The Last Days of Doddridge

We have followed with interest this great and good man to the zenith of his popularity, laboriousness, and usefulness. It is now with solemn and painful feelings we are to see him removed from the people whom he loved and served so well, from the academy in which he had trained so many learned and godly ministers, and from the domestic circle where he was so ardently loved and so highly venerated. His path had been that of the just, ‘’ as the shining light, which shineth more and more unto the perfect day.” We shall see that the light of holiness, which he shed around his path, became brighter and brighter until it was lost in the splendors of the world of glory.

The last funeral-sermon whicL he preached was at St. Albans, for his early friend and benefactor the Rev. Samuel Clarke, D. D. It was a serviGe that cost his precious life. On the journey he took cold, which so impaired his lungs during the winter and spring, that in the following summer he was obliged altogether to lay aside his important occupations at Northampton, and devote himself to medical treatment, recreation, and travel. He was too slow, however, in beginning, this course. His physician and friends had for months ’ sought in vain toinduce him to inteimit his arduous labors as a preacher, tutor, author, and correspondent; but when his danger became perfectly obvious, he reluctantly yielded to their advice, regarding it as worse than death to live and not be useful. At this time he was observed by his friends and correspondents to be making uncommon progress in spirituality and heavenly-mindedness, as was fit in one whose further stay on earth was destined to be of very short duration.

Thus, in some of the letters written about this period to his friends, he says, “I bless God earth is less and less to me; and I shall be very glad to have done with it once for all, as soon as it shall please my Master to give me leave. Yet for him I would live and labor, and I hope? if such were his will, suffer too.”” Should God spare my life, many opportunities of doing good may arise; but to depart and be with Christ is far, infinitely, better. I desire the prayers qf my friends in my present- circumstances, I remember them in my poor way; but alas, what with my infirmities, and what with the hurries to which I am here, in London pequliarly obnoxious, and the many affairs and interruptions which are pressing upon me, my praying time is sadly contracted. I feel nothing in myself at present that should give me reason to apprehend immedi9,te danger; but the obstinacy of my cough, and its proneness to return upon every little provocation, gives me some alarm. Go on to pray for me that my heart may be fixed on God; that every motion and every word may be directed by love to him, and zeal for his glory; and leave me with him as cheerfully as I leave myself. May you increase while I decrease, and shine many years as a bright star in the Redeemer’s hand when I am set.’.’

His last administration of the Lord’s supper was at Northampton, June 2, L751. The .text from -which he preached was Heb. 22: 23: “Ye are come to the general assembly and church of the first-born, etc.” At the conclusion of that service he mentioned with uncommon pleasure that view of Christ given in the Revelation, as “holding the stars in his right hand, and walking among the candlesticks,” expressive of his authority ovfer ministers and churches, his right to dispose of them as he pleaseth, and the care he taketh of them. He dropped some hints of his approaching dissolution, and with the greatest tenderness and affection spoke of his being about to take a final leave of them. He shortly after proceeded to London, where he passed several weeks, but not with the hoped-for result of benefiting his health; the hurries and labors connected with his visit served only tff increase his malady.

His last sermon was preached to his own dear people at Northampton, immediately after his return from London, on July 14, 1751. His friends Mitreated him not to incur the fatigue and hazard of preaching this sermon, which, though not prepared- as a farewell sermon, nevertheless proved to be such, and was eminently adapted to an occasion so important and solemn. It was founded on Rom. 14: 8: “For whether we live, we live unto the Lord-^ or whether we die, we die unto the Lord; whether we live therefore, or die, we are the Lord’s.” He showed that it is essential to the character of true Christians to be devoted to Christ, in life and in death; that it is peculiarly the duty of Christian ministers-to live thus; to direct their hearers to Christ as the fonndatibn of their hope, to engage them to live bjr faith in him, and promote the great end of his undertaking. He showed that they are also devoted to- Christ in death; as they are sincerely willing to die for Christ, if, in the course of Providence, they should be called to it; and further, as they are desirous that Christ may be honored by their dying behavior, recommending him to those who are about them, and solemnly resigning their own souls into his hands. He farther showed that it is the happiness of true Cfhristians to be the care of Christ in life and death; that he will prolong their lives, and continue their usefulness as long as he sees it good; that he will also take care of them in the closing scene, adjusting the circumstances of it so as to subserve the purposes of his glory, granting them all necessary supports in death, and after that, giving them eternal life, and raising them up at the last day. The last public religious service in which he participated was on July 18, at the ordination of the Rev. Mr. Adams at Bewdley, in Worcestershire. It seemed a iitting close to the public career of this distinguished educator of young ministers. It was a service from which his enfeebled strength, as indicated in his pallid countenance and trembling voice, should have excused him; but having promised his assistance some weeks before, he was unwilling to be absent, or to remain silent on an occasion to him so deeply interesting. His earnest and humble spirit is shown in the brief letter which he previously wrote in relation to it: “I am at present much indisposed. My cough continues, and where it may end God. only knows. I will, however, struggle hard to come to Bewdley, that I may be fitter to serve Christ if I live, or to go and enjoy him if I die. I can write but little; help me with your prayers. My unworthiness is greater even than my weakness, though that be great. Here is my comfort, the ’ strength of Christ ’ may perhaps be ’ made perfect in weakness.’”

From Bewdley Dr. Doddridge passed on to Shrewsbury, the residence of the Rev. Mr. Orton, his beloved pupil. ‘Here he spent several weeks in entire seclusion from company, and from business; and taking exercise in the open air. But his absent friends foi’got him not: letters of the most affecting tenderness and sympathy poured in upon him from all quarters, from which we select a few that will be read with deep and mournful interest.

From the Rev. John Barlcer.

“August 5, 1751.

“Leesingham, Neal, and Barker, are too nearly interested in that precious life, which now appears in danger of being cut off in the midst of its days, to hear of its waste and languishment without great concern and fervent prayer to God. How your letter affected my heart in public, your friends are witnesses; but what I felt for my brother, and the ministers and churches of Christ, God and myself only know.

“I will not now say, Why did you not spare yourself a little sooner? I will rather heartily thank you that you use all the means you can to repair your frame, and restore and prolong your usefulness. It is the kindest thing you can do, and the highest instance of friendship you. can now show us; and I acknowledge your goodness to us on this point with tears of joy. Consent and choo.se to stay with us a little longer, my dear friend, if it please God. This is not only needful to Northampton and its adjacent towns and villages, but desirable to us all, and beneficial to our whole interest. Stay, Doddridge, Oh stay, and strengthen our hands, whose shadows grow long. Fifty is but. the height of vigor, usefulness, and honor. Do not take leave abruptly. Providence hath not yet directed thee on whom to drop thy mantle., Who shall instruct our youth, fill our vacant churches, animate our associations, and diffuse a spirit of piety, moderation, candor, and charity through our villages, and a spirit of prayer and supplicaiion into our towns and cities, when thou art removed from us; especially, who shall unfold the sacred oracles, tea<3hus the meaning and use of our Bibles, rescue us from bondage of systems, party opinions, empty, useless speculations, and fashionable forms and phrases, and point out the simple, intelligible, consistent religion of our Lord and Saviour? Who shall — but I am silenced by the voice of Him who says, ‘Shall I not do what I will with mine own? Is it not my prerogative to take and leave, as seemeth me good? I demand the liberty of disposing of my own servants at my own pleasure. He hath labored more abundantly. His times are in my hand. He hath;aot slept as do others. He hath risen to nobler heights than things below. He hopes top inherit glory. He hath labored for that which endurethto eternal life; labor which, the more it abounds, the more it exalts and magnifies, and the more effectually answers and secures its end. It is yours to wait and trust, mine to dispose and govern. On me be the care of ministers, and of churches. “With me is the residue of the Spirit. Both the yineyard and the laborers are mine. I set them -to work, and when I please, I call them and give them their hire.’ With these thoughts my passions subside, my mind is softened and satisfied. I resign thee, myself, and all, to God, saying, ‘Thy will be done.’

“But now for the wings of faith and contemplation. Let me take thy hand, my dear brother, and walk a turn or two in yonder spacious regions. Yes, it is so: we read it in the book of God, that word of truth, and gospel of our salvation, ’ that as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive.’ The one ruined his posterity by ain, the other raised his seed to immortality. The first poisoned the dart, and inflamed the wound of death; but Jesus Christ redeemed us from this captivity. See, thou Christian minister,- thou friendf my bosom and faithful servant of God — see the important period, when the surprising signs and descending inhabitants of heaven proclaim the second coming of our divine Saviour! the heavens open and disclose his radiant glory. Hear the awakening trumpet; see the dead in Christ arise glorious and immortal, leave corruption, weakness, and dishonor behind them, and behold their Lord and Head seated on his throne of judgment, attended and surrounded with the ministers of his power, and shining in all the fulness t)f celestial glory; and not only see, but shafe his victory, and partake of his image and influence. And behold the demolished fabric reared again, stately, illustrious, and permanent, to demonstrate how entirely death is vanquished, its ruins repaired, and what was once food for worms become the companion of angels; for when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal immortality, every eye will be fixed on the mighty Conqueror, and every voice and harp be tuned for that transporting song, ‘Oh death, where is -thy sting? Oh grave, where is thy victory?’ Yes, Doddridge, it is so. The fruit of our Redeemer’s sufferings and victory is the en-tire, -the eternal destruction of sin and death. And is it not a glorious destruction — a blessed ruin? No enemy so formidable, no tyranny so bitter, no fetters so heavy and galling, no prison so dark and dismal, but they are vanquished and disarmed; the unerring dart is blunted and broken, the prison pulled down, and our Lord is risen as the first-fruits of them that slept.

“How glad should I be to hear that God is pleased to prolong your life on earth to declare these glorious truths, and teach us to improve them. In Om, your friends, with you, and many more in every place, join, and make it their common petition to the great Disposer of all events. Use every means you can for the recovery of your health, for the sake of your friends, among whom is your faithful and affectionate,

“J. BAKKER.”

“When Dr. Doddridge received this letter, he was at Shrewsbury for the benefit of a change of air, and an entire recess from business and company; and Mr. Orton tells us, that he was so affected, and melted into tears of gratitude and joy with the friendship expressed in it, and the divine consolations which it administered, that he was apprehensive his tender frame would have sunk under the emotion.

From Nathaniel Keal, Esq.

“August 6, 1751.” I did not receive your favor till Saturday, when it met me at Glapham.* The next morning being Sunday, I communicated the contents as far as they related to the state of your health and spirits, to Mr. Barkerj before he went into the pulpit. You may be sure that we are all greatly affected with the danger that threatens a life so universally desirable, and to us so peculiarly endeared; and our invaluable friend dissolved not only us, but a great part of his numerous audience into tears, by the almost inspired eloquence with which he offered up strong pleas and cries for your- support and revival, to Him who is able to deliver from death. God girant our supplications may be effectual’as they are unfeigned and continual; and if the mercy be delayed, may divine consolations in the meantime descend upon you. I trust in God they may be heard, and that many years will yet be added to so important a life. To this end, my dear friend, I beseech you not to think of returning to Northampton, even though you should receive all imaginable benefit at Shrewsbury in the ensuing fortnight, till you have visited Bristol; and in preparing for that expedition, I conceive no time should be lost, as the season for the waters, as well as of the year, is so far advanced. I should tremble for your return to Northampton at present, notwithstanding- some encouraging symptoms; for a relapse could hardly fail of being fatal, and in such a circumstance would be almost certain, considering your various engagements and active temper. The examination is not worth a thought, and if my advice might be offered, I should wish it turned into a day of prayei* for your recovery. However that may be, Mr.~Clarke, I am persuaded, is able to do- what is fully sufficient; and I should much rather hear the academy was disbanded, than that you should read a single lecture between this and Michaelmas. In one word, your whole duty to God and man is comprehended in the care of your health.

“The cheerfulness of your mind will afford great satisfaction to your friends, and do honor to religion; and I consider Mrs. Doddridge’s confirmed health, whereby she is capable of ministering unto you under your infirmities, as a matter of great thankfulness. May she receive the best direction and support. I rejoice that she has with her so faithful and abl6 a friend as Mrs. Orton, to whom I beg the tender of my best respects.

“We all salute you with the tenderest affection, considering ourselves also as on the borders of eternity, and referring it to divine wisdom, whether we are to learn to die by the gentler lessons of your repeated instructions, or, once for all, by your great example.”

While he continued at Bristol some of the principal persons of his congregation visited him, with an affection not to be expressed; they brought him an assurance of the highest esteem and tender sympathy of his people, and informed him that prayer was made for him by that church three evenings in every week, and that some other churches were engaged in the same work on his account. This afforded him great satisfaction-and refreshment., He knew their prayers would not be, upon the whole, in vain, though he considered his life as hopeless, and said, that unless God should interpose in such an extraordinary manner as he had no reason to expect, he could not long continue in the land of the living. He ascribed to the efficacy of the prayers of his friends the composure and joy he felt in his own soul, and the preservation of Mrs. Doddridge’s health amid incessant fatigue and anxiety.

