blame myself with having left undone anything which I wish had been done, and with having done any thing which I wish had not been done. I am perfectly satisfied that the most likely means to restore her were used, and when employed in a spirit of dependance on the blessing of God, we ought to be perfectly satisfied with the result."

66

His prayers for his patients were very constant. In one instance he says, I greatly doubt as to the result, but I know where alone we can look for power to raise him. I know in whose hands are the issues of life. I know who alone can bless the remedies which are employed for his recovery, and I do not cease to seek that blessing, and to intercede for him at the Throne of Grace."

It came to his knowledge that Dr. Hope made a regular practice of praying for his patients. At this time he writes, "I have long been in the habit of specially interceding for those who appeared to be in the greatest danger, but by God's grace for the future I will regularly plead for all."

I am quite aware that the natural man will be moved to anger at such statements as this. But I honour those who dare thus to avow their dependence on God-and I pity from my inmost heart the man, if such there be, who presumes to lift his hand to cure the bodily ailments of his fellowmen, before he has lifted his heart to God to ask his guidance and his blessing. Oh it is manly to confess our dependence upon God-it is most unmanly to conceal or to deny it.

But the fidelity of our departed brother was strikingly shewn, in his conduct towards those whom he knew to be beyond the reach of human help.

He spoke the truth to them. And wherever he thought no one else. would discharge that duty, he spoke the truth to them as to their caseand as to their souls-as to their temporal and eternal welfare. It is not very long since he received a letter from the vicar of a neighbouring parish, thanking him for faithfully admonishing one of his parishioners of the near approach of death.

This almost naturally leads me to remark,

5. His Courage in the Confession of Christ before men.

He was often exposed to obloquy and reproach on this account. But he did not shrink. He was one of those who repudiated that pestilential notion (now thank God almost annihilated,) that the clergy are the Church. He knew and felt that he was a member of the Church, and had as such a duty to perform-and boldly and zealously did he perform it-ever ready with heart and hand to come forward. It will be, I doubt not, in the recollection of some present, how, when a few years ago, the Socialist and Chartist bodies exhibited their hatred to all religion, and in particular to the Established Church, by combining to throw into confusion a public meeting, Dr. Favell manfully stood forward, and mainly through his bold, energetic, and eloquent address, the tide was turned, and in spite of most disgraceful proceedings, the resolutions were carried, and the cause of God and of the Church triumphed. On that occasion I find the following entry in his Diary :"I am quite satisfied that the only means of promoting the peace and happiness and prosperity of the country is by the diffusion of religious truth; and I am just as fully convinced that the only efficient instrument for effecting that is the Established Church."

6. His spirituality of mind.

This was evinced by his love of Christian society, and by the jealousy with which he questioned himself on this subject. He writes" Do I sufficiently value the society of those who are going heavenward? Am I only an intruder ?"

"O, Holy Ghost, be thou my guide,

My constant, faithful stay ;
And bring me from this murky night,
To cloudless, nightless day.'

On the coronation day of Queen Victoria, he remarks, "The day was splendid, and harmonized well with the happiness which beamed from every countenance. Probably I shall never see another coronation day in this world, Oh, may God grant that

I may so walk, as finally to receive an imperishable crown when this world shall be no more. ""

After an evening spent among Christian friends, he remarks, "What a much more rational and Christian way is this of spending an evening than card-playing and dancing. Surely we have need of the sanctifying influence of the Holy Spirit as much in our hours of leisure and recreation, as of his guidance and direction when engaged in the active duties of life. I am by no means certain that our leisure hours are not our most dangerous ones.

A poor woman had told him that Christ was all her desire ;-he notes it down, adding, "Is He all mine?"

In the dark and gloomy month of November, he writes, "What need they care for external gloom who have the Lord for their light."

But in the last place, I mark,— His habitual thought of, and preparation for death.

