of that religion which can support the soul, and make the otherwise gloomy prospect of death easy and cheerful. But even in his delirium his mind discovered the favourite objects of its concern, the prosperity of Christ's church, and the good of mankind. His bewildered brain was continually imagining, and his faultering tongue expressing, some expedient for these important purposes.

Mr. Davies had been settled at Prince-Town about eighteen months; and as he could exercise his ministry as well as preside over the college, great things might have been expected from that rare and remarakable union there was in him of what was great and good. But, alas! in the midst of his days, (little more than thirty-six years of age) he was called away from this opening scene of extraordinary usefulness, to the invisible world, the world of glory and blessedness. As evidences of the admirable spirit that dwelt in him, let me add (says Dr. Gibbons) a few paragraphs from the many letters with which, in the course of about nine years' correspondence, he has favoured me. Speaking in one of his letters concerning his children, he says, "I am solicitous for them, when I consider what a contagious world they have entered into, and the innate infection of their natures. There is nothing that can wound a parent's heart so deep, as the thought that he should bring up children to dishonour his GoD here, and be miserable hereafter. I beg your prayers for mine, and you may expect a retaliation in the same kind." In another letter he says, "We have now three sons and two daughters, whose young minds, as they open, I am endeavouring to cultivate with my own hand, unwilling to trust them to a stranger; and I find the business of education much more difficult than I expected. My dear little creatures sob and drop a tear now and then under my instructions, but I am not so happy as to see them under deep and lasting impressions of religion; and this is the greatest grief they afford me. Grace cannot be communicated by natural descent: and, if it could, they would receive but little from me. I earnestly beg your prayers for them." Another epistle tells me," As for myself, I am just striving not to live in vain. I entered the ministry with such a sense of my unfitness for it, that I had no sanguine expectations of success. And a condescending GOD (O, how condescending!) has made me much more serviceable than I could hope. But, alas! my brother, I have but little, very little true religion. My advancements in holiness are extremely small: I feel what I con

fess

fess, and am sure it is true, and not the rant of excessive or affected humility. It is an easy thing to make a noise in the world, to flourish and harangue, to dazzle the crowd, and set them all agape, but deeply to imbibe the spirit of Christianity, to maintain a secret walk with GOD, to be holy as he is holy: this is the labour, this is the work. I beg the assistance of your prayers in so grand and important an enterprise.-The difficulty of the ministerial work seems to grow upon my hands. Perhaps once in three or four months I preach in some measure as I could wish; that is, I preach as in the sight of GOD, and as if I were to step from the pulpit to the supreme tribunal. I feel my subject. I melt into tears, or I shudder with horror, when I denounce the terrors of the Lord. I glow, I soar in sacred extasies, when the love of Jesus is my theme, and, as Mr. Baxter was wont to express it, in lines more striking to me than all the fine poetry in the world,

I preach, as if I ne'er should preach again;

And, as a dying man, to dying men.'

I shall conclude my extracts (continues Dr. Gibbons) from his epistolary correspondence with part of a letter, dated Hanover, September 12, 1757.

"My ever dear friend,

"I am just beginning to creep back from the valley of the shadow of death, to which I made a very near approach a few days ago. I was seized with a most violent fever, which came to a crisis in ia week, and now it is much abated, though I am still confined to my chamber. In this shattered state my trembling hand can write but little to you, and what I write will be languid and confused, like its author. But as the Virginia fleet is about to sail, and I know not when I shall have another opportunity, I cannot avoid writing something. I would sit down on the grave's mouth, and talk awhile with my favourite friend; and from my situation, you may foresee what subjects my conversation will turn upon-Death-Eternity-the supreme tribunal. Blessed be Master's. my name, this disorder found me employed in his service. It seized me in the pulpit, like a soldier wounded in the field. This has been a busy summer with me. In about two months I rode about five hundred miles, and preached about forty sermons. This affords me some pleasure in the review. But, alas! the mixture of sin and of many nameless imperfections, that run through and corrupt all

my

my services, give me shame, sorrow, and mortification. My fever made unusual ravages upon my understanding, and rendered me frequently delirious, and always stupid. But, when I had any little sense of things, I generally felt pretty calm and serene, and death, that mighty terror, was disarmed. Indeed, the thought of leaving my dear family destitute, and my flock shepherdless, made me often start back and cling to life; but in other respects death appeared a kind of indifferency to me. Formerly I have wished to live longer that I might be better prepared for heaven, but this consideration had but very little weight with me, and that for a very unusual reason, which was this: After long trial I found this world is a place so unfriendly to the growth of every thing divine and heavenly, that I was afraid, if I should live longer, I should be no better fitted for heaven than I am. Indeed, I have hardly any hopes of ever making any great attainments in holiness while in this world, though I should be doomed to stay in it as long as Methuselah. I see other Christians, indeed, around me make some progress, though they go on with but a snail-like motion: But when I consider that I set out about twelve years old, and what sanguine hopes I then had of my future progress, and yet that I have been almost at a stand ever since, I am quite discouraged.--O my good Master, if I may dare to call thee so, I am afraid I shall never serve thee much better on this side the region of perfection. The thought grieves me: It breaks my heart, but I can hardly hope better. But if I have the least spark of true piety in my breast, I shall not always labour under this complaint. No, my Lord, I shall yet serve thee-serve thee through an immortal duration-with the activity, the fervour, the perfection of the rapt seraph that adores and burns. I very much suspect this deponding view of the matter is wrong, and I do not mention it with approbation, but only relate it as an unusual reason for my willingness to die, which I never felt before, and which I could not suppress.