It was judged expedient, as we have already seen, that Dr. Doddridge should repair to Bristol, to try the efficacy of the hot wells; and there he received most affectionate attentions atid sympathy from a clergyman of the Establishment, and from other friends. The waters affording him no relief, and the physicians intimating to him the almost hopeless condition of his health, he received their unfavorable report with that cheerful fortitude and resignation which remained with him to the last moment. Illustrations of this fact are abundant in Orton’s memoir of him; for example,” While the outward man was so sensibly decaying ihat he used to say to his friends, ‘I die daily,’ the inward man was renewed day by day. The warmth of his devotion, zeal, and friendship was maintained and increased. His physicians had directed him to write and speak as little as possible, but he could not satisfy himself without sometimes writing a few lines to some of his friends whom he could aiddress in shorthand Tpithout much fatigue. The frame of his heart in view of death will appear in the following extract:

“I see indeed no hope of recoviery, yet my heart rejoiceth in my God, and in my Saviour, and I can call him, under this failure of every thing else, its strength and everlasting portion. I must now thank you for your heart-reviving letter to strengthen my faith, to comfort my soul, and to assist me in swallowing up death in victory. God hath, indeed, been wonderfully good to me; but I am less than the least of his mercies, less than the least of his children. Adored be his grace for whatever it hath wrought by me; and blessed be you of the Lord for the strong consolations you have been the instrument of administering. Let me desire you to write again, and to pour out your heart freely with all its strong cordial sentiments of Christianity. Nothing will, give me greater joy. What a friend you will be in heaven 1 How glad shall I be to welcome you there, after a long and glorious course of service to increase the lustre of your crown! May you long shine, with your light,. warmth, and influence, when there remain not any united particles of that poor, wasting, sinking frame, which enables this immortal spirit to call itself your friend in everlasting bonds.”

About this period Mrs. Doddridge received a most delicate and touching letter of sympathy from Robert Crittenden, Esq., a gentleman in London, the author of several well-known hymns, and whose hospitality gathered, many eminent Christian gentlemen around him. We give only an extract:

“I long to see him once uxore before he puts on his robes of immortality, and from the bestj the dearest of men, commences a perfect spirit. Oh, could I have thought, when I took my leave of him at St. Albans, that it was .to be the last time I should ever see my dear, my honored friend, I should have better ’ employed the hours we were alone in our journey thither. Now, madam, all I want is your lea“ve to wait on him once more. I long to receive his dying blessing, but would not purchase that satisfaction by giving him one uneasy moment, or hastening a loss which I think I could sacrifice my own worthless life to prevent. He loved me, madam, though I know not why, and perhaps my name is not quite a stranger to his dying bed. Amid the glories that are opening upon him, perhaps he still pities the distress of those he leaves behind; and surely, if distress can excite compassion, not one of all his numerous friends has a stronger claim.”

The Rev. Daniel Neal, a correspondent and friend of Dr. Doddridge, was a man of considerable distinction in his day. He was born in London in 1678, and after receiving an excellent education in England and Holland, he became in 1706 pastor of a church in London, where his congregation so increased as to. be compelled to remove to a larger house of worship. His first publication from the press was “The History of New England,” which excited great interest. He was the author of the well-known “History of the Puritans,” and the father of Mr. Nathaniel Neal of the Million Bank, who was one of Mr. Coward’s trustees, and also a friend and correspondent of Doddridge.

From Kathaniel Neal, Esq.

“TuifBEiDGE Wells, Sept. 1, 1751.

“I feel a struggle in my breast while I deliberate whether, considering the feeble state of your health, I should break or keep silence; but such is the ofiSciousness of friendship, anxious, though impotent to afford relief, that inquiry must be made after an aflBicted friend, though at some hazard of disturbing his slumbers.

“How affected we all were — in which number I include Mr. Barker and his lady, for in our lore and in our distress for you we are all one — with those various events which befell you in your progress to, and on your arrival at Bristol, I choose not to mention; yet I trust in God it will be seen in the issue, that it was the kind hand of his providence that conducted you thither, as to. the waters of life; for though to you it were a matter of choice not to revive at all till you obtain a part in the better resurrection, yet in compassion for us, in compassion for the world, it is my daily prayer — forgive me this wrong — that you may not yet increase the number and enhance the triumphs of the blessed.

“I persuade myself my dear friend, that you have left all your cares, as well as all your business, at Northampton, and that you will be inaccessible to every uninvited guest. Ceremony is the bane of solitude; and even the draught of pious and cheerful converse should be taken in measure, when the appetite of the soul is so eager, and every kind of exercise has been found so fatal.

“I presume you know before this time that the examination of your pupils on Monday last, as far as was consistent in your absence, proceeded with signal honor to Mr. Clarke, and satisfaction to the trustees, of which Mr. Price has, by letter, since his return, given me a most obliging account. But whence hare you your remittances to Bristol? The settling accounts is a trouble of which you should now be eased; I desire therefore, that either you or Mrs, Doddridge will draw on me for any sum you want, without any other ceremony than advising me of it by a line; or if you can devise any other method to prove my friendship, it will be a kind relief to one who is oppressed under a sense of his inability, in this season of difficulty, to do you service.

“And now, my dear friend, though I am no advocate for the sleeping of the soul, yet methinks I could wish that you, who are all send, having so nearly worn out the frail vehicle in its service, could for a while suspend the thinking power, that the body might have time to revive. We all submit to deny ourselves the expectation of hearing from you, that the time a letter would cost you may be devoted to rest. A line from any hand will satisfy us, if you are better; if otherwise, a word will be more than we can well support. Compliments are vain while you possess our hearts; and as for Mrs. Doddridge, while as ministering to you she shares the office, may she partake of the refreshment of angels.

“Adieu. Be God ever with you; which is the most comprehensive good that can be wished you.”

464 PHILIP DODDRIDGi;.

To Miss Doddridge/

“Bkistol Wells, Sept. 4, 1751.

“I thank my dear Polly for her affectionate letter and prudeilt care of my affairs; and t thank God that I have such a daughter. I can write but little, but I give you the plgasure of telling you that I am really and certainly a little better, and that I have great hopes ‘that God will hear the many prayers offered, and conduct me home in due time with joy. In the mean while let us leave ourselves with God, submit to his providence, and hope in his mercy.

“Present my most affectionate love to your ‘dear brother, and dear Mercy and Celia, in which your mamma joinsl I cannot say with what endearments I am yours.”