I am quite struck with this. He seems almost in spirit to have penetrated the veil that hides this world from the next. And to have lived realizing the fact that this life is a part of the next. It is the seed time. Eternity is the harvest. And, brethren, Be not deceived; what a man soweth that shall he reap." On one occasion he writes, "How difficult a thing it is to realize the idea of our own death. Nothing is more certain than that we must die, and yet we secretly feel as if we should not taste death. O Lord, prepare me for death whenever it shall please Thee to call me hence-prepare me for judgment before thy throne-prepare me for glory in thine everlasting kingdom."

In his first illness he writes-" I have been called upon to suffer the will of God upon a sick bed. Though cast down, I was not forsaken, and am thankful to record that my strength was equal to my day. I enjoyed perfect peace. My constant prayer was neither for life nor death, but for entire conformity to the will of God."

At the beginning of this year he writes-"What may be the events in store for me this year I cannot possibly know, but I desire to be passive in

the hands of my God. O that I may be enabled to walk in closer conformity with His holy will, and to adorn the doctrine of God my Saviour in all things." And a little further I find this prayer, "O Lord, do thou enable me to live in continual preparation for the hour of my departure. Keep me from all wilful sin and transgression. Wash me in the all-cleansing blood of Jesus. Quicken me by thy Spirit, guide me by thy counsel, and prepare me for thy glory-all which blessings I ask in the name, and for the merits of my only Redeemer and Saviour."

Those who knew our departed friend the best, thought they observed in him, if I may so speak, a premature ripeness for another and a better world-premature for us, but not for

him.

His was the bending of the ripening ears of corn as the days of harvest drew nigh-the fuller and heavier it became, the nearer the sickle it stooped.

I will detain you no longer. I have rather sought to set before you how he lived than how he died. I think it the wiser and the safer course. On the last Sunday of his stay on earth, he was vouchsafed the privilege to partake of the Supper of the Lord; and on the following Thursday he was translated without a pang, to drink of that wine new in his heavenly Father's kingdom.

The Rev. James Knight, in his Sermon the same evening, observes—

Amiable beyond most of his fellows in the temperament and disposition of mind, with which, from his earliest years, God had signally endowed him, he had always peculiarly endeared himself to his relatives and friends, and to all who were intimately acquainted with him: but when he had been brought under the more direct influence of the principles of that holy religion-the religion of the Gospel of Jesus Christ-which he most fully and cordially embraced,— then, indeed, the loveliness of what I may perhaps not improperly call his constitutional temper, became richly graced and adorned with the beauties of holiness-those inimitable beauties which nothing but the renewing in

fluence of the Spirit of God, experienced in the heart, can first communicate and then cause to shine forth with a mild and attractive brightness. Thus "renewed in the spirit of his mind" our departed brother was truly and largely devoted in heart and life to God. Few, indeed, I may venture to say-perhaps none but his own family-knew him more intimately than he who now speaks to you: and in some respects and on some particular points, peradventure, the present speaker knew him even more intimately than they; and he has no hesitation in expressing his firm conviction that his departed friend made very large sacrifices of a temporal nature and in regard to worldly things, that he might devote himself to God, and live most effectually in his service, in his fear, and to his glory. With this great object habitually before him, he was, as you have already been impressively informed from this place, most diligent and punctual in the faithful discharge of his various active duties, personal, professional, social, and domestic. At the same time he was, in no ordinary degree, "patient in tribulation." Ever ready in regard to others, with a tender and sympathizing heart, to "weep with those that wept," even as he "rejoiced with those that did rejoice," when the afflicting hand of God was laid upon himself, as of late years it was both heavily and for a protracted period, again and again, in his family and in his person, he was submissively resigned to the will of his heavenly Father, repeatedly declaring in placid tones, and with a smiling countenance, that "all was well"-that "all was ordered for the best."