"In my sickness I found the unspeakable importance of a Mediator in a religion for sinners. Oh! I could have given you the word of a dying man for it, that that Jesus whom you preach is indeed a necessary and all-sufficient Saviour. Indeed, he is the only support for a departing soul. None but Christ, none but Christ. Had I as many good works as Abraham or Paul, I would not have dared to build my hopes upon such a quicksand, but only on this firm eternal rock. I am rising up, my bro

ther,

ther, with a desire to recommend him better to my fellowsinners than I have done. But, alas! I hardly hope to accomplish it. He has done a great deal more by me already than ever I expected, and infinitely more than I deserved. But he never intended me for great things. He has beings both of my own and of superior orders that can perform him more worthy service. O! if I might but untie the latchet of his shoes, or draw water for the service of his sanctuary, it is enough for me. I am no angel, nor would I murmur because I am not. My strength fails me, and I must give over :-pray for me-write to me-love me living and dying, on earth and in heaven-and hope the same from,

"Dear Sir,

"Your heart-united friend and servant."

SAMUEL WALKER, A. B.

THE public is indebted to the pious and reverend Mr.

James Stillingfleet for a very excellent account of the life and ministry of Mr. WALKER, prefixed to two volumes of his posthumous sermons on the baptismal covenant, &c. We make no apology for transcribing from this memoir, as we mean the same thing with its valuable author, the edification of men; for which purpose few pieces, through the divine blessing, are more ably or more happily calculated.

Those of the clergy (says the Reverend Editor) into whose hands these sheets may fall, will excuse my importunity, if I bespeak their more careful attention in reviewing the life and writings of Mr. Walker: Though neither eminence of station in the world, nor rare and uncommon attainments in human literature, will excite their admiration, for he lived and died a curate; and though he was no way deficient in any branch of learning pertaining to his profession, yet he was engaged in too active and busy a scene of life to have leisure to acquire that extent and depth of erudition, which many men of less employment without superior abilities have attained to. But they will find in him excellencies of another kind, not less worthy of their regard; they will here contemplate the

life and doctrines of one possessed in an eminent degree of the knowledge, spirit, and zeal of a primitive Christian teacher; of one who, though poor in this world, was rich in faith and good works; of one who had learned to esteem the reproach of Christ greater riches than the treasures of Egypt.

I humbly call upon you, reverend brethren, who have taken upon you the solemn and important office of the ministry, to observe with what diligence and earnest concern for the salvation of the souls of men he laboured faithfully to fulfil the duties of his function. I beseech you to consider with calm and unprejudiced minds, as a matter of the utmost importance to yourselves, whether his sentiments were not exactly agreeable to the revealed word of God, and his conduct in all things conformed to the examples of faith and patience therein recorded for our instruction and imitation. If, upon a cool and dispassionate examination, you see reason to conclude that they were, let me earnestlv intreat you to be followers of him as he also was of Christ. If such a conduct should expose you, as it did him, to reproaches and sufferings, contempt and ridicule, not only from the more openly careless aud profligate, but even from some who, though they maintain a decent form of godliness, are nevertheless unhappy strangers to the life and power thereof; you will with him remember, that he, who spake as never man spake, was despised and rejected of men; and take consolation from these encouraging words of your blessed Master, who declared to his disciples that they would have great cause to rejoice and be exceeding glad, when men should revile them and persecute them, and say all manner of evil of them falsely, for his and his gospel's sake. If, with him, you endure hardness like good soldiers of Jesus Christ, not rendering evil for evil, or railing for railing, but contrariwise blessing; if you are nothing moved by whatever trials may assault you, from the steady and uninterrupted pursuit of your own salvation, and that of those who hear you, you will also doubtless with him be made abundant partakers of the rich consolations that are in Christ, to sweeten your passage through this vale of sin and sorrow: You will triumph as he did in the immediate prospect of approaching dissolution, and at last enter into the possession of that glorious inheritance, wherein he is now praising the Lord for his grace and mercy, and exulting in the fruition of eternal bliss. I will now enter upon the task assigned to me, of drawing up from authentic memorials a succinct ac

count