Soon after the above was written, and indeed previously, it was apparent to the physicians and other friends of Dr. Doddridge, that the only hope for improvement of health, or for the prolongation of his precious life, was to b6 found in a resort to a warmer climate. It was proposed to him to take a voyage to Lisbon. The principal objection in his mind was the great expense to which it would subject him, and which he felt he was unable to provide for. “He doubted whether, with, so precarious a hope of its being beneficial to him, he should pursue it; when his family, which, in case of his decease, would be but slenderly provided for, would suffer so much by the expense of the voyage. It will appear, I hope, to every considerate reader, a glorious circumstance in the doctor’s life, that it was sacrificed to the generous disinterested service of his great Master, and benevolence to mankind; that, with the advantages of a genius and qualifications equal to the highest advancement in the Establishment, and without being chargeable with want of’ economy, he should find himself under the necessity of preserving the little remainder of his life by an expense disproportionate to the provision made for his family, dear to him as his own life.”

It will soon appear, however, that this objection was most courteously set aside by the liberality of a few friends, as soon as it was known that the state of his health demanded the expense of a journey to the sunny land of Portugal.,

From Mr. Williams.

“KiDDEEMINSTBK, Sept. 2, 1761.

“Whither you are going perhaps I shall not follow you just now, but I trust, through the riches of adorable grace, I shall follow you hereafter. I am grieved for myself, and for many dear friends, for the church militant, and particularly for your own dear charge, and most sensibly of all, for dear, Mrs. Doddridge and your children. Bui I dare to congratulate you, dear saint, that having fought a good fight, you are so near the end of your course, and will quickly receive a glorious crown. I rejoige that your evening sun has no cloud. God is faithful. Those who know his name will put their trust in him. Jesus, our almighty friend, is full of compassion, is afflicted in all your affliction, and will not fail to succor you in the darkest hour. Human nature, perhaps, cannot be quite fearless of approaching dissolution; but faith will obtain the victory. God sees fit to hold his dear children in a state of dependence to the last; but the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ is sufficient for you, and will be ever near. You have had many a Pisgah view; and if it be best, you shall have another, a clearer than ever yet, before you pass Jordan. And doubt not, my dear sir, but He *-ho cut off the waters from before the ark, and caused his chosen people to pass dry-shod into Canaan, can do as much for you.

“It will be the joy of my heart to hear you had a triumphant passage into the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. It will also be the joy of my heart if I may have opportunity and ability any way to serve and promote the interests of your dear surviving relatives. And it shall be my daily prayer that your faith may not fail. But I am a poor intercessor. It is well you have many, many others, and One that is infinitely better.”

From the Rev. W. Warburton, D. D.

“Peioe Paek, Sept. 2, 1751.

“Your Mnd letter gave me, and will give Mr. Allen great concern; but for ourselves, not you. Death, whenever it happens, in a life spent like yours, is to be envied, not pitied; and you will- have the prayers of your friends, as conquerors have the shouts of the crowd. God preserve you: if he continues you here, to go on in his service; if he takes you to himself, to be crowned with glory.

“Be assured the memory of our friendship will be as durable as my life. I order an inquiry to be made of your health from time to time; but if you fatigue yourself anf more in writing, it will prevent me that satisfaction. I am, dear sir, your most affectionate friend and brother,

“•W. WARBURTON.” From the Rev. Caleb Ashwortli to Mrs. Doddridge.

“London, Sept. 10, 1751.

“I have been nearly a fortnight in town, and have scarcely heard any news inquired for but, ‘How is Dr. Doddridge?’ You will believe I have been not a little pleased with the concern that every person I have met with, and even some whom I suspected of being too indifferent, have discovered. It was indeed a very sensible satisfaction to me, not only as a proof of respect to a person so deservedly dear to me, but also as it gave encouragement to hope that God would hear those prayers which his people seemed disposed so universally to offer on this account. God did not surely design to give that shock to our faith in the beneiit of prayer, which the denial of those addresses would have been which he had put it into our hearts to present. I say which he had put into our hearts; for though we could never part with Dr. Doddridge without great reluctance, I do verily believe there was much of God’s influence in that earnestness which we found ourselves inclined to use upon the occasion.

“And for you, dear madam, may the eternal God be your support, and giTe you proportionable strength under all the sympathy you feel, the labors you are called to undertake, and the fears you may at any time have occasion to entertain. These are prayers daily offered up with unfeigned importunity; and which, I trust, it will endear the methods of providence to me to find answered.

Doildridse. 20 “I beg my cordial salutations to the doctor, and that you will tell him I was scarcely ever more desirous to see my own father; and that I feel great joy in the hope of meeting him at Northampton, and of joining my brethren in praising God on his account, with a fervency equal to that with which we united ip. pouring forth our hearts in prayer for him.”

.^ From Nathaniel Neal, Esq,

“TOTfBBiDGE Wbixs, Sept. 11, 1751.

“Mr. Johnson came into Mr. Barker’s lodgings with your letter while I was there to-day with my family at dinner, and after the contents of it had been considered, I was desired to put our united opinion, which you know, where a consultation has been held, is the province of the youngest, into writing.

“We all agree that the single point which must determine the expedience of your mg,king trial of a warmer climate, is the probability of its restoring your health, of which your physicians are the only competent judges. The accounts you have had of its success in like cases, ie undoubtedly a strong testimony in favor of their judgment; and Mr. Barker mentioned it to me last Sunday as what he apprehended might prove the most probable means of your speedy and perfect recovery.

“The objections arising in your mind, from your connections with your academy, church, or family, must not be suffered to deter or perplex you. If we cannot supply your place for eix months, how shall we supply it if you go to the world from which there is no return? Be assured, my dear friend, that so far from being dismayed, w-e spring foriard in the hope of being instrumental in keeping alive the many precious interests that lie near your heart, till you return and cherish them again under your own tender wing. “May God Almhty, the alone all-suf&cient friend and counsellor, inspire you and your dear lady with wisdom and magnanimity equal to every emergency; and be assured that, while we have any heart or breath remaining, our prayers and our affections will follow you, though you should remove to the ends of the earth.”

From the same.

“Million Bank, -Sept. 21, 1751. ■” I pray Gsod the measure advised by so great a body of the college may be as successful as, with such a sanction, it was apparently irresistible.

“Your provision for the academy, I can already assure you, is very satisfactory to Dr. Jennings, Mr: Price, and myself, and I have no doubt will be so to Dr. Guyse, to whom I shall commilnicate, it the first opportunity. We had a meeting on the day before your last letter arrived; at which -the trustees unanimously, and with the warmest affection, a,greed to desire your acceptance of thirty guineas, as a present towards your expenses at Lisbon, and in your voyage thither.

“And now, my dear friend, I cheerfully accept the office of your banker and steward; and though I undertake for nothing more, yet, from the generous ardor many of your friends express towards you, do not despair of receiving your stock entire, if it be the will of God that you return to us again.. You go. with a full gale of prayer, and I trust we. shall stand ready on the shore to receive you back with shouts of praise. But it becomes us also to be prepared for a more awful event; and I think it needful to desire you to tell Mrs. Doddridge, though God forbid the hand should ■*ound that fain would heal, that we, as it were, forget you, I had almost said forget ourselves,’ while we think of her; that she is heir to every heart that is yet yours; above all, that she is sure of an interest in that God whose arms are everlasting, whose presence is universal, and whose compassions never fail. He is the Creator of the ends of the earth, who fainteth not, neither is weary, and there is no searching’his understanding. Oh, sir, the time is hastening when these ways of his, which are now so unsearchable, shall appear to have been marked out by the counsels of infinite wisdom; and we, who may be left longest to lean upon sCnd support one another by turns in this weary land, shall fix our feet on those everlasting hills where our joys shall never leave us, nor our vigor ever fail. Then, my dear friend, may we be one in that union which cannot be dissolved.”

From Sir George, afterwards Lord Lyttelton.

* “Haqlby, Oct.6, 175L

“My concern was so great on the account I received from the Bishop of Worcester -of your ill health, that in the midst of my grief for the death of my father, when I had scarcely performed my last duties to him, I wrote to you at Bristol, which letter, I find, you never received. Indeed, my dear friend, there are few losses I shouldmore sensibly feel than yours, if it should please God, to take you from me; but I trust he will be so gtacious to your family and your friends as to prolong your life, and defer your reward for some time longer; and I am persuaded no human means can be found better than those -which have been prescribed to you of removing to Lisbon, and passing the winter in that mild climate; only let me entreat you to lay by all studies while you are there, for too much application, and a very little in your state is too much, would frustrate the benefit which we may hope from the change of air. The complying with this injunction will be the best recompense you can make Mrs. Doddridge for all the obligations you owe to her; and if I have any authority with jfiii, as I flatter myself I have, I would employ it all to enforce this upon you, for I do verily think your life may depend on it. You have brought on your disease by too continual study and labor in your. spiritual functions, and an entire remission of mind is absolutely necessary for your recovery. I therefore request it of you not to write the preface to Bower’s book, it will do more harm to you than good to him; the merit of the work will bear it up against all these attacks; and as to the ridiculous story of my having discarded him, the intimate friendsHp in which we continue to live will be a sufficient answer to that, and better than any testimony formally given.

“My poor father met death with so noble a firmness, and so assured a hope of a blessed immqrtality, that it has raised our thoughts above our grief, and fixed them much more on the examplS he has left us, than on the loss we have sustained. It is also a comfort to us, that upon his body being opened, as he ordered it should be, we found the cause of his violent

pains was of such a nature as death alone could remove or relieve.

“Let me know by every mail how yon do, and depend upon it that if Providence shall call you away to the crown prepared for you, nothing in my power shall he wanting, as long as I live, to show the affection I had for you in my regard to your widow and family; but I hope your life will be preserved for their sake to be an ornament to the Christian church, and a support of religion in these bad times. May God Almighty grant it, and may we meet again with the pleasure which friends restored to each other feel after so alarming a parting. But. if- that be denied, may we meet in the next world to part no more, through His power, who will, I trust, blot out my offences, and make me worthy to be a partaker with you of his heavenly kingdom.”

Deeply was the sensitive heart of Doddridge affected by the various evidences of sympathy and kindness on the part of his numerous friends, which led him often to pour out his earnest thanksgivings to God, the source of all. “It would- amaze you,” he writes, “were I to enumerate the appearances of divine providence for us, in raising up for us many most affectionate friends, who have multiplied the instances of their civility an’d liberality in a manner that has been to me quite wonderful. This is a great encouragement to me to* follow where such a God seems evidently to lead, though it be but a temporary exile. Who would not trust and hope in him?”

It is worthy of record, that during all the weeks

HIS Cast days. 463

and months of his wearisome and painful illness, he exhibited the most admirable patience and cheerfulness. He uttered no complaints; breathed not a syllable of discontent; maintained a serene and heavenlytemper; obligingly acknowledged every favor, rendered even by servants, and showed his regard for their welfare by his pious counsels. His greatest source of trial was the prohibition of conversation, on account of the diseased state of his lungs, thus cutting him off from a form of usefulness in which he delighted, and greatly excelled.

On Sept. 17, 1851, Dr. Doddridge commenced from Bristol his last journey. Ten days were occupied in. reaching Falmouth, in Cornwall, owing to the badness of the roads, unfavorable weather, and his own increasing debility. “As fancy sees the falling leaves and rain,” -writes Mr. Stoughton, “and hears the autumnal wind of that year, how they seem to drop and sweep- with sad significance round the old-fashioned chariot and four which bears the languid frame of our dear Doddridge through the rough wet roads of Devonshire; we feel, as we ride along with him, as if the hearse were not far behind. Violent symptoms at the place of embarkation for Lisbon suggest the proposal, ‘Shall he return?’ He answers, ‘The die is cast, and I choose to go.’ “We go with him on board the commodious packet-boat secured for him by his friend Warbiirton, and as we are touched to the heart by the patience of the sufferer, we are equally affected with admiration at the heroism and tenderness of the brave-hearted woman, his faithful wife.^’

These last remarks -ndll be more fully appreciated by attending to the circumstance that the intense bigotry and power of the Romish priests in Portugal at that period were well understood”, and that shouM Dr. Doddridge become known to them as a Protestant minister, and as the author of the erangelical writings from his pen, some of which were circulating in Lisbon; both he and his friends might suffer greatly from their intolerance.

His last letter in England, which was written at Falmouth, possesses a peculiar interest. The conclusion is as follows: “I hare trespassed a great deal on your time, and a little on my own strength. I say a little; for when writing to such a friend, as I seem less absent from him, it gives me new spirits, and soothes my mind agreeably. Oh when shall we meet in that world where we shall haive nothing to lament, and nothing to fear, for ourselves, or for each other, or any dear to us? Let us think of this as a momentary state, and aspire more ardently after the blessings of that. If I survive my voyage, a line shall tell you how I bear it. If not, all will be well,; and, as good Mr. Howe says, I hope I shall embrace the wave, that, when I intended Lisbon, should land me in heaven. I am more afraid of doing wrong than of dydng.”

His last Sabbath in England was passed, and on the’day following, Sept. 30, he embarked for Lisbon, amid the tearful regrets and tender farewells of affectionate friends, and was soon conveyed from the shores of his native land, which he hsd loved and adorned and served so well. The change of scene, the pleasant sea-breeze, and a delightful frame of fnind, at first contributed greatly to his bodily comfort. He had the privilege of occupying the cabin of the captain, who for some reason did not go on the present Toyage; and it proved a Bethel, the house of God, the gate of heaven. To his wife he several times conveyed the welcome intelligence, “I cannot express to you what a morning I have had; such delightful and transporting views of the heavenly world is my -Father now indulging me with as no words can express.” Such gratitude to God shone in his devout and joyful countenance, as brought vividly, to her mind a stanza in one of his own excellent hymns:

“When death o’er nature shall prevail,
And all the powers of language fail; ’
Joy through my swimming eyes shall break.
And mean the thanks I cannot speak.”

In the Bay of Biscay the vessel was detained by a calm for several exceedingly hot days, which completely prostrated Dr. Doddridge, and threatened almost immediate death; but as the weather changed, and a gentle breeze carried the vessel fbrward to the Tagus, he revived, and was enabled to survey with high gratification its romantic banks adorned with olive-yards, orange groves, and vineyards, until Lisbon was reached, extending far on the river, and covering the adjacent hills. The landing was made on the Sabbath, October 13, 1751. On the next day he wrote a few lines to his assistant at Northampton, giving a brief account of Ms- voyage, describing the magnificent appearance of Lisbon from the sea, and some of the objects of interest observed in passing through it. After an allusion to his own great weakness and critical state, he adds, “Nevertheless, I bless God the most undisturbed serenity continues in my mind, and my strength holds proportion to my day. I still hope and trust in God, and joyfully acquiesce in all he may do with me. When you see my dear friends of the congregation, inform them of my circumstances, and assure them that I cheerfully submit myself -to God — if I desire life may be restored, it is chiefly that it may be employed in serving Christ among them; that I am enabled to look upoji death as an enemy that shall be destroyed; and that I can cheerfully leave my dear Mrs. Doddridge a widow in thjs strange land, if .such be the appointment of our heavenly Father, I hope I have done my duty, and ’ the Lord do as seemeth good in his sight.’”

At Lisbon he was hospitably entertained by an English merchant, whose mother was connected with his congregation at Northampton, and had received, together ‘with some of her relatives, special of&ces of kindness at the hands of Dr. Doddridge, so that he was now a welcome guest. Here he was glad to meet with the treatise of Dr. Watts “On the Happiness of Separate Spirits,” calling it “that blessed book;” in the reading of which, and of Dr. Watts’ hymns, and of the sacred volume, as strength was given him, he passed many a delightful hour. Another worthy family, related to Mrs. Doddridge, and which, through Mends in England, had been apprized of his visit to their city, called on him, and offered every accommodation and civility in their power. But on the week after his arrival, by the advice of his physician, he was removed to a retired residence, a few miles from Lisbon,

HIS LAST DAYS. 46t

for the benefit of air and. exercise; the rainy season however, coming on with unusual violence, confined him’ to the house, and hastened his disease to a fatal crisis. A severe diarrhoea seized him on the 24th of October, and rapidly exhausted his remaining strength, yet his mind retained all its wonted serenity, cheerfulness, and joy. To his devoted wife, who constantly attended upon him, he said that it had been his earnest supplication that she might receive divine comfort and support; that it had been his desire, if God so willed, to remain a little longer on earth to prosecute the work of his beloved Lord and. Master; but that now the only source of pain to him, in the. thought of dying, was his apprehension of the distress and grief which his removal would occasion her. After a brief pause, he added, “But I am sure my heavenly Father will be with you. It is a joy to me to think how many friends and comforts you are returning to. So sure am I that God will be with you and comfort you, that I think my death will be a greater blessing to you than my life hath ever been.”

He requested her to convey to his children, his people, and all his friends, his affectionate remembrance, and expressed most benevolent regards for the family that surrounded him, and the servant that waited upon him. He renewed his covenant engagements with God, and expressed a cheerful hope of acceptance through divine mercy, in the blessed Redeemer. The following day he passed in gentle sleep, which continued until about an hour before his dissolution, on October 26, 0. S., 1751.

It is mentioned by Mr. Orton, as a circumstance which afforded much satisfaction to Mrs: Doddridge and her friends at Lisbon, that he was not molested in these last scenes, as they feared a person of his profession and character would have been, by any officious priests of the church of Rome; who, it is well known, are fond of intruding on such occasions, and had been the means of adding to the distress of many Protestant families in Lisbon” and its environs, during the sickness and at the. death of their relations.

It had been the long-cherished desire of Dr.- Doddridge that his remains should rest in his own graveyard at Northampton; but during his last illness, he represented it as a matter of personal indifference, and expressed a wish that wherever he should die, he might be buried, and thus give as little trouble as possible to his surviving wife. In the present condition of things the removal of his body to England would have been attended with great expense, and it was decided to inter it in the burying-ground belonging to the British factory at Lisbon. The Lisbon earthquake soon followed, but his grave remains to this day; and like Henry Martyn’s at Tocat, is to the Christian traveller a little spot of holy ground. A plain monument was placed over his grave. In 1828 a beautiful .tribute was paid to his memory by the Rev. Mr. Taylor, in causing a new and more suitable marble monument to be erected, and substituted for the other, bearing the inscription,

“Philip Doddridge, D. B., died October 26th, 1751, aged 50.”

To this was subjoined.

“With high respect for his character and -writings, this stone of remembrance was raised upon a former one in decay, in the month of June, 1828, at the desire and expense of Thomas Tayler, of all his numerous pupils the only one living.”

Duty and inclination demand that we should here add a few words relating to this, the last survivor of Doddridge’s pupils, who, after having suffered blindness for several years, died in London, in November, 1831, in his ninety-seventh year. He was born near Kidderminster in 1735, and belonged to the congregation of the excellent Benjamin Pawcett, to whom the reader has been already introduced, and by him was sent, at fifteen years of age, to study for the ministry under Dr. Doddridge, a»few months only before the death of that eminent man. His preparatory studies for the ministry were completed in the same institution, though removed to Daventry, under the direction of Dr. Caleb Ashworth, who had succeeded Dr. Doddridge as president of the academy. At the close of his studies he became for some years domestic chaplain to Mrs. Abney of Stoke Newington, the daughter of the Sir Thomas and Lady Abney to whom Dr. Watts was so much indebted. In 1766 Mr. Tayler became minister of the dissenting congregation in Carter lane, London, an office he usefully filled till May, 1811,, when he resigned the pastoral charge. Especially in the closing years of his life he was most ardently attached to the great peculiarities of the gospel. About two years before his death, in conversation with the late Rev. Dr. Winier, he unbosomed his soul. That gentleman had said,” In your circum-

4t0 PHILIP DODDEIDGE.

stances how great a blessing is the hope of the gospel.” His reply -was, “Yes, and I can truly say I rejoice in hope.” After a pause, he added, “But it is a humble hope, I have no dependence on myself. It would be a poor hope indeed, if it were to rest on any thing which I have done in the way of merit. No; all my hope rests on the mediation and sacrifice of my divine Redeemer, his atoning sacrifice. Some people profess to believe in the atonement, but they make no use of it. Now I look on the priesthood and sacrifice of the Son of God as the only ground to support those expectations which a covenant God has called forth in my heart.” He added, “Whoever is right, I am sure, if the gospel be true, Socinians are wrong. And I see no material difi’erence between them and Arians; f6r without entering into minutiae which we cannot understand, Christ and the Father are one; and the Saviour’s participation of the divine nature is that which gives efficacy to his sacrifice.” He then exclaimed, with great feeling, “Grace, grace:, this is the sum -and substance, and centre and source of salvation.” On another occasion, speaking of the doctrine of the atonement, he exclaimed, “The atonement I why, it is the foundation of the gospel, the key-stone of the arch, the only consolation of a poor sinner. Oh what should I do if there were no atonement?” Speaking to his own church, in his funeral-sermon, for Mr. Tayler, Dr. Winter referred to the manner in which he had often communed with them at the Lord’s supper:” With what deep and devout feelings, too much for his enfeebled frame, he joined in the service, we have witnessed with sympathy and delight. I can never lose the impression produced on my mind, on hearing him as he sat by my side, with feeble lips and a faltering voice, but with peculiar energy of devotion the tears trickling down his cheeks, join in singing, at the commemorative table, that expressive stanza,

“‘We see the blood of Jesus shed,
Whence all our hopes arise;
The sinner views the atonement made.
And loves the sacrifice.’”

We are not surprised that such a man should select, as the text of his funeral-sermon, “Christ in you the hope of glory.” Col. 1: 27.

In the church edifice of Dr. Doddridge at Northampton, a handsome monument was erected at the expense of the congregation, with the following appropriate inscription, prepared by his greatly esteemed friend and correspondent, Gilbert West, Esq., LL. D:

So the Memory

OP

PHILIP DODDRIDGE, D. D.,

TWENTY-ONE YEABS PASTOR OF THIS CHURCH,

DIRECTOR OF A FLOURISHING ACADEMY,
AND AUTHOR OF MANT EXCELLENT WRITINGS,

BY WHICH

HIS PIOUS, BENEVOLENT, AND INDEFATIGABLE ZEAL

TO MAKE MEN WISE, GOOD, AND HAPPY,

■WnjL FAE BETTER BE MADE KNOWN,

AND PERPETUATED MUCH LONGER,

THAN BY THIS OBSCURE AND PERISHABLE MARBLE;

THE HUMBLE MONUMENT, NOT OP HIS PRAISE,

BUT OP THEIR ESTEEM, AFFECTION, AND REGARD,

WHO KNEW HIM, LOTED HIM, AND LAMENT HIM,

AND WHO ARE DESIROUS OP RECORDING,

IN THIS INSCRIPTION,

THEIR FRIENDLY BUT FAITHFUL TESTIMONT

TO THE MANY AMIABLE AND CHRISTIAN VIRTUES

TEAT ADORNED HIS MORE PEITATE CHARACTER;

BY WHICH, THOUGH DEAD, HE YET SPEAKETH,

AND STILL PRESENT IN REMEMBRANCE,

FORCIBLY, THOUGH SILENTLY ADMONISHETH

HIS ONCE BELOVED AND EVE? GRATEFUL FLOCK.

HE WAS BORN JUNE 26, 1702,

AND DIED OCTOBER 26, 175L

AGED 50.

In person Dr. Doddridge was above the avemge standard of height, thin, and inclined to stoop. His voice was not naturally pleasant, but corresponded with the plain and manly dignity of his countenance. When, however, he became animated in conversation, or interested in his pulpit discussions, his vivacity and energy commanded general attention. Of his portrait, taken August 11, 1750, about fourteen months before his decease, he writes, “Yesterday my picture was finished, and a good picture it is, though I think rather too young and handsome, but it is allowed to be in the main a good likeness.”

An early opportunity was taken by the bereaved widow to communicate to her children in England the tidings of their irreparable loss, in a letter which does great credit alike to her piety, intellectual culture, and maternal excellence:

“Lisbon, October, 1751.

“My deab Children — How shall I address you under this awful and melancholy providence 1 I would fain say something to comfort you, and I hope God will enable me to suggest what may, in some measure, alleviate your distress. I went out in a firm dependence, that if infinite Wisdom pleased to call me out to duties and trials as yet unknown. He would grant me those superior aids of strength that would support and keep me from fainting under them — persuaded that there was no distress or sorrow into which he could lead me, under which his gracious and all-suflBcient arm could not support me. He has not disappointed me, nor suffered the eyes and heart directed to him to fail. ‘God all-sufficient and my only hope,’ is my

4T4 PHILIP DODDRIDGE.

motto’; let it be yours. Such I have indeed found him, and such I verily believe you will find him, in this time of deep distress.

“Oh, my dear children, help me to praise him. Such supports, such consolationSj he has granted to one of the meanest and most unworthy of his creatures, that my mind is at times held in perfect astonishment, and is ready under its exquisite distress to burst out into songs of praise.

“As to outward comforts, he has withheld no good thing from me, but has given me all the supports that the tenderest friendship was capable of affording me, in this time of great extremity, and which I think my dear Northampton Mends could hardly have exceeded. Their prayers are not lost, and I doubt not but that I am reaping the benefit of them, and I hope my dear children will do the same. Such a solicitude of friendship was scarcely ever known as I meet with here; I have more offers of kind service than I can employ, and it seems a real concern to many that they can find out no way to serve me. These are great honors conferred on the dear deceased, and great comforts to me. It is impossible to say how much these mercies ar« endeared by coming in such an immediate manner from the divine hand. To his name be the praise and glory of all. And now, my dear children, whatvshall I say to you? — ours is no common loss; I mourn the best of husbands and friends, removed from our world of sin and sorrow to the regions of immortal life and glory. What a mercy is it ihat my thoughts are enabled with joy to pursue him thither. You have lost, my dear children, the dearest and the best of parents, the guide of your youth, and whose pleasure it would have been to have introduced you with advantage into the world. Great, indeed, is our loss, and yet I really think the loss the public have sustained is still greater. I am ready to say, ‘The glory is departed;’ but God will never want instruments to carry on his work. Let us be thankful that God ever gave us such a friend, and that he continued him so long, though every hour and day has only tended the more to endear him to us. Indeed, had we been to judge, we should have thought that neither we nor the world could ever less have spared him than at the present time. But I see the hand of Heaven, the appointment of his wise providence in every step of this awful dispensation. It is his hand that has put into ours this bitter cup; and what does he now expect from us? a meek, humble, and entire submission to his will: we know this is our duty; let us pray for those aids of his grace which may enable us to attain it. A father of the fatherless is God in his holy habitation. As such may our eye be directed to him; he will support and comfort you: that he may, is not only my daily, but my hourly prayer.

“We have never deserved so great a good as that which we have lost, and let us remember that the best respect we can pay to his memory, is to endeavor, as far as we can, to follow his example, and to cultivate those lovely qualities which rendered hifn so justly dear to us, and so much esteemed in the world.

“It is impossible for me to say how tenderly my heart feels for you all, how much I long to be with yon, to comfort and assist you. Indeed, this is the only inducement I have now left to wish for life, that I may do what lies in my power to form and guide your tender youth. For this purpose I take all possible care of my health, eat, drink, sleep, and converse at times with tolerable cheerfulness. You, my dear children, as the best return you can make, will do the same, that I may not have sorrow upon sorrow. The many kind friends you have around you will not, I am sure, be wanting in giving you all the assistance and comfort in their power. My kindest salutations attend them all.

“I hope to. leave this place in about fourteen or twenty days, but fear that I cannot reach Northampton in less than six weeks or two months; may God be with you, and give us, though it must be a mournful, yet a comfortable meeting. For your sake I trust my life will be spared; and I bless God my mind is under no painful anxiety as to the difficulties and da;ngers of the voyage before me. The winds and the waves are in his hands, to whom I cheerfully resign myself, and all that is dearest to me. I know I shall have your prayers, and those of my dear friends with you.

“Farewell, my dear children; your afflicted but most sincere friend, and ever affectionate mother,

“M. DODDRIDGE.”

In consequence of her husband’s dying abroad, Mrs. Doddridge lost a considerable annuity which he had provided for her in case of widowhood; but among his friends in London a subscription was promptly filled through the kind and zealous efforts of Mr.

Neal, which secured to her a larger sum than the annuity which had been forfeited.

In memory of Dr. Doddridge, one of his later pupils, the ReT. Henry Moore, prepared a poem, which Mr. Orton in his Memoir has preserved, and which contains the following lines:

“Who to the temple of eternal truth Shall guide with skilful care our wandering youth? O’er darkened science shed unclouded day, And strew with flowery sweets the thorny way? Quenched is our prophet’s fire: those lips no more Religion’s pure and sacred treasures pour; To holy rapture wake the languid frame, And through the breast impart celestial flame. No more o’er guilty minds he shakes the rod, Armed with the awful ter-rors of his God; ’

While, chiUed with horror, starts tlje conscious soul. And hears appalled the avenging thunder roU.”

In the diary of the excellent President Davies, who Tisited England in 1754, on behalf of the college of Princeton, we find some very, happy references to Dr. Doddridge and his amiable widow. In August of the year to which we have referred. Dr. Davies says, “August 11, preached in Dr. Doddridge’s pulpit; and the sight of his monument with a very significant inscription, struck my mind with uncommon energy. The congregation is decreased” since the doctor’s death, as they can find none to supply his place fully. Monday, went in company with Mr. Warburtoii “and Mr. Wilkinson to make private applications’ among the people, and received about six-teen pounds, of which Mrs. Doddridge procured me three guineas. Dined with her, and found her conversation animated

4T8 PHILIP DODDRIDGE.

with good sense and piety. She remembered me as a correspondent of ’ the dear deceased, as she calls the doctor,, and treated me with uncommon friendship. I was surprised that she coul talk of him with so much composure, notwithstanding her flowing affections. She told me she never ha,d a more comfortable season, than when returning from Lisbon, on the boi-sterous ocean, after the doctor’s death.”

Writing the day after, of his leaving Northampton, he says, “Spent an hour with dear Mrs. Doddridge, and at her request, parted with prayer, in which I found my heart much enlarged. She made a remark that has often occurred to me since, ;that ‘she rejoiced that the dear deceased was called to the tribunal of his Master with a heart full of such generous schemes for the good of mankind, which he had zeal to project, though not life to execute.’ May this be my happy. cpise.”

It would justly be regarded as a great deficiency, were we to close our narrative without subjoining at least a brief sketch of the subsequent history of Doddridge’s family. This we can most concisely and satisfactorily give in the words of Mr. Stoughton, who, having spoken of the Christian magnanimity with which Mrs. Doddridge borfe the heavy trial laid upon her by the death of” her husband in a land of ‘’strangers, adds: ’

“She soon returned to her desolate house, and devoted herself, with characteri|tic energy and wisdom, to the formation of the character of her four surviving children. They had from their infancy been mainly dependent upon her instruction and influence, *tkeir father’s numerous public engagements having interfered with the maintenance of much parental oversight and instruction on his part, The son. was sixteen years of age at the time of his father’s death; when he was sent to Dr. Ashworth’s academy to study for the ministry. Letters still preserved show, that before his studies were completed he became conscious the ministry was not the office to which he was called, and relinquishing his early prospects, and disappointing, probably, a mother’s hope, he adopted the study of the law. Miss ‘Doddridge was married to John Humphreys, Esq., of Tewkesbury, to which town Mrs. Doddridge retired with her two unmarried daughters,, Mary and Anna Cecilia. This excellent lady lived to a good old age, distinguished by noble qualities of

mind and heart, nd after passing through fresh domestic trials in her last days, entered her everlasting rest in 1790, at the age of eighty-two. Her children seem all to have been possessed of vigorous minds, and in this respect to have inherited their mother’s endowments; especially Mary, whose mental qualities were evidently of a very superior order. She died at Bath in 1809, at the age of seventy-five.”

To some of our readea-s it may be gratifying to read the following lines, written by the Rev. Dr. Leask of London in the study of Doddridge, in 1852, more than a century after his decease:

“This is true reverence. Honor to the, heart That loves the relics of the illustrious dead; And blessings on the hand that will not touch, Even to ‘improve’ what he once called his ownl So let it be. The prophet’s table stands -,* Just where he left it; every thing remains In undisturbed simplicity: ere needs - No otjstly monument; this room says all: Here Philip DoDDBiDGE thought. ‘T is lasting fame. These walls are sacred. Often have they felt The holy breath of prayer, and echoed back To the devout petitioner, ‘Amen!’ As if an angel whispered the response. And angels have been here, the witnesses Of hallowed meditation. They beheld ‘The rise and progress ’ of a stream of thought Whose living energy hath prostrated Thousands of spirits at the feet of Christ. Here the first dawning of the morning found The student of the statute-book of heaven. With loving perseverance trsfcing out The ’ harmony’ of God’s evangelists; And here the Lord’ of angels ‘oft has sent,” Deep draughts of joy, and glorious beams of hope, To him who wrote, while love inspired the pen, ‘I live in pleasure while I live to thee.’