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 ^ PRINCETON, N. J. ^%r 
 
 Pr esented by mv- ^. C \v^o\ A 6\v^^ O^. 
 BR 1725 .G67 H34 1858 ^ 
 
 Hall, Newman, 1816-1902. 
 The Christian philosopher 
 triumphing over death 
 
THE 
 
 CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHER 
 
 TRIUMPHING OVER DEATH. 
 
 SI Mar ratine 
 
 OP THE CLOSING SCENES OP THE LIFE OF THE LATS 
 
 WILLIAM GORDON, M.D. F.L.S. 
 
 OF KiyaSTON-UPON-HTTLI,. 
 
 By NEWMAN HALL, B.A. 
 
 Uov (fov, eai/at-s, ro Ktvrpov ; 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 HENRY LONGSTRETH, 347 MARKET STREET. 
 
 1858. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Pleasing, yet painful, is the writer's task. It is a luxury, 
 though a melancholy one, to watch at the bed-side of those 
 whom we dearly love, to administer to their wants, and to 
 share, and thus alleviate, their sufferings. When these offices 
 of affection can no longer be performed, there is a sad satis- 
 faction in still bending over the lifeless frame, and following 
 it to its last resting-place. And when both spirit and body 
 are withdrawn, is there not a similar delight to be derived 
 from lingering around the memory of the departed, and pic- 
 turing as still present, what, alas, is gone for ever 1 
 
 With such feelings, the author of this narrative takes up 
 his pen. Happy to be thus still associated with the dead, yet 
 reminded by every sentence he writes, of the irreparable loss 
 he has sustained. What was not the deceased to him ! Coun- 
 sellor, Companion, Friend, Brother, Partner in his studies, 
 his pleasures, and his cares, one in public sympathies and lite- 
 rary tastes, linked in love to him as were the souls of Jonathan 
 and David, and above all, Father, not merely to his other self, 
 but by the tenderest, the most unwavering affection, to him 
 also. Well may he say with the Patriarch Job—" Have pity 
 upon me, O my friends, for the hand of the Lord hath touched 
 me!" 
 
 Anotfler weight which painfully oppresses the mind of the 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 writer, is the deeply-felt incompetence to do justice to hia 
 theme. His object is not to eulogize the dead, but to benefit 
 the living, by exhibiting the value of that religion which could 
 so wonderfully sustain the deceased amid severe and pro- 
 tracted sufferings, and which enabled him to anticipate the 
 future, with peace, and even with rapture. But the scenes 
 exhibited in that chamber of affliction, no power the writer 
 possesses is adequate to describe. He feels he can never con- 
 vey a just impression to those who did not witness it, of the 
 sacred halo which surrounded that sick bed. His hand trem- 
 bles as it is put forth to the task, lest this remarkable testi- 
 mony to the truth and power of religion should, like a valu- 
 able gem, be spoilt in the setting. Yet he feels it an incumbent 
 duty to make the attempt, as no one else to whom it might be 
 delegated could have the same peculiar qualifications for it, as 
 one who for nearly a month was scarcely ever absent fVom 
 the bed-side of the departed, and who, in claiming to be re- 
 garded as a faithful narrator of facts, can at least say — " We 
 speak that we do know, and testify that we have seen." 
 
 In humble reliance on the Giver of all grace, this volume 
 has been prepared. It is now sent forth with earnest p-rayer, 
 that He would accompany its perusal with His Divine blessing, 
 and that He would bestow both upon writer and readers, a 
 fulfilment of the favourite petition of him whose dying ^y- 
 ings it records — " O thou, to whom all hearts are open, all 
 desires known, and from whom no secrets are hid, cleanse the 
 thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of thy Holy Spirit, 
 that we may perfectly love thee, and worthily magnify tiiy 
 holy name, through Jesus Christ our Lord !'* 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 IS CHRISTIANITY FROM GOD? — WHAT DOES CHRISTIANITY 
 TEACH ? — WHAT CAN CHRISTIANITY EFFECT 1 ... 1 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL. 
 
 BORN AT fountains' HALL — RIPON — EARLY DEVOTION TO 
 
 STUDY — OTLEY — EDINBURG — WELTON PLAN OF STUDY 
 
 RETURNED TO EDINBURGH, AND GRADUATED — SETTLED AT 
 HULL — PUBLIC LIFE — TOTAL ABSTINENCE — PRESIDENT OF 
 THE HULL CHRISTIAN TEMPERANCE SOCIETY — LECTURES 
 
 TO THE WORKING CLASSES PURITY OF HIS MOTIVES AS 
 
 1* 
 
VI COTTTENTS. 
 
 A POLITICIAN — SACRIFICE OF PROFESSIONAL INTERESTS TO 
 CONVICTIONS— BENEVOLENCE TO THE POOR — CHARACTER AT 
 HOME — ESPECIALLY AS A FATHER — ILLNESS — VISIT TO 
 
 HARROGATE — TO OTLEY AND FOUNTAINS TO SCARBOROUGH 
 
 — RETURN TO HULL SUFFERINGS COMPOSURE— DEATH — 
 
 OBITUARY FROM THE NEWSPAPERS — PUBLIC MEETING FOR 
 "a people's MONUMENT." . . » . . . 8 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 TWO causes of ANXIETY — DID HE BELIEVE IN CHRISTIANITY " 
 DID HE FEEL HIS PERSONAL NEED OF A SAVIOUR ? . . 3S 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HOPEFUL INDICATIONS, AND ILLNESS 49 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 NIGHT OF DISTRESS. 
 
 SUDDEN ALARM — NIGHT OF APPARENT DEATH — NATURAL IM- 
 PULSE NOT RELIGIOUS PRINCIPLE — MESSAGE TO YOUNG 
 MEN — WAR — COLLECTS — CATHOLICITY — ADRIAn'b ADDRESS 
 TO HIS SOUL. . 60 
 
CONTENTS. VU 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 FROM SUNDAY JAN. 14, TO SUNDAY, JAN. 21. 
 
 RALLIES — LONG FAREWELL NUMEROUS VISITS — FIDRLITY 
 
 OF THE RECORD— VARIOUS CONVERSATIONS — ANTICIPA- 
 TION OF HEAVEN — AFFECTIONATE REMEMBRANCE OF 
 EARTH — DESIRE TO PUBLISH THE GOSPEL — HINTS ON 
 
 PREACHING EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY — HINDRANCES 
 
 TO AN INQUIRER — INCONSISTENCIES OF PROFESSORS — 
 CHRISTIANS AFRAID OF INVESTIGATION — CROMWELL's 
 LETTERS — MURAL TABLET — INTERESTING ARGUMENTA- 
 TIVE DIALOGUE ON THE TRUTH OF CHRISTIANITY — IMPO- 
 TENCE OF HUMAN REASON — PHARAOH's HEART HARDENED 
 — HIEROGLYPHICS — ' MY TIMES ARE IN THY HAND' — EVAN- 
 GELICAL TRUTH — A physician's OPPORTUNITIES OF PRO- 
 pagating the gospel — making a companion of god — 
 Herbert's holdfast 76 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 FROM SUNDAY, JAN. 21, TO SUNDAY, JAN. 28. 
 
 christian joy — cemetery — ETERNITY NOT ENTERED 
 
 ALONE — MYSTERIES — CHRISTIANS NOT POOR VALLEY OP 
 
 THE SHADOW OF DEATH — 'BE GREAT AND SEEK LITTLB 
 
VlU CONTENTS. 
 
 LIFE OF DR. HOPE — TEE-TOTALISM — DIGNITY, SAFETY AND 
 lOY OP THE CHRISTIAN. 116 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 FROM SUNDAY, JAN. 28, TO SUNDAY, FEB. 4. 
 
 THE shepherd's dog VARIOUS INTERVIEWS — FUNERAL TE5' 
 
 TIMONY RELIGION IN HARMONY WITH REASON — LORO'a 
 
 SUPPER — EXPERIMENTAL EVIDENCE — EXTRACT FROM MR. 
 knight's funeral SERMON — NO DEATH TO THE CHRISTIAN- 
 SELECTION OF HIS GRAVE — KIRKE WHITE — ATTENTION TO 
 iV'ORLDLY AFFAIRS — LETTER PROM THE AUTHOR OF THE 
 
 sinner's FRIEND CHRISTIANS REGARD THEMSELVES THC 
 
 CHIEF OF SINNERS 139 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 FROM SUNDAY, FEB. 4, TO HIS DEATH, ON 
 WEDNESDAY, FEB. 7. 
 
 DEATH SWALLOWED UP OP LIFE — LORd's SUPPER — INCREAS- 
 i.-VG DEBILITY — DEATH — CONCLUDINQ ADDRESS — CHRISTI' 
 ANITY NOT A DELUSION — WHAT IT TEACHES — THE JOY IT 
 IMPARTS « 177 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 IB CHRISTIANITY FROM GOD? — WHAT DOES CHRISTIANITY 
 TEACH 1 WHAT CAN CHRISTIANITY EFFECT? 
 
 Is Christianity true ? What does Christianity teach ? 
 What can Christianity effect? These inquiries, the 
 following record of the closing scenes of the life of 
 a learned and accomplished physician, is designed 
 to illustrate. His ardent love of truth, wherever it 
 could be found, and his successful labours to at- 
 tain it in almost every branch of science, fully en- 
 title him to the epithet — " Philosopher." After 
 many years of anxious investigation of the claims 
 of the religion revealed in the New Testament, and 
 the most fearless and candid examination of every 
 scheme of scepticism, especially the materialistic, 
 he confessed that the only true philosophy w^as the 
 reception of the gospel as a little child. It was 
 this, w^hich, though he was called away in the very 
 prime of life, in the matured vigour of his faculties, 
 and in the midst of his usefulness, from all that can 
 
 1 1 
 
2 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 make this world desirable and dear, — imparted tc 
 him that unbroken peace and indescribable joy, 
 in the immediate prospect of dissolution, which 
 gave to those around him the edifying and conso- 
 ling spectacle of *' the christian philosopher 
 
 TRIUMPHING OVER DEATH." 
 
 Reader ! have you ever known the inward battle 
 which doubts and difficulties wage with a secret 
 conviction of the truth ; at one time leading you to 
 the very verge of the dreary regions of scepticism, 
 at another time associating your tenacious grasp of 
 religion, with deep distress and painful anxiety? 
 In the following pages, may you receive instruc- 
 tion! They contain the testimony of one who 
 could fully sympathize with you, but who was 
 enabled to fight his way from the midst of the con- 
 flict, to the peace of victorious faith. 
 
 Reader! with perhaps never a doubt of the 
 divine authority of the Bible, have you often 
 doubted your own participation of the blessings 
 which it reveals ; and have the thoughts of your 
 guilt, frailty, and temptations, of the wrath of God, 
 of death and eternity, cast a gloom over your spirit, 
 and filled you with sad forebodings? From the 
 following pages may you derive consolation ! 
 They contain the testimony of one, who, while 
 deeply conscious of his unworthiness in the sight 
 of God, and fully alive to the infinitely momentous 
 consequences of death, found an answer to every 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 3 
 
 doubt, and an antidote to every fear, in the pardon- 
 ing love of God, manifested in the perfect atone- 
 ment of Jesus Christ. May the fulfilment of the 
 promise, which he so amply realized, be the happy 
 experience of all who peruse this volume — " Thou 
 shalt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is 
 stayed on thee, because he trusteth in thee.'* 
 
 Whatever opinion be held respecting its divine 
 authority, and distinguishing doctrines, Christianity 
 itself, is unquestionably, a great fact in the history 
 of the human race. In its initial form, Judaism, it 
 has existed from the very earliest ages ; and in its 
 more complete development, it has been acknow- 
 ledged in a greater or less degree by the most 
 civilized nations of the earth. Minds of the highest 
 cultivation have bowed before it, and the mightiest 
 intellects have done it homage. The poor have 
 professed that it has made them wealthier than if 
 all the riches of the universe were in their posses- 
 sion ; while the broken-hearted have declared, that 
 it has afforded them consolation, when all other 
 sources of comfort were dried up. In connection 
 with a cordial reception of it, the most extraordi- 
 nary transformations of character have taken place ; 
 and savage tribes, beneath its potent influence, 
 have, with marvellous rapidity, lost their ferocity, 
 and manifested an advanced civilization. Chris 
 tianity, therefore, is a great fact ; and as such, un- 
 questionably demands from everv thoughtful mind^ 
 
4 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 a candid examination of its claims. Is it from 
 God? If so, what does it teach? None can 
 neglect these inquiries as unworthy their attention, 
 and claim for themselves at the same time the 
 character of philosophers. 
 
 How can satisfaction be obtained in reference to 
 the first of these questions? We may point to pro- 
 phecies fulfilled, and miracles performed, in con- 
 nection with an unimpeachable testimony, and an 
 indisputable chain of historical evidence, and say 
 — Behold the proof! Or we may take up the au- 
 thoritative standard of the religion, and referring to 
 its elevating sentiments, its pure morality, its bene- 
 volent precepts, its adaptation to human wants and 
 human w^oes; looking at the religion itself, so un- 
 like anything else which man ever devised, so un- 
 likely to have originated with man, w^e might say 
 — Behold our proof! Or an individual might be 
 selected, as an example of its operation — one who 
 had candidly investigated its claims ; who had pro- 
 foundly studied the objections brought against it ; 
 w^hose deliberate conclusion, after such a course of 
 inquiry was, that it possessed divine authority, and 
 on whose spiritual nature a change was produced 
 by the hearty reception of its truths, such as he de- 
 clared no system of human reason, and no influence, 
 less than divine, could have effected, and again we 
 might say — Behold our proof! 
 
 Such is the nature of the evidence furnished b^' 
 
X INTRODUCTORY. 5 
 
 the ^ase of Dr. Gordon. And though such evi- 
 dence may not be regarded as conclusive, when 
 taken alone, yet in connection with, and in corro- 
 boration of, other proof, it is a legitimate argument. 
 The actual production of a certain effect, must be 
 one of the best evidences that the cause was ade- 
 quate to its production. The human soul has been 
 so constituted by its Creator, as to require for its 
 complete satisfaction, something which Christianity 
 professes to be alone able to supply. Man has, by 
 sin, brought on himself a spiritual disease, and 
 exposed himself to spiritual sorrows and fears, 
 which Christianity professes to be alone able to 
 cure and to remove. In connection with the satis- 
 fying these demands of human nature, it claims to 
 be acknowledged as possessing a divine origin. 
 If those pretensions fail to be verified, that claim 
 must of course be disallowed. But if, while all 
 other appliances are inadequate to supply the deep 
 cravings of the human soul, Christianity is found to 
 be more than sufficient for all its wants, this is 
 surely some argument in favour of its claims. The 
 confession of a mind which had the strongest de- 
 sire, and the amplest opportunity for investigation, 
 that the satisfaction it sought was to be found no 
 where but in the Gospel, must be some confirma- 
 tion of its truth. Some corroboration is given us ih 
 the conversion of the Apostle Paul. Such, in some 
 1* . 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 degree, is the influence of the reception of our reli- 
 gion by any mind peculiarly gifted. And such is 
 the case here. 
 
 But, in immediate connection with the inquiry, 
 "Is Christianity from God," arises another, "What 
 does Christianity teach?" The two questions in- 
 deed cannot be separated, for the investigation of 
 the second forms a considerable feature in the study 
 of the first. ' But when satisfied respecting the 
 former, then the latter inquiry returns upon us with 
 increased weight of importance. For if God has 
 indeed revealed his will to man, what can be more 
 obviously our duty and our interest, than to possess 
 coi .ect ideas of what that will is? The reply of 
 Dr. Gordon to both these questions will be clearly 
 gathered from the reiterated testimony he gave on 
 his dying bed. Nothing could exceed the strength 
 of his confidence, that Christianity is from God — 
 and that its essential nature is an entire renuncia- 
 tion of self, with an humble reliance on the mercy 
 of God the Father, through the perfect atonement of 
 the Son, by the aid of the regenerating influences 
 of the Holy Ghost. 
 
 The following narrative will also illustrate the 
 effect which a cordial reception of these truths can 
 produce. It will be seen, that while human philo- 
 sophy was unable to give a satisfactory solution of 
 the great problems of the soul, and while human 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 virtue was insufficient for a foundation on which 
 hope might build in anticipation of a future exis- 
 tence, faith in Christ could satisfy every doubt, 
 remove every anxiety, and impart a " peace which 
 passeth all understanding.'* 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL. 
 
 BORN AT fountains' HALL— RIPON— EARLY DEVOTION TO 
 STUDY— OTLEY— EDINBURGH — ^WELTON— PLAN OF STUDY 
 
 RETURNED TO EDINBURGH, AND GRADUATED — SETTLED 
 
 AT HULL PUBLIC LIFE — TOTAL ABSTINENCE PRESIDENT 
 
 OP THE HULL CHRISTIAN TEMPERANCE SOCIETY LEC- 
 TURES TO THE WORKING CLASSES — PURITY OF HIS MO- 
 TIVES AS A POLITICIAN — SACRIFICE OF PROFESSIONAL 
 INTERESTS TO CONVICTIONS — BENEVOLENCE TO THE POOR 
 
 CHARACTER AT HOME ESPECIALLY AS A FATHER 
 
 ILLNESS VISIT TO HARROGATE TO OTLEY AND FOUN- 
 TAINS — TO SCARBOROUGH — RETURN TO HULL — SUFFER- 
 INGS — COMPOSURE — DEATH — OBITUARY FROM THE NEWS- 
 PAPERS — PUBLIC MEETING FOR " A PEOPLE's MONUMENT." 
 
 Beneath the venerable ruins of the far-famed 
 abbey of Fountains, majestic even in decay, sur- 
 rounded by the loveliest scenery, and embosomed 
 in the luxuriant foliage of stately forest-trees, stands 
 the large ancient mansion called Fountains' Hall, 
 m which the subject of this memoir was born, on 
 the 2nd of August, 1801. His ancestors were all 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL. y 
 
 highly respectable, moving in good society, and 
 many of them distinguished by high literary attain- 
 ments. The celebrated Daniel de Foe, was re- 
 motely connected with the family. From his 
 parents, who were both possessed of very superior 
 intelligence, he early imbibed that love for study 
 which distinguished him through the whole of life. 
 
 He acquired the rudiments of learning at the 
 grammar-school of the adjacent city of Ripon, 
 where the amiability of his disposition, combined 
 with his extraordinary mental abilities, commanded 
 the love and respect of his schoolfellows. Very 
 soon after his entrance, he was placed in the first 
 class of the upper school ; and being much younger 
 than any of his class-mates, he w^as obliged to work 
 very hard, in order to maintain his superiority. 
 Though so young a boy, he often would sit up till 
 one or two o'clock in the morning over his books, 
 assisted by his mother in his favourite classical 
 studies, in which he made great proficiency. He 
 was especially distinguished for his elegant Latin 
 verses. 
 
 After leaving school, he was articled to a general 
 practitioner at Otley, where his blameless conduct, 
 and his kind interest in the sorrows of those with 
 whom his professional engagements brought him 
 into contact, won for him universal esteem. He 
 was there, as he continued through life, the friend 
 of the poor. The author can never forget the de- 
 
10 BIOGRAPHICAL. 
 
 light and affection manifested by an humble cottagei 
 at Leighley, to whom Dr. Gordon with his family 
 paid an unexpected visit, after an absence of twenty 
 five years from the locality. The unaffected kind- 
 ness of the youth, and his anxious interest in the 
 affliction of that poor woman, so different from a 
 merely official, hurried, and heartless visitation, had 
 left an impression too deep for time to wear away. 
 Nor was this a solitary instance, the author having 
 ascertained from various quarters, that notwithstand- 
 ing the changes which occur during so long a 
 period, numerous are the households where his name 
 is yet familiar and dear, and where the memory of 
 his benevolent and lovely demeanour has lost none 
 of its freshness. 
 
 His father was a man of most amiable disposition, 
 and had a great love for scientific pursuits ; but as 
 is often the case with such characters, he was im- 
 provident, and his fortune suffered a reverse before 
 the subject of this memoir had completed his 
 studies. This, however, did not daunt him in his 
 course. Fearing to be a burden to his parents, but 
 at the same time determined not to lose any part 
 of that liberal education, on which he had set his 
 heart, he borrowed money, and was thus enabled, 
 afler studying some time in London, to go to Edin- 
 burgh, where it was his intention to graduate as a 
 Physician. He was furnished by various friends, 
 with letters of introduction to some of the first 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL. 11 
 
 fasnilies in that city : but only made use of one or 
 two of them, in order that he might not be tempted 
 to interrupt that plan of study which he had marked 
 out for himself. Mr. McLehose, to whom he often 
 referred with gratitude, received him always at his 
 house as one of his family. Here he met with 
 many congenial friends, whose society he much en- 
 joyed, among whom was the ' Clarinda' of Burns, 
 Mr. McLehose's mother, a person of great intelli- 
 gence, who, though much advanced in years, re- 
 tained all her faculties, and would often relate, with 
 the utmost vivacity and humour, the adventures of 
 her earlier years, together with interesting anecdotes 
 of eminent characters with whom she had come in 
 contact. But the pleasures which such society and 
 kind hospitality placed within his reach, were en- 
 joyed only as recreations, never being suffered to 
 divert his mind from the one object for which he 
 had entered the university. So great indeed was 
 his devotion to study, that it was his constant habit 
 to read till the clock struck three, before retiring to 
 rest, and yet he was always in the college by eight. 
 
 There is little' doubt that these habits, which were 
 kept up more or less through his life, tended mate- 
 rially to undermine his constitution and shorten his 
 days. 
 
 After remaining three years in Edinburgh, Mr. 
 Gordon went to Hull on a visit, and had secured 
 his place in the coach, in order to return, for the 
 
12 BIOGRAPHICAL. 
 
 purpose of completing the necessary term, and ob- 
 taining his diploma. But the day before he was to 
 set off, he met with a medical friend, who strongly 
 advised him to delay taking his degree, and to en- 
 gage for a few years as a general practitioner: his 
 youth, and very juvenile appearance, being much to 
 his disadvantage as a physician. 
 
 Welton, nine miles from Hull, was recommended 
 as possessing the attractions of a beautiful country, 
 a wealthy neighbourhood, and every advantage for 
 a young man under his circumstances. In conse- 
 quence of this suggestion, he hired a horse, and 
 rode over to view the place. It was a very fine 
 morning in May ; and every object looked so lovely 
 and inviting, that he at once resolved to reside there 
 at least for a year, that he might have the opportu- 
 nity of continuing his studies, even if he did not 
 succeed as he expected in his profession. He took 
 lodgings that very day. His gentlemanly manners 
 and cultivated mind, soon gained him the respect 
 of the w^hole neighbourhood. 
 
 In 1826, he w^as married to Mary Anne, the se- 
 cond daughter of James Lowthrop, Esq., of Welton 
 Hall. With a large circle of friends, a lucrative 
 practice, and such an accession to his happiness, he 
 did not hesitate to comply wuth her wish to remain 
 at Welton for several years. 
 
 The following "system of study," dated August 
 1827, which was found among his papers, wil 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL. 13 
 
 serve to illustrate the course of reading which he 
 pursued at this time : — 
 
 Monday — Natural Philosophy. 
 
 Tuesday — Chemistry, Pharmacy, Mineralogy, or 
 
 Geology. 
 We^lnesday — Zoology, Anatomy, Physiology, or 
 
 Surgery. 
 Thursday — Vegetable Physiology, Botany, Mate« 
 
 ria Medica, or Agriculture. 
 Friday — Pathology and practice of Medicine, oi 
 
 Midwifery. 
 Saturday — Languages, Logic, Moral Philosophy, 
 
 Political Economy, or Algebra. 
 
 In 1828, he published a small volume on the 
 practice of Surgery, and in 1832, a " Critical In- 
 quiry concerning a New Membrane in the Eye." 
 He also frequently sent contributions to Loudon's 
 Magazine of Natural History, and to various Medi* 
 cal Journals. In 1832, he was elected a Fellow 
 of the Linnsean Society. In 1838, he returned to 
 Edinburgh, intending to remain there only the one 
 term still necessary to complete his course of study 
 as a physician ; but the opportunity afforded him 
 of giving his undisturbed attention to those scienti- 
 fic pursuits, in which he \vas so deeply interested, 
 induced him to give himself, as he used to call it, 
 2 
 
14 BIOGRAPHICAL. 
 
 a holiday. He consequently remained there with 
 his family, more than two years ; during which 
 time, he seldom retired to rest until two o'clock, 
 though he was always ready to resume his studies 
 at eight, and frequently attended an early lecture 
 before breakfast, in the botanical gardens. 
 
 In 1841, he took his degree of M.D. with great 
 honour, and settled as a physician in Hull. Here 
 he devoted himself with ardour to the duties of his 
 profession, still continuing his medical studies with 
 undiminished zeal. But though surpassed by few 
 in the diligent and habitual investigation of all 
 branches of professional learning, and in the candid 
 examination of the merits of every new opinion and 
 discovery, he by no means confined himself to 
 medical reading. " He intermeddled with all wis- 
 dom." He kept up the studies of former years ; 
 and for a long, time the author enjoyed the privilege 
 of reading classics with him daily, and was always 
 struck with the elegance and accuracy of his trans- 
 lations. With natural science, in all its branches, 
 he was familiar. Poetry, history, and oratory, 
 were his delight in his hours of recreation. No 
 topic of public interest escaped his investigation. 
 Especially he studied deeply all questions bearing 
 on the general welfare of the community, chief!) 
 the working classes. To the subjeci of Free-trade, 
 and of the Currency, he devoted peculiar attention, 
 In nothing was he superficial; and was hever 
 
BI06RAPHICAL. 16 
 
 t 
 
 satisfied with anything short of the most certain 
 information, and the clearest demonstration. 
 
 He was soon known as a public man ; was 
 elected a Councillor for the borough ; and in vari- 
 ous political movements took a prominent part, 
 always promoting what he thought to be the cause 
 of popular progress. Freedom in trade, education, 
 and religion, parliamentary and financial reform, 
 extension of the suffrage, peace, and other kindred 
 questions, found in him an earnest advocate. To 
 the cause of temperance he devoted much of his 
 time and energies. He saw how great were the 
 evils entailed on his country, and especially on the 
 working classes, by intemperance. To this bane- 
 ful source he traced most of the poverty, wretched- 
 ness, disease, and crime, which prevail among us 
 tO such an alarming extent. His benevolent dis- 
 position prompted him to do all in his power to 
 check this great evil. The total-abstinence move- 
 ment could not escape his notice ; he studied it 
 with impartiality, and becoming convinced of its 
 truth on physiological as well as moral grounds, he 
 at once adopted and advocated it. 
 
 In 1845, he was chosen the president of the Hull 
 Christian Temperance Society. In connection 
 with this association he laboured most indefatio^a- 
 bly to promote the physical, intellectual, and m.oral 
 welfare of th'e working classes. He delivered 
 courses of lectures on various subjects, devoting 
 
16 BIOGRAPHICAL. 
 
 much time to their preparation ; but always deli- 
 vering the results of his investigations in terms so 
 simple, and a style so lucid, that the most unlet- 
 tered could understand him. Sciences, often the 
 most forbidding, from the difficult terminology in 
 which they are couched, when presented by him to 
 an audience, lost all their repulsiveness, and the 
 hearers w^ere astonished to find, that what they had 
 imagined to be so utterly abstruse, as to be beyond 
 their comprehension, could be made so plain and 
 simple. He delivered, during several years, a 
 succession of temperance addresses, in which all 
 the stores of his highly gifted, and richly furnished 
 mind, w^ere laid under tribute ; and illustrations 
 were drawm from every branch of learning, as w^ell 
 as from the objects of nature, and the occurrences 
 of daily life, to give interest to the theme. Besides 
 these, he delivered courses of lectures on Physio- 
 logy, Botany, Optics, and the Currency, with many 
 single lectures, of which the following may be 
 taken as a specimen: — *A blade of grass,' — *A 
 drop of water,' — *The bones,' — ^The muscles,' — 
 ^The architecture of the skull,' — 'The Cholera,' — 
 ' Preservation of health and life at sea,' — * The 
 poetry of the Bible,' &c. 
 
