was not once permitted to disturb his peace, or to shake his confidence in God. On one occasion, a short time before his departure, he said to a friend, 'The Lord is very kind to me; for while he afflicts me with one hand, he supports me with the other; yes, he _always_ has been good to me, he _never_ has forsaken me;' and with his characteristic energy added, 'And nobody shall make me believe that he will ever forsake me now.' When conversing with another friend on the bright and glorious prospect he had of future bliss, he said, 'I am very ambitious, for I am striving for a crown; and it is one which will never fade away.' His family did not perceive him to be materially worse, until the Saturday previous to his death; but from the evident change which then took place, they urged his staying at home on the sabbath-day; to this he replied, 'I have a great wish to go, perhaps, for the last time.' His wish was complied with, and, propped up with pillows in an easy chair, he, for the last time, distributed to his weeping church the memorials of the Saviour's death; and, with wonderful composure, although with feeble steps, he walked round the aisles of the chapel, and took leave of all the persons present. On the Monday he appeared fast sinking into the arms of death; and, on a friend saying to him, 'The conflict will soon be over,' he replied, 'Do you think so?--I'm afraid not.' The restlessness of death was evidently now upon him, and on being assisted up stairs, a distressing fit of coughing came on, accompanied by difficulty of respiration, and the loss of all power to expectorate: this continued with but little cessation during the night. A highly esteemed friend visiting him early in the morning of Tuesday (the day on which he died), he said, 'Well, Madam, we have often talked together about heaven, I hope I shall soon be there,' adding, 'but, perhaps, you will pray with me once more on earth?' This was most kindly complied with. My mother asked what passage of Scripture she should read; he promptly replied, 'The 116th Psalm;' many parts of which were strikingly and beautifully adapted to his own circumstances at that moment. After prayer, he said to the same friend, 'If I get safe to heaven, and should hear that you are coming (and am permitted) I will welcome you there.' On being asked if Christ was precious to him, he said, 'More than any thing else; the world is nothing to me now; death has lost its sting, and the grave has no terrors.' Repeatedly, during the day, he said, 'Oh! how gladly could I lie down and die!--O that I had wings like a dove!' &c. To his highly esteemed brother, Mr. Reynolds, he said, 'Well, Sir, when I am gone, I shall want you to bury me;--do not say much about me, preach to the people, and tell them to be stedfast,' &c. On one of his family coming to his bedside, he said: