Dr. Chandler was great in faith and prayer. At the first camp-meeting a dark, thick cloud gathered over the encampment, and there was a prospect of a tremendous shower. The people showed symptoms of alarm, and began to disperse. The doctor requested them to be seated, expressing the utmost confidence there would be no rain. Then he said, “Let us pray.” And he prayed that God would fold up the clouds, and that the rain might not descend upon the encampment. He that heard Elijah’s prayer listened to Dr. Chandler’s. The clouds parted when right over the camp, and it rained on either side, but no sprinkling on the camp-ground. I make no comment, but simply state the fact, of which I was an eye-witness. I heard him preach over fifty times sermons of such power as I have seldom heard in a long life of over fourscore years. Down on the Peninsula such was his power that the wicked used to say, “If Dr. Chandler was placed on one end of a stand at camp-meeting and Solomon Sharp on the other they could preach the devil out of hell.” This rough expression shows what they thought of his power. The doctor suffered from paralysis. He went to the West Indies, but returned home worse than when he went. His death was such a triumph that angels must have contemplated it with delight. A friend being on the way to meeting stopped to inquire how he was. The doctor asked “What day is it?” On being told it was Sunday, “Sunday?” said the doctor; “go then to meeting and tell them I am dying shouting the praises of God.” Then turning to his wife he said, “My dear Mary, open the window and let me proclaim to the people in the streets the goodness of God.” Thus passed away one of the most powerful ministers that ever wielded the sword of the Spirit. Such was the last hour of my lifetime friend and spiritual father. He died on December 8, 1822, aged fifty-eight. CHAPTER XVI. MISSIONARIES, 1807. Bishop Asbury preached the funeral sermon of Bishop Whatcoat April 29, 1807, and the same evening in Dover I preached my farewell sermon. My heart was deeply affected on parting with my dear brethren and friends, with whom I have had so many gracious seasons. Can it be wondered at that I wrote, “I hope to meet them in a better country?” Most of them are already there, and I am on my way.