With reference to Dr. Favell's last illness, Mr. Knight observes

But I have yet further to observe, that, as our departed brother was eminently a righteous man, so HIS DEATH WAS DESIRABLE. "What!" -it may perhaps be tacitly asked by some of those whom I am addressing

"Could that death be desirable, which took place at so remote a distance from home, and under circumstances so peculiarly trying?"-With

the circumstances immediately attendant and closely consequent upon the death of our departed Brother, I doubt not, most of those now before me are, to a considerable extent, acquainted. Nevertheless to the supposed question as to its desirableness I am at once prepared to reply— "Yes."-I had almost, indeed, said that that death was desirable, as affording a marvellous illustration of the special Providence of God in regard to those who love and fear him, and who humbly confide in his faithfulness and truth: for marvellous indeed was the interposition of that Providence, in so remarkably supplying a real and well-known friend at the very moment of the greatest need, to console and help the bereaved and desolate in the bitterness and depth of their distress. On this remarkable interposition, however, I shall not-I dare not attempt to dwell; though thus briefly to have adverted to it, cannot, I think be esteemed other than seasonable and proper, if not absolutely demanded.* To myself he said, in one of the latest interviews which I had with him, as he lay on the bed of sickness and suffering: "Oh how different would be my condition from what it is, if I had yet my God to seek. This, I can thankfully say, is not the case; and I have now no alarm, no uneasy thought, no anxious concern, for the future: the Lord's will be done; I am

*The friend so seasonably provided was the Rev. W. S. Dumergue, M.A., who for some years had exercised his Ministry in the vicinity of Sheffield, and was well acquainted with Dr. Favell. Having recently taken up his temporary residence at Brighton, he had visited the Doctor at Worthing, not more than an hour before his death, on Thursday, Sept. 10th. An express was sent to him immediately after that event took place; when, with the greatest promptitude, having returned to Worthing, and made such arrangements as the emergency required, he most kindly accompanied the widow of his departed friend to Brighton; and having there accelerated her mournful return, along with her daughter and sister, to her distant home, he again returned to Worthing; from which place, on the following day, he attended the remains of his deceased friend to Sheffield, where he arrived at an early hour on Saturday morning, September 12.

willing either to stay or to go, to live or to die, as He shall see it best."

He had a calm, cheering, and abiding conviction that his life-his spiritual and eternal life—was “hid with Christ in God."-He believed, with a humble confidence, that when "absent from the body" he should be "present with the Lord;" and, carrying his expectation forward to a more remote and still more blessed period, he believed that "when Christ, who is our life, shall appear," he also should "appear with Him in glory." Under the influence of such convictions as these, deeply impressed upon

his mind, he was ever ready to address the God of his salvation in the glowing language of the Psalmist: "Thou shalt guide me with thy counsel, and afterward receive me to glory. Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee. My flesh and my heart faileth: but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever."-Yes, beloved departed friend,-thy God is now indeed thy everlasting portion; and O! may thy everlasting portion be mine!-God in mercy grant it, for Jesus Christ's sake!

It has been said that the vivid perceptions of childhood-how vivid, our own recollections of the first violet and newly wakened primroses of early years, may testify to some amongst us-it has been said, that these acute sensibilities linger with the poet in his after progress through the monotonous paths of life, and for him the beautiful works of God retain the fresh colouring of morn till the shadows of the "dark valley" close around him. Without so entirely assenting to this observation, as quite to identify the feelings of the poet and the child, (a conclusion scarcely flattering to the former,) we must allow that it contains some truth, and may be suggestive of more. Children, we all know, rejoice in the beautiful appearances of nature, so far as they pass within their limited sphere of observation: the keen delight which colours the cheek, and kindles the eye of the child, is in truth poetry, and we should own it as such, if the child had adequate powers of expression. How frequently, and how early, the acute perceptions of infancy become blunted or perverted we daily see; yet the least imaginative, the most perverted, retain a few bright recollections of that early morning, when

