tion: "Although my house be not so with God, yet hath he made with me an everlasting covenant, ordered in all things and sure: this is all my salvation and all my desire, although he make me not to grow."

Under the impression of approaching mortality he wrote to a friend with devout submission, expressing a joyful hope of soon being for ever with Christ.

On the eleventh of July, 1759, he made a kind of codicil to his will, which was designed to give directions concerning his funeral. This instrument, instead of the beautiful, neat hand which distinguishes his former manuscripts, discovers the tremulousness of death, which renders it scarcely legible. Still he so far recovered, as to afford his family and flock a gleam of hope. But he complains of dragging on heavily in his private devotions and public labours.

The first confident expectation of death which Mr. Darracott expressed, was when a month elapsed without any addition to his church. "Now," said he, "I believe I am near my end: my work is done, and I am going home to my rest." With this impression (to him no gloomy one) he administered the Lord's supper for the last time Dec. 3, 1758. On the evening of that day, he composed a meditation, which he enclosed in a letter to a friend in London. The medita

F

fion breathes the language of an exalted Chris-tian on the borders of Paradise.

"Is this the voice of my dear Lord? "Surely I come quickly." Amen, says my willing, joyful soul, even so, come, Lord Jesus! Come, for I -long to have done with this poor low life; to ,have done with its burthens, its sorrows, and its snares. Come, for I grow weary of this painful distance, and long to be at home; long to be with thee, where thou art, that I may behold thy glory.

"Come then, blessed Jesus, as soon as thou pleasest, and burst asunder these bonds of clay, which hold me from thee; break down these separating walls, which hinder me from thine embrace. Death is no more my dread, but rather the object of my desire. I welcome the stroke, which will prove so friendly to me; which will knock off my fetters, throw open my prison doors, and set my soul at liberty; which will free me (transporting thought!) from all those remainders of indwelling sin, under which I have long groaned in this tabernacle, and with which I have been maintaining a constant and painful conflict; but which all my weeping and praying, all my attending divine ordinances, could never entirely cure me of; yea, will perfectly and for ever free me from all my complaints; give me the answer of all my prayers; and put me at once in the

eternal possession of my warmest wishes and hopes, even the sweet, beatifying presence of thee, O blessed Jesus! whom having not seen, I love, and in whom, though now I see thee not, yet believing, I rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory. This world has now no more charms to attract my heart, or make me wish a moment's longer stay. I have no engagements to delay my farewell. Nothing to detain me now. My soul is on the wing. Joyfully do I quit mortality, and here cheerfully take my leave of all I ever held dear below.

"Farewell, my dear Christian friends; I have taken sweet counsel with you in the way; but I leave you for sweeter, better converse above. You will soon follow me, and then our delightful communion shall be uninterrupted, as well as perfect, and our society be broken up no more for ever. Farewell, in particular, my dearest

How has our friendship ripened almost to the maturity of heaven! How tenderly and closely are our hearts knit to one another! Nor shall the sweet union be dissolved by death. Be ing one in Christ, we shall be one for ever. With what eternal thankfulness shall we remember that word, "Christ is all in all?" He was so then indeed, and he will ever be so. Mourn not that

I go to him first. you will come after.

"Tis but a little while, and O!, with what joy, think

you, shall I welcome your arrival on the heavenly shore, and conduct you to him, whom our souls so dearly love? What though we meet no more at Wellington, we shall, we assuredly shall, embrace one another in heaven, never to part more. Till then adieu! and know I leave you with the warmest wishes of all felicity to attend you, and the most grateful overflowings of heart for all the kindest tokens of the most endearing friendship I ever received from you.

"Farewell, thou my dearest wife! my most affectionate delightful companion in heaven's road, whom God in the greatest mercy gave me, and has thus to the end of my race graciously continued to me! For all thy care, thy love, thy prayers, I bless my God, and thank thee in these departing moments. But dear as thou art, and dearest of all that is mortal I hold thee, I now find it easy to part from thee, to go to that Jesus, thine and mine, who is infinitely more dear to me. With him I cheerfully leave thee, nor doubt his care of thee, who has loved thee, and given himself for thee. "Tis but a short separation we shall have; our spirits will soon reunite, and then never, never know separation more. For as we have been companions in the patience and tribulation of our Lord's kingdom, we shall assuredly be so in his glory.

"Farewell, my dear children! I leave you; but

God has bound himself by a most inviolable promise, to take care of you. Only choose him for your own God, who has been your father's God, and then, though I leave you exposed in the waves of a dangerous and wicked world, Providence, eternal and almighty Providence, has undertaken to pilot and preserve you. With comfortable hope, therefore, I bid you my last adieu; pleading the faithful and true promise, saying as the patriarch," I die," my dear children," but God will be with you; praying in humble faith, that your souls, with those of your parents, may be bound up in the bundle of life with the Lord your God.

"Farewell, ye my dear people! to whom I have been preaching the everlasting gospel, that gospel, which is now all my hope, and all my joy. Many, very many of you, are my present rejoicing, and will be my eternal crown of glory. And now I am leaving you, I bless God for all the success he has been graciously pleased to give my poor labours among you; for all the comfortable seasons of grace I have enjoyed with you. Adieu, my dear friends! I part with you this day at the sacred table of our blessed Lord, in the confidence and hope, that though I shall drink no more with you this fruit of the vine, I shall drink it new with you in the kingdom of our heavenly Father. Only, my brethren, my