At last the once eloquent lips that so often had pleaded with and for the sons of India, could utter no word more, yet still the departing saint knew the voices of those whom he loved, and he showed his consciousness by a tender grasp of the hand. The sun of life was slowly, calmly disappearing behind the horizon. The voice of the Master whom Duff had deeply loved and faithfully served, was bidding him come up higher. The disciple was laying down the cross for ever, to receive the heavenly crown. And so, in perfect peace, Alexander Duff sank to rest. We cannot follow his enraptured spirit as it rose from the slumbering clay, nor conceive the bliss which awaits him when the body too shall rise in the Resurrection-day! "Fulness of joy! on Christ's right hand to hear Love's invitation to draw yet more near,— Ye blessed children—come!" And now the story of Alexander Duff's life has been briefly told. It only remains to add a few words to the reader. If you are not yet a follower of the Lord Jesus, if you are not yet assured that Christianity is of God, pause and look at the picture of a believer which has been placed before you. Was it mere natural goodness of heart that made Dr. Duff what he was? What nerved him to moot difficulties, danger, distress with unflinching courage; what made him not count his life dear to himself? What made him patient in trouble, and humble in triumph, working like a giant, yet trusting like a child? Do such fruits naturally grow on the trees of earth, and if not, must they not have a heavenly origin? Duff could have given the answer, "I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave Himself for me." Duff's course was upward, onward, heavenward, because he was following the steps of the Saviour, and pressing forward looking unto Jesus. Reader! If you be a believer, then there is also a word for you. Has not your conscience reproached you while reading the life of Dr. Duff? Is not his life and death a call to us not to stand idly looking on while labourers are sorely wanted in the Lord's great harvest field? Is there no sheaf which you can bind, is there no work which you can do? Does not the example before you rouse your languid spirit like the blast of a trumpet? Rise and be doing for the time is short; use your talents, be they few or many, to the sole glory of Him who gave them; the fountain from which Alexander Duff drew strength is open to you, the bliss upon which he has entered you may share; waiting, working, praying, praising, you too, with him may swell the victor's song, giving "glory, honour, thanksgiving and praise to Him who sitteth on the throne, and to the Lamb for ever and ever!" ———————— [Illustration: EDINBURGH, THE CAPITAL OF SCOTLAND.]