every leaf and flower glittered with dew, when every glade was lit with sunshine, and ringing with music. Faint and far between as these recollections may be, their influence is often important and salutary; in a secondary sense regenerating and conservative. When the prodigal came to himself, he remembered his father's house, and the bread eaten there in peace, and it was when softened and attracted by the images of the past, that he exclaimed, with the earnestness of a broken spirit, "I will arise and go to my father." He who knew what was in man, accurately pourtrayed the usual workings of the human heart. In comparatively recent days, a pirate of the Indian seas was recalled from a course of fraud and cruelty by the low moanings of a peculiar species of dove, heard in a solitary place on the shore. The grey-headed sinner remembered the notes, as the sweet and melancholy plainings to which he had hearkened in childhood, and he wept: the voice was to him the "still small voice" of God, he became once more as a little child, and so entered the kingdom of heaven, if we are to judge of the tree by its fruits, for in that hour he departed for ever from his old paths of

iniquity. In further proof of the beneficial influence of the simple and elegant, and therefore poetic and earnest taste usually characteristic of early life, reviving after a torpor of years, we may quote the words of a popular Irish preacher, "I have myself known an individual upon whom effects, incalculably important, were produced, under God, by the simple act of passing from a scene of dissipated gaiety into the calm serenity and splendid illumination of a summer morning; the contrast was overwhelming, the impression could not be resisted. He awoke as from a dream-his conscience was convinced, his heart was changed, he saw the foulness and deformity of sin, he renounced the follies of the world, and in a higher than a natural sense, passed from darkness into light, and from the power of Satan unto God."

No doubt our Saviour's words, "Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter the kingdom of heaven," imply much more than a return to the simple tastes and artless excitability of literal infancy. We know, and are sure, that they include nothing less than the casting down of high imaginations, of everything that exalteth itself, and the subjection of every thought to the obedience of faith; but we may not greatly err if we consider the earnest, unaffected admiration of our heavenly Father's handiwork as very properly accompanying, and fitly harmonizing with, that child-like spirit of humility, which must, as to its rudiments at least, have a place in the heart of every Christian. With the beautiful words of our Saviour before us, "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow," we cannot, and we would not think otherwise.

Were all men to pass their time in poetic dreamings over the flowers of the meadow, or in loftier visions beneath the stars of heaven, the aspect of human affairs would not, we are aware, very rapidly improve, and there is something revolting to common sense in the feeble sentimentality inculcated, and here and there exemplified in a certain class of religious poetry nevertheless it would be refreshing in the busy paths of life, oc

casionally to meet with a measure of that eager, simple appreciation of whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, which kindled the spirit of Chaucer when he bent through a summer day, in an ecstasy of delight over the tiny disc of the daisy flower; which bowed the knee of Linnæus in later times, on the rugged heath, beside the gold-powdered heaps of gorse, that he might thank the Creator for having made a thing so beautiful. There is little danger that many, in our matter-of-fact working days should be led into these extremes of feeling, and our train of thought is therefore a sufficiently safe one.

The present paper commenced with the observation that the vivid perceptions of the poet and the child may, to a certain extent, be regarded as identical, and it has been suggested that the child-like earnestness, the appreciation of whatever is beautiful in the visible world, to which we refer, is quite in harmony with the essential spirit of Christianity, nay, has been the very instrument with which, in some cases, God has changed the heart of the sinner. We know that the poetic spirit has often pursued another path than the strait and thorny way that leadeth unto life, even the broad road of destruction; it has done this in a thousand instances, it may do so in a thousand more; it may be made, it has been made the agent of incalculable evil, while masquerading in the gorgeous raiment of a professedly Christian ritual; it may peradventure become the agent of yet more extended mischief, if sent abroad with the saintly mien and the subdued elegance of manner which some of our fellow-worshippers are so well able to render effective. if there be truth in the affinity at which we have hinted, the spirit of poetry might surely be rendered a more efficient handmaiden in the service of pure religion than she has hitherto proved herself-the spirit we say, for we do not refer, when speaking of Christian poetry, merely to its embodiment within the limits of rhyme and metre-it may take other forms, and appear in other localities than those in which we ordinarily seek it, and in these forms, in these

Yet