 It scarcely needs to be said, that these JectJres 
 were all delivered gratuitously. They ^^re de- 
 signed for the benefit of the working classes ; and 
 though for accuracy, beauty, and solid value, they 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL. 17 
 
 were fit for any audience, however gifted, yet Dr. 
 Gordon was never ambitious of any other auditors 
 than the poor. It was for them he chiefly laboured, 
 under a conviction, that to refine their tastes, ana 
 instruct their minds, was a mode of rendering 
 them the most solid and permanent benefit. In 
 these addresses, he frequently expatiated with great 
 interest, on the illustrations afforded in nature of a 
 designing Creator, and on the evidences of his 
 power, wisdom, and goodness. 
 
 As a speaker, he was distinguished for the clear- 
 ness of his statements, the force of his reasoning, 
 the chasteness and vigour of his language, and the 
 manly elegance of his delivery. Every word was 
 so aptly chosen, that no other could be substituted 
 for it without injury ; and all his sentences fell har- 
 moniously on the ear. An elegant humour often 
 pervaded his harangues, which tended considerably 
 to enliven his audience ; and when he exposed 
 falsehood, vice, or oppression, which alone ruffled 
 the placidity of his temper and roused his indigna- 
 tion, the withering keenness of his sarcasm was 
 only equalled by the crushing weight of his denun- 
 ciation. 
 
 Although, during the latter years of his life, he 
 was ijontinually brought into public notice, and per- 
 haps took a more active part in all political ques>- 
 tions, than most of his fellow-citizens ; yet, as the 
 character of this memoir is altogether religious, the 
 2* 
 
18 BIOGRAPHICAL. 
 
 author deems no special reference to his political 
 life to be necessary. The opinions of those who 
 read this narrative may differ widely, respecting the 
 course which he thought it his duty to take ; and 
 the author would deeply regret, that any word should 
 escape him, by which the impression of the religious 
 testimony borne by his beloved relative, should be 
 weakened. He therefore feels, that any vindicatior 
 of his political life, and even the expression of any 
 opinion on it, would here be out of place. He 
 merely wishes to insist on the purity of Dr. Gor- 
 don's motives, in whatever he did. He believed 
 that the opinions he held were not only wise, on the 
 ground of expediency, but that they were a carrying 
 out of the sublime morality and lofty principles of 
 the New Testament. He often illustrated his ad- 
 dresses by quotations from the sacred volume, and 
 frequently said, with a glowing enthusiasm, that 
 " some day the Bible would be the directory of legis- 
 lators, and that then the principles he advocated 
 would be triumphant." To that incomparable com- 
 pendium of law, " Do unto others, as ye would 
 they should do unto you ;" and to the command — 
 "Love your enemies, do good to them that hate 
 you," he frequently referred, as containing the lead- 
 ing principles of his political creed. Whether his 
 judgment in this matter is assented to by the reader 
 or not, the fact remains, that his political life was 
 regulated not by any mean and petty impulse of 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL. 19 
 
 faction and party, but by a sacred reverence to the 
 highest of all truth and to the happiness of mankind 
 at large. 
 
 Those who differed from him most entirely in 
 sentiment, were compelled to admire the benevo- 
 lence of his intentions, the sincerity of his convic- 
 tions, and his disinterested avowal of whatever he 
 believed to be truth. His benevolence made him 
 political. He thought he saw that the lamentable 
 condition of the working classes of, this country, 
 was owing to unjust legislation, and on this account 
 lie laboured so energetically to enlighten the public 
 mind, and advance those reforms which he judged 
 to be necessary, before any general and permanent 
 improvement would take place. It was this made 
 him so zealous an advocate of total abstinence. 
 Though he was abundant in his acts of private be- 
 nevolence, yet he saw that far more good would be 
 done, by enabling the poor to help themselves, than 
 by any acts of individual charity, and therefore he 
 laboured to elevate their condition intellectually and 
 morally. In this important work he spare'd no pains, 
 grudged no time, and shrank from no sacrifice. 
 Nicfht after nisfht he attended crowded meetings of 
 the labouring classes, at which till a late hour, he 
 toiled in imparting information, and cultivated a 
 relish for intellectual enjoyments, in preference' to 
 the degrading pleasures of the dram shop ; in in- 
 stilling those ennobling principles of freedom and 
 
20 BIOGRAPHICAL. 
 
 independence, which might make them industrious, 
 prudent and self-relying, and in cherishing that love 
 of virtue and benevolence, which might preserve 
 them from the evil influences of vice, rendering them 
 happy in themselves, and the promoters of happi- 
 ness in others. He often in these addresses referrec 
 to the Bible and religion in respectful terms ; but, 
 as will be seen in the latter part of this narrative, 
 his great regret subsequently was, that he had not 
 distinctly urged on his numerous hearers, the claims 
 of the gospel, and its adaptation to bless in both 
 worlds, all who cordially embrace it. 
 
 So uncompromising w^as his love of truth, that it 
 never occurred to him, to inquire with reference to 
 any principle or movement, " is it respectable," "is 
 it likely to succeed," or " will it injure my w^orldly 
 prospects ?" His sole desire was to gain an answ^er 
 to the inquiry, " Is it true." The course he thought 
 it proper to take in public matters, was diametri- 
 cally opposed to his professional interests. He saw 
 the risk of losing, and to a great extent did lose, the 
 patronage of those who were best able to remune- 
 rate his medical skill. Early associations, pleasant 
 friendships, pecuniary advantages, all of which 
 would have led him in a totally opposite direction, 
 were to him as nothing, in comparison wnth truth. 
 He refused to purchase any worldly good, and was 
 unwilling to retain even the approval of those, in 
 whose society he delighted, and whose friendship 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL. 21 
 
 tie valued, at the cost of disguising his sentiments, 
 and sacrificing his convictions. Independent of 
 the opinions which might be in favour with the 
 public, he asserted and enjoyed the right of free 
 speech, as well as of free thought. He felt with 
 Milton, in whose magnificent prose writings, as 
 well as in whose poetry, he took the greatest de- 
 light, as holding intercourse w^ith a congenial 
 spirit — ^ give me the liberty to know, to utter, to 
 argue freely, according to conscience, above all 
 liberties.' He regarded it a wrong done to society, 
 for any man to conceal what he thought to be true 
 and useful. He was always w^illing to hold friendly 
 intercourse with men of all opinions, and never 
 threw away kindness from whomsoever it might 
 proceed : though to obtain it, he w^ould not sell his 
 liberty or his conscience. Often has the author 
 heard him say, he should feel himself indeed de- 
 graded, if he occupied a position, however exalted, 
 which his judgment condemned, and where he 
 could not at all times both think w^ith freedom, and 
 boldly utter w^hat he thought. He was eminently 
 one who, to use the words of an eloquent living 
 author, 'Mares to take up truth, when trampled on 
 in the streets, and to say to all men, ^ this is a holy 
 and divine thing ; foully as it has been treated, it 
 is worthy of worship, and / am resolved henceforth 
 to worship it.' A splendid falsehood may be 
 riding by, in purple and gold, with all the world 
 
22 BIOGRAPHICAL. 
 
 prostrate before it; but when it says to this man, 
 ' fall cfown and worship me, and say that I am the 
 truth' — he straightway answers, * I will not wor- 
 ship thee, nor call thee the truth ; for thou art a 
 lie.' " 
 
 The reader is again reminded that he is not 
 asked to admit, that all the opinions which Dr. 
 Gordon advocated were truth, but only that they 
 were so regarded by himself. The outward splen- 
 dour of any principle had no charms for him. Its 
 being trampled upon could not make him ashamed 
 of it. It was at a great and constant pecuniary 
 sa'crifice that he advocated the total-abstinence 
 question ; but the loss thus entailed on him, and 
 the contempt with which some affect to regard the 
 holders of those principles, only made him the more 
 earnest in their advocacy. 
 
 Possessing the full confidence of the working- 
 classes, his denunciations of violence, and earnest 
 advocacy of peace, good order, and obedience to 
 the laws, had such effect, that at a recent period of 
 political excitement, no opportunity was given for 
 the intrusion of those demagogues, who went about 
 for their own selfish ends, to excite their deluded 
 followers to acts of insubordination. , Being remon- 
 strated with, by many of his friends, on the impru- 
 dence of attending certain meetings at which he 
 might be identified with individuals of questionable 
 prmciples and character, he replied — * If they are 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL. 23 
 
 SO bad, the more reason for us to go among them. 
 Would you leave the people to the influence of 
 dangerous men ? If, because some are violent and 
 unprincipled, you are to abandon instead of going 
 among them to improve them, what hope can there 
 ever be of their amendment ?' Certainly such con- 
 duct, whatever else may be thought of it, mani- 
 fested, considering his position in society, a manly 
 disinterestedness which is seldom exhibited, but 
 which all must admire. 
 
 In Dr. Gordon's manners, bearing, and language, 
 refinement and taste of the highest order were 
 always evident. He could not do a rude, a vulgar, 
 or an unlovely thing. His sympathies might there- 
 fore have been expected to attract him to the more 
 cultivated classes of society. But he thought that 
 to do good, was far better than mere self-gratifica- 
 tion ; and therefore indifferent to the favours and 
 opinion of men of his own rank, he cast himself as 
 a moral reformer among the working classes. Yet 
 in the midst of men in humbler grades of life, he 
 never ceased to be the gentleman. He did not de- 
 scend from his own level, but sought to raise others 
 up to his Courtesy and kindness pervaded all his 
 intercourse with them ; yet he was never familiar, 
 and acting towards them with respect, he was ever 
 treated respectfully by them in return. Haughty 
 condescension may often receive the stern rebuke it 
 merits ; but Dr. Gordon proved that it is only ne- 
 
24 BIOGRAPHICAL. 
 
 cessarj for a man of superior station, character, and 
 ability, to treat the humbler classes with genuine 
 kindness and courtesy, in order to secure from 
 them a hearty respect and love, which are seldom 
 found beneath the formalities of more polite society. 
 He was in a word, " The poor man's friend." 
 Many hours every day were devoted to prescribing 
 gratuitously for crowds of the indigent who fre- 
 quented his house, all receiving from him the most 
 kind and patient attention. Numerous were the 
 cftses in which he not only gave medical advice, 
 but relieved the pecuniary w^ants of his poor pa- 
 tients; and meals were constantly provided in his 
 kitchen, to bd^sent to the abodes of want and dis- 
 ease. In many ways of which the public knew 
 nothing, it was his delight to render help to the 
 needy, and this, so unostentatiously that his left 
 hand knew not what the right hand gave. Many 
 a heart breathed for him the prayer, w^hich the 
 author remembers a poor Irishwoman whom he had 
 befriended, offering on her knees before him — 
 ^' May the blessing of the Son of God rest upon 
 ye." " When the ear heard him, then it blessed 
 him ; when the eye saw him, it gave witness unto 
 him. The blessing of him that was ready to per- 
 ish came upon him, and he made the widow's 
 heart to sing for joy. He was a father to the poor, 
 and the cause which he knew not, he searched 
 out." To how great a degree he gained the afFec- 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL. 25 
 
 tion of the poor, was evident by the universal 
 anxiety expressed by them, during his illness, and 
 by the many thousands of true mourners who 
 followed his remains to the tomb. 
 
 But it was at home and amongst his intimate 
 friends, that the loveliness of such 'a character could 
 alone be fully appreoiated. There his equable 
 temper, his unselfish benevolence, his kindness in 
 little things, his constant endeavour to make all 
 around him happy, endeared him to every heart. 
 His servants loved him as a friend, as well as re- 
 spected him as a master. He gave his orders 
 rather as if requesting a favour than issuing a com- 
 mand, and never suffered the least service to be 
 rendered him, without a kind acknowledgment. 
 
 In his company, conversation never flagged. 
 There was no subject in which he did not take in- 
 terest, and few on which he could not throw light. 
 His pleasantry and wit combined with his affection, 
 made sunshine and joy wherever he went. 
 
 His professional and public engagements occu- 
 pied the day, while his studies were often continued 
 far into the night. His pleasures were all of the 
 domestic kind, and, as a matter of taste, irrespec- 
 tive of principle, he never frequented places of 
 Dublic amusement. A family party, a pleasant 
 conversation, or a good author over the fireside, 
 with excursions for half a day into the country, 
 were his principal recreations, and frequent and 
 
 3 
 
26 BIOGRAPHICAL. 
 
 touching was his remembrance of them during hi? 
 last illness. 
 
 As a father, all the tenderness of his charactei 
 was peculiarly developed. His only child, who was 
 born at Welton, in 1828, was his constant com- 
 panion. He wag* her first instructor. When only 
 four years old, he taught her the elements of Latin 
 and botany, in addition to the usual subjects of 
 early tuition. In his walks with her he sought to 
 communicate useful knowledge respecting every 
 object which attracted her attention ; and to make 
 even her writing lessons contribute to the furnish- 
 ing of her mind, prepared for her a set of copies, 
 enunciating scientific truths or great moral princi- 
 ples, in place of the frivolous sentences then gene- 
 rally employed for such purposes. Instead of 
 treating her, as is too often the case, as a mere 
 babe, to be pleased only with unmeaning nonsense, 
 he made her his associate, conversing with her on 
 subjects in which he was himself interested. He 
 thought it a disgrace, that the education of ladies 
 should be merely that of superficial accomplish- 
 ments, and that it should be considered a mark of 
 politeness, to avoid all scientific and argumentative 
 subjects in their presence. He therefore laboured 
 to expand his daughter's mind, and to furnish it 
 with solid instruction. But all this was associated 
 with a tender affection, seldom equalled, and never 
 surpassed. As an example of this, during the two 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL. 27 
 
 years of her being at a school in. the metropolis, not 
 a day passed in which he did not write to her, 
 geneially inclosing with his letter, some botanical 
 specimen, with a few sentences of explanation. 
 However busy he might be, no engagement what- 
 ever was allowed to prevent this daily epistle, 
 which was as affectionately prepared and dis- 
 patched, as it was eagerly expected and fondly 
 prized. On her leaving school, he superintended 
 her studies, reading Virgil with her daily, in con- 
 nection with a course of general instruction. 
 
 Into all the preparations for her marriage, he en- 
 tered with the liveliest and most tender interest ; and 
 when she left her father's for her husband's roof, it 
 w^as no separation : for though the houses were two, 
 the families were but one. Never was child, never 
 was father, more tenderly loved. She was with him 
 night and day, during the latter part of his illness, 
 one of the most distressing circumstances of which, 
 was the protracted parting of hearts so closely' ce- 
 mented by an affection so tender as theirs. Of a 
 still dearer tie, nothing is said, because the feelings 
 connected with it are of too sacred a kind for the 
 veil to be uplifted. Suffice it to say, that he was 
 everything to render this world a dreary waste with- 
 out him. 
 
 It was .in the spring of 1848, that the first symp- 
 toms of disease made their appearance. He com 
 plained of acute internal pain, which returned 
 
»0 BIOGRAPHICAL. 
 
 periodically every morning, waking him from Ms 
 sleep, and continuing about half an hour. This gra- 
 dally increased in duration and intensity, though in 
 the intervals he felt no uneasiness whatever. The dis- 
 order being internal remained to the last so obscure, 
 that neither he nor his medical friends could arrive 
 at any satisfactory opinion upon it. 
 
 As the summer advanced^ he became gradually 
 emaciated, and evidently weaker. All his profes- 
 sional and public engagements were continued as 
 usual : but the lack of the vigour which always 
 characterized him in health, was a cause of great 
 anxiety to those about him. 
 
 On the 9th of September, he went with his family 
 to Harrowgate, hoping that change of air might be 
 advantageous. While there, he revisited the scenes 
 of his early life. On one occasion with his wife, 
 daughter, and her husband, he went to Otley, sur- 
 veying the town with gieat interest, and on return- 
 ing, spent a few^ hours at the house of a friend, 
 w^hom he had not seen since he had left the neigh- 
 bourhood w^hen a youth. On another day, the same 
 party went to Ripon, and Fountain's Abbey, walk- 
 ing over the scenes which had been so familiar and 
 dear to him in childhood. How vividly will the 
 writer ever remember his going into the old Hall, 
 and pointing out the room in wnich he first drew 
 his breath ! Deeply was he interested and affected, 
 and so were we all ; for how could the distressing 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL. 29 
 
 fear be excluded, that the great weakness and^severe 
 pain he was then experiencing, might be an inti- 
 mation that he was visiting those places for the last 
 time. He frequently referred to this day, saying 
 how remarkable it was, that after so many years' ab- 
 sence, he should have gone over the scenes of his 
 early life, paying them a sort of parting visit. 
 
 At Harrowgate, he delivered his last temperance 
 speech. It was a most lucid exposition of the phy- 
 siological department of the argument, and pro- 
 duced a great effect on the audience. 
 
 On the 22d of September, he returned to Hull, 
 the benefit of this excursion having been very 
 transitory. For a few days there was evident 
 amendment ; but the emaciation which now became 
 distressingly evident, had steadily progressed, not- 
 withstanding the hearty appetite which continued 
 with him to the last. On the 27th, in returning 
 from seeing a patient, in Lincolnshire, he took cold, 
 and was suddenly seized with very alarming symp- 
 toms, so that his speedy removal was apprehended, 
 but he rallied sufhciently to go to Scarborough, on 
 the 6th of October, on a visit to his brother-in-law, 
 Sir William Lowthrop. Here he appeared at first 
 to revive, but it was soon too evident there was no 
 real improvement. He occasionally was so much 
 worse, that it Vv as feared he might never be able to 
 return. He, however, bore his journey to Hull, on 
 the 6th of November, very well : and even resumed, 
 
 3* 
 
30 BIOGRAPHICAL. 
 
 to some extent, his professional engagements. This 
 he continued to do till the close of the year, often 
 spending two or three hours together in prescribing 
 for his poor patients, when he was suffering agonies 
 of pain. 
 
 What he endured during many months, none 
 could know but himself. He spoke of his sensa- 
 tions as indescribably distressing ; and would often 
 rise from bed in the night and pace his room in 
 agony, or endeavour to divert his attention from the 
 pain by application to some abstruse study. Every 
 remedy w^iich medical skill could suggest was tried 
 in vain. When his own prescriptions failed, he was 
 willing to try those of others, but to no effect. His 
 diet was frequently changed, but though he enjoyed 
 his food, he derived no nourishment from it, and 
 frequently suffered extremely an hour or two after 
 taking it. He attentively watched, and often com- 
 mented on the varying, but ever progressive symp- 
 toms of his complaint, and kept a tape for measur- 
 ing his arm, and noting its gradual emaciation. 
 
 He was perfectly tranquil and composed, and 
 seemed to have a full conviction that he should 
 never recover. He employed himself, as his strength 
 would allow, in arranging his papers, &c. saying, 
 that he was putting his house .in order. It w^as 
 natural for his family and friends to make the most 
 of every favourable symptom, anxious to put off, as 
 much as possible, the conviction that his recover) 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL. 31 
 
 was hopeless. He often expressed his surprise that 
 they should ever think him better, pointing to his 
 emaciated frame, anc saying, with much depth .of 
 feeling — ' How wonderful you don't see!' The 
 audior can never forget one evening, in the first 
 week of January, w-hen sitting with him and Mrs. 
 Gordon over the fire, he held up his thin hand, and 
 after attentively regarding it for some minutes, 
 spoke of it in the most touching manner, addressing 
 it as the implement he had so long used in writing 
 prescriptions, lectures, and speeches, and which had 
 served him so faithfully, adding — ^ And is it so soon 
 to return to dust? It will all be scattered and dis- 
 appear. How wonderful !' The same calmness 
 was manifested by him io the very last. His 
 medical attendants often expressed their surprise at 
 his uniform composure, and feared not to mention 
 whatever w^as unfavourable in his case, as there 
 was no danger of its producing the slightest change 
 in his feelings. 
 
 Sunday, January 7, 1849, was his last day down 
 stairs. On the following Saturday, as will be seen 
 in subsequent pages, he was very suddenly seized, 
 to all appearance with death. He in some measure 
 rallied for a few days, but from this time sank very 
 gradually; not suffering acute pain, though occa- 
 sionally troubled with vomiting. His appetite re- 
 mained, but his increasing emaciation w^as daily 
 observable. His mental faculties and power of 
 
% 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL. 
 
 speech continued in their full vigour, so that he 
 was able to enjoy constant intercourse with his fa- 
 mily and friends. His death took place on WedneS' 
 day, February 7. The concluding chapters of this 
 Volume contain a narrative of what occurred in his 
 room, during the last few weeks of his life. 
 
 The author cannot but express in this place, the 
 high appreciation in which Dr. Gordon and his 
 family held the attentions received during his ill- 
 ness, from various members of the profession. Mr. 
 Ingham, an eminent surgeon in North Shields, a 
 very old and dear friend, though suffering extremely 
 himself, rose from a sick bed to visit him, but was 
 at once convinced he could render him no effectual 
 aid. Dr. Ayre, his chief medical friend and ad- 
 viser in Hull, was most unremitting and kind in 
 his visits. Dr. Gordon was also much indebted to 
 Dr. Horner, Mr. Twining, Mr. Craven, Mr. Becket, 
 and other medical gentlemen, whose kind sympa- 
 thy and anxiety on the sufferer's behalf, will ever 
 be gratefully remembered by survivors as they were 
 thankfully received by himself. The following ar- 
 ticle, from the pen of one of these gentlemen, which 
 appeared in several of the provincial papers, after 
 Dr. Gordon's decease, will be read with interest as 
 confirmatory of the contents of this chapter: — 
 
 ' Another great and good man has been taken 
 away from the midst of us. The community at 
 large, and Hull more especially, can ill-afford the 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL. 33 
 
 loss it has just sustained, in the lamented removal 
 by death, of Dr. Gordon. 
 
 ^ Connected with a profession distinguished for 
 its broad sympathies, high intelligence, and com- 
 prehensive charities, his was, nevertheless, no 
 merely official character ; his daily walk no ordi- 
 nary routine. No professional training, however 
 severe, no educational advantages, however great, 
 would have necessarily produced a Dr. William 
 Gordon. Of him it was peculiarly true, that to 
 know him w^as to love him ; and yet (owing, per- 
 haps, to his love of retirement, and of domestic en- 
 joyment) few public men have been at once so 
 much, and yet so little, known as the deceased. 
 
 ' Endowed by nature with a power of readily ex- 
 pressing himself in elegant and persuasive language, 
 an<l at the same time identified in sympathy ana 
 soul, with every thing w^hich he believed to be con- 
 ducive to the physical and moral advancement of 
 our common humanity, he was almost universally 
 known as a public character, whose influence w^as 
 peculiarly felt in the noble effort to efface one of 
 the foulest stains from the national character — that 
 of intemperance. This effort, however, required 
 great moral courage ; and, perhaps, excited preju- 
 dices which, otherwise, had never existed ; as, as- 
 suredly, it would call forth in many a breast a' 
 gratitude, which shall endure when the one shall 
 
34 BIOGRAPHICAL. 
 
 be no longer required, and the other have long been 
 forgotten. 
 
 * But it is chiefly as a man, as a physician, and 
 a friend, that his name will be cherished and 
 revered. The narrower circle of those who during 
 his brief career, shared his professional services, 
 and still more those who enjoyed his friendship and 
 the privilege of his society, can alone fully know 
 what the community has lost by his removal. 
 That nameless charm which exalts and beautifies 
 every other personal attribute, was pre-eminently 
 his. Naturally gifted, frank in his demeanor, ap- 
 proachable, patient, sympathizing, intelligent, he 
 was eminently qualified for the duties of a physi- 
 cian, for which a lengthened and diversified expe- 
 rience, a liberal education, and alas ! a too sedu- 
 lous application to study, further fitted him. That 
 high humanity, w^hich almost includes all moral 
 excellence, was conspicuous in his general deport- 
 ment, and together w'ith a great openness, urbanity, 
 and simplicity of character, rendered him an object 
 of affectionate regard to all who really knew^ him, — • 
 especially to the poor, w^ho have lost in him a sin- 
 cere and sympathizing friend, and whose affec- 
 tionate remembrance will form his best and most 
 enduring monument. 
 
 ' His death may be regarded as premature, and 
 yet if length of life is to be estimated by the effect- 
 ing of great moral results, by the large alleviatioa 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL. 3S 
 
 of social misery and suffering, by the formation of 
 friendships which death is unable to sever, and 
 especially by the learning and showing to others, 
 how to leave it, full of hope and love and humble 
 confidence in the alone merits of our Redeemer — 
 assuredly his life has not been too brief, nor his 
 removal premature. During the whole of his 
 lengthened affliction, the utmost patience, resigna- 
 tion, and consideration for those around him were 
 conspicuous. The writer, along doubtless with 
 other surviving friends can adopt the language of 
 Young 
 
 * I loved him much, but now I love him more, 
 Like birds whose beauties languish half concealed, 
 Till mounted on their wing, their glowing plumes 
 Expanded, shine with azure, green, and gold. 
 How blessings brighten as they take their flight !' 
 
 ' The writer well remembers him as one of the 
 early supporters of the old Mechanics Institute, in 
 Charlotte Street, where he listened with great inte- 
 rest to a popular course of lectures on physiology, 
 delivered by him. He was known at an early 
 period as an author, having published his 'Acade» 
 mical Examinations on the practice of Surgery' in 
 1828, and again his ' Critical Inquiry concerning 
 a new Membrane of the Eye,' in 1832. In addi- 
 tion to these he furnished from time to time several 
 interesting papers to the medical journals. His 
 
36 BIOGRAPHICAL. 
 
 writings exhibited originality of thought, along 
 with elegance of style and a mastery of the subject. 
 
 'His practice was characterized throughout by a 
 strong aversion to violent depletion, and to anti- 
 phlogistic treatment, a feeling which is now happily 
 becoming almost universal. His conversation be- 
 trayed great good sense, and was enlivened with a 
 playful and delicate humour, and exhibited a tho- 
 rough knowledge of men and manners, and true 
 kindness of heart.' 
 
 ' The writer (who knew the deceased well), feels 
 that to say more would be perhaps to eulogize, 
 which is alike unnecessary and offensive; whilst 
 justice to the mournful event, demands that less 
 should not be said.' 
 
 A few days after the funeral, at a public meeting 
 which was very numerously attended, it was re- 
 solved to perpetuate the memory of so firm and 
 fearless an advocate of temperance, peace, and 
 social progress, by erecting over his grave a 
 'People's Monument;' towards which all classes 
 were invited to contribute by a circular, from which 
 the following sentences are an extract: — * The 
 great aim of Dr. Gordon's life was to elevate the 
 taste, and reform the habits, of the working classes. 
 To this high object, the powers of his gifted mind, 
 and benevolent heart, were most gloriously devoted. 
 In these disinterested labours of love, he was 
 cheered with the satisfaction that he did not labour 
 
BIOGRAPHICAL. 37 
 
 "n vain; for hundreds of homes, once the abodes 
 of intemperance and misery, are now blessed by 
 temperance and peace. The hand of death has 
 taken from amongst us this distinguished man; but 
 not until he had won for himself the lofty title of 
 the "People's Friend."' 
 
 At this meeting many interesting addresses were 
 delivered, chiefly by working men, in which Dr. 
 Gordon was spoken of in the warmest terms of ad- 
 miration and gratitude; many interesting anecdotes, 
 previously unknown to his family, being related, 
 illustrative of the benevolence of his character, and 
 his considerate kindness to the poor. A large surn 
 of money w^as speedily obtained, chiefly in small 
 sums, for the ^ People's Monument;' a white mar- 
 ble obelisk, twenty-five feet high, which has been 
 erected over the grave of one of a class, who, though 
 they seldom obtain the admiration of their own 
 generation, and though their names may be un- 
 known to the next, are, if greatness is to be esti- 
 mated by goodness and usefulness, far more worthy 
 of remembrance, than the majority of those for 
 whom nations raise splendid monuments, and whose 
 names are emblazoned on the pages of history. 
 The monument bears the following inscription: — 
 ^Erected by public subscription, to William Gor- 
 don, M.D., F.L.S.— The People's Friend. Ob 
 Feb. 7, 1849. ^t. 47.' 
 
