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tranquillity of mind, and in perfect peace with God and man.
Of his poems, one entitled, "A Hymn to God, in a night of my latter sickness," is said to be remarkable for pointed energy of expression and harmonious versification2.
The following are the last three verses of a hymn written by Sir Henry Wotton, when he was an ambassador at Venice, in the time of a great sickness which prevailed there.
"Let Him take the glory of His mercy."
Let these poor notes ascend unto Thy throne,
Where all the quire of Heav'n resound the same,
Well, then, my soul, joy in the midst of pain:
Now have I done; now are my thoughts at peace;
And now my joys are stronger than my grief;
I feel those comforts that shall never cease,
Future in hope, but present in belief.
Thy words are true, Thy promises are just,
"Reliquite Wottoniance," 1650, p. 530.
In passing over the ocean of life we must not expect always to sail in smooth waters. Storms and tempests may meet us in our course, and raging billows may shake the frail vessel. But
1 Life of Sir H. Wotton by Izaak Walton, in Wordsworth's Eccl. Biog., vol. iv. p. 109.
blessed are they who make the Saviour their haven of refuge; for truly may they say, "We have a strong consolation, who have fled for refuge to lay hold upon the hope set before us; which hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and etedfast, and which entereth into that within the veil." The tables of the Covenant and the blood besprinkled mercy-seat, so typical of Christ's atonement, were " within the veil" of the Temple. O ! that we may cast our anchor there. Come sickness, death, or judgment, our hope will then be both " sure and stedfast V
NICHOLAS FERRAR, JUNIOR.
He was the son of Mr. John Ferrar, and nephew of Mr. Nicholas Ferrar, whose last hours we have recorded, and by whom he was so well educated, as through industry and acquirements to attract the notice of the King, Charles I., and of the Archbishop of Canterbury. When the Bishop, accompanied by Mr. John Ferra,r, called upon the young student, the Bishop embraced him, and gave him his blessing. Nicholas Ferrar, kneeling down, took the Bishop by the hand and kissed it. He took him up in his arms, and laid his hand to. his cheek, and earnestly besought God Almighty to bless him, and increase all graces in him, and fit him every day more and more for an instrument of His glory here upon earth, and a saint in Heaven; "which," said he, "is the only happiness that can
be desired, and ought to be our chief end in all our actions. God bless you! God bless you!"
So they parted from his grace, but he never saw him more. For within a few days after, Nicholas Ferrar fell ill: and on Easter day he was desirous to receive the Communion at St. Paul's, whither he went early in the morning, and communicated; and, returning home, had little appetite to his dinner, eating little or nothing. He went to a sermon in the afternoon; but at night grew somewhat worse. The physicians prescribed things for him, but he mended not; but with great patience and cheerfulness did bear his sickness, and was very comfortable in it, to all that came to visit him, wholly referring himself to God's good will and pleasure; only telling his friends, and the Bishop of Peterborough, Dr. Towers, who loved him dearly, and came to visit him twice in that short time, that he was no way troubled to die, and to go to Heaven, where he knew was only peace and quiet, and joys permanent; whereas all things in the world were but trouble and vexation; and death must be the end of all men, and he that went soonest to Heaven was the happiest man. The Bishop would say, when he went away, and had a long time talked with him, that Nicholas Ferrar was better prepared to die than he, and was a true child of God, and could comfort himself in God, without directions from him or others: that his pious education under his pious uncle of blessed memory, his old and dear friend, was now showed forth in these his so young years; that they had taken mighty root downward, and in his soul, and now sprang up not only with leaves and fair blossoms, but with good and ripe fruit of heavenly matters. It joyed his heart to see him so disposed to God-ward, and to so willingly leave the world,
and the late testimonies of worth that he had received from the beat in the land. That sure he was too good longer to stay here. God would take him to Heaven, and willed his father to prepare for his departure; and to take it with all thankfulness to God; and not look what himself, he might think, had here lost on earth, but to that crown which his good son, by the mercies of God and merits of his Saviour, he was persuaded would now enjoy in Heaven. "He is too good; he is too good," said he, "to live longer in'these, in approaching times."
And when at other times some friend would say to him, "Good cousin, are you not grieved to leave this world: you are now so young, and in the flower of your youth and hopes?" he would cheerfully answer, "No truly; I leave all to God's good will and pleasure, that is my best Father, and knoweth what is best for me. Alas! I am too young to be mine own judge what is best for me, to die, or live; but let all be as God's will is. If I live, I desire it may be to His further glory, and mine own soul's good, and the comfort and service that I intend to be to my father, that loves me so dearly, and in his old age to be his servant. If I die, I hope my father will submit all to God's will and pleasure, and rejoice at my happiness in Heaven, where by the merits of my blessed Lord and Saviour, I know I shall go out of this wretched life."
In this manner, and upon the visits of friends, he would discourse; and the Bishop came to him two days before he died, and found him most cheerful to die, and to be with God, as he would say to him; who gave him absolution, and with many tears departed, saying to his father, "God give you consolation; and prepare yourself to part with your good son. He will in a few hours, I think, go to a better world ; for he is in no way for this; that I see by his body and by his soul. Be of good comfort; you give him but again to Him that gave him you for a season." And in two days after, God took him away, who died praying and calling upon God, "Lord Jesus, receive my soul! Lord, receive it. Amen V
"Good cousin, are you not grieved to leave this world so young T"
It matters little what hour o' the day
The righteous falls asleep; death cannot come
To him untimely who is fit to die.
The less of this cold world, the more of Heaven,
The briefer life, the earlier immortality.
Bishop Bedell was eminent for his piety and usefulness. He was Provost of Trinity College, Dublin, and was afterwards consecrated Bishop of Kilmore. He translated the Old Testament into the Irish language—a work which was afterwards published by Mr. Robert Boyle. Bedell was very active in his endeavours to convert the Roman Catholics, but conducted himself with so much mildness and prudence as very generally to gain their esteem. When the Rebellion broke out in Ireland, Bishop Bedell was for a time unmolested by the Roman Catholic insurgents; and while his Protestant neighbours in general were driven from their homes, the sanctity of his mansion was re
1 Wordsworth's Eccl. Biog., vol. iv.