 The foregoing chapter, in some degree antici- 
 4 
 
38 BIOGRAPHICAL. 
 
 pates the sequel. But this was necessary to the 
 accomplishment of the author's design of furnish- 
 ing in one place, a complete and condensed bio- 
 graphy, so as not to disturb the unity of the follow- 
 ing chapters, which are solely devoted to Dr. Gor- 
 don's religious history and the conversations of his 
 dying hours. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 TWO CAUSES OP ANXIETY — DID HE BELIEVB IN CHRIST- 
 IANITY ? DID HE FEEL HIS PERSONAL NEED OF A SAVIOUR ! 
 
 Dr. Gordon numbered among his dearest connec- 
 tions and friends, many persons of earnest piety, 
 who were deeply solicitous for his spiritual welfare^ 
 One inquiry, which some of them revolved with 
 much anxiety, was this — Does he acknowledge the 
 Divine authority of Christianity ? They hoped the 
 best, but not without painful doubts. His medical 
 investigations had brought the question of material- 
 ism specially before his attention ; and he had deeply 
 studied all the philosophical objections of infidelity. 
 It was known that he thought much on these sub- 
 jects ; that he was not a man to form his creed on 
 that of others without examination; and that he 
 would embrace no principle whatever, merely be- 
 cause his friends, or society at large, professed it. 
 His love of truth compelled him to investigate what- 
 ever subject claimed his assent, and unhesitatingly 
 to follow his convictions, at any cost of personal 
 feeling. He was enamoured of demonstration. He 
 
40 CAUSES OF ANXIETY. 
 
 must have evidencej clear, tangible, irrefragable, 
 for every thing. It was nothing to him that an 
 opinion was sanctioned by antiquity, or general con- 
 sent, 01 by the fashionable world ; it was not suffi- 
 cient that it was held by the wise and the good ; he 
 must be convinced for himself, and the proof must 
 be complete. 
 
 Accustomed to demonstrative evidence in his 
 study of physical science, it was a reasonable fear 
 that he might seek the same kind of satisfaction in 
 his investigations of moral subjects, and that sceptic- 
 ism might result from the disappointment which 
 must ensue. In the demand often made for demon- 
 stration, it is apt to be forgotten, that there is no 
 single action of life which is not performed merely 
 on a balance of probabilities. No verdict given in 
 any court was ever based on more than this. From 
 the very nature of the subject, the argument in proof 
 of religion can be of no other kind. Although that 
 argument may be felt to possess a moral certainty, 
 the balance of probabilities being so overwhelming- 
 that the contrary hypothesis would be absurd ; yet 
 it must be admitted, as it was to be expected in the 
 case of any revelation from God, that difficulties 
 will occur to every thoughtful student, which, after 
 all his efforts, he must confess himself impotent to 
 solve, and mysteries which no power of human rea- 
 son can enable him to fathom. It was feared that 
 these difficulties might be effectual obstacles to Dy. 
 
CAUSES OF ANXIETY. 41 
 
 Oordon's reception of the gospel. He might be so 
 determined to clear up every point as he went along, 
 as to be detained for ever, on the threshold of the 
 temple, and thus never enter the sanctuary itself— 
 one glance at the inner splendours of which, would 
 at once silence every objection, and prostrate the 
 spirit in adoring homage to the truth. 
 
 In the course of his investigations, he frequently 
 asked questions for the purpose of eliciting informa- 
 tion, which engendered suspicions that he was not 
 a believer in Christianity. There are many persons 
 who, though secretly infidels, from motives of policy 
 scrupulously disguise their belief under a profession 
 of religion. Carefully avoiding any remark w^hich 
 might generate suspicion, they are often loud in 
 their condemnation of those who give utterance to 
 a doubt. But Dr. Gordon, being an earnest disci- 
 ple of truth, and fearless of the opinions of men, 
 exposed himself to injurious reflections by the very 
 candour of his inquiries, and the frank confession 
 of his difficulties. 
 
 It is a fine remark of Milton's, ' a man may be 
 a heretic in the truth ; and if he believe things only 
 because his pastor says so, or the assembly so de- 
 termines, without knowing other reason, though 
 his belief be true, yet the very truth he holds be- 
 comes his heresy.'* There are multitudes of such 
 
 ~ *Areopagitica. 
 4* 
 
42 CAUSES OF ANXIETT. 
 
 heretics in the world. They pass as genuine be- 
 lievers. But it is their very unbelief which pre- 
 serves them from suspicion. Whatever may be the 
 creed of their lips, their minds are torpid. Reli- 
 gion, for them, possesses no interest, and therefore 
 prompts to no inquiries. " They are not in trouble 
 as other men, neither are they plagued like other 
 men." They have no doubts, because they have 
 no convictions. But earnest faith stirs up many a 
 secret foe, and provokes many a fierce assault. 
 Few have attained to the highest order of belief, 
 who have not first struggled wnth difficulties. Those 
 who have eventually doubted least, have generally 
 be. n those who have at some time doubted most. 
 True spiritual life produces mental conflicts, by 
 which, in the end, it is strengthened and matured: 
 but w^hich, while they continue, sometimes expose 
 the combatant to the charge of scepticism. 
 
 Thus, the genuine believer, or one fighting his 
 way to belief, has often more of the semblance of 
 infidelity, than the infidel himself. He is in earnest, 
 and anxious on the subject of religion. He feels 
 its infinite importance. He desires to be fully con- 
 vinced of its truth. This gives weight in his esti- 
 mation to all objections against it. • He iongs to 
 have them cleared up. He often talks about them, 
 and perhaps puts them forward with such strength 
 and earnestness, as to appear to be defending 
 them, when in fact, his object is not to convince 
 
CAUSES OF ANXIETY. 43 
 
 but to be convinced, by eliciting a satisfactory so- 
 lution of his own doubts. This was the case with 
 Dr. Gordon. His efforts to arrive at a full and in- 
 telligent conviction of truths, an unquestioning and 
 heartless assent to which, satisfies too many, brought 
 on him the imputation of scepticism. In all socie- 
 ties there is too much intolerance of opinion. Re- 
 ligious circles are not free from the general failing 
 Those who have few or no doubts themselves, are 
 not always either the deepest thinkers or the sound- 
 est believers, but are generally the most impatient 
 of doubts in others. And men are never wanting^ 
 who are ready to magnify and circulate any report 
 which is disadvantageous to those who are eminent 
 for their talents or position. Thus it became a 
 somewhat general impression in certain quarters, 
 that Dr. Gordon was not a believer in divine revela- 
 tion. 
 
 But this was not the anxiety of those who knew 
 and loved him best. The marked preference he 
 always showed for the society of religious persons, 
 where intelligence, candour, and courtesy, w^ere 
 combined with piety ; — the respect he invariably 
 manifested to the ordinances of religion ; — the teems 
 of reverence in w^hich he spoke of the sacred Scrip- 
 tures ; — the admiration he often expressed of the 
 benevolent tendencies of Christianity, and the sub- 
 lime precepts of its author ; — together with his 
 habitual frame of mind and manner of life, were 
 
44 CAUSES OF ANXIETY. 
 
 sufficient evidence how mistaken were the • opinions 
 entertained of him, by those who had not the same 
 opportunities of forming so correct a judgment as 
 his nearest relatives. For his own part, the WTiter 
 can truly say, that during nearly seven years in 
 which he was his constant companion, he never 
 heard a syllable from his lips which was inconsis- 
 tent not merely with firm belief in, but with devout 
 respect for Christianity. 
 
 The fear of those most closely connected with 
 him was, that he did not understand and experience 
 the true spirit of evangelical religion, — self-renun- 
 ciation, and sole dependence upon Christ. And 
 there was ground for this anxiety. The more out- 
 wardly wicked a man is, the easier is it to convince 
 him of his need of a Saviour: although he may at 
 the same time be quite unwilling to abandon his 
 wickedness. And in proportion as a character ap- 
 pears faultless, is the difficulty of assenting to the 
 humbling doctrines of the cross. Gross offences 
 against morality are too obvious to leave any doubt 
 of guilt. But the iiiward corruption of the heart, 
 as beheld by an Omniscient God, and the defecti- 
 bility of motive accompanying actions the most 
 praiseworthy in the estimation of men, are not so 
 easily recognized. The self-complacency and 
 pride natural to us, °asily persuade us that we are 
 actually as faultless as our friends and neighbours 
 give us credit for being . and thus, unconscious of 
 
CAUSES OF ANXIETY. 45 
 
 the " plague of our own heart," we are unable to 
 appreciate, and have no disposition to seek the aid 
 of the great Physician of souls. 
 
 There is a danger of estimating our obligations 
 to our Creator, by the same standard to which we 
 appeal before the tribunal of our fellow-men. We 
 are apt to forget that in the former case we have 
 to do with the infinitely perfect Jehovah, in the 
 latter, with judges who are fallible like ourselves. 
 We forget too, that man can only take cognizance 
 of the outward act, while God "searches the heart," 
 and " desireth truth in the inward parts." Above 
 all, we do not sufficiently consider, that however 
 faultless our conduct may be towards our fellow- 
 creatures, there is a duty paramount to all others, 
 which we owe to our Creator : " Thou shalt love 
 tlie Lord thy God, with all thy heart, and soul, and 
 strength ; this is the first and great command- 
 ment." 
 
 All other obligations are subordinate to this. 
 Failure here is the grand, condemning, capital 
 offence ; in extenuation of which, it is of no pur- 
 pose to plead innocence of minor misdemeanors 
 And this is the great sin of the human race. " The 
 God in w^hose hands our breath is, we have not 
 magnified," — " God is not in all our thoughts," 
 though " in Him we live and move and have our 
 being." This poison at the fountain, taints all the 
 streams of conduct. This disease at the heart, en- 
 
46 CAUSES OF ANXIETY. 
 
 feebles and corrupts the whole frame. It was to 
 atone for, and remedy this evil, that the Son of 
 God became incarnate, and suffered on the cross. 
 Through his atoning sacrifice we obtain forgive- 
 ness ; and the Holy Spirit of God is imparted to 
 renew and sanctify our nature. But so long as we 
 are unconscious of our ruined condition, there will 
 DC no personal application by faith, for the salva- 
 tion which is offered to us in the gospel. 
 
 This faith, which works by love and purifies the 
 heart, will be exhibited in the appropriate fruits of 
 righteousness. Love to. God is the effect of be- 
 lieving in Christ, and the producing cause of love 
 to man. " The fruit of the Spirit is love, long-^ 
 suffering, gentleness, goodness, meekness, tempe- 
 rance." But natural disposition may produce 
 much that resembles these fruits in outward fea- 
 ture. Though the motives prompting them greatly 
 differ, the actions themselves may be similar. God 
 may be as much out of the thoughts in an amiable, 
 as in a malevolent action; yet there is much greater 
 difficulty in being convinced that the motive is de- 
 fective. The product of a benevolent disposition 
 being often externally the same as that of faith, the 
 inference is likely to suggest itself, that the produ- 
 cing cause is the same, or equally good. And thus 
 there is a peculiar obstacle in the way of some men 
 acknowledging their unworthiness in the sight of 
 God, which those do not encounter whose lives are 
 
CAUSES OF ANXIETY. 47 
 
 glaringly at variance with His laws, although in 
 other ways this disadvantage is more than counter 
 balanced. 
 
 In the case of Dr. Gordon, there was every thing 
 to make those who were anxious for his spiritual 
 welfare, feel that no ordinary difficulty was to be 
 overcome. It was feared that the very excellence 
 of his character might be a hindrance to his simple 
 reliance on Christ. Speaking after the manner of 
 men, he was perfect. Distinguished by an undevi- 
 ating course of uprightness, benevolence, self-sac- 
 rifice, scrupulous honour, and ardent love of truth, 
 such as are exhibited by few who have made the 
 highest attainments in piety ; often amazed at the 
 spirit and conduct of Christian professors, who 
 could say and do things, which he without such 
 profession, loathed; having no relish for the plea- 
 sures of the w^orld, and finding his happiness only 
 in his studies, in his benevolent enterprises, and in 
 the midst of his family, whom he gladdened by the 
 streams of cheerful and tender affection, which ever 
 flowed from his gushing heart; — was it not to be 
 feared that he might find it difficult to acknowledge 
 himself worthless in the sight of God, to come as a 
 little child to the feet of Jesus to be taught, and as 
 a hell-deserving sinner, to rely solely on his atoning 
 sacrifice ? 
 
 These two anxieties were more than removed. 
 Most explicit was his avowal to the many persons 
 
48 CAUSES OF ANXIETY. 
 
 who visited him during his illness, that the Scrip- 
 tures must have had a God of infinite wisdom and 
 love for their author ; most full and repeated his 
 confession of reliance, not on his ow^n righteousness, 
 which he saw to be only filthy rags, but on the 
 merits of a crucified Saviour. Abjuring the pride 
 of human reasoning, he came as a babe to Christ 
 for instruction; earnestly seeking, and happily ex- 
 periencing the illuminating and sanctifying energies 
 of the Holy Spirit, and casting the burden of his 
 sins on Jesus, in compliance with his gracious invi- 
 tation — " Come unto me all ye that labour, and are 
 heavy laden" — he rejoiced in the fulfilment of the 
 promise, " I will give you rest." 
 
CHAPTER IV, 
 
 HOPEFUL INDICATIONS, AND ILLNESS. 
 
 Although it was not till the last few weeks of his 
 life, that Dr. Gordon spoke of what was passing 
 within his own breast, on the subject of religion, it 
 would be a very erroneous inference that his was a 
 sudden and death-bed conversion. He told the 
 writer, that from a child, he not merely admitted the 
 truth of Christianity, but loved and honoured it; 
 and ever felt convinced, that the sincere Christian 
 was the only truly happy man. But he spent many 
 years in anxious investigation of infidel objections, 
 and laboured by human reason, to arrive at a full 
 understanding of the mysteries of the faith. His 
 mind was often unsettled and disturbed on these 
 important subjects ; and even when his convictions 
 became more established, he was for many years 
 a stranger to that great change which takes place 
 in the heart of every true believer, and of which 
 Jesus said, '"Except a man be born again, he can- 
 not see the kingdom of God." 
 
 It was by a very gradual process, that light broke 
 ii) upon his mind. A considerable change in his 
 5 4^J 
 
50 HOPEFUL INDICATIONS, 
 
 views had taken place, previous to his attendance 
 on the author's ministry in 1842; else, to use his 
 own words, ' I should not have felt such pleasure in 
 listening to his sermons.' In the whole Church, 
 there was not a more attentive hearer ; and he often 
 expressed the greatest satisfaction at the discourse, 
 when the insufficiency of human virtues, and the 
 absolute necessity of a change of heart and faith in 
 Christ, were the most plainly enforced. He always 
 loved the society of those Christians whom he be- 
 lieved to be sincere; though the inconsistencies of 
 many professors, and the indelicate, obstrusive, and 
 ostentatious manner of some in speaking about re- 
 ligion, frequently disgusted him. He always spoke 
 in the highest terms of the literary beauties and ele- 
 vated sentiments of the Bible, which he often re- 
 ferred to as containing the sanctions of his public 
 conduct. On several occasions he took the sacred 
 volume to meetings ol working men, whom he ad- 
 dressed on the splendour of its compositions ; and 
 often in his conversation manifested his familiarity 
 with its contents. In the chaunting of its sublime 
 poetry, and the singing of hymns at the fire-side, 
 he took the greatest delight. He was frequently 
 alone in his private room, when there is- little doubt 
 he w^as occupied in devotion and the reading of the 
 Scriptures, though he took the most scrupulous and 
 successful pains to conceal the nature of his engage- 
 ment. When he prayed, he truly " went into his 
 
AND ILLNESS. 51 
 
 closet and shut the door, and prayed to his Father 
 who is in secret." So great was his aversion to 
 anything bordering on the display of personal reli- 
 gion, that he never uttered a syllable to indicate what 
 was passing withir^ his own breast. 
 
 There was no precise period to which Dr. Gor- 
 don was able to refer, as the time when he first 
 became, in the full sense of the term, a Christian. 
 Although, previous to his illness, he had been a 
 'disciple secretly,' yet that affliction was undoubt- 
 edly instrumental in nourishing and developing the 
 spiritual life, which had till then existed in merely 
 an embryo state. And it was only at the latter 
 period of the disorder that he experienced the ex- 
 traordinary elevation of mind, and uninterrupted 
 peace and joy, which the following narrative de- 
 tails. 
 
 Few have been more favoured than the subject 
 of this memoir, with friends to whom the words of 
 the Apostle James are applicable: "The effectual 
 fervent prayer of the righteous man availeth much." 
 For many years there w^as not a day in which he 
 was not made the special subject of earnest suppli- 
 cation at the throne of grace, by many, who, from 
 a proper consideration of his well-known feelings, 
 never obtruded on him the question of personal 
 religion. It was natural, that as they saw him 
 gradually declining under the ravages of disease, 
 their anxiety to ascertain what was tlie state of 
 
52 HOPEFUL INDICATIONS, 
 
 his mind on the all-important subject, would in- 
 crease. It was felt that to interrogate him in refe- 
 rence to it would elicit no information, but very 
 probably might seal his lips for the future. He 
 said, on one occasion, to a beloved and anxious 
 relative — ^I cannot understand the religion which 
 friends extort from people when they are dying, 
 urging them to say, "I believe;" and thinking it 
 sufficient if they can be induced to declare they 
 have faith in Christ.' It was evident from such 
 observations, that it would be injudicious to attempt 
 to elicit any thing from him on the subject by direct 
 inquiry. On this account, spontaneous remarks 
 were the more eagerly watched for, and the more 
 carefully cherished. 
 
 It was manifest for many months before his end, 
 that he had no fears. Often, when the symptoms 
 became suddenly more alarming, he would say, 
 * Remember, Fm very happy; I've no fear of 
 death.' 
 
 A few words which escaped from him at Scarbro' 
 in the autumn, were fondly stored in the grateful 
 memory of her to whom they were spoken. He 
 said, *I'm very ill, but not afraid to die.' His 
 wife having quoted the verse — " The sting of death 
 is sin, and the strength of sin is the law: but thanks 
 be to God which giveth us the victory, through our 
 Lord Jesus Christ;" he responded with emphasis: 
 'And he has given 7ne the victory. My views on 
 
AND ILLNESS. 53 
 
 these subjects have been changed for many years, 
 though I do not talk about it.' The account of the 
 brazen serpent being referred to, as illustrative of 
 faith in Christ, he said — ^Pve had my eye on that 
 brazen serpent a long time.' His brother-in-law, 
 Sir William Lowthrop, at whose house he was stay- 
 ing, introduced to his notice the excellent little 
 work published by the Religious Tract Society, 
 entitled, 'The Philosophy of Salvation,' to large 
 portions of which, he listened with great attention, 
 frequently expressing his admiration of the argu- 
 ment. 
 
 After his return to Hull, he made the most mi- 
 nute and considerate arrangements with reference 
 to his decease, which he always anticipated as the 
 result of his illness. While talking on these sub- 
 jects so unavoidably painful, he would often say, 
 ^Do not grieve; I feel so happy. It relieves my 
 mind to talk on what so constantly occupies it.' 
 Still he volunteered no further statement respecting 
 the foundation of his hope ; and as his friends had 
 always endeavoured in the most effectual way, to 
 manifest to him their own religious convictions, 
 and their anxiety respecting himself, consideration 
 of his well-known feelings, made them abstain from 
 interrogatories which their solicitude might other- 
 wise have prompted. His marvellous patience in 
 suffering, and composure in the prospect of death, 
 with his blameless life, and the few remarks he had 
 5* 
 
54 
 
 made, encouraged them to hope the best, though 
 they were very desirous of some additional assur- 
 ance. 
 
 Towards the end of the year he purchased a pair 
 of thick ' over-alls,' as much for the purpose of 
 concealing his extreme emaciation from his friends, 
 as for additional warmth. A faithful attendant, 
 entering the room as he was drawing them on, re- 
 marked, ' They'll think you're going a journey. 
 Sir !' He replied, ^ Yes, I am ! and a long journey; 
 but it is the happiest journey I ever took. It's a 
 wonder to myself that I have no wish for this 
 world. It's all very delightful, but I have no wish 
 for it.' On another occasion, some weeks before 
 he was confined to his bed, he said, * Vm so 
 happy! Indeed these two last days I've had such 
 delight in the prospect of Eternity, that I've had to 
 put it aside. It is almost more than I can bear.' 
 
 It having been remarked to him one evening that 
 he had been particularly well on that day, he said, 
 ' Yes, and I dare say you would not think it, but I 
 have been enjoying the thought of my long journey, 
 it has never been out of my thoughts.' This was 
 the more remarkable, as he had been exerting 
 himself to see several patients, entering fully into 
 their cases, and receiving visits from various friends, 
 with whom he had conversed, with his usual ani- 
 mation, on the general topics of the day. It might 
 have been inferred from his manner, that he had 
 
AND ILLNESS. 55 
 
 quite forgotten his illness, so much did his deport- 
 ment and conversation resemble those of a man in 
 perfect health, and in reasonable expectation of a 
 long life. 
 
 During the second week in January, the first in 
 which he was confined to his bed, his brother-in- 
 law, tlie Rev. Edmund Russell, Incumbent of St. 
 Mary's, Pomfret, had several interesting conversa- 
 tions with him, although he found Dr. Gordon still 
 very reserved on the subject of religion. Of these 
 interviews, Mr. Russell says, in a letter to the 
 author, ' His words to me were very few, but full 
 of affection, and always betokened a deep and in- 
 creasing interest in the solemn truths of the gospel. 
 Speaking of materialism, he said, ' I have studied 
 the subject deeply ; indeed I have read all the 
 celebrated writings of Deists, and Atheists, and I 
 would advise others to do the same.' I remarked, 
 that I durst neither follow nor give such advice. 
 Though as a minister, I might, if occasion required, 
 take up such works as a matter of duty, yet as a 
 general rule, I thought it neither safe nor wise, for 
 any of us to try how much poison our constitution 
 could bear. He replied, 'Yes, there i^-a^ a time 
 when I was beguiled by their sophistry. Then, I 
 confess, some serious doubts arose in my mind ; 
 but they did not last long, and I have never been 
 troubled with them since. Thank God, I have no 
 doubts or fears now. I am not afraid to die.' He 
 
56 HOPEFUL INDICATIONS, 
 
 also made special reference to the opinions of 
 Lawrence on Materialism, saying that reading his 
 arguments more fully convinced him than anything 
 else of the unsoundness of the theory. All that 
 could be said in favour of it, would be advanced, 
 and in the most forcible manner, by so distinguished 
 and clever a man. If then what even Lawrence 
 could urge, was so inconclusive, he felt satisfied 
 that the doctrine of Materialism was altogether 
 false. 
 
 During this week, he was for several days more 
 than ordinarily cheerful. He said one morning, ^ I 
 have been awake some hours, but I have been so 
 happy, picturing myself in my coffin, and my fune- 
 ral, with what you will all say and do.' Though 
 he thus frequently spoke with calmness and pleasui'e 
 of his approaching end, his friends w^ere anxious to 
 hear him state with equal explicitness, that this 
 peace was not caused by any dependence on him- 
 self. Such an assurance, it was the privilege of the 
 author to receive, w^hen visiting him as usual, early 
 in the morning of Thursday, January 11. After 
 giving a few directions respecting the future, the 
 following conversation took place: 
 
 Br. G. — 'I very much wonder you all avoid the 
 subject of my death.' 
 
 N. — ' It is too distressing to us. Besides, we 
 cannot give up all hope of your recovery.' 
 
 Dr. G. — ' But I do not wish to avoid the subject. 
 
AND ILLNESS. 57 
 
 It is always in my thoughts. I had a happy day 
 yesterday. Perhaps you would not think what 
 made it so. It was the prospect of the delightful 
 journey I am going to take.' 
 
 N. — ^ If we are trusting only to Christ, there is 
 nothing in death which should make us afraid. It 
 ought not to be terrible to a Christian.' 
 
 Dr. G. — ' Of course not.' 
 
 N. — ^ It is but going out of one room into an- 
 other, to which our friends are soon to follow us.' 
 
 Dr. G. — ' Not so. It is far better. It is a very 
 pleasant journey j^ [\\\\h great emphasis.) After a 
 pause he added — ^ I am astonished it should ever 
 be spoken of as a difficult thing for men to ac- 
 knowledge their own unworthiness. When I look 
 back on my own life and examine it, I see it has 
 been a life of imperfection and selfishness. My 
 best actions were unworthy, and a mixture of self- 
 ish motive was in my most benevolent efforts.' 
 
 Mrs. G. referred to a small volume containing 
 the dying testimonies of eminent medical men, and 
 alluded to Dr. Mason Good, who confessed that his 
 own righteousness was but filthy rags. 
 
 Dr. G. — * That is my doctrine. Not because 
 Mason Good said so, but because the Bible tells 
 me so.' 
 
 Addressing the author, he added — ' Perhaps you 
 and others may have fancied I have not thought 
 
68 HOPEFUL INDICATIONS, 
 
 much on these subjects, because T have not said 
 much, but I have felt deeply, and for years.' 
 
 Here was the explanation of a character so mar- 
 vellously excellent, that it would have been most 
 difficult to account for it, on any other supposition 
 than that divine grace was in operation to produce 
 it. Without any verbal confession, there would 
 have been sufficient evidence to justify a strong 
 hope that he was a genuine believer. But his own 
 declaration rendered this certain, and explained the 
 almost unparalleled peace and joy which distin- 
 guished his latter end. 
 
 We cannot deny, that the Spirit of God may, and 
 sometimes does, visit a sinner so suddenly and pow- 
 erfully, that at once he is emancipated from the 
 yoke of sin, and emerging from midnight darkness 
 without any intervening twilight, into the full 
 blaze of noon, enjoys a clearness and elevation of 
 sentiment, together with a confidence in God and a 
 joy approaching to rapture, which outstrip at once 
 the experience of many an old believer. The secret 
 is discovered without much labour in the investiga- 
 tion. The summit of the mountain is gained with- 
 out undergoing the toil and pain of scaling its rug- 
 ged sides. God thus teaches us what he is able 
 to effect, and intends to humble us by showing that 
 it is only by his grace that we are what we are. 
 Yet this is not the ordinary method in which that 
 grace operj^^. The process is generally more slow 
 
AND ILLNESS. 59 
 
 and gradual. The spiritual birth, as well as the 
 physical, has its anxieties and sore travail. There 
 is often much toil in the seeking, previous to the 
 much joy of the finding. So it was with Dr. Gor- 
 don. His was not a life of indifference to religion, 
 closed by a sudden conversion and a few days of 
 enthusiastic excitement. But after many years of 
 earnest and anxious inquiry, with secret and con- 
 stant prayer for the enlightening influences of the 
 Holy Spirit, together with a conscientious discharge 
 of every duty, he was favoured tow^ards the close, 
 with such a view of the all-sufficiency of Christ to 
 meet the sinner's wants, and was enabled by faith 
 so fully to rely on his merits for acceptance with 
 God, without one doubt or misgiving, that rising 
 above the vapourous atmosphere through which he 
 had long been climbing up the craggy cliffs of the 
 *hill difficulty,' he basked in a cloudless sunshine 
 at a higher elevation than Christians ordmarily at- 
 tain. The rare privileges he enjoyed were not 
 realized without a long fight of afflictions, — the 
 crowm w^as not obtained without the conflict, — the 
 kingdom was not entered but " through much tri- 
 bulation." 
 
CHAPTER V, 
 
 NIGHT OF DISTRESS. 
 
 SUDDEN ALARM — NIGHT OF APPARENT DEATH — NATURAL IM- 
 PULSE NOT RELIGIOUS PRINCIPLE— MESSAGE TO YOUNG 
 
 MEN WAR— COLLECTS CATHOLICITY-^ADRIAN's ADDRE33 
 
 TO HIS SOUL. 
 
 On Saturday, January 13, Dr. Gordon seemed even 
 more cheerful and animated than usual, so that it 
 was impossible for his friends not to entertain some 
 hopes of recovery. Though he remained in bed 
 during the day, he was mentally as active as ever, 
 reading, receiving calls, and attending to a few 
 matters of business. At four o'clock, the writer left 
 him conversing with his brother-in-law on various 
 topics, with more than ordinary interest. But not 
 an hour had elapsed, before the alarming message 
 was received that he was dying. On hastening to 
 his bed-side, the writer fi^ared that all was over. 
 The eyes were fixed — and a cold sweat was thick 
 upon his brow. He had risen to have the bed made. 
 While seated in the easy-chair at the fire, with only 
 
NIGHT OF DISTRESS. 61 
 
 his daughter in the room, he suddenly called for as- 
 sistance, and directed the attendants to place him 
 on the bed. Syncope of the heart had ensued, 
 from suddenly assuming an erect position in his state 
 of weakness. All the appearances of death pre- 
 sented themselves- to his distressed family, as they 
 hastened to his room. But while they stood anx* 
 iously round him, animation gradually returned. 
 How great was the joy once more to listen to those 
 lips, though in the faintest whisper, which it was 
 feared were closed for ever without one parting bene- 
 diction ! After taking a little food, strength returned 
 sufficiently to enable him to speak with comfort. 
 Then he said to his brother-in-law. Sir W. L., *If 
 consciouness of my own unw^orthiness, and reliance 
 on Christ alone, be a proper ground of peace, I 
 have it, and have long had it. But you must not 
 think that because I have not talked of these things, 
 therefore I have not thought of them. I have long 
 been feeling my way after the truth,' Expecting 
 he was at the point of dissolution, he seemed de- 
 sirous thus explicitly to assure us of the foundation 
 of his hope. In confirmation of this, when the 
 beautiful hymn was repeated- — *'. Jesus, lover of my 
 soul," which so fully expresses the sinner's helpless- 
 ness, and the Saviour's grace, he responded with 
 much feeling * I reiterate all that.' 
 
 Dreadful agony now came on, arising from spasm 
 of the heart. He frequently raised himself in bed, 
 6 * 
 
62 NIGHT OF DISTRESS. 
 
 and lifted up his arms in great distress, comparing 
 his sensations to the effect of ten thousand screws 
 tearing him to pieces. As his powers of patient en- 
 durance were remarkable, it was evident that the 
 suffering which could cause such indications of it 
 as were witnessed, must be of the most intense kind. 
 He once cried out, ' my friends, my children, caji 
 you do nothing for me? my heavenly Father, 
 help me ! my dear Jesus, take me !' Frequent 
 vomiting, and the necessity of continually changing 
 his position, added to his distress. But he retained 
 most fully his self-possession, frequently feeling his 
 pulse, making remarks on its intermittent character, 
 and calling for remedies as the symptoms varied ; 
 often expressing his surprise that he continued so 
 long. His intellect throughout the night retained 
 all its clearness, his love all its tenderness, his con- 
 sideration for others, all its delicacy. At intervals 
 he spoke to those around him, recognizing all with 
 the tenderest affection : and though suffering so 
 much, was as attentive as ever to the comfort of 
 others. He entreated his beloved daughter, who 
 was very poorly from excessive excitement and 
 grief, to sit down — and said to his brother-in-law — 
 the Rev. William Knight, 'You've hard duty to- 
 morrow, you had better go home.' 
 
 At one time, from the feelings at his heart, he con- 
 sidered he was in the act of dying, for he said 
 earnestly, ' Come, kiss me, all of you, quick, quick,' 
 
NIGHT OF DISTRESS. 63 
 
 as tho^g-h life might be extinct ere he had given us 
 an individual farewell. 
 
 At intervals he made the following remarks : 
 ' Remember this pain is only bodily. I've no fear. 
 Is this because I've no dependence on myself, but 
 am trusting to Jesus alone ? If I come, will he re- 
 ject me ? And will he put those white robes on me ? 
 This is indeed agony, torture : but what a mercy 
 that my mind is at perfect peace! — Remember me 
 to my friends, I hope they will keep me in mind. 
 I wish to live in your affections. I shall be w^ith 
 you. I shall be there to meet you. 
 
 He frequently spoke of reunion wdth those dear 
 to him, his love to whom seemed to increase with 
 his love to Christ and his hope of heaven. His 
 human sympathies were not weakened by the strength 
 of his religious emotions. The very contrary was 
 the case. Being assured that he would still be with 
 us, constantly in our thoughts, he said — ' That's de- 
 lightful. I wish to be missed. I should be unhappy 
 if I thought it would not be so. ^ You comfort me very 
 much.' As we stood round his bed, his eye tenderly 
 passed from one to another, and he said — ' This is 
 what I have often pictured to myself, as I have lain 
 awake at night. I've seen it all just like this, and 
 seen myself in my coffin, and you at my funeral.' 
 
 Referring to his past life, and the ground of his 
 present hope, he said, ' My natural disposition led 
 me to do many things of a benevolent character. 
 
64 NIGHT OF DISTRESS. 
 
 but this was not love to God. Mere natural dispo- 
 sition will not do. There needs something better 
 for a holy God. I am quite unworthy, corrupt, cor- 
 rupt.' 
 
 The distinction he thus made between impulse 
 and principle is most important, yet it is one gene- 
 rally overlooked. It is the motive which gives the 
 true quality to an action. Reason and revelation 
 combine to require a universal reverence towards 
 God. No act should be performed apart from the 
 homage due to the Creator. *' To love Him with all 
 our heart," is our duty at all times, and in all ac- 
 tions. In the neglect of this " first and great com- 
 mandment," no other can be rightly obeyed, and 
 even if it could, compliance with a subordinate law 
 can be no excuse for the neglect of that which is 
 paramount to, and inclusive of every other. A 
 deed otherwise good is essentially defective where 
 there is the absence of this high motive. God is 
 not honoured in it. Being forgotten, he is really 
 dishonoured. The outward action may be most 
 commendable in the eyes of society, yet may be 
 only an additional evidence of the grand charge 
 against the wicked — " God is not in all his thoughts." 
 
 Following the bent of mere natural temperament, 
 is not love to God, when it prompts to the relief of 
 the afflicted, any more than when it leads to the in- 
 vestigation of a scientific truth. The generous man 
 may be as indifferent to his Maker's claims, as the 
 
NIGHT OF DISTRESS. 65 
 
 miser and the churl. One is far more useful to so- 
 ciety, and more deserving of its approval and love 
 than the other, and he has his reward ; yet they 
 may both be in the same condemnation at the tribu- 
 nal of the searcher of hearts. The ordinary actions 
 of life are criminal, when performed by one who is 
 not " reconciled unto God by the death of his Son." 
 Thus we are told that *'the ploughing of the wicked 
 is sin." The smallest act of love is more accept- 
 able to Him, than the most scrupulous performance 
 of religious rites, or the most profuse benevolence, 
 when destitue of this motive. " Incense is abomi- 
 nation, it is iniquity, even the solemn meeting." 
 " Though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, 
 and have not love, it pfofiteth me nothing." 
 
 But alas ! how many there are, who in the ab- 
 sence of this love to God, trust in the efficacy of 
 pious and benevolent acts. How often is a man's 
 general amiability alleged as a good evidence that 
 he died the death of the righteous ! The very in- 
 sensibility to the claims of God, which makes men 
 so ready to build their hopes on their own kind 
 actions, is one of the most striking proofs of human 
 depravity. But when the Divine Spirit enlightens 
 the mind to understand our obligations, then with 
 Job we " abhor ourselves, and repent in dust and 
 ashes." 
 
 This was the case with Dr. Gordon. All who 
 knew him, can testify, that if ever the hope of 
 6* 
 
66 NIGHT OF DISTRESS. 
 
 eternal life could be based on the foundation of a 
 blameless and benevolent life, it could be so by 
 him. Yet most deeply was he sensible, that in all 
 his actions, even the very best, he was ' corrupt ! 
 corrupt! ' 
 
 Once, and only once, a transient cloud seemed 
 to pass over him. He said, *I don't see Jesus as 
 I wish. I don't see him vividly.' But in less than 
 an hour, his countenance brightening with joy, he 
 said — ^ I seem to see Jesus now. He is vividly 
 before me, waiting for me. He is here in all his 
 love and mercy.' 
 
 The following hymn, which had long been fami- 
 liar to him, and which at his request, was often 
 sung in his room, was repeated — 
 
 There is a happy land, 
 
 Far, far away ; 
 Where saints in glory stand, 
 
 Bright, bright as day. 
 Hark how they sweetly sing". 
 Worthy is our Saviour khig. 
 Loud let his praises ring. 
 
 Praise, praise for aye ! 
 
 Come to this happy land, 
 
 Come, come away ! 
 Why will ye doubting stand. 
 
 Why thus delay 1 
 On then, to glory on. 
 Be a crown and kingdom won, 
 Then bright above the sun. 
 
 We'll reign for aye ! 
 
NIGHT OF DISTRESS. 67 
 
 Bright in that happy land, 
 
 Beams every eye ; 
 Fed by a Father's hand, 
 
 Love cannot die : 
 Oh we shall happy be, 
 When from sin and sorrow free, 
 Lord, we shall reign with thee, 
 
 Blest, blest for aye ! 
 
 He said — * I think I see it as it were before me ! 
 I am going to Jesus. I have embraced him, and 
 he will receive me. Our best actions are filthy 
 rags. There is pride and selfishness mixed up 
 with them all. I have thought and written and 
 done a great deal, but its all nothing. I feel the 
 need of a better righteousness. It is in Christ, and 
 so easily obtained ! I have found it ! ' 
 
 The following hymn which became a great 
 favourite with him, was now repeated. 
 
 Just as I am — without one plea 
 But that thy blood was shed for me. 
 And that thou bidd'st me come to thee — 
 O Lamb of God, I come ! 
 
 Just as I am — and waiting not 
 To rid my soul of one dark blot. 
 To thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot — 
 O Lamb of God, I come ! 
 
 Just as I am — though toss'd about. 
 With many a conflict, many a doubt. 
 Fightings within, and fears without — 
 O Lamb of God, I come ! 
 
6S NIGHT OF DrSTRESS. 
 
 Just as I am — poor, wretched, blind ; 
 Sight, riches, healing- of the mind, 
 Yea, all I need, in thee to find- — 
 
 O Lamb of God, I come . 
 
 Just as I am— thou wilt receive. 
 
 Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, reliere. 
 
 Because thy promise I believe — 
 
 O Lamb of God, I conae ! 
 
 Just as I am — thy love unknown 
 Has broken every barrier down ; 
 Now, to be thine, yea, thine alone — 
 
 O Lamb of God, I come ! 
 
 To this he responded with great feeling, — ' O 
 beautiful, that's the way T come.' 
 
 To the Rev. William Knight who had recently 
 been delivering a course of sermons to young men, 
 on Infidelity, he said — • ' 
 
 * There is a great deal of infidelity in yonng 
 men. You have many of them about you. Tell 
 them from me, "I have read a great many scep- 
 tical books, ancient and modern, of all sorts. It is 
 all very fine, but very fallacious. They are very 
 plausible, but can give no consolation in a dying 
 hour. The New Testament is the book. We 
 must fall back on that. We can only obtain peace 
 by casting ourselves on Jesus; putting reasoning 
 aside, and asking him to cleanse the thoughts of 
 our hearts by the inspiration of His Holy Spirit." ' 
 
 He gave a similar message to the author, who 
 
NIGHT OF DISTRESS. 69 
 
 said — * Such a testimony and such a scene as this, 
 will, I trust, make me a better preacher.' He re- 
 plied : ' I am glad of it. Preach with an eamest- 
 ness. Tell the people of the peace, and the joy, 
 and the happiness, and the calm. It's no use rea- 
 soning.' After a pause, he added : ' Preachers 
 should dwell on the mercies of God. He is not a 
 severe God. He is love.' Being asked if he could 
 send a message to two young men, for whose 
 spiritual welfare much anxiety was felt, he said, 
 ' Assure them of my warm affection. Tell them to 
 seek Christ, that he may pardon their sins, change 
 their hearts and present them to God. Tell them 
 that wealth, ambition, and fame are all vanity. 
 Nothing will do but Christ.' 
 
 He had been for a considerable time deeply im- 
 pressed with the conviction, that all warfare was 
 anti-christian and inhuman, and often expressed 
 his astonishment that any good men could fight, as 
 the precepts of Christ seemed to him so decidedly 
 to condemn the practice. The subject now pre- 
 sented itself to his mind with peculiar force. He 
 said, ' How wonderful that men can go to war ! 
 how could I die now, hoping God ^i^ould forgive 
 me, if I would not forgive them, but sought to kill 
 them in battle! How different is dying in my cir- 
 cumstances, to death on a battle field !' 
 
 Striking indeed the contrast ! In the one case, 
 calm, quietness, the presence of dear friends, the 
 
70 NIGHT OF DISTRESS. 
 
 voice of affection, the accents of prayer zhd praise. 
 In the other, tumult, the roar of cannon, *the 
 thunder of the captains,' the fury of the combat- 
 ants, the execrations and groans of the dying, 
 "age, revenge, slaughter! Whatever may be said 
 of the glory of dying on the field of battle, surely 
 it is an awful thing for a man to be hurried from 
 the excitement and din of conflict, mto the presence 
 of his Judge, fresh from the slaughter of his fellow- 
 men, and accompanied perhaps by the souls of 
 those w^hom he has just slain ! Are the combatants 
 Christians? Then they whose mutual relation to 
 their common Lord, binds them to a special love 
 towards one another, appear before Him, their last 
 act on earth having been one of hostility even to 
 the death. But if they are not Christians, then 
 the blow which sent them into eternity, was one 
 which for ever cut them off from the hope of sal- 
 vation, which smote the soul as well as the body, 
 and consigned it to eternal death. To slay a Chris- 
 tain is to smite Christ himself, to slay an unbe- 
 liever is to plunge a fellow-being into hell. Ter- 
 rible alternative ! Yet all who fight, not only 
 strike such a blow, but expose themselves to the 
 risk of dying in the very act of striking it. May 
 all Christians soon acknowledge the universal obli- 
 gation of the command, " Love your enemies, and 
 do good to them that hate you !" Without wait- 
 ing for others, may they at least, by obeying Xht 
 
NIGHT OF DISTRESS. 71 
 
 precepts, fulfil the predictions of the sacred book, 
 and " beat their swords into plough-shares and 
 their spears into pruning-hooks," thus manifesting 
 that Christianity is indeed, as the angels heralded 
 it, ^' Peace on earth, and good will to men !" 
 
 Dr. Gordon continued to suffer severe pain, and 
 was in such a state, that any moment might be his 
 last. As we stood round him, expecting his imme- 
 diate dismissal, he raised his head, and with a 
 solemnity of manner, which will^never be forgotten, 
 said, ' I will tell you a prayer I have always been 
 fond of. I have often used it. It is short, and so 
 comprehensive. " O Thou, to whom all hearts are 
 open, all desires known, and from whom no secrets 
 are hid, cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the 
 inspiration of thy Holy Spirit, 'that we may per- 
 fectly love thee, ' and worthily magnify thy holy 
 name, through Jesus Christ our Lord." ' Then, 
 turning to his wife, he affectionately said — * Re- 
 member, love, what a favourite this was.' He 
 afterwards marked for her some collects in the 
 Common Prayer-Book, which were particularly ad- 
 mired by him. 
 
 This was an evidence, that he had long felt the 
 need, and earnestly sought the renew^ing influences 
 of the Holy Spirit. And w^ho that is an earnest 
 seeker, will ever be disappointed, so long as the 
 promise of God assures us — "If ye, being evil, 
 know how to give good gifts unto your children, 
 
72 NIGHT OF DISTRESS. 
 
 how much more shall your Father, who is in Hea- 
 ven, give his Holy Spirit unto them that ask Him." 
 It also showed that he could admire and love the 
 good and the true, wherever found. His opinions 
 on ecclesiastical subjects were very decided. He 
 stated, that they were more confirmed than ever as 
 he drew nearer to his end. Yet it was evident, 
 that he discriminated between essential Christian- 
 ity and its forms, and recognised the truth of God, 
 and resemblance to Christ, wherever exhibited. 
 This obviously ought to be the temper of every 
 Christian, and to be looked for as a matter of 
 course. Yet how lamentably does a sectarian 
 spirit narrow the sympathies of multitudes ! Too 
 many are apt to look upon their own, as exclu- 
 sively the Church of Christ, and to regard all be- 
 yond its pale, as wanderers from the true fold. 
 They avoid co-operation with those who are not 
 of their party, and are as blind to the excellences 
 of other churches as to the defects of their own. 
 But amongst all Christians, are to be found evi- 
 dences of the presence of the great Head of the 
 universal Church, and of the Comforter, whom He 
 promised to send, to abide with his people for ever. 
 In proportion as we have evidence of " the mind 
 that was in Jesus," dwelling in any one, whether 
 of our own church or not, we are bound to recog- 
 nize* a brother in Christ, a fellow-heir of glory. 
 Perfect uniformity of sentiment can scarcely be ex- 
 
NIGHT OF DISTRESS. 73 
 
 pected in the present state. It did not exist in the 
 times of the Apostles. They, themselves, tolerated 
 and sanctioned discordant judgments. (Romans 
 xiv.) " Nevertheless, vvhereunto we have already 
 attained, let us walk by the same rule, let us mind 
 the same thing." How much more united, happy, 
 and useful, would Christians be, if, while conscien- 
 tiously differing on minor points, and frankly, and 
 even earnestly discussing those differences, (for 
 they should be earnest, wherever they think the 
 truth, and therefore the honour of their Master is 
 concerned,) they still recognized the features of 
 their common Lord, under whatever garb, rejoiced 
 in each other's zeal, holiness, and success, and 
 thus proved that their very controversies were 
 prompted only by love to the truth, and anxiety for 
 each other's spiritual good. Then an outward uni- 
 formity would be far from being necessary to the 
 accomplishment of the Saviour's prayer — " That 
 they all may be one, that the world may know that 
 thou hast sent me." 
 
 Dr. Gordon addressed most of those who were 
 around him, individually, and bade them an affec- 
 tionate farewell. To F. L., one of his nephews, he 
 said, * Seek Christ. Don't be carried away by the 
 world. It's all vanity. It will not comfort you at 
 death. This can only be found by trusting in 
 Christ. You may forget this. I have heard these 
 things often and forgotten them, but it is all true.' 
 7 
 
74 NIGHT OF DISTRESS. 
 
 To another nephew, T. S. R., he said — ^ Good 
 bye, my dear boy. You learn Latin. Let me tell 
 you what Adrian said to his soul in prospect of 
 death. You may, perhaps, read it some day: 
 
 ' Animula ! vagula, blandula, 
 Hospes coraesque corporis, 
 Quae nunc abibis in loca — 
 Pallidula, rigida, nudula, 
 Nee, ut soles, dabis jocos 1 ' * 
 
 He then said, 'I will translate it for you ; "Kind 
 little wandering soul, companion and guest of my 
 body, into what places art thou now^ about to de- 
 part?" And then Adrian goes on to say, how- 
 dreary and forlorn it will be. 0, my dear boy, re- 
 member what a much better hope the gospel gives 
 your uncle.' 
 
 It was very remarkable, to hear a man, suffering 
 severe agony, and in expectation of immediate 
 death, so correctly quoting, and so beautifully 
 translating a Latin author, for the purpose of im- 
 pressing an important truth on the mind of a little 
 boy. In all he said, he studied to adapt himself to 
 the peculiar cases of those whom he addressed. 
 And there was such a calm solemnity, and so much 
 affection in his manner, while all he said was so 
 evidently uttered from the very depths of his heart, 
 
 * The verses ascribed to Adrian, ^re found in the frag- 
 ments of Spartian. His life of Adrian is one of the few of 
 his memoirs extant. 
 
NIGHT OF DISTRESS. 75 
 
 that these dying admonitions can never be forgotten 
 by those who were privileged to receive them. 
 
 With similar remarks, in the brief intervals of 
 pain, the night wore away, and to the surprise of 
 every one, the Sabbath light dawned on our yet 
 living friend. It had been throughout a season of 
 mingled anxiety, grief, and joy. To witness suffer- 
 ings like his, and be unable to relieve them, know- 
 ing too that very soon we must part from one so 
 beloved, and now more dear than ever, — was a 
 cause of the deepest distress. Yet to hear such de- 
 lightful reassurances of his peace, and a clear con- 
 fession of reliance on Christ as the cause of it, from 
 lips which had hitherto been sealed on the subject : 
 to witness so wonderful an answer to our prayersj, 
 and to see death entirely disarmed of his sting, and 
 despoiled of his terrors, so filled every heart with 
 grateful joy, that it would be difhcult to determine 
 whether grief or gladness preponderated. The full 
 development of the spiritual birth was given us, ^ 
 an antidote to the shock of physical death. As 
 angels rejoice over a sinner that repenteth, so did 
 we rejoice over him. He was leaving earth, but 
 he had been evidently fitted for heaven. Who 
 would not willingly have surrendered him with so 
 olessed a hope, rather than have retaiLed him for 
 the lonsrest life without it ? It was a nio-ht of 
 weeping. But we could not. '•'• sorrow as those tha' 
 Gave no hope.'' 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 i-ROM SUNDAY, JAN. 14, TO SUNDAY, JAN. 21'. 
 
 RALLIES — LOA'G FAREWELL — NUMEROUS VISITS — FIDELITY 
 OF THE RECORD VARIOUS CONVERSATIONS ANTICIPA- 
 TION OF HEAVEN — AFFECTIONATE REMEMBRANCE OP 
 EARTH — DESIRE TO PUBLISH THE GOSPEL — HINTS ON 
 
 PREACHING EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY — HINDRANCES 
 
 TO AN INQUIRER INCONSISTENCIES OF PROFESSORS 
 
 CHRISTIANS AFRAID OF INVESTIGATION CROMWELL'S 
 
 LETTERS MURAL TABLET INTERESTING ARGUMENTA- 
 TIVE DIALOGUE ON THE TRUTH OF CHRISTIANITY — IMPO- 
 TENCE OF HUMAN REASON — PHARAOH's HEART HARDENED 
 
 — HIEROGLYPHICS — ' MY TIMES ARE IN THY HAND* 
 
 EVANGELICAL TRUTH — A PHYSICIAN's OPPORTUNITIES OP 
 PROPAGATING THE GOSPEL — MAKING A COMPANION OP 
 
 ^GOD — Herbert's holdfast. 
 
 In mercy to survivors, Dr. Gordon was spared for 
 more than three weeks, after the trying scenes of 
 the preceding night, during the whole of which 
 time his mental faculties retained their full vigour. 
 The violence of his pain abated, and he was ena- 
 bled to enjoy constant intercourse with his friends. 
 He loved to have his family always around his bed. 
 
JANUARY 14. 77 
 
 and to spend his waking hours in reciprocations of 
 affection, and conversation or reading on the great 
 themes of the love of Christ, and the glories of 
 Heaven. This respite was an inestimable boon to 
 those most dear to him, enabling them both to hear 
 and to say much, for which there would have been 
 110 opportunity, had he been taken from them by 
 the sudden attack of the 13th. There is a sad 
 satisfaction in a deliberate farewell, previous to a 
 long separation, the loss of which is the greatest 
 evil connected with the sudden death of a Chris- 
 tian. But this privilege was fully enjoyed in the 
 present instance, and a rich legacy of love and 
 piety bequeathed to survivors, more precious than 
 any worldly wealth. 
 
 Many besides his immediate connections, shared 
 in the privilege of conversing wnth him on his dying 
 bed. He saw all who desired an interview, delight- 
 ing in the opportunity thus given him of commend- 
 ing that Saviour, who had in so remarkable a degree, 
 given him "the peace which passeth all understand- 
 ing." He received neaJy three hundred visits, 
 during the last three w'eeks of his life, from persons 
 of all ranks ; but whether rich or poor he welcomed 
 tPjem with equal courtesyj saying something appro- 
 priate and kind to each, and pointing to '^ the 
 Lamb of God w'hich taketh away the sins of the 
 world." The writer need not fear the charge of 
 exaggeration, when there are so many persons who 
 
*7B ' JANUARY 14. 
 
 can testify, that no description can convey an ade- 
 quate idea of the calm serenity, the vigorous intel- 
 lect, the affectionate manner, and the joyful hope 
 manifested by the sufferer. Words are impotent to 
 depict that sick room, which, to use the words of 
 the Rev. Dr. Dobbin at the funeral, was ' not at all 
 the chamber of death, but the robing-room of 
 Heaven.' 
 
 We were anxious to catch every thing he said, 
 that we might treasure it in our memory as a solace 
 for the season of bereavement, and a feast for future 
 years. It was originally for this purpose, but after- 
 wards for a more extended use, that the" writer took 
 si ort-hand notes of almost every thing that Dr. Gor- 
 don said, during the time he was confined to his 
 bed. This was difficult to accomplish, as it was 
 necessary to avoid the observation of his keen eye, 
 which scarcely anything eluded, for had he known 
 that a record was kept of what he said, the freedom 
 of his communications would have received a great 
 check. But by the position in which the author sat, 
 he was able to secure a faithful record of what 
 passed, without any suspicion on the part of his be- 
 loved father-in-law. This statement is necessary, 
 in order to account for the length and number of 
 the conversations recorded, and to correct the infer- 
 ence likely to be drawn from the precision and 
 beauty with which many of Dr. Gordon's sentiments 
 are expressed, that the phraseology was the result 
 
JANUARY 14. 79 
 
 of subsequent careful revision, and not the unpre- 
 meditated utterance of a dying man. The biogra- 
 pher assures the reader, that the words, as well as 
 the ideas, are Dr. Gordon's own, whose extempo- 
 raneous expressions were usually marked by the ac- 
 curacy of studied compositions. To show the con- 
 nection of what he said, the remarks of others are 
 occasionally recorded, though with a brevity which 
 will account for whatever abruptness may be ob- 
 served in the dialogue. 
 
 January 14. The severity of the pain having 
 abated, the beloved sufferer fell into a doze. During 
 the whole of this day, he seemed gradually sinking 
 from extreme exhaustion ; so that, as far as our 
 feelings, and his own, were concerned, it was still 
 a dying scene. Indeed, this was the case till his 
 death actually occurred ; for, notwithstanding the 
 occasional variations in his symptoms, he knew that 
 the result Avas inevitable ; and we were assured, 
 both by himself, and the medical friends who visited 
 him, that his departure might take place at any hour. 
 This imparted to every thing he said, the interest 
 of a last utterance. But though on the verge of 
 the other world, and longing to be with Jesus, his 
 tender heart clung to the objects of earthly affection. 
 The sensibilities of the man shone forth the more 
 brightly, in the hope and joy of the Christian. He 
 delighted to be reassured of our affection, and to 
 talk over the happy scenes of former years; but 
 
80 JANUARY 11. 
 
 said, ' I am going to a betlar (jounir) ' He sent 
 kind farewell messagci> to many friends. Among 
 others, to the author's father, the writer of the weii- 
 known Tract, ^ The Sinner's Friend,' he sent this 
 salutation — ' Assure him of my strong affection ; tell 
 him I'm the sinner, and that I've found the Friend.' 
 He requested that a nice spot should b6 selected 
 in the cemetery for his grave ; and that there might 
 be flowers planted upon it. It was remarked — 
 
 * This is a bright sunny day.' He replied — ' Yes, 
 but I shall have a brighter one next Sunday.' In 
 kind consideration to our feelings, he endeavoured 
 to prepare us for the contortions of the features, 
 which sometimes accompany death, and said — 
 
 * You w^ill see a slight movement in my face, but 
 don't be alarmed, for there will be no pain. I've 
 been thinking how busy you w^ill be about my fune- 
 ral ; but I shall be far away.' Suddenly stretching 
 out his emaciated hands, and somewhat* raising his 
 head, his countenance beaming with rapture, and 
 his eyes gazing, as on some vision of beauty and 
 splendour, he said — ^ I see that bright region spread 
 before me, where there is no night, and where no 
 heat scorches. And I see Jesus too ; he is waiting 
 to receive me!' Then after a pause — 'It would 
 not do for a worldly mind to enter. It could not 
 enjoy heaven. There must be a change. The way 
 to be prepared, is by self-abasement, and reliance 
 on Christ.' 
 
JANUARY 15. 81 
 
 Mrs. G. — ^ Then it is reliance on Him, that has 
 given you so much peace in all your illness?' 
 
 Dr. G. — ^Oh! yes; it is being found in Him 
 Though I have not made a profession, it was not be- 
 cause I was ashamed of Christ. But what chiefly 
 tleterred me, was being so often shocked at the con- 
 duct of professors.' 
 
 Mrs. G. — ' I hope you may live another night that 
 I may nurse you ; but you experience that it is — 
 
 ' Sweet to lie passive in his hands, 
 And know no will but his.' 
 
 Dr. G. — ' Yes ! and cast every thing on Him — 
 cast every thing on Him V 
 
 Monday, 15. Soon after waking, he asked that 
 some Shrewsbury cakes might be sent for. When 
 they vvere brought, though he only ate part of one, 
 he regarded them with much interest, and said — 
 ' They w^ere my favourites at school ; I often spent 
 my pocket money in them.' Many similar inci- 
 dents occurred, illustrating the affectionate remem- 
 brance he cherished of former years. Though so 
 near the heavenly land, which by faith he beheld so 
 earnestly, he cast many a loving, lingering, look 
 backward on the scenes of his pilgrimage ; recall- 
 ing past enjoyments, and especially delighting to 
 refer to any circumstances which identified him with 
 those he most dearly loved. He seemed to live hi* 
 
82 JANUARY 15. 
 
 life over again in pleasant reminiscences ; leisurely 
 surveying and bidding it adieu. Far from regard- 
 ing this world as a barren wilderness, without one 
 flower to cheer the weary traveller, he looked on it 
 as stored with happiness by a God of love ; and his 
 joy in departure arose, not from any weariness of it, 
 but from a conviction that to be ' with Jesus was far 
 better.' His owm w^ords, on his sister, Mrs. R., en- 
 tering his room this morning, w^ere— ' I cannot ex- 
 press the joy I feel. I can leave you all, though no 
 one has loved you more than I have done, or loved 
 life more. It is all nothing to me. I am such an 
 unworthy creature. God has been so gracious, and 
 to mCj more than any one.' 
 
 He did not think a Christian should cease to love 
 this life, because he hopes soon to enjoy a better. 
 In reference to his residence, in furnishing which he 
 had tnken great interest, and exhibited an elegant 
 taste, it was remarked by his wife, * You w^ll leave 
 your beautiful house.' He said, ' Ah ! I hoped to 
 get round it, but I have not been able. You must 
 go round for me.' Some one said, ' But you have 
 a better house to go to :' to w^hich he promptly re- 
 plied, ' Yes — but I am not talking of that now. 
 The things are separate. JVbio I wish to talk of 
 this. You'll look at the rooms, and think of me ? 
 Talk to me a little about it.' 
 
 At different times, he said — * As I get weaker, 
 my faith and prospects are stronger and brighter 
 
JANUARY 14. 83 
 
 The way to have strong faith is, to think nothing of 
 yourself. — You have come to see me ; I have many 
 friends, but there is none comparable to Jesus. — I 
 thought I should have lived many years, but how 
 little we know ! And if I were to live twenty years 
 more, perhaps my friends might be gone, and I 
 might have no consolation like this, in having them 
 a11 around me. — I have no desire to get better, ex- 
 cept to be of use in propagating the gospel ; I would 
 mix it with my practice. If I lived, it would be 
 my whole delight to publish Christ.' To the pew- 
 opener, he said — ' I am going to heaven, and hope 
 to see you there. Seek Christ ! I see my own un- 
 worthinesSj and am trusting only to Him. Remem- 
 ber me kindly to your wife ; I hope we shall all 
 meet.' He forgot no one, and made minute inqui- 
 ries respecting the relations of those, among his 
 visitors, who were in humble circumstances of life ; 
 mentioning them by name, with some message of 
 affectionate interest in their welfare. 
 
 To a lady from Welton, who told him how much 
 his friends there loved him, and would cherish his 
 memory, he replied — ' Tell them all what Christ has 
 done for my soul. He is waiting for me. I am 
 very happy. Christ is all. Say to my friends, how 
 much I am indebted to them for their prayers.' The 
 willingness of Christ to save at the eleventh hour 
 being mentioned, he rejoined — ' Ah ! but it has not 
 oeen the eleventh hour with me.' The woman being 
 
Bi JANUARY 15. 
 
 referred to, who touched the hem of Christ's garment, 
 he said with great emphasis — ' But I have embraced 
 him, and wish to be like him.' 
 
 To Sir W. L. — ^ I have just been thinking I shall 
 be looking down from those happy realms on you, 
 toiling with the storms and winters of life. I only 
 regret I have not seen earlier that glorious gospel as 
 I now see it, so as to have preached it to the mul- 
 titudes of men I have addressed. If restored, 
 nothing should I rejoice in more than this ; I should 
 never be ashamed of Jesus ; I w^ould preach Him to 
 all. An infidel once said to me, after hearing N. 
 preach, that if he believed such things, he could 
 never cease praying for, and pleading with the peo- 
 ple. That is just as I feel I should do, if I were 
 spared. My physical strength might not be suffi- 
 cient, but as to the interest and delight of it, I should 
 never tire. At Harrogate, I met a son of Mr. W., 
 and was disposed to smile at him, for relinquishing 
 a lucrative business, in order to preach the gospel. 
 But I could delight to do the same thing now. I 
 could relinquish every thing for this. Not that I 
 think worldly business incompatible w^ith religion, 
 but from the pleasure the other w^ould afford me ; I 
 could do it with a zeal w^hich would surprise my- 
 self.' 
 
 Being asked by the author, if from his own judg- 
 ment, as an attentive and inquiring hearer, he could 
 give him any hints as to the best method of preach* 
 
JANITARY 15. 85 
 
 ing, he said — ' Preach earnestly, and simply, so as 
 to be understood ; but the best preaching is sincerity, 
 and a consistent life. Men think much more of 
 that than anything, there is no influence without 
 that. I would not listen to a man whose life was 
 inconsistent, though he were as wise as Solomon.' 
 
 N. — ' What do you consider the best method of 
 presenting the arguments in favour of Christianity ?' 
 
 Dr. G. — ' I think little of evidences ; Scripture 
 is its own evidence — the great truths it contains. 
 Men grant the truth of Christianity. Preaching evi- 
 dences is like putting up ti man to knock him 
 down.' 
 
 N. — * You always acknowledged the historic truth 
 of Christianity ?' 
 
 Dr. G. — I did more, I loved and honoured it, and 
 always felt the religious man was the happiest man ; 
 though I did not feel as I do now— -the need of 
 Christ for myself.' 
 
 N. — * What were your principal hindrances ?' 
 
 Dr. G. — * Above all, the inconsistencies of pro» 
 fessing Christians. I have met with persons who 
 could propose and approve measures, from which I 
 revoHed. The folly and injudiciousness of some 
 Christians in their mode of talking of religion, was 
 another impediment ; also the intolerance of many, 
 I always thought seriously of religion, daily. I 
 was very anxious about it. This made me ask 
 questions I should not otherwise have thought of 
 8 
 
86 JANUARY 15. 
 
 But the very questions were put down as infidelity. 
 Often in the company of professing Christians, I 
 have not dared to make free inquiries. This looked 
 like a fear of truth, and as if they distrusted their 
 own religion. I remember delivering once, some 
 ^'^.ctures on Physical Education, to which some one 
 replied on behalf of Christianity, as if my views 
 impugned it — as if the science and the religion 
 could not both be true.' 
 
 Worthy of deep consideration are these remarks. 
 The conduct of professors is narrowly observed. If 
 there is any indicatioB that they themselves do not 
 firmly believe, or are not influenced by their faith, 
 the effect cannotbut be injurious. Instead of mani- 
 festing alarm, when startling discoveries are made, 
 and denouncing such inquiries as having an infidel 
 tendency, Christians should ever be among the 
 most earnest friends of free inquiry. They have 
 nothing to fear from the fullest investigation. They 
 are not called upon to descend from the high eleva- 
 tion of an established truth, to prove its reconcile- 
 ableness to every new hypothesis. Let Philosophers 
 first settle among themselves, what is the truth in 
 science, and Christians need be under no alarm that 
 it will be at variance with the Bible. The God of 
 revelation is the God of nature. He cannot con- 
 tradict himself. Hitherto, every science, the more 
 fully it has been investigated, has the more clearl} 
 confirmed the sacred Scriptures. It is only a limited 
 
JANUARY 15. 87 
 
 and imperfect knowledge, which suggests discrep- 
 ancies. 
 
 Our interpretations of both the great books of 
 God, may be false, but the declarations themselves 
 cannot be. A deeper philosophy or a sounder 
 criticism, will ever prove an additional bulwark of 
 the truth. To shun the philosopher as a foe to re- 
 ligion, and to feel alarm at the progress of scientific 
 discovery, manifests a very defective faith. " He 
 that believeth shall not make haste.'' 
 
 Still more important is a consistent life. Men 
 judge of a system more by the actions of its adhe- 
 rents, than the nature of its doctrines. Not that 
 such reasoning is always legitimate. Advocates of 
 liberty may themselves be tyrants, and eulogists of 
 virtue be votaries of vice. Christianity, estimated 
 by the character of its author, and the tendency of 
 its doctrines, would still be a religion of love, 
 though all its disciples were murderers. The in- 
 consistency proves a false profession, not neces- 
 sarily an ineffective or injurious creed. Still, the 
 mference, being easy and plausible, is general ; and 
 if the holiness of professed Christians is influential 
 in favour of their religion, the effect of a contrary 
 character will generally be the reverse. When 
 those who are regarded as converted men manifest 
 a violence of temper, a rudeness of demeanour, an 
 unkind and unforgiving spirit, a grasping and cove- 
 tous disposition, a meanness and unfairness in their 
 
SS JANUARY 15. 
 
 dealings, from which many men of amiable temper 
 and a keen sense of honour, though without an^ 
 profession of piety, revolt ; is it not likely that the 
 latter will be encouraged to think lightly of a reli- 
 gion which seems productive of so little fruit? Or 
 if the true distinction is made^ must not such in- 
 consistency tend to deter from ''that confession of 
 Christ before men," which is g^ expressly enjoined, 
 as it is calculated to confer important benefits on 
 the individual himself, on the Church, and on the 
 world ? 
 
 To "name the name of Christ," and not "depart 
 from iniquity" — to pay the homage of the lip, but 
 "in works to deny Him," is an insult to God, and 
 an injury to man, too seldom considered in this age 
 of profession. It is only when Christians are 
 " living epistles, knowm and read of all men," — 
 when the visible preaching of the church corrobo- 
 rates the oral preaching of the pulpit, and the daily 
 life of its members presents a manifest transcript of 
 the principles of its great Head, that any extensive 
 and permanent effects are likely to follow from the 
 publication of the gospel. Whatever the learning 
 or the eloquence which may characterize it, preach- 
 ing must ever be essentially defective, upless the 
 whole church, as wdth a mighty, consentaneous 
 voice, responds by its obvious acts to the word 
 spoken. Then, and not till then, will that word, as 
 of old, "have free course and be glorified." 
 
JANUARY 16. 89 
 
 Tuesday 16th. On awaking, he said, ' Read to 
 me something about Heaven.' Having listened to 
 Bunyan's incomparable description of the passage 
 of the pilgrims through the river, and their entrance 
 into the celestial city, he said, 'Its not half so 
 beautiful as I have pictured it to myself.' Various 
 selections from the Bible, and Hymns descriptive 
 of the heavenly state, called forth frequent expres- 
 sions of the delight he felt in the prospect of soon 
 realizing it. 
 
 His son-in-law mentioned his intention of having 
 a mural tablet placed over his seat at church, and 
 said the inscription should record that he was the 
 friend of the working man, adding, after a pause, 
 ^ and that your whole trust was in Jesus.' To this 
 he earnestly responded, ' yes, say that — be sure 
 you say that ! ' 
 
 N. — ' Then you are anxious for Christ to be ex- 
 tolled ? ' 
 
 Dr. G.— ' yes— that's it, that's it ! ' 
 
 How well he had learned that truth which none 
 can experimentally know but by the teaching of 
 the Holy Ghost, ' in me dwelleth no good thing !' 
 In conformity with his wish that Christ should be 
 extolled, the tablet bears the following inscrip- 
 tion : — 
 
 8* 
 
ft JANUARY 16. 
 
 IN MEMORY OF WILLIAM GORDON, M.D : F.L.S. 
 
 BY A COUKSE OF VARIED PHILANTHROPY, 
 
 A.\D SY SELF-DExVYING DEVOTION TO THE CAUSe OF SOCIAL PROGRESS, 
 
 IN THE ZEALOUS ADVOCACY OF THE PRINCIPLES OF 
 
 LIBERTY, EDUCATION, PEACE, AND TEMPERANCE, 
 
 HAVING EARNED FOR HIMSELF THE DISTINGUISHED TITLE OP 
 
 ' THE people's friend,' 
 
 BE RESTED FROM HIS LABOURS, FEB. 7, 1849. AGED 47 YEARS. 
 
 AFTER MANY YEARS OF ANXIOUS INVESTIGATIOI , 
 
 HE ACKNOWLEDGED THAT THE ONLY TRUE PHILOSOPHY 
 
 WAS THE RECEPTION OF THE GOSPEL IN THE SPIRIT OF A CHILD, 
 
 FAULTLESS IN THE ESTIMATION OF THOSE WHO KNEW HIM BEST, 
 
 HE CONFESSED HIMSELF TO BE THE ' CHIEF OF SINNERS.' 
 
 FINDING SOLID PEACE, AND TRIUMPHING OVER DEATH, 
 
 BY SIMPLE RELIANCE ON HIM WHO SAID : — 
 
 "COME UNTO ME ALL YE THAT LABOUR AND ARE HEAVY LADEN, 
 
 AND I WILL GIVE YOU REST." 
 
 To W., a pious working man, who had always 
 manifested great respect for him, and who called 
 this morning to bid him farewell, he said, ' You 
 see me better than you ever saw me before, Mr. 
 W. I hare sought the same Saviour you serve. I 
 have asked Him to forgive my sins, and He has 
 done so. He will present me to the Almighty. I 
 am going a very delightful journey, to a very happy 
 home, where I shall meet only with the wise and 
 the good. And to be with Jesus ! I would not 
 
JANUARY 16. 91 
 
 change my present condition for all the wealth in 
 the world ! This has been a gradual thing with 
 me, though I have not had such great joy till now. 
 It is brighter to-day than ever. I have not had a 
 cloud all through my illness. How great is the 
 goodness of God ! And all to be had for asking ! 
 Nothing to do for ourselves — but to take what God 
 gives us ! All made ready for us. Only to hum- 
 ble ourselves and receive. It's so clear, that when 
 once seen, it is impossible to doubt. Press on with 
 vigour. You won't reach perfection here, but seek 
 the Holy Spirit. 
 
 W. — * I'm delighted to see you thus, Doctor.' 
 Dr. G. — 'I'm delighted to see you, Mr. W., and 
 all who entertain such views and are sincere like 
 yourself. Learning, riches, fame^ are all nothing 
 in comparison.' 
 
 W. — ' I've often prayed for you, Doctor, w^hen 
 I've passed you in the street. There's nothing like 
 religion for such times as these.' 
 
 Dr. G. — 'For all times. In health there's no 
 pleasure like this.' 
 
 Dr. G. was much interested in listening to some 
 of Cromwell's letters. The following extract es- 
 pecially delighted him: — 'Salute your dear wife 
 from me. Bid her beware of a bondage spirit. Fear 
 is the natural issue of such a spirit ; the antidote is, 
 Love. The voice of Fear is : ' If I had done this ; 
 if I had done that, how w^ll it had been with me ?' 
 
92 JANUARY 16. ^ ' 
 
 — I know this hath been her vain leasoning. Love 
 argueth in this wise : what a Christ have I ; vrhat 
 a Father in and through Him ! What a name hath 
 my Father : " Merciful, gracious, long- stiff erii^g, 
 abundant in goodness and truth', forgiving iniquity, 
 transgression, and sin.^^ "What a nature hath my 
 Father: He is love; free in it, unchangeable, in- 
 finite ! What a covenant between Him and Christ, 
 — for all the seed, for every one : wherein He un- 
 dertakes all, and the poor soul nothing. The new 
 'covenant is grace, — to, or upon the soul ; to vv'hich 
 it (the soul) is passive and receptive : Til do away 
 their siiis ; Til write my Law, 4'c. ; Til put it in 
 their hearts : they shall never depart from me, &c. 
 This commends the love of God ; it's Christ dying 
 for men without strength — for men whilst sinners — 
 whilst enemies. And shall we seek for the root Oa 
 our comforts within us? What God hath done, 
 what He is to us in Christ, this is the root of our 
 comfort: in this is stability; in us is weakness. 
 Acts of obedience are not perfect, and therefore 
 yield not perfect grace. Faith, as an act, yields it 
 not, but only as it carries us unto Him, who is oui 
 perfect rest and peace ; in whom we are accounted 
 of, and received by the Father, even as Christ him 
 self! This is our high calling. Rest we here, and 
 here only.'* 
 
 * Carlyle's Letters of Oliver Cromwell, Vol. \\. p. 377. 
 The Protector, by Merle D'Aubigne, p. 202. 
 
JANUARY 16. 93 
 
 Dr. G— *Does Cromwell say that? Read it 
 again. It's what I've been wanting these two 
 hours. I've been thinking, 0, if I had not gone to 
 Harrogate, or if I had not gone to Scarborough, I 
 might have been better. How that suits me where 
 he writes — 'Fear says, if I had done this, and 
 avoided that : but love says, what a Christ have I ! 
 What a Father have I!" 
 
 Another letter, which specially interested him, 
 was one addressed by the Protector to his * beloved 
 daughter, Bridget Ireton' — in which he says, ' Your 
 sister is, I trust, in mercy, exercised with some per- 
 plexed thoughts. She sees her own vanity and 
 carnal mind : bewailing it : she seeks after (as 1 
 hope also) what will satisfy. And thus to be a 
 seeker, is to be one of the best sect next to a finder ; 
 and such a one shall every faithful humble seeker 
 be at the end. Happy seeker, happy finder! Who 
 ever tasted that the Lord is gracious, without some 
 sense of self, vanity, and badness? Dear heart, 
 press on ; let not husband, let not anything cool 
 thy affections after Christ. That which is best 
 worthy of love in thy husband, is that of the image 
 of Christ he bears. Look on that, and love it best, 
 and all the rest for that.'* 
 
 In the course of the day, Dr. G. asked for Watts' 
 
 * Carlyle's Letters of Oliver Cromwell, Vol. i. p. 277. 
 The Protector by Merle D'Aubigne, p. 79. 
 
94 JANUARY 16. 
 
 Hymns for Children, which had been a favourite 
 book from his earliest years. He frequently intei 
 rupted the reader with expressions of admiration. 
 His case w^as beautifully illustrated by the hymn — 
 
 How fine has the day been ! How bright was the sim, 
 How lovely and joyful the course that he run ! 
 Tho' he rose in a mist, when his race he begun, 
 
 And there followed some droppings of rain ; 
 But now the fair traveller comes to the west, 
 His rays are all gold, and his beauties are best, 
 He paints the sky gay as he sinks to his rest, 
 
 And foretells a bright rising again 
 
 To Mr. K. — " I have seen my own vileness, and 
 sought the Saviour. I cannot tell the place and 
 the time. " The wind bloweth where it listeth, 
 and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not 
 tell whence it cometh or whither it goeth." But I 
 know it proceeds from the goodness of God. Mine 
 is a testimony w^hich few can give. The course of 
 my reading has been so curious and strange. I 
 have met with so many quibbles and objections, 
 and my mind has often been in a maze and con- 
 fusion.' 
 
 Mr. K. — ' Those things are not profitable.' 
 
 Dr. G. — 'No! I don't regret that; it has given 
 
 me a strength I could not otherwise expect. I feel 
 
 now on so firm a rock, that Satan cannot possibly 
 
 shake me. But I am not trusting to m.yself. I 
 
JANUARY 16. 95 
 
 have been always a seeker after truth, though often 
 bewildered in the investigation.' 
 
 Mrs. G., remarked, what a mercy it was that he 
 had no clouds to darken, no temptations to harass 
 him. 
 
 Dr. G. — ' The moment they are suggested I dash 
 them away, and keep my eye fixed on my Saviour ; 
 I find him always near.' 
 
 Mrs. G. — ^ Then you feel that — 
 
 Jesus can make a dyingf bed, 
 Feel soft as downy pillows are. 
 
 Dr. G. — ' Indeed I can ! And what a mercy to 
 be able to enjoy conversation, with my memory 
 and intellect as clear as ever. And now that my 
 pain has subsided, I can enjoy my friends. I often 
 expressed a wish to die when my sufferings were 
 so intense, for I had no fea£.^ But I see how much 
 better it was that I did not die then. He know^s 
 the best.' 
 
 Mrs. G. — ' You seem to feel the Saviour so very 
 near.' 
 
 Dr. G. — ' Indeed I do ! If I had not him as my 
 friend, w^hat a dreary departing it w'ould be ; but 
 now I am going to a dear, dear friend !' 
 
 Mrs. G. — ' You have exerted yourself to-day very 
 much, in speaking to every one ; but you are so 
 anxious to preach Christ.' 
 
96 JANUARY 16. 
 
 Dr. G. — ^ Indeed I am ! And I think and feel 
 this may be my last opportunity.' 
 
 Mr. Knight. — * It is delightful to see you thus.' 
 
 Dr. G.— ^ But how delightful to/ee/ thus ! The 
 only reason \Yhy I wish to live, is to preach the 
 gospel. I should not be ashamed of Christ in pub- 
 lic or private.' 
 
 During the night he said to his daughter — ^ I 
 may live one or two days more ; but I leave it with 
 God, and wait His will. I have been picturing the 
 flowers nodding over my grave. And when it is/ 
 windy and rainy, you will perhaps think how 
 dreary it is for me, but remember, I shall not feel 
 that.' 
 
 The hymn was repeated — 
 
 How sweet the name of Jesus sounds. 
 
 On the closing couplet— 
 
 And may the savour of thy name, 
 Refresh my soul in death I — 
 
 he said— ^ It refreshes my soul.' 
 
 To his faithful man-servant, he said— * I am 
 going to a better country. I hope you are prepared 
 to come too. Seek Christ ! He'll be the greatest 
 comfort to you all your days. He is the best friend 
 ^f man.' 
 
 Wednesday, Jan. 17. To the surprise of all. Dr. 
 
JANUARY 16. d 
 
 Gordon still survived. He was apparently so near 
 his end, that every day was considered to be his 
 last. He was anxious to see as many of his friends 
 as possible, and to lose no opportunity of testifying 
 to the truth and consoling power of religion. He 
 expressed a wish to bid farewell to an elderly man, 
 whom he had known, and greatly respected for 
 many years; and whose uniform kindness of dispo- 
 sition made him universally beloved, but for whose 
 spiritual welfare. Dr. G. felt much solicitude. Mr. 
 * * having come to his bed-side, the following 
 dialogue occurred, which cannot fail of deeply 
 interesting the reader, considering that a dying 
 man, worn to a shadow by a long and painful 
 illness, and who thought himself within a few 
 hours of eternity, took so prominent a part in it : — 
 
 Mr. * * — * I am very sorry, Doctor, to see you 
 so ill.' 
 
 Dr. G. — ' I am very well, and very happy. But 
 I rest on Christ. When we pride ourselves on out 
 own conduct' — 
 
 Mr. * * — ' Doctor ! you have always lived a 
 good life. Every body respects you.' 
 
 Dr. G. — 'But I must not think of myself; all 
 the merits I have must be thrown aside. You 
 don't imderstand that. I once did not. My course 
 of reading has been of a very varied and multiplied 
 kind, but I can assure you there is a consolation in 
 9 
 
98 JANUARY 17. 
 
 resting your hopes of future happiness on the merits 
 of Christ, which the world has yet to learn.' 
 
 Mr. * * — * I know that in these moments, reh- 
 gion is every thing, though I cannot see just as you. 
 I know I must die ; and am sensible I shall live 
 again. That future state is a serious consideration. 
 But some think there will be annihilation.' 
 
 Dr. G. — ^ So dreadful do I think annihilation, 
 that I would rather live in pain, than not live at all. 
 There's nothing more dreadful. But I have a bet- 
 ter hope. It is beyond human reason — it comes 
 without human reason.' 
 
 Mr. * * — 'I am sensible that it must be happy 
 to think so. I have been on what I thought my 
 death-bed, as you are, and though I don't pride 
 myself, I thought there was nothing I ever did that 
 I wished I had not done. I never hurt man nor 
 woman, and if that were the last of me, I could 
 die comfortable. But, then, there was the thought 
 of rising again. Ah ! I may die easy enough, but 
 there's some chance of being called over to account, 
 and there I was bothered; fori thought with Shake- 
 spere, that if dying was a sleep, I might have awful 
 dreams. But I can't do as some people, drop down 
 on my knees, and say, ' God be merciful.' ' 
 
 Dr. G. — ' You never saw me drop on my knees, 
 Mr. * *. — You said you thought you had never 
 injured any one. Why, my dear fellow, there was 
 
JANUARY 17. 99 
 
 not a day, when I analyzed my life, that I had not 
 done, spoken, or thought evil.' 
 
 Mr. * * — ^ I reconciled myself by thinking, that 
 if I had done evil, I did not know it, and therefore 
 there was no guilt.' 
 
 Dr. G.—* There is a right line and a wrong, 
 which does not depend on you. You do not make 
 the straight line.' 
 
 Mr. * * — ' It's awkward when there are two 
 roads, and you don't know which to take.' 
 
 Dr. G. — * There is only one way. A man shews 
 me a straight line; I say it is not straight. My 
 knowledge of geometry proves there is only one 
 straight line. So there is only one circle, right or 
 wrong. So I act, kindly or unkindly. If I think 
 an evil thought of a man, I act unkindly. Human 
 beings cannot act perfectly ; but perfection ought 
 to be my standard ; and when God requires it, and 
 I don't come up to it, what am I to do ? who is to 
 make up my deficiencies ^ For if one man says he 
 only spoke one unkind word, another may say he 
 only spoke two, so that you may have a world of 
 quarrelling.' 
 
 Mr. * * — ' Well, it is a consolation to see a man 
 as I never have before, say he dies in hopes of 
 living again. I always felt miserable at such 
 Fcenes.' 
 
 Dr. G.— ' Why ?' 
 
 yr. ** — *I thought they were dying without 
 
100 JANUARY 17. 
 
 hope. One was a good man, as a member of soci- 
 ety ; he said — ^ To-morrow all will be over with me, 
 all over, my boy, all over, dead and gone, that's all 
 that can be said of me.' Yet he was a man of very 
 strong mind.' 
 
 Dr. G.— *Did you ever see a locomotive engine?' 
 
 Mr. * *— ^Yes.' 
 
 Dr. G. — ^ Do you think it moves ?' 
 
 Mr. * *— 'Yes.' 
 
 Dr. G. — I can prove that it does not, and I defy 
 you to disprove my argument.' 
 
 Mr. * "^ — ' Well, but something moves.' 
 
 Dr. G. — 'It is a delusion. It is not a reality. 
 May you not be deceived ? A body only occupies 
 a space equal to itself.' 
 
 Mr. * *— ' Well ?' 
 
 Dr. G. — ' It cannot hold two spaces at one and 
 the same time.' 
 
 Mr. * *— 'Well?' 
 
 Dr. G. — ' Get that into your head.' 
 
 Mr. * * — ' I see your meaning.' 
 
 Dr. G. — ' A body cannot move where it is, and it 
 cannot move where it is not. It is stationary where 
 it is, and cannot move where it is not, therefore it 
 does not move at all.' 
 
 Mr. * * — ' Ah ! this is good argument, and sound 
 too.' 
 
 Dr. G. — ' This argument was employed three 
 thousand years ago, and it is unrefuted yet. Never- 
 
JANUARY 17. 101 
 
 theless, this man says there is nothing after death I 
 Is this man learned ?' 
 
 Mr. ^ * — ' In some things.' 
 
 Dr. G. — 'Did you ever see a straight line ?' 
 
 Mr. * *— ' Yes.' 
 
 Dr. G. — ^ If you go to Cambridge, you will find 
 a.vn who will hail you as the greatest discoverer of 
 tne age. Have you ever seen a circle ?' 
 
 Mr. * * — ' Yes, I've seen what was called a cir- 
 cle, and I thought it was.' 
 
 Dr. G-— 'Don't you see how ignorant men are? 
 Were yo4 to calculate the radii of a circle accord- 
 ing to thoj.e you draw, what imperfect radii would 
 they be ! Sume would be shorter than others. 
 
 M. * * — k But how can you prove there is no 
 straight line ?' 
 
 Dr. G. — ' Easily. Draw one, and take a micro- 
 scope.' 
 
 Mr. * * — ' Yes ; there will be ins and outs.' 
 
 Dr. G. — ' Such aaen should think more.' 
 
 Mr. * * — ' With all our thinking, we are very 
 ignorant. Pope spoke of this, where he talks about 
 ^ teaching eternal wisdom how to rule,' adding — 
 ' then drop into thyself, and be a fool.' I've often 
 thought there is truth in that passage where he 
 speaks of shewing a Newton as you shew an ape. 
 But Pope speaks of a man bursting as a bubble, 
 which turns to water, and who can find it again i^ 
 Yet great men may err. You are a very clever 
 
 9* 
 
102 JANUARY 17. 
 
 man, Doctor, quite a philosopher ; but the best oi 
 ns know very little.' 
 
 Dr. G. — ^ Nothing ! and it is that utter ignorance 
 which gives me this blessedness now. All my 
 reasoning brings me to this — ' I must rest on 
 Christ.' 
 
 Mr. * * — ' Well, I think Him the best person on 
 whom we can rest; I always did. It's a pleasure 
 to hear you talk, for its a very uncommon thing to 
 be very strong in opinion while very weak in body. 
 To your family it must be very delightful to see you 
 like this. I would give worlds to be the remainder 
 of my life, in the same state of mind.' 
 
 Dr. G., being greatly exhausted, said faintly, but 
 earnestly, ' Try !' 
 
 Mr. * * — ^ I do in my paltry way. What you 
 say is sincere. There is no humbug about you. 
 What you have, no man could shake.' 
 
 Dr. G.— ^ None !' 
 
 Mr. * * — ' And he would be a vile man who 
 should attempt. I was glad to hear you say you 
 placed your hopes on Christ. You have often said 
 to me, the Bible told you this and that. I reverence 
 the Bible, but I have often doubted whether it has 
 (lone good or ill. The New Testament I always 
 considered beautiful. But in the Old Testament, 
 though there are some things good and fine, there 
 are others at which I have shuddered.' 
 
 Here Dr. G. was completely exhausted, ana 
 
JANUARY 17. 103 
 
 seemed to doze. To save him from further fatigue, 
 the argument was taken up by the writer, who in- 
 quired what things those were that were so objec- 
 tionable. 
 
 Mr. * * — ' The historical accounts. The Jews 
 being so bad, in spite of such kindness from God. 
 What wickedness !' 
 
 N. — ' Does not that prove the truth of the Bible, 
 w^hich says, that the " heart is deceitful above all 
 things, and desperately wicked ?" "What can be 
 a stronger illustration of this, than the history of a 
 nation which w^as so wicked, though placed in such 
 favourable circumstances for being different ? Be- 
 sides, the Jews w^ere very patriotic, even despising 
 all other nations : and the Prophets who wrote 
 those books, were very patriotic, mourning over the 
 calamities of their nation ; yet it is they who record 
 their sins ! Does not this prove at least that they 
 were candid and truthful men ? Would they have 
 said such severe things against their own party, 
 unless they were sincere .'* ' 
 
 Mr. * * — ' Well, I see that. They were candid 
 men. But then the plagues of Egypt ! and it is 
 said that God hardened Pharaoh's heart!' 
 
 N. — 'Just as mercies despised, do harm. It 
 was mercy to Pharaoh, to remove the plagues, but 
 he abused it, and thus the mercy hardened him. 
 A kind father makes still more callous the heart of 
 a rebellious child, by the very tenderness which 
 
104 JANUARY 17. 
 
 that child rejects. So, if God sends us an afflic- 
 tion, brings us near to death, and then delivers us 
 from it, if we do not profit by the warning and the 
 mercy, we are the worse for it. Thus God hard- 
 ened Pharaoh's heart by the very forbearance he 
 showed him, that is, Pharaoh turned God's gifts 
 into curses.' 
 
 Mr. * * — ^ Well, I see your meaning. But how 
 is it that there is no account in heathen writings, 
 of the miracles of Moses?' 
 
 Dr. G. had now somewhat revived, and though 
 his eyes continued closed, he had evidently over- 
 heard the objection, for he said in a whisper, ' Do 
 you understand the hieroglyphics ?' 
 
 Mr. * *—' No.' 
 
 Dr. G. — ' Do they contain no account of them ?' 
 
 Mr. * *—' I should think not.' 
 
 Dr. G. — ' But you said just now that you did not 
 understand them. Therefore you cannot know.' 
 
 Dr. Gordon was now completely worn out with 
 the effort he had made, and took leave of Mr. * * 
 with a tender grasp of the hand, saying, with a 
 look of deep and affectionate interest, ' May God 
 bless you, Mr. * *.' 
 
 Though the narrator has given a faithful account 
 of what was said during this most instructive inter- 
 view, he feels it is quite impossible to convey any 
 adequate idea of the peaceful composure, the happy 
 assurance on his own account, and the tender soli- 
 
JANUARY 17. 105 
 
 citude for him whom he addressed, which charac- 
 terized Dr. Gordon's manner, during the whole con- 
 versation. It was a scene never to be forgotten. 
 How infinitely superior did that philosophy appear 
 which conducts to the cross for knowledge and for 
 hope, to the scepticism which leave '^ its votary 
 nothing to rely on but vague uncertainties, and 
 self-righteousness ! How touching the admission 
 of Mr. * *, in which the reader, whatever his 
 opinion, must surely unite ; * I would give worlds 
 to be the remainder of my life in the same state of 
 mind.' 
 
 Referring to this conversation, in the afternoon. 
 Dr. Gordon observed — ' They call men learned and 
 clever, who have a smattering of knowledge, and 
 nothing deep.' An aged Christian was spoken of 
 who thus replied to a clever sceptical opponent : — 
 '■ I have an argument I defy all the world to refute. 
 Jesus Christ here in my heart, fills me with peace 
 and joy, and enables me to hate sin and love holi- 
 ness. Talk as you like, you can never shake me, 
 for I feel Him within me.' It was observed that 
 this argument, though not enough to convince the 
 sceptic, was quite suflficient to support the believer. 
 
 Dr. G. — * That is the argument. The grand evi- 
 dence of the gospel, is its adaptation to our w^ants. 
 Learned lectures on the evidences, I mean the ex- 
 ternal, do little or no good. Oh ! that learning and 
 sophistry, which call in question the truth of Chris- 
 
106 ^ JANUARY 17. 
 
 tianity, it's all nothing, child's play, a thing for an 
 hour. I could laugh it all to scorn. But the vo- 
 taries of this sophistry are not to be all denounced 
 as deriders of Christianity. Many are anxious for 
 truth, and unable to find it. They deserve pity. 
 Intolerance is a curse to society. How many things 
 there are, the mere inquiry concerning which would 
 cast a man into the shade ! As for Mr. * *, I be- 
 lieve he will die a Christian.' 
 
 An aged cottage-saint, from Welton, who had 
 known, loved, and prayed for him, for more than 
 twenty years, made a great effort in a w^eak state 
 of health, to come and bid him farewell, and hear 
 from his own lips, the answers to her petitions. 
 She brought him a nosegay of flowers from her 
 little garden, but was too much overcome by her 
 feelings, to speak. He said to her, ^Pm nearly 
 gone, but I'm happy. I've found it where you al- 
 w^ays told me I should.' Being informed, that on 
 leaving him, Mrs. H. had retired to another room, 
 where she had been praying that the gates of 
 Heaven might be open wide to receive him, he re- 
 plied — * That I'm sure they will. How unworthy 
 I am to be loaded with so much love, and have so 
 many friends !' 
 
 Mr. R., one of Dr. G.'s tradesmen, spoke of his 
 being the best earthly friend he ever had ; he re- 
 plied — ' I am happy resting on Christ. That alone 
 can give peace. There is nothing in myself.* 
 
JANUARY 17. 107 
 
 Another said to him — ' Every one will miss a 
 friend. We all feel such sincere sorrow. You 
 have been so kind to every one.' He answered — 
 ' I am glad if I have been of service to any one, 
 though nothing gives me satisfaction, but having 
 Christ. All is imperfect ; but He will present me 
 to the Almighty, covered with His merits, and that 
 is enough.' 
 
 It being remarked, that he appeared somewhat 
 better, he said, with a peaceful smile — * 0, I hope 
 you will consider me a dying man. But I am in 
 the hands of my Creator. He fixed the place and 
 hour of my birth in that room, (pointing to a sketch 
 of Fountains' Hall,) and he has fixed that of my 
 departure out of it, and will receive me in another. 
 I am in his hand, and have no desire but what He 
 wills !' 
 
 He spoke of the following hymn, composed by 
 one of his family, to which he listened with great 
 interest, as precisely expressing his own state of 
 mind in reference to his departure: — 
 
 My times are in Thy hand ! 
 
 I know not what a day 
 Or e'en an hour may bring to me, 
 But I am safe while trusting Thee, 
 Though all things fade away. 
 All weakness, I 
 On Him rely 
 Who fixed the earth, and spread the starry sky. 
 
108 JANUARY 17. 
 
 My times are in Thy hand ! 
 
 Pale poverty, or wealth, 
 Corroding care or calm repose, 
 Spring's balmy breath, or winter's snows. 
 Sickness or buoyant health — 
 Whate'er betide, 
 If God provide, 
 'Tis for the best — I wish no lot beside. 
 
 My times in Thy hand ! 
 
 Should friendship pure illume. 
 And strew my path with fairest flowers, 
 Or should I spend life's dreary hours 
 In solitude's dark gloom. 
 Thou art a Friend, 
 Till time shall end. 
 
 Unchangeably the same, — in Thee all beauties 
 blend. 
 
 My times are in Thy hand ! 
 
 Many or few my days, 
 I leave with Thee — this only pray, 
 That by Thy grace, I, every day 
 Devoting to Thy praise, 
 May ready be 
 To welcome Thee, 
 Whene'er Thou com'st to set my spirit free. 
 
 My times are in Thy hand ! 
 
 Howe'er those times may end. 
 Sudden, or slow my soul's release. 
 Midst anguish, phrenzy, or in peace, 
 I'm safe with Christ my Friend ! 
 If He is nigh, 
 Howe'er I die, 
 'Twill be the dawn of Heavenly ecstacy. 
 
JANUARY 17. 109 
 
 My times are in Thy hand ! 
 
 To Thee I can entrust 
 My slumbering clay, till Thy command, 
 Bids all the dead before Thee stand, 
 Awaking from the dust. 
 Beholding Thee, 
 What bliss 'twill be 
 With all Thy saints to spend eternity ! 
 
 To spend eternity 
 
 In Heaven's unclouded light ! 
 From sorrow, sin, and frailty free, 
 Beholding and resembling Thee — 
 O too transporting sight ! 
 Prospect too fair 
 For flesh to bear, 
 
 Haste ! haste, my Lord, and soon transport me 
 there ! 
 
 It was worthy of remark, in his numerous con- 
 versations, how emphatic was the testimony borne 
 by Dr. G. to the peculiar doctrines of Evangelical 
 Religion. Studying the Bible for himself, without 
 reference to any theological school, and making no 
 man's creed his standard, the result, expressed in 
 diction free from the phraseology of system, was the 
 clearest testimony to the doctrines of man's guilt 
 and utter inability to save himself; the need of a 
 better righteousness than his own ; the love of the 
 Father, manifested in the vicarious sacrifice of the 
 Son ; the necessity of the renewing influences of 
 the Holy Spirit ; the efficacy of prayer, and perfec 
 
 10 
 
110 JANUARY 18. 
 
 peace as a result of entire dependence on Christ. 
 It \vas especially observed, whenever his benevo- 
 lent actions were referred to, as they were most 
 gralefally, by many who visited him, how emphati- 
 cally he declared his sense of unworthiness, and his 
 reliance on the Saviour alone. 
 
 Thursday, 18th. On awakmg, he said — ^ I've 
 had a very happy night ; brighter visions than ever 
 of the happy land.' His attached servant and nurse 
 said — 'How I wish to be you. I am full of fear of 
 nnt continuing faithful.' He replied — ' There is 
 nothing to fear if you keep close to Jesus. I'll tell 
 you what I did. I went jTervently to Him, and took 
 all my sins and cares, my heart full, and left all at 
 the cross, and sweet peace follow^ed. It's such love ' 
 But remember, constant watching is necessary. 
 Thus go to Christ, and you have nothing else to do. 
 It is all done for you. what a night I've had ! 
 such happiness! I cannot describe it. Whe^ I 
 fall asleep and when I awake it's always there. 
 How wonderful!' 
 
 On being told he seemed a little better, he said • 
 ' Yes, but my disease is progressing. However, 
 I have no wish of my own. But I feel I am a 
 long way on my journey, after many struggles 
 and many difficulties, and I long to be with my 
 Saviour.' 
 
 To one of his tra les'nen, who, in bidding him 
 farewell, told him with tears of the love which 
 
JANUARY 18. Ill 
 
 people bore to him, he said—' I like to be loved, 
 and live in the memories and affections of men. I 
 have tried to love them, for we are all brethren. I 
 am very happy. Hold fast to Jesus — that's every 
 thing. I am sorry you were inconvenienced by 
 calling when I was asleep, but you see invalids can- 
 not control their own time.' This is only one illus- 
 tration out of many, of his polite and minute 
 attention to others. Nothing was done for him, 
 however trivial, which he did not, in the kindest 
 manner acknowledge ; and he frequently expressed 
 his regret for any inconvenience and trouble, which 
 he feared might be occasioned to his attendants or 
 visitors. 
 
 In the evening, the conversation turned on various 
 methods of doing good. Dr. G. remarked — ' There 
 can be no greater good than doing good to the soul. 
 It is every thing. This would be my delight, were 
 I to recover.' It was observed, that much more 
 good would be done, if preaching the gospel were 
 not so exclusively confined to ministers. It is re- 
 garded too much as merely official, and' thus the 
 impression of earnestness is weakened. A single 
 word from a Physician to a sick man, would often 
 have much more effect than the visit of a minister, 
 which is expected as a matter of course, to bear a 
 religious aspect. It being said, that though Phy- 
 sicians have great opportunities of usefulness, they 
 would injure their practice by speaking of religion 
 
112 JANUARY 19. 
 
 except with the poor ; Dr. G. observed — ' No ! the 
 injudicious manner might, but not the thing itself. 
 And if it did !' 
 
 Friday, 19th. Baxters's 'Last work of a Believer,' 
 was one of the books he took great pleasure in lis- 
 tening to. The following sentence which occurred 
 in reading this morning, much struck his mind : — 
 * Did Christ himself on the cross commend his spirit 
 into his Father's hands, and will he not receive thy 
 spirit, when thou at death commendest it to him ?' 
 
 In the course of conversation, he said — * I see 
 where Christians are wrong. We do not make a 
 companion of God. We should treat him more as 
 a friend, but not as a distant friend, but as always 
 near, close to us, so that we are never alone, but 
 continually in his company.' This was a topic to 
 which he frequently reverted. Religion is too much 
 separated from ordinary affairs. The special sea- 
 sons for w^orship are too distinct from their inter- 
 vening periods. Such seasons are necessary, but 
 should never be substituted for a life of prayer. 
 x\ll things ought to be done religiously. God may 
 be worshipped in the shop, the field, the ship, the 
 exchange, and not merely in the Church, The or- 
 dinary doings of daily life, however insignificant in 
 themselves, may be elevated into solemn acts of 
 worship, by being performed in a religious spirit. 
 Thus, the professional man, the merchant, the trades- 
 man, the mechanic, in their ordinary engagements. 
 
JANUARY 19. 113 
 
 may, no less than the clergyman, when visiting" the 
 sick, and studying the Bible, and preaching the 
 gospel, " walk with God." 
 
 Dr. Arnold well observes, — ' The true and grand 
 idea of a church, i. e. a society for the purpose of 
 making men like Christ, earth like heaven, the 
 kingdoms of the world, the kingdoms of Christ; all 
 is lost, and men look upon it as an institution for 
 religious instruction and religious worship, thus rob- 
 bing it of its life and universality, making it an affair 
 of clergy, not of people ; of preaching and ceremo- 
 nies, not of living ; of Sundays and synagogues, 
 instead of one of all days, and all places, houses, 
 streets, towns, and countries.' 
 
 Dr. G. remarked — ' It is the having God with me 
 as my companion, which has made me so happy. 
 i dislike to sleep, because I lose the enjoyment. O 
 to think I could ever have had a care when there 
 was a God in the world ! How wonderful ! How 
 wrong I have been ! " Behold the lilies of the 
 field, how they grow, they toil not, neither do they 
 spin ; and yet I say unto you, that even Solomon 
 in all his glory, was not arrayed like one of these. 
 Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, 
 which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven^ 
 shall he not much more clothe you, ye of little 
 faith!" Ah! I did not understand that before. But 
 I do now. How false are the judgments of the 
 10* 
 
114 JANUARY 19. 
 
 world ! Many would pity me. They don't know 
 how happy I am.' 
 
 One of his physicians, having called when he felt 
 faint in consequence of having just awaked from a 
 short sleep, remarked that the day was dull, and 
 depressed the feelings. He replied emphatically — 
 ' Never mine ! it's a very delightful day !' 
 
 He requested the following beautiful hymn of 
 George Herbert's to be frequently read, his admi- 
 ration of which, emphatically showed how well 
 grounded he was in the great truth — ^ by the grace 
 of God I am \vhat I am.' 
 
 THE HOLD-FAST. 
 
 I threatened to observe the strict decree 
 
 Of my dear God, with all my power and might : 
 
 But I was told by one, it could not be ; 
 Yet I might trust in God to be my light. 
 
 I 
 Then will I trust, said I, in Him alone. 
 
 Nay, e'en to trust in him, was also his : 
 
 We must confess that nothing is our own. 
 
 Then I confess that He my succour is. 
 
 But to have nought is ours, not to confess 
 
 That we have nought. I stood amazed at this, 
 
 Much troubled, till I heard a friend express, 
 That all things were more ours by being His. 
 
 What Adam had, and forfeited for all, 
 
 Christ keepeth now, who cannot fail or fall. 
 
JANUARY 20. 115 
 
 Saturday, 20. The evening ol this day was felt 
 by all to be a peculiarly interesting season, as it 
 recalled the alarming seizure of the preceding 
 week, and the unexpected mercies we had enjoyed 
 in such delightful intercourse with our beloved 
 Friend, during the seven days he had been spared 
 to us. In reference to this, he said, ' I thought I 
 should have been taken from you. We have had 
 many mercies. What a glorious week it has been, 
 the happiest I ever spent. The world cannot com- 
 prehend it. I now understand the meaning of the 
 passage, " Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nei- 
 ther have entered into the heart of man, the things 
 which God hath prepared for them that love him, 
 but God hath revealed them unto us, by his Spirit /" 
 One of his friends bidding him good night, with 
 the wish that he might have pleasant thoughts, 
 he replied, — * Those I am sure to have. I am never 
 afraid of the nights.' 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 FROM SUNDAY, JAN. 21, TO SUNDAY, JAN. 28. 
 
 CHRISTIAN JOY — CEMETERY — ETERNITY NOT ENTERED 
 ALONE — MYSTERIES — CHRISTIANS NOT POOR — VALLEY OF 
 
 THE SHADOW OF DEATH 'BE GREAT AND SEEK LITTLE 
 
 things' OPINIONS ON OTHER SUBJECTS UNCHANGED — 
 
 LIFE OF DR. HOPE TEE-TOTALISIVI DIGNITY, SAFETY AND 
 
 JOY OF THE CHRISTIAN. 
 
 Although it would have seemed scarcely possible, 
 yet Dr. Gordon was evidently still more emaciated 
 than he was the preceding week. Notwithstand- 
 ing the occasional rallyings which took place, it 
 was obvioTis that the disease was steadily advan- 
 cing, but while his little remaining strength became 
 gradually less, and the outer man was perishing, it 
 was delightful to witness how the " inner man was 
 renewed day by day." Two verses, on which he 
 earnestly commented in the course of reading, well 
 illustrated his own experience of " perfect peace," 
 and "joy unspeakable," as the result of simple re- 
 liance on the Saviour. " The Lord is my strength 
 and my shield, my heart trusted in Him, and I am 
 helped ; therefore my heart greatly rejoiceth, and 
 
 116 
 
JANUARY 21. 117 
 
 with my song will I praise Him. Our heart shall 
 rejoice in Him, because we have trusted in His 
 holy name." Psalm xxviii. 7; xxxiii. 21. 
 
 This was a topic on which he delighted to dwell. 
 He wondered why Christians were not always re- 
 joicing. He saw throughout the Bible the same 
 great truth, that simple reliance on God, is the 
 means of attaining to spiritual joy. He said — ' To 
 believe that God loves us, washes us to love Him, 
 and does everything to make us love Him, to regard 
 Him as a Friend, a Brother, a Father, this must 
 make us happy. As to doubts and fears, I could 
 not have any. I might have many if I looked to 
 myself, but this is impossible, if I look to my 
 Saviour. I have often been surprised that Chris- 
 tians seemed to be made so little happy by their re- 
 ligion. The reason is, they have looked for happi- 
 ness to w^hat is in themselves, instead of to what is 
 in Christ. And looking to him is the best source 
 of holy living. And then, if this Salvation w^ere 
 only offered to a few, or to those who had com- 
 mitted only trifling sins, — peccadilloes, and had 
 lived moral lives, there would be room for doubt, 
 but it's so full and free, and offered to all, to the 
 very worst, to every one !' 
 
 Being told that he looked low and dull, he said, 
 ' I don't feel so. I'm weak, but perfectly happy.' 
 It was necessary that he should alw^ays be in a re- 
 clining attitude, as an erect position might cause 
 
118 JANUARY 21. 
 
 immediate death. Being asked if he did not long 
 to sit up a little in his easy chair, he answered — ' I 
 am resigned to the will of God, and have not a de- 
 sire of my own.' Referring to trials of temper, he 
 urged the importance of making Christ our model 
 It was suggested that Job was a most patient man, 
 and yet uttered irritable words under provocation. 
 Dr. G. rejoined — ' Nay, w^e must not look to Job, 
 but ask how Christ would act.' 
 
 About midnight, waking very faint, after a short 
 sleep, his wife, children, and niece, being at his 
 bed-side, he said, ' I think I am sinking. I feel 
 the powers of nature giving way.' Then, looking 
 most affectionately at each, he added — ' I think I 
 have said all I wished to say.' Then, after a pause 
 — * I'm so glad they have made the cemetery a 
 garden for my body to rest in, with ail the beauti- 
 ful flowers about.' The conversation then turned 
 on the meaning of the word cemetery, Konxjimpiov, sleep- 
 ing place, and the application of this term in the 
 New Testament to the Christian's death : " Our 
 friend Lazarus sleepeth^ but I go to awake him out 
 of sleep." ^^ Them also w^ho sleep in Jesus, will 
 God bring with Him." In reference to his ap- 
 proaching dissolution it was observed — ' This is 
 what we must all come to.' He responded empha- 
 tically — ' Must all come to ! Christians should 
 look forward to it with joy.' It was remarked, 
 that some persons dreaded death very much, be- 
 
JANUARY 21. 119 
 
 cause they must go forth alone into the eternal 
 world, with none of their friends to accompany and 
 cheer them. Dr. G. — ' Ah, but I shall not be 
 alone ; Christ is my companion, my friend, my 
 brother!' He was reminded how, when we had 
 been absent from home, he had always made some 
 kind preparation to surprise and please us on our 
 return, and how he was always waiting to welcome 
 us. Thus Christ was preparing for him and would 
 be ready to receive him. Dr. G. — ' He accompa7iies 
 me on my journey ! how w^onderful to receive me 
 there, one who has so rebelled against him !' 
 
 Monday, Jan. 22. He said at different times, '- 1 
 am gradually sinking, but I am very happy. I 
 have had such a peaceful night. I marvel at my- 
 self, that when in health I should have been so 
 anxious about worldly things, and thought so little 
 of what was to be had so superior. I have always 
 had a respect for religion, and when at school at 
 Ripon, attended the Cathedral wuth pleasure ; but 
 I knew nothing of the true way. blind, blind, 
 blind ! — Make God your friend^ and don't look on 
 him as a God afar off — but as loving you and de- 
 termining that you shall be saved. I think he has 
 almost gone out of his way to save me. He has 
 g;iven me blow after blow, and his means have been 
 so especially adapted to my case. When at Scar- 
 borough I had something of this peace, but mixed 
 
120 JANUARY 22. 
 
 with doubts and fears, and often with a hope of 
 getting better.' 
 
 The mystery of redemption being referred to, he 
 said, ' Aye, mystery, every thing is mystery, but 
 reason no more. What a mercy that I enjoy this 
 peace !' It was suggested that his non-nervous 
 temperament was in his favour ; he replied — ' Yes, 
 but I am weak enough now to experience all that 
 nervous people feel, if He did not give me His 
 peace.' 
 
 To Mr. R. and Mr. V. — ' The last w^eek has been 
 happier than I could have conceived. We must 
 leave reasoning. I have read all books on the sub- 
 ject, ancient and modern. You may tell the men 
 who pride themselves on their learning, that it's all 
 nothing. We must come simply to Christ. Chris- 
 tians look too much to themselves. Look to Him, 
 and there's no fear. — We must not think of God as 
 a great Being to be gone to sometimes, but make 
 Him a companion. He wishes it. He has done 
 everything to bring sinners to Him. But it is 
 beyond reason. There's a better evidence than 
 argument. It is here. No one could shake my 
 belief.' 
 
 In conversation with his brother-in-law, Mr. An- 
 derson, W.S., of Edinburgh, who had spoken of 
 eternity as incomprehensible, he said — ' All things 
 are incomprehensible, yet we presume to reason 
 about religion. We know not what an infinitesi- 
 
JANUARY 22. 121 
 
 mal atom of matter is. We can conceive of its in- 
 finite division, and yet every particle must have an 
 upper and an under side. Neither do we under- 
 stand matter in its larger bulks — the immense 
 globes— and so numerous ! We know not the end 
 of space nor the end of time. We know nothing-. 
 We see with a very contracted view, and yet we 
 reason ! We must come to the Bible as little chi]» 
 dren, then we shall know ! We must trust as little 
 children, then we shall not live in dread. How 
 strange that Christians should be afraid of diseases, 
 accidents by railway, and such things, when Goil 
 is always with them !' 
 
 Mr. A. referred to St. Paul's conversion as re- 
 markably illustrating the extraordinary way in 
 which God sometimes arrests sinners in order to save 
 them. 
 
 Dr. G. — ^ Magna componere parvis, that is my 
 case. God seemed determined to save me, and, if 
 I may so speak, has been running after me, God 
 wishes us to dwell in the world with Him. He is 
 always asking us to join Him, yet we refuse ! Ah ! 
 we are foolish beings ! " He willeth not the death 
 of a sinner, but rather that he may turn from his 
 wickedness, and live." I am never alone, by night 
 or by day, my companion is always with me. As 
 to what some say, of my possible recovery, how 
 true are the words of Milman : 
 
 11 
 
122 JANUARY 23. 
 
 " It matters little at what hour of the day 
 The rig-Iiteous fall 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." 
 
 Tuesday, January 23. During the night, Dr. G- 
 nad suffered severely from a morbidly voracious 
 appetite. Though greatly enfeebled in the morning, 
 and scarcely able to whisper, he exerted himself to 
 speak to the numerous visitors who came to see him. 
 The following conversation took place : 
 
 R.— ' We often talk of you.' 
 
 Dr. G. — 'Talk of the goodness of God to me.' 
 
 R. — ' How are we to obtain such strong faith ?' 
 
 Dr. G. — ' It is here — we must become as children. 
 I did not understand that once. Only God could 
 make me understand it. My affliction has been 
 sent for this. But, how^ I murmured ! I've been a 
 stubborn child ! I wonder that Christians are not 
 always happy.' 
 
 N. — ' Our faith is so w^eak, and as you say, we do 
 not make a companion of God. But in Heaven he 
 will be always near us.' 
 
 Dr. G. — ' He is always near us now. Believe 
 this, and it will make you happy." 
 
 R. — ^ I wish I had such faith !' 
 
 Dr. G. — ^ The way is, think nothing about your- 
 self. Give yourself to Him entirely ; it is what He 
 wishes. Then you will have perfect peace. But 
 
JANUARY 24. 123 
 
 we must yield ourselves as children, and not reason. 
 I have sent messages to my friends, not to trust in 
 themselves any longer. I have read and thought 
 andtrusted to human wisdom, but it is very foolish. 
 I am thankful I did not first know this in the ex- 
 tremity of my weakness. It has been weeks, 
 weeks ! At first I rebelled at the affliction. 0, the 
 blindness ! I did not see what it was for.' 
 
 To a poor woman who said she hoped God would 
 reward him for all his kindness, he earnestly replied : 
 ' I have no merits of my own. . I must look for all 
 in Christ. Seek Him" 
 
 Just before closing his eyes for sleep he ex- 
 claimed — ' my God, how good hast thou been to 
 me ! I will praise Thee ! What peace hast Thou 
 given me ! How different it might have been ! 
 iVnd what kind friends !' 
 
 Wednesday, January 24. To Sir W. L.— ' I 
 wonder whether, in case I were to live, these happy 
 views would continue? I don't understand why 
 they should not. What fools men are for caring so 
 much for the world. Should I live, and ever be- 
 come a poor man, never think me poor ; I shall be 
 rich. God is my friend. There is majesty in such 
 a possession. There's poor ,* what a fool was 
 
 * He referred to a Danish gentleman who, for conscience' 
 sake, had been obliged to come to England, and though en- 
 tirely destitute, with no prospect of employment, was per- 
 fectly happy, expressing the fullest confidence that 'his Father 
 would provide for him.' 
 
124 JANUARY 25. 
 
 I! I looked at him as a fanatic. But I don't now 
 He's a rich man. Never call him poor again. 
 What folly there is in seeking money ! The care to 
 get at it, and then the care to keep it ! The abject 
 degradation of it ! — And to think Christians should 
 be afraid of accidents with such a Friend ! I used 
 to be astonished at the great affection some people 
 felt for ministers and others who had been of use in 
 their conversion. I'm not surprised now. 1 feel so 
 much more love to all my friends. You've been 
 helpers to me in many ways.' He was asked 
 whether we had done right in not more personally 
 urging the subject of religion upon him. Dr. G. — 
 ' You have done right. Mine was a peculiar dis- 
 position. Direct reference would have done harm. 
 I have been disgusted with some Christians by their 
 mode of speaking. You have known my disposi- 
 tion and acted suitably to it. You have preached to 
 me in the best way. It was the right course.' 
 
 Thursday, January 25. After a disturbed night, 
 he was much exhausted ; this he regretted, as ^ in- 
 terrupting his happy thoughts.' He said — ' I'm 
 farther from earth, and nearer to Heaven.' Some 
 passages from Isaiah being read, he commented with 
 much feeling on the gracious assurance — " I, even 
 I, am He that blotteth out thy transgressions for my 
 own sake !" 
 
 To his family, who were sitting at his bed-side, 
 he said — ' What joy I have had ! no one can de- 
 
JANUARY 25. 125 
 
 scribe it! I have often told you, when in great 
 pain, that I could not have conceived any human 
 being could suffer so much. I am sure I may now 
 say I could not conceive any human being could 
 enjoy so much ! And to compare these pleasures 
 with the pleasures of the world ! 0, how foolish ! 
 I have seen all grades of life, but I never found full 
 satisfaction, because I had not got the pearl. I 
 honoured Christianity; thinking it a great and noble 
 thing, but I did not feel it. What a difference! 
 Now I feel God is my friend ; Christ has covered 
 my sins, I am fit for heaven. I could not dread 
 danger and death. But this is not to be had by 
 reasoning. How true that saying is — " Except ye 
 become as little children, ye cannot enter the king- 
 dom of heaven !" But directly we come as children, 
 we obtain everything we need. I never disbelieved — 
 but I did not feel as I now do, the wisdom and 
 goodness of the gospel ! What a proof of its truth, 
 that it can produce such a change, and give me such 
 feelings ! How its author must have know^n the 
 heart ! Is not this the best proof that it is from 
 God ? How could man have invented a system 
 w^hich could do such things?' 
 
 On his remarking — * I wonder any one should 
 call death the dark valley, it is no dark valley to 
 me,' — he was reminded that Bunyan in his Alle- 
 gory, represented a state of fierce mental conflict, 
 as the shadow of death, w'hile the approach to the 
 11* 
 
126 JANUARY 25. 
 
 river, was through the land of Beulah, a region of 
 beauty and bliss. To this he fully assented, for 
 truly it was in such a manner he was approaching 
 the end of his journey ; even through ' ImmanuePs 
 ground,' which angels visit, where the distant 
 songs of the celestial city are heard, and w^hence its 
 glittering walls may be clearly descried. Not a 
 cloud intercepted the clear sunshine. By night and 
 by day, whether at ease, or suffering pain, his song 
 w^as ever of mercy, and his confidence in the Re- 
 deemer unshaken. 
 
 To his nephew A. A. — ' My boy, I love you 
 dearly, and I love your father : he is a good and 
 honourable man ; take his advice. Young minds 
 are easily led astray. Seek Christ early. There's 
 no happiness in anything else. Don't care about 
 argumentative books on religion. Your poor uncle 
 Gordon has been taken up with controversy all his 
 life, and it w^on't do, there's nothing in it. Take 
 the Scriptures as they are, and any simple religious 
 book you like, the simpler the better.' 
 
 A. A. — ' A poor woman stopped me at the door 
 to ask after you ; she was very poor, almost a 
 betyojar.' 
 
 Dr. G. — ^ I am very much obliged'to her. Hike 
 to be remembered by the poor much better than by 
 the rich. I love my rich friends, and am very grate- 
 ful for their kind attentions, but the poor are my 
 flock. I never courted the rich. Love the poor. 
 
JANUARY 25. 127 
 
 ^ 
 
 Be. great, and seek little things, don't be 
 little and seek great things.' 
 
 This was very striking and characteristic. Though 
 no one was better qualified than Dr. Gordon, to as- 
 sociate with the wealthier and more refined classes, 
 or possessed tastes more in harmony with all that 
 is courteous and cultivated, yet he saw so much 
 hollowness often concealed beneath a fashionable 
 exterior, that he had learned to estimate the sterling 
 excellences of the mind and heart, though devoid 
 of any external polish, far more than is generally 
 the case with those who move in the upper ranks of 
 society. He had become increasingly alive to the 
 intrinsic littleness of those distinctions of birth, title, 
 property, and rank, on which, however unconnected 
 with genuine excellences, so many pride themselves, 
 and which the world at large generally regard with 
 envy. To be supremely anxious to be thought re- 
 spectable, fashionable, great, and to be ashamed of 
 tlie poor man because of his poverty, or of any truth 
 because denounced vulgar, he regarded as an evi- 
 dence of real littleness. On the other hand, he con- 
 sidered it truly great to dare to seek, and espouse, 
 despite the scorn of the fashionable world, whatever 
 the judgment of truth and love may commend. 
 The cause of the poor, of liberty, virtue, peace, 
 and social progress has been often treated with con- 
 tempt by the worldly great. Christianity was once 
 so regarded. Genuine piety is so still ; but yet how 
 
128 JANUARY 25. 
 
 great are these little things! how contemptible 
 those great ones ! Most fully did Dr. G. act up to 
 his own advice — 'be great and seek little things.' 
 
 Referring to the remark, that he had been too 
 much taken up with controversy, he was asked by 
 the writer, w^hether his present feelings on religion, 
 had altered his views respecting the political en- 
 gagements of his former life ; and whether by the 
 term controversy, he alluded to those occupations. 
 lie answered — ' Certainly not ; only to controversy 
 on the truth of religion, instead of receiving it as a 
 child. Weie I to recover, I should do as I have 
 done in those respects, only more enthusiastically 
 than evej', as the cause of truth and human happi- 
 ness. I hope nothing I have said can give any 
 other impression.' 
 
 This is very important, as increasing the strength 
 of his. religious testimony, which would have been 
 less valuable, had all his conclusions on other topics 
 been shaken. It might have been said that bodily 
 debility had affected his mind, that he thought mor- 
 bidly on every point, and, therefore, that little could 
 be deduced from the confessions he made of a reli- 
 gious nature. But the perfect composure he main- 
 tained throughout his illness, the calmness with 
 w^hich he always spoke, the deep conviction he re- 
 tained of the truth of those principles he had so long 
 studied and advocated — this made the more em- 
 phatic the striking testimony he bore to the great 
 
JANUARY 26. 12» 
 
 truths of the gospel, and to the necessity of recei- 
 ving it as a little child. Even to within a few 
 hours of his death, incidents were occurring which 
 brought out the characteristic features of his mind, 
 and showed them to be elevated indeed, and illu- 
 mined b}' his exalted devotion and strong religious 
 faith, but not changed. 
 
 Friday, Jan. 26. Being told of many persons 
 of affluence calling to inquire after him, he asked — 
 ' And what poor have called ? The rich are very 
 •kind, but the poor are my flock.' This led him to 
 remark on the truth of the declaration — " To the 
 poor the gospel is preached ;" observing that their 
 circumstances in life disposed them to receive a 
 message of such consolation ; that their freedom 
 from the bondage of fashion gave them many ad- 
 vantages which its votaries did not possess ; and 
 that they were free from the pride of learning and 
 reasoning w^hich hindered others in the reception of 
 a faith requiring child-like simplicity in its disci- 
 ples, and demanding that " the wise should become 
 as fools," in order that they might be truly wise. 
 Such a system, he said, was too grand and vast to 
 have ever been made out by man's reasoning ; it 
 could have come only from God. 
 
 On awaking, in considerable pain, he said — 
 * Pray for me, that God may soon release me. It 
 is no doubt the best, that I should remain a little. 
 but I hope it won't be long.' Then, observing thn^ 
 
130 JANUARY 26. , 
 
 it was a bright sunny morning, he said — ^ How 
 glad I shall be to lie in that beautiful cemetery. 
 How lovely it must be there this morning. But 
 when it rains it will be all the same to me.' A 
 letter being read from an old and dear friend, 
 stating that though extremely ill, he would endea- 
 vour to come again to see him, Dr. G. said — ' Tell 
 him not to come. I can feel for him. I take the 
 will for the deed. We shall meet in Heaven.' 
 
 * The Life of Dr. Hope,' deeply interested him. 
 So remarkable was the correspondence between 
 many of their feelings, that the following extracts, 
 among many others which might be made, seemed 
 as though written to describe his own case : — 
 
 ^' It is very commonly said, that illness is pecu- 
 liarly distressing to medical men, because they see 
 their own symptoms, and, agitated by conflicting 
 hopes and fears, are disqualified from prescribing 
 for themselves. The very reverse of this was Dr. 
 Hope's case. He observed his symptoms with as 
 cool and accurate an eye as he would those of 
 another. * * * He requested Mrs. H. not to 
 mention the possibility of his recovery, for such 
 conversations tended to unsettle his mind, while 
 his spirits were more cheerful when he took an op- 
 posite view of the subject. * * * He kept a strip 
 of paper, with which he used to measure the size 
 of his leg, and as it diminished, inch by inch, he 
 used to smile, and to speculate on the probability 
 
JANUARY 26. 131 
 
 of his going before or after July, the time which he 
 had first named. He made preparations for death, 
 as he had done for every important step that he had 
 taken during life. His family could find no more 
 appropriate manner of describing his conduct, 
 throughout the seven months that he still lingered, 
 than that it resembled that of a man who, expecting 
 to set off on a journey, puts everything in order 
 before his departure, and makes arrangements to 
 supply his absence. * * * The remarkable peace 
 and joy with which he was blessed, were unclouded 
 by even one fear or doubt. One day, one of his 
 sisters-in-law inquired, whether he found that ill- 
 ness enabled him to realize spiritual things in a 
 greater degree. He answered, * Yes, when we ap- 
 proach the invisible world, it is astonishing with 
 w^hat intensity of feeling we desire to be there.' 
 She asked him from w^hat cause. He answered, 
 * Oh ! for the glories' — and then she caught the 
 words at intervals — ' When we consider, too, what 
 WT now are.; how continually we sin — pollution is 
 in every thought — when w^e analyze our motives, 
 we see sin in them. I did this from such a motive 
 — that, from such another — charity is given with a 
 feeling of self-complacency — the only way is to 
 bring the burden to the foot of the cross, and tum- 
 ble it down there, saying, ' Here I am.' It is sui 
 prising how prominently the promises come out.' 
 With all this joy and peace, this eagerness to de- 
 
132 JANUARY 26. 
 
 part and be with God, there was no enthusiasm or 
 excitement visible in his words or demeanour. 
 His imagination had always been kept in subordi- 
 nation'to his reason, and now nothing could have 
 exceeded his sobriety of mind. He drew his hopes 
 and consolations from the Bible alone. From that 
 source he derived the joyful belief that in another 
 world, his renewed faculties and purified nature 
 v;ould enable him to love God more singly, and to 
 serve him more actively, than he had hitherto been 
 able to do. He had also the most vivid anticipa- 
 tions of the reunion of friends.'* 
 
 To these passages Dr. G. responded—' This is as 
 if written for me ! As Dr. Hope says, " there is 
 peace in Christ if v/e go to him at once, and tumble 
 down our sins before him.'* Here I am, a poor, 
 unworthy, wicked creature, not deserving of being 
 looked at by the Saviour, but I can go as I am,' 
 
 Mr. K.— 
 
 " All the fitness He requireth, 
 Is to feel your need of Him " 
 
 Dr. G.— 'I have that; I have often said to my 
 dear wife, when returning from seeing Jane, ' There 
 is dear Aunt Knight, always reading those little 
 
 * Memoir of James Hope, Esq. M. D., Physician to St. 
 George's Hospital, &c. &c. London, Hatchard and Son. 
 
JANUARY 26. 133 
 
 books you are so fond of. I don't know how it is.' 
 But I know now.' 
 
 To Mrs. G. — ' What a happy life we have spent 
 together. You will think of the many pleasant 
 talks we have had over the fire alone. And how 
 we've enjoyed our little excursions together ? But 
 we're going the same way, and shall meet again. 
 It's only a separation for a short time. When you 
 visit my tomb, don't do it with grief. Perhaps my 
 spirit may be permitted to be hovering round you ; 
 and remember how happy I shall be. What a 
 mercy to think that I and those I most love, are all 
 going the right way. I often picture heaven to my- 
 self, but I can't describe it. Then I shall have no 
 more toil, no anxiety, no pain, no sin ! Oh that 
 sin ! What would have become of me now, if I 
 had to appear before God in my own righteousness, 
 which is indeed but filthy rags ! But I shall be 
 clothed in Christ's righteousness!' Mrs. G. — 'If 
 any one could rely on his own acts, you could ; for 
 you have always laboured to do good.' Dr. G. — • 
 * But what sin is mixed with every thing ! I have 
 been thinking of heaven, wondering who will ad- 
 mit us, and introduce us. But it will be a beauti- 
 ful land ! what a glorious land ! You must be 
 happy to see me so happy.' 
 
 He then, with the utmost composure and kind 
 consideration, entered into some minute arrange- 
 ments for the comfort of survivors ; after which, re- 
 12 
 
134 JANUARY 27. 
 
 verting to former days, and those simple recreations 
 in which he always took so much interest, he said 
 — * I hope you will visit those places again, and 
 think of me, and don't avoid any thing connected 
 with me. There are your songs, (addressing his 
 daughter) my favourites you'll sing, ^ The last rose 
 of Summer,' and ' The light of other days is faded,' 
 that will be very appropriate you know.' Then 
 continuing to look at her with inexpressible tender- 
 ness, he added — ' I'd rather have died a thousand 
 times than have seen you die, my child. I could 
 not have survived it, the shock would have been too 
 great.' 
 
 Saturday, Jan. 27. Dr. Gordon was much weaker. 
 He said to the writer — '' I feel I am getting worse, 
 more rapidly than you may imagine. My eyes are 
 getting dim, and my brain shakes. I should wish 
 none of you to be out of the way. Let me see any 
 who call, for my end is certain, and I wish to see 
 my friends to the last. And don't be afraid of wak- 
 ing me, my time cannot be long, and I wish to en- 
 joy your conversation while I can.' 
 
 To Mr. Smithard, a devoted temperance mission- 
 ary, — ' I took wine for a few days, as it was urged 
 on me. I complied for the satisfaction of my friends. 
 I wished to perform my duty. But it did me great 
 injury — my testimony is against it — it always was 
 — ^but my friends would not have been contented, 
 and I now feel more satisfaction myself. I am per- 
 
JANUARY 27. 135 
 
 fectly happy — anxious to go to that blessed country. 
 I said, weeks ago, that I should not recover, and 
 everything I predicted has come to pass.' Mr. S. 
 referred to his many benevolent exertions for the 
 poor, especially in the promotion of temperance, 
 expressing the grief that was felt at the prospect of 
 losing so zealous and pow^erful a friend to the cause, 
 with the confidence that God W'ould reward him 
 for all the sacrifices which he had made. He re- 
 plied — ' I have felt the cause important, but I am a 
 poor creature— how imperfect — I have no merits — 
 I feel it most deeply. I regret I am too w^ak to 
 say more at present. Don't forget me. I wish to live 
 in your remembrance.' 
 
 To E. R.— ' I had no idea there could be such 
 happiness. It is by simply coming to Christ. If 
 jou ever meet with men of intellect and study, ask 
 them w^hat they w^ant. It is happiness. Tell them 
 that to get it they must come to the foot of the cross. 
 They can never get it by reasoning, and I am sure 
 that if Christians would take all their burdens to 
 Christ, and take them continually, they would not 
 have so many doubts and fears.' 
 
 A long and delightful conversation took place 
 betw^een himself and the numerous members of his 
 family who surrounded his bed. It being remarked 
 that he would do very badly now^, without Clirlst, 
 he replied—' Oh ! I could not do at all. I strip off 
 my own doings and cast them down tliere, all in a 
 
136 JANUARY 27. 
 
 heap. I see the heap just before me, and I see Jesua 
 there too — who has accepted me. Death is rather 
 a herald of good than of evil. In most subjects 
 when I have seen a thing once, I have no more 
 misgivings. But I feel this is such great truth— I 
 cannot see why Christians should have doubts : 
 Christ comes to us, seeks us, runs after us, sends 
 afflictions to bring us to Him, and why should we 
 doubt? I have been asking my dear wife, whether 
 I properly understand the subject, as I have no 
 doubts, and Christians generally seem to have so 
 many. I could not doubt. It's so plain— Can men 
 be so anxious to be exalted to the presence of 
 royalty, when we may approach the majesty of 
 Heaven } Oh ! its abject ! its wretched ! And we 
 may have this honour even on earth ! To think 
 that I should ever have felt flattered, had I been 
 sent for to the palace, when I might have enjoyed 
 the presence of Deity himself! when I might have 
 had hourly intercourse with Him ! Was there ever 
 such an imperfect creature ! — All the consideration 
 of my own mind, all the analysis I can make of it, 
 proves the truth of Christianity. It so provides for 
 all the wants of the soul. If I w^ere to begin to 
 reason, I could get into a maze, but I am told to 
 come as a little child, and then I find perfect peace. 
 Do you think man could have made such a system ? 
 — Once receive it into the heart, and you have 
 
JANUARY 27, 137 
 
 enough evidence there. — And can men be ambitious: 
 and avaricious?' 
 
 Having prayed together around his bed, and his 
 favourite twenty-third Psalm having been chanted 
 by his request, with the hymns ' Rock of ages,' and 
 ' There is a happy land,' conversation was resumed, 
 when he said — ' instead of my ow^n sinful deeds, I 
 rely on Christ. How this would purify my deeds' 
 themselves w^ere I going to live — a thing I never saw 
 before. I cannot tell what Satan might do, but I 
 feel my faith such, that I could not do a thing con- 
 trary to the will of God. It would so shock me, 
 that I think I could not exist under it. I should 
 wish to be like Christ himself. Thus faith and good 
 works become united. You may be sure I liave 
 been taught this in a way extraordinary. It seems 
 all so clear to me.' 
 
 It was remarked, that Christians do not always 
 . see these truths as clearly as he then did. He re- 
 plied — * Because we begin to argue and cavil; that's 
 where it is. We are not as little children.' It was 
 observed, that if he recovered, he would find Satan, 
 the flesh, and the world to contend against, and 
 would have \.o fight. He replied — ^ Yes, but I could 
 fight. I feel what strength that good Saviour has 
 given me.' Being asked if he felt the least fear of 
 dying, he replied — 'I meet death as a friend — he 
 will take me to that Saviour who has been so good 
 * to me. I feel as if I could stand up to-morrow in 
 12* 
 
138 JANUARY 27. 
 
 the market-place, and proclaim in a voice of thun- 
 der to all the town, what I feel.— How men can 
 keep away from religion, or when once they have 
 faith in Christ do what is against his will, or how 
 they can be unhappy when God is their friend, I 
 don't know ; but to me, at present, it would seem 
 impossible. I wonder how" Christians can make a 
 trouble of any thing. But the pride of the world, 
 seeking after great things ; if I could see God as ray 
 friend, how great should I feel above all the world! 
 
 what sw^eet converse this is, to talk of the good- 
 ness of God, and to me, so undeserving ! There is 
 never any abatement of it. Its love throughout ! — 
 
 1 hope I shall have a comfortable day to-morrow, 
 and pass a happy sabbath with my friends.' He 
 fell asleep as we continued to talk, having had 
 scarcely any rest throughout the day. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 FROM SUNDAY JAN. 28, TO SUNDAY FEB. 4. 
 
 THE shepherd's DOG VARIOUS INTERVIEWS — fUNERAL TES- 
 TIMONY — RELIGION IN HARMONY WITH REASON — LORD's 
 
 SUPPER EXPERIMENTAL EVIDENCE EXTRACT FROM MR. 
 
 knight's FUNERAL SERMON NO DEATH TO THE CHRISTIAN- 
 SELECTION OF HIS GRAVE KIRKE WHITE ATTENTION TO 
 
 WORLDLY AFFAIRS LETTER FROM THE AUTHOR OF THE 
 
 sinner's FRIEND — CHRISTIANS REGARD THEMSELVES THE 
 CHIEF OF SINNERS. 
 
 Sunday, January 28. On awaking, Dr. G. said — 
 * I have been thinking of God as a shepherd. The 
 shepherd sends out his dog when a sheep has wan- 
 dered from the fold, to bark at, and frighten, and 
 sometimes to bite the wanderer, in order to bring it 
 Dack. So afflictions and pains are the dogs which 
 our Shepherd sends to bring us back to Him. Some 
 of us are stubborn sheep. I was one of these, and 
 the dog had to bite me ; but the barking and biting 
 are to do us good, not harm, and to bring us to the 
 Shepherd.' 
 
140 JANUARY 28. 
 
 The Rev. Dr. Dobbin called to bid him farewell, 
 when the following dialogue took place — 
 
 Dr. G. — ' This affliction was all for my good, my 
 happiness.' 
 
 Dr. D. — ' God sends afflictions, that we may re- 
 member Him.' 
 
 Dr. G. — ' Not only that we may remember him, 
 but that we may have joy. I have had more en- 
 'oyment the few last weeks than in my whole life. 
 I could not have a doubt, not one. He saw me a 
 rebellious child. I am a miracle — an example of 
 a marvellous interposition of God. A short illness 
 would not have been enough. He saw I needed 
 ail this, and Oh ! the blessing that has attended it !' 
 
 Dr. D. — * More seems necessary to be done for 
 educated men than for others. They have pride 
 of intellect and of heart to be subdued. But there's 
 only one way.' 
 
 Dr. G. — ^ Only one ! I trusted too much to 
 human learning, but when I saw how to get this 
 by coming as a little child, it burst on me in a way 
 I cannot describe. But man could not have taught 
 me this. It was the Holy Spirit of grace. Then 
 it all rushed upon my view at once. I saw Christ 
 my Saviour ; stripped off all my filthy deeds, went 
 to the foot of the cross, and Christ presented me to 
 God.' 
 
 Dr. D. — * This is the best wisdom.' 
 
JANUARY 28. 141 
 
 Dr. G. — * It is the only way. I could laugh to 
 scorn the man who rests in his learning.' 
 
 Dr. D. — ' The true wisdom is in coming to 
 Christ. This is joy.' 
 
 Dr. G. — ^ And power and majesty. You have a 
 greatness in your soul you never felt before. You 
 have no fear of the world, or death, or anything. 
 You feel God is your companion and friend, 
 cherishing you by constant intercourse. Oh ! the 
 hours I have spent of the most delightful kind, such 
 as I never experienced before !' 
 
 Dr. D. — ^ The people of God sometimes feel the 
 truth of what some may think too strongly expres- 
 sed by Dr. Watts,— 
 
 " The opening heavens around me shine 
 
 With beams of sacred bhss, 
 While Jesus shows his heart is mine, 
 
 And whispers, I am his." — 
 
 you feel this.' 
 
 Dr. G. — ' Yes, in the most exquisite w^ay.' 
 Dr. D. — * It is God who began this work.' 
 Dr. G. — * I could believe no other. The result 
 proves it. I should desire no stronger proof of the 
 truth of Christianity than my own case. It is so 
 adapted to me. Not that it escaped my investiga- 
 tion before. It was my study daily. But I trusted 
 too much to human learning. But Oh ! I am 
 safely landed at last, and in a manner to me most 
 
142 JANUARY 28. 
 
 extraordinary. I have attended in many sick 
 rooms, and heard of doubts and fears, but I have 
 no such things.' 
 
 On taking leave of Dr. D., he requested him to 
 conduct the funeral service. 
 
 To the Rev. J. Stuart, and Mr. V., he said— 
 * The suffering I have had is nothing, for it has 
 brought to me a happiness I had no conception ex- 
 isted. I have found that God is my friend, loves 
 me, and through Christ, has pardoned me. I have 
 sought Him through Christ. I have seen my en- 
 tire worthlessness, and He in his great mercy, has 
 filled my heart with His Holy Spirit. Oh that gos- 
 pel, how it understands the human heart ! And to 
 think w^e should lose such enjoyment when we 
 might have it every day of our lives ! How great 
 and noble it makes us! How independent! It 
 takes away all fear of the world, and of death, and 
 you feel at once that God is your friend ! No man 
 could have taught me ; it came through that great 
 and gracious Being. As to seeking to be religious, 
 I have always been doing that, but I did not seek 
 in the right way. It must be hearty not head. 
 Now I yee/ that " The Lord is my shepherd." — I 
 may be thought to use strong terms, but during my 
 whole illness, my head has been as clear as at any 
 former period, and I have taken no opiates.' 
 
 In the course of the day, the Author said to him 
 — ^ You haA^e told us that had it pleased God that 
 
JANUARY 28. 143 
 
 you shouiJ recover, it would have been your de- 
 light to preach Christ. I have been thinking that 
 you could do this very emphatically at your funeral. 
 Many people, of all descriptions, will be gathered 
 together, and your dying testimony would be very 
 impressive. If you would like to say anything, I 
 will write it down.' 
 
 Dr. Gordon — ' Oh, I cannot find words sufficient. 
 I am afraid I cannot convey the thing sufficiently. 
 I should be doing injustice to my Saviour.' — He 
 then, after a brief pause, very solemnly and em- 
 phatically spoke as follows :— ' All human learning 
 is of no avail. Reason must he put out of the 
 question. I reasoned and debated^ and irivestigated, 
 but I found no peace till I came to the gospel as a 
 little child, till I received it as a babe. Then such 
 a light was shed abroad in my heart, that I saw the 
 whole scheme at once, and I found pleasure the most 
 indescribable. I saw there was no good deed in my- 
 self Though I had spent hours in examining my 
 conduct, I found nothing I had done would give me 
 real satisfaction. It was always mixed up witJt 
 something selfish. But when I came to the gospel 
 as a child, the Holy Spirit seemed to fill my heart. 
 I then saw my selfishness in all its vivid deformity^ 
 and I found there was no acceptance with God, and 
 no happiness except through the blessed Redeemer. 
 I stripped of all my own deeds — threw them aside 
 — went to Him naked — He received me as He pro- 
 
M4 JANUARY 28. 
 
 mised He would, and presented me to the Father — 
 then I felt joy unspeakable, and all fear of death at 
 once vanished."^ 
 
 This remarkably comprehensive testimony to the 
 truth of Christianity, the method of salvation, the 
 work of the Spirit, and the nature and results of 
 faith, so simple and so emphatic, coming too from 
 the lips of a man known to have been throughout 
 his life, an investigator of all truth, and an enthu- 
 siastic worshipper of reason, produced a great im- 
 pression on the vast concourse assembled at the 
 funeral, and on the faj; greater multitudes among 
 whom it was circulated, by the reports which ap- 
 peared in the local papers. May it prove a lasting 
 blessing to many ! " By it, he being dead, yet 
 speaketh." 
 
 The thoughtful reader will place the legitimate 
 interpretation on the expression — * Reason must be 
 put out of the question.' Similar remarks occur 
 throughout the volume. Dr. Gordon did not of 
 course mean that reason and revelation were not in 
 harmony, or that the intellect was not to be exer- 
 cised on religion. He had throughout life, read 
 largely and thought deeply on the subject. He did 
 not now regret that long investigation, as it had given 
 him a degree of confidence, which he could not 
 otherwise have obtained.* His inquiries had only 
 
 * See pp. 58, 99. 
 
JANUARY 28. 145 
 
 confirmed his conviction, that revelation was in har- 
 mony with all truth. He would have been the last 
 to discourage the freest and fullest scrutiny. He 
 stated that one of his principal hindrances had been 
 the forbidding manner in which Christians sometimes 
 frowned down the objections of sceptical but candid 
 inquirers. His meaning, though expressed in the 
 strong and unguarded terms of a man who feels 
 deeply, was this: that all the efforts of reason are 
 unavailing to produce that spiritual change of which 
 the Holy Ghost is the author, and without which 
 the gospel cannot be experimentally known. He 
 was conscious of an influence totally distinct from 
 the result of a merely intellectual process. He had 
 "become a new creature." While with all the 
 ardour of one who experiences what had hitherto 
 been unknown, he referred to his feelings as con- 
 stituting an all-sufficient evidence, none could value 
 more than he, the WTitten word ; none could be more 
 persuaded of its agreement with the dictates of en- 
 lightened reason, and none could more earnestly 
 have recommended the enlisting of every mental 
 faculty in its study. But none were more fully sen- 
 sible than he became, from his own experience, that 
 we can only understand that w^ord aright, when in 
 the child-like spirit which God bestows on all who 
 seek it, we become learners in the school of Christ. 
 Then the " inward witness" is felt to be superior to 
 any external evidence, however valuable. The 
 13 
 
146 JANUARY 28 
 
 voice of the Spirit in the book, witnesseth with the 
 voice of the Spirit in our own heart, that we are the 
 children of God, and that Christianity is Divine. 
 (Romans viii. 16.) Yet even this evidence cannot 
 be dissociated from reason, in the highest sense of 
 that term, as Dr. Gordon himself clearly saw and 
 often expressed.* The inward consciousness of the 
 believer is the spontaneous testimony ef reason her- 
 self, divinely enlightened and sanctified. And 
 nothing is more adapted to impress the minds of 
 unbelievers, than the suitability of the gospel to the 
 spiritual wants of man, and its visible effects in ren- 
 dering its disciples holy and happy. 
 
 In the evening, by his spontaneous request, the 
 Lord's Supper was celebrated in his room. He 
 said he did not regard it with any superstitious no- 
 tions, but felt it a pleasure to be thus associated in 
 Christian communion with the people of God, and 
 to render an act of grateful and obedient homage to 
 Christ, of whose death he regarded this ordinance 
 of the Church, as a memorial. As a friend might 
 wish survivors to do certain things after his decease, 
 in commemoration of him, so Christ said to his dis- 
 ciples — "Do this in remembrance of me." He 
 strongly repudiated the idea of preparation for eter- 
 nity by an ordinance which was designed not to fit 
 men for death, but to comfort them in life ; which 
 
 * See pp. 147—150, 162, &c. 
 
JANUARY 28. 147 
 
 was a confession and an aid, but not a communi- 
 cator of faith and love ; an act not constituting men 
 Christians, but to be performed by tliose who were 
 ah'eady such. It united no one to Christ, but was 
 an outward profession of a union already formed, 
 which union, like all other means of grace, it tended 
 to cement and confirm. In proportion only as it 
 was connected with faith, did it profit the partici- 
 pator, even as prayer confers benefits on those alone 
 who penetrate beyond the outw^ard form, to the in- 
 ner presence, and hold spiritual communion with 
 God. With such views he now desired to ' keep the 
 feast,' not because he felt he was near death, but 
 because he was conscious of that living faith and 
 constraining love towards the Lord Jesus Christ, in the 
 absence of which he had never felt he should be 
 justified in approaching the sacramental table. 
 
 The circumstance of its being his first participa- 
 tion in this sacred ordinance, and, as w^e all thought, 
 his last; together with the intense love to Christ 
 which so manifestly filled his breast, and the con- 
 viction that before another Sabbath dawned, he 
 would be in the assembly of the just made perfect, 
 rendered this an occasion of the most thrilling in- 
 terest to all present. He expressed the great delight 
 he had felt in the service, and said — *that in answer 
 to prayer, God had granted him a most happy day.' 
 Heaven being referred to if. connection with the 
 Lord's Sapper, he said — ^ YeSj it is d. feast, a con- 
 
148 JANUARY 29. 
 
 tinual, everlasting feast.'. We then chanted his 
 favourite Psalm, the 23rd, when he fell asleep. 
 
 Monday, January 29. He said at different times, 
 ' I never used to understand the influences of the 
 Spirit, for I sought to comprehend religion only by 
 the reason ; but I understand now, by experience, 
 what it means. — There's no good in speculative 
 subjects ; keep to the plain truths of the Bible. — 
 ! what a happiness it is to have communion with 
 God ! Love to God produces such love to others. 
 Since I felt what I do, I have loved you all so much 
 more, with a love I could not conceive of? O my 
 blessed Saviour, how can I serve Him enough ' 
 Were I to live, the Bible should be more my book.' 
 
 Taylor's ' Physical Theory of another Life,' and 
 the mode of a separate soul's existence, being re • 
 ferred to, with the remark that it was enough for us 
 that God was aiming to bring our minds into har- 
 mony with himself, he replied — * That is my prepa- 
 ration ; God has been doing it for me, and doing it 
 by afSictions.' In the evening he said — ' Do come 
 and talk on these delightful subjects. I cannot say 
 much myself, I am too weak, but I love to listen to 
 you. I feel an assurance of pardon. Am I not 
 scripturally right in knowing it ? I could not doubt 
 it!' An interesting conversation followed, on the 
 experimental evidence of Christianity, of which the 
 following is the substance: — 
 
 Actual experience is the strongest proof in every 
 
JANUARY 29. 149 
 
 case. If a man professes to be able to do such and 
 such things, the actual doing of them is a more con- 
 clusive and ready evidence than any chain of argu- 
 ment. Take an electrical machine: prove to a 
 by-stander that the wire is charged, and that by 
 touching it he will receive a shock. The process is 
 long and may be disputed. An explanation may 
 be asked of the nature of electricity, and of every 
 part of the machinery. Evidence may be demanded 
 that the process has been correctly gone through, 
 that the battery is verily charged, and that its con- 
 nection with the wire to be touched, is unbroken. 
 Witnesses may be required to testify, that they them- 
 selves have experienced the predicted effects, and 
 then their veracity or competency, may be called in 
 question. Would it not be a much speedier mode 
 of attaining conviction, to touch the wire and re- 
 ceive the shock ? However interesting the investi- 
 gation, actual experiment must be the strongest and 
 speediest demonstration. Christianity is a machinery 
 of truth, in connection with which exists a mighty 
 though mysterious efficacy, experienced when the 
 soul is brought into contact with that truth, by faith. 
 Evidence is demanded ; you are asked to prove the 
 harmony of all parts of the machine, the consistency 
 of truth with truth — to demonstrate the unbroken 
 continuity of the connecting line, the chain of his- 
 torical evidence — to explain the precise laws by 
 which the shock takes place, the mode in which the 
 13* 
 
150 JANUARY 29. 
 
 Spirit of God influences the heart. This process is 
 necessarily long, and will suggest many an inquiry 
 which it will be difficult to satisfy. Much will ap- 
 pear mysterious, of which no solution can be given. 
 But if that questioner will by faith, touch for him- 
 self, he will at once have an inward witness, which 
 no sophistry can shake. Suppose a man v;ho had 
 never tasted bread, is told that it is good for food, 
 and sufficient not only to sustain life, but to impart 
 strength. He demands proof. He asks how bread 
 is produced ; how the seed corn growls up into the 
 blade, and the full eai ; how it is converted into 
 flour and bread ; whether the loaf before him is 
 vei'ily the identical substance which was grown in 
 the corn field, and not some other which has been 
 substituted for it ; what are its chemical qualities, 
 and in w^hat manner it is digested and assimilated ; 
 and should he refuse to eat till all his inquiries are 
 answered, he may perish from hunger before the 
 reply is complete. But if he tests that bread by 
 eating it, and finds that he is nourished by it, no 
 denial of its nutritive qualities by others, and no ig- 
 norance of the method in himself, can remove the 
 strong conviction w^hich that experimental test has 
 given him. Christian truth is the bread of the soul — 
 imparting life, strength, gladness. Prove, says one, 
 that it is really the same that originally descended 
 from above, and that it has not been corrupted by 
 human substitutions and additions; explain what 
 
JANUARY 30. 151 
 
 seems mysterious about its origin, and make clear 
 to us the method in which it influences him who re- 
 ceives it. However interesting such investigations 
 may be, and even supposing they could be as fully 
 satisfied as those respecting the bread that perish- 
 eth ; (though even in that instance, there are phy- 
 sical mysteries which no science can explain ;) the 
 man who by faith receives into his soul the doctrine 
 of the cross, "that bread of life," has in himself an 
 evidence in the positive effects produced on his 
 spiritual nature, which he feels to be stronger than 
 any other. Instead of debating, let the questionei 
 put the gospel to the test. He will then be more 
 satisfied than by a thousand other arguments. 
 " If any man will do His will, he shall know of the 
 doctrine, whether it be of God." Dr. Gordon 
 often reiterated this expression — ^ If I had no othei 
 evidence of the truth of Christianity than my own 
 case, it would be sufficient, if all the world were 
 anti-Christians.' 
 
 Tuesday, Jan. 30. The night had been stormy. 
 In alluding to it. Dr. G. said — ' As I heard the 
 wind blowing, I thought how peaceful and happy 
 to be laid in the cemetery.' 
 
 The Rev. Joseph Green, Rector of Owmby, a 
 brother-in-law of Dr. Gordon's, came for the pur- 
 pose of bidding him farewell, and witnessing for 
 himself that " triumphing over death," the reports 
 of which had so interested and delighted him. He 
 
152 JANUARY 30. 
 
 said in the course of conversation, that there was 
 no one for whom he had prayed so much as for Dr. 
 G. ; thinking him in great danger from his intellect, 
 and his habit of requiring everything to be demon- 
 strated, and he feared that even his moral excel- 
 lence might be a hindrance to his becoming a 
 Christian, which required an acknowledgment of 
 our entire unworthiness in the sight of God. Ad- 
 dressing Dr. G. he said — ' You now feel how little 
 you can do without Christ.' Dr. G. — ^ We can do 
 nothings poor, wretched, ignorant; He can do 
 everything.'^ Mr. G. — * This disarms eternity of 
 its terrors.' Dr. G. — ' It has no terrors.' Mr. G. 
 — * You must not look within yourself, but to 
 Christ.' Dr. G. — 'Ah ! but I do look within my- 
 self, but then I cast myself on Christ. I turn to the 
 promises at once. I could not have believed there 
 v.'as such joy. I have smiled at things, I now" un- 
 derstand. I love my friends with such a different 
 love, my whole nature seems changed. How 
 Christians can doubt, I cannot imagine. I fly to 
 the gospel, I read what He says, and nothing could 
 make me doubt. How can I, when God sent after 
 us and sought us, when w^e did not seek Him ? If 
 he sought me when I was not seeking Him, He 
 will not forsake me, now I have found Him !' 
 
 To the Rev. William Knight, Incumbent of St. 
 James's Church, Hull, the Rev. James Sibree, and 
 the Author, w^ho w^ere at his bed-side, he earnestly 
 
JANUARY 30. 153 
 
 said — ^ Preachers do not speak of the gospel as 
 they ought ; not in terms exalted enough. It is 
 such a book ! Had I strength to enter a pulpit, I 
 do not know what I would not say of it. I have 
 long been trying to learn it by reason. Never! 
 Never! I see what I saw not before, and feel 
 what I never felt. When a man comes to that book 
 as a child, he will find wonders in it to make him 
 marvel. The love of God is what I cannot de- 
 scribe. So great is it, I could have no doubts and 
 fears. To think that gracious Being has been 
 seeking me, and afflicting me, till he brought me 
 to this happiness ! I murmured, but I did not see 
 what he designed — to bring me to that blessed 
 Saviour ! All the sayings of the Bible so accord 
 with all I have experienced, that I feel it to be the 
 most marvellous book there ever was in the world. 
 Read every word of it, and take it just as it is. I 
 feel my whole mind truly changed. I remember 
 in the first part of my illness, when I saw you all 
 coming in, healthy and vigorous, I inwardly mur- 
 mured and was envious, but now, I rejoice in your 
 health. I love my friends with a tenfold love ; I 
 don't know how I feel tc them, they are so precious 
 to me.' 
 
 As in all Dr. G.'s interviews with his friends it 
 was felt in this instance, that there was much to 
 be learnt, and nothing to teach. Ministers of the 
 gospel were at his bed-side, listening to one, who. 
 
154 JANUARY 30. 
 
 they confessed, knew much more than themselves. 
 He had been so evidently taught by the Holy Ghost, 
 that those who came to see him, felt that he needed 
 no instruction and no consolation from man. Un- 
 able to impart, they were delighted to receive. On 
 leaving the room, Mr. Sibree said — ' He ^knows 
 much more than we do.' Mr. Knight replied that 
 he had been in the ministry twenty-eight years, but 
 had never met with so remarkable and wonderful a 
 case. A testimony to the same effect was more 
 publicly given by Mr. K. in a funeral sermon, de- 
 livered on Sunday, Feb. 18, in St. James's Church, 
 from which, in corroboration of his own statements, 
 the Author gratefully avails himself of the permis- 
 sion to insert the following extract : — 
 
 ' Having myself witnessed from day to day, the 
 wonderful power of the Holy Spirit in his gracious 
 work upon the heart of the deceased, I feel anxious 
 to avail myself of the circumstance, as an occasion 
 of illustrating those great evangelical truths, which 
 [ am constantly endeavouring to press upon your 
 attention. I shall not speak one word in praise of 
 the deceased, though I might speak many. To 
 his opinions on political and ecclesiastical subjects, 
 on both of which I differed from him, it would be 
 wholly irrelevant to make any allusion. Nor is it 
 at all necessary to enter upon his private and do^ 
 mestic character, or to dwell upon his daily and 
 unremitting exertions as the poor man's friend W 
 
JANUARY 30, 155 
 
 • 
 
 these points will ere long be before the public, and 
 my silence on them will not be attributed to a 
 wrong cause by any one who is acquainted with 
 the harmonious intercourse, which always existed 
 between myself and my deceased brother-in-law, 
 in private life. 
 
 * It was some time after Dr. Gordon's health be- 
 gan to give way, that his friends became acquainted 
 with the fact of a most interesting and important 
 change having passed upon his mind. How long 
 he had been savingly impressed w^ith Divine truth, 
 I cannot take upon me to say ; but one thing is 
 quite certain, viz., that his was not a case of death- 
 bed repentance. Repeatedly he said — "This is no 
 now thing, these are no new feehngs: I have known 
 them long." I consider this to be a most import- 
 ant feature in the case. We see so many instances 
 of apparent contrition, and turning to God in times 
 of emergency, on a bed of sickness, and in the 
 prospect of death; and we so often see the passing 
 away of serious impressions with returning health, 
 just like the morning cloud or early dew, that it is 
 most difficult to feel any thing like confidence in 
 those cases where persons begin to be religious just 
 when God takes from them the opportunity of being 
 irreligious any longer. How peculiarly consoling 
 then it is, in the instance before us, to know that 
 the gospel was not made the soul's last resource : 
 
156 JANUARY 30. 
 
 tliat the last days of life were not all that was offered 
 to God by our departed friend. 
 
 ^ It may perhaps be said by some, if the mind 
 had for a length of time been thus savingly ira* 
 pressed, was it not somewhat singular that it was 
 not sooner followed by an open declaration, and 
 especially by the act of Christian fellowship. To 
 such, however, as were acquainted with the de- 
 ceased, this will easily be accounted for. He was 
 a man who thought very deeply, and investigated 
 the subjects which engaged his attention very 
 closely: and thus it was with the claims of Chris- 
 tianity, and with the character of the gospel-scheme 
 of salvation. He wished to prove all things, and 
 to prove them by experience as well as conviction, 
 before he made that open declaration, which in 
 time, no doubt, would have been made by him, if 
 his life had been spared. Besides this, we generally 
 see, that when persons have lived much amongst 
 those' who are religious, without being religious 
 themselves, they are more backward to acknow- 
 ledge a spiritual change, if haply it takes place in 
 their own hearts, than those persons are who have 
 been differently circumstanced ; and then, once 
 more, the inconsistencv of professors of religion is 
 very often an occasion of hindering new converts 
 in making an open profession so soon as they other- 
 wise would. They fear, lest they too should dis- 
 honour the gospel; they hesitate to wear the soldier's 
 
JANUARY 30. 157 
 
 uniform, though the loyalty of the soldier's heart 
 beats within them. 
 
 * The last month of Dr. Gordon's life afforded 
 ample time for the development of the real state oi 
 his mind, and nothing could be more decisive and 
 satisfactory than such development was. Ail re 
 serve was throwm aside, his very soul seemed to be 
 laid open, and his communications were like the 
 distribution of hidden treasures to those who stood 
 around him. During the whole of this period, his 
 delight was to dwell on the rich and glorious pro* 
 vision made for sinners in Christ Jesus. The gos- 
 pel was always on his lips, and it was remarkable 
 to trace the extreme clearness of his views on all 
 the fundamental articles of the Christian faith. He 
 spoke on the Trinity, the ' atonement, justification 
 by faith, the soul's renewal in holiness, with all the 
 accuracy of the well-read theologian. I never heard 
 him utter an expression which need be either cor- 
 rected or guarded, and this circumstance shews that 
 he must have been very familiar with topics to which 
 many thought him a stranger. He had evidently 
 studied his Bible with the closest attention, and had 
 drawn truth in all its freshness from the fountain- 
 head ; but more than this, it was God's truth in its 
 direct and personal adaptation to man's necessities, 
 which he had learnt, and learnt for himself, under 
 the evident teaching of the Holy Spirit. This know- 
 ledge was not merely theoretic, it was deeply ex- 
 14 
 
158 JANUARY 30. 
 
 perimental. On one occasion, he said to me, " 1 
 am a mass of corruption, but I revel in the atone- 
 ment." And on another occasion — " Christ is so 
 near me, I seem to see Him, and I feel him too." 
 His love for the Scriptures was most fervent. "That 
 magnificent book," he would say, speaking of the 
 Bible. He was very deeply impressed with a sense 
 of his own unworthiness, and often spoke of the 
 mixture of selfish feelings by which his actions had 
 been frequently actuated, and of his need of the 
 atoning blood of Christ to wash away his pollutions. 
 " I never saw a more decided instance of a person 
 casting away his own righteousness, and trampling 
 if under foot ; Christ was every thing to him ; while 
 the breathings of his soul after holiness and sancti- 
 fication of the Spirit, were intense and fervent. To 
 his dependence upon his Saviour's merits, may be 
 attributed, under God, his uninterrupted enjoyment 
 of spiritual consolation all through his illness. No 
 cloud ever overcast his sky. The valley was irra- 
 diated with perpetual sunshine. His experience 
 seemed to stand out to view as a living elucidation 
 of that beautiful passage — " Thou shalt keep him 
 in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on Thee, 
 because he trusteth in Thee." In fact, such was 
 the happy state of his mind, all the day long, and 
 so constantly was he giving utterance to his delight- 
 ful feelings in the near prospect of heaven, that his 
 chamber seemed like any thing but the chamber of 
 
JANUARY 30. 159 
 
 death. It was indeed good to be there, and no 
 thoughtful person could leave that chamber me- 
 thinks without breathing forth the silent aspiration, 
 "Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my 
 last end be like his." 
 
 * And now^, brethren, I leave this remarkable case 
 to engage your serious meditation, as I trust it will 
 do when you return home ; it is full of instruction 
 and rich with encouragement ; it is not the case of 
 one suddenly wrought upon in the hour of nature's 
 emergency, a case of mere excitement and self- 
 delusion, such as we too often see and hear of; it 
 is the case of a man of literature and science, a 
 man of talent and study, thought and investigation^ 
 becoming a little child, and sitting at the feet of 
 Christ to learn from Him w^hat he could learn no 
 w^here else ; it is the case of one whose genuine 
 and healthy faith exhibited its reality in the clus- 
 tering blossoms and the mellow^ fruit w^hich it pro- 
 duced ; it is the case of one who had sought the 
 Saviour secretly, confessing Him openly ; it is the 
 case of one who had over-estimated the value of 
 human attainments, brought to the deliberate con- 
 viction, that they were all as dross and dung com- 
 pared with the knowledge of Jesus Christ and Him 
 crucified ; it is the case of one who had done homage 
 at the shrine of reason, now bowing to the supreme 
 authority of revelation; it is the case of a man 
 who once thought he had resources sufficient in 
 
160 JANUARY 30. 
 
 himself, taking up the Apostle's language, and 
 breathing it out from the deep recesses of his heart, 
 " By the grace of God I am what I am." ' 
 
 On awaking after a long sleep, he took the writer's 
 hand, and grasping it tenderly, said — 'I feel I am 
 hastening away very rapidly to-day. that blessed 
 Saviour ! How I love Him. Preach him J^rventli/y 
 Newman! Speak of that blessed book. I must 
 have some more of it — read me some chapters in 
 John.' 
 
 Though his mind was so occupied with the great 
 joys and hopes of the gospel, he was far from being 
 indifferent to the most trivial circumstances passing 
 around him. His room was always beautifully 
 adorned with flowers, continually sent to him bj 
 kind friends from the country, in the arrangement 
 of which he took much interest. While he was 
 apparently dozing, a conversation in an under tone 
 was going on respecting the treatment of flowers, 
 and a question arose w^hether it was necessary to 
 change the water in hyacinth glasses. To our sur- 
 prise, he entered into the subject with animation, 
 saying that the w^ater should be changed ; and that 
 salt should be put into the water of cut flowers, 
 because there is salt in the earth, that it acts as a 
 stimulant, and preserves them longer. This is 
 mentioned as only one instance out of many, to 
 show how far was his state of mind from that en- 
 thusiasm, which regards with indifference every 
 
JANUARY 30. 161 
 
 thing but the one subject which unhealthily excites 
 it. His care to have the room always preserved in 
 the utmost neatness, his attention to the convenience 
 of all around him, and the kind inquiries he put to 
 his visitors, so adapted to their peculia/ circum- 
 stances, were features in his case, which gave a 
 peculiar interest to what he said on the greatest of 
 all themes. He was no spiritual hermit, notwith- 
 standing his spiritual fervour, but was still the gen- 
 tleman, the philosopher, the citizen, the husband, 
 the father, the friend. 
 
 To Mr. P., who expressed his surprise at wit- 
 nessing such composure, he replied — ' Confidence 
 in Christ conveys vigour to my heart. Without 
 Him I should be very weak. Attribute nothing of 
 it to me. The man that hopes to be saved by his 
 own works, will have very little peace of mind. 
 He must think of himself as nothing, literally worse 
 Hian nothing !' 
 
 To the Agent and the Secretary of the Tempe- 
 rance Society, who told him how deeply he would 
 be regretted in the town, he replied — * I wish to 
 live in the affectionate remembrance of my friends ; 
 but I wish them to have the same enjoyment, and 
 they can only have it by seeking Christ. I thought 
 to-day would be very nearly my last ; each day 
 brings vrith it a symptom of increasing debility. 
 Study that magnificent book, the New Testament. • 
 It has never been understood yet. Mr. S. reminded 
 14* 
 
162 JANUARY 30. 
 
 him that he had always reverenced it, and often 
 referred to it admiringly in conversation with him. 
 Dr. G.— ' I never understood it as I have lately.' 
 The hope being expressed that he would spend a 
 comfortable night, he replied — * I never spend any 
 other ! I am a marvel to myself. The Almighty 
 himself has given it me.' 
 
 In conversation with his family, he said — ' How 
 can I help loving Him ? I seem to see him with his 
 heavenly countenance smiling on me now. He has 
 pardoned me, washed me, clothed me, is preparing 
 mansions for me,— I feel I could not rebel against 
 Him ! What are men about when, with such a 
 theme, they can preach such sermons as many of 
 them deliver! There are not only joys to come, but 
 joys in this world. Having Him so near, as a com- 
 panion, takes from us evil thoughts, ambition, and 
 avarice. He says "If ye love me, keep my com- 
 mandments." And what are his commandments? 
 Not grievous! There he was, seeking me out first, 
 and not I seeking Him ! — And w^hence came this ? 
 By grace we are saved ! think of Christ. How 
 can anyone think of himself ? Analyze any one 
 act of his life, how imperfect, compared with that 
 pure and spotless Being ! But Christ says, though 
 it is so, "though thy sins be as scarlet, they shall 
 be white as snow!" and He has forgiven me, and 
 • clothed me with the robe of His righteousness. It 
 
' JANUARY 31. 163 
 
 has come to me in so mysterious a manner. I now 
 see how full of love the whole Bible is!' 
 
 N. — 'You say this is not to be had by reason. 
 Yet religion is, after all, the highest and best reason, 
 for it is reliance on God, and He must be true.' 
 
 Dr. G.— * And more than that. What do men 
 reason for? Is it not to obtain happiness? Then 
 if what is called philosophy and learning does not 
 produce it, but this does, this must be the highest 
 reason.' 
 
 Wednesday, Jan. 31.— He had very little sleep 
 during the night, and was much exhausted in con- 
 sequence, but with his little remaining strength he 
 exerted himself to waite on the title pages of several 
 books which he designed as mementos of his affec- 
 tion. It w^as observable that in these inscriptions, 
 he never omitted his literary titles, an indication 
 that however he condemned human reason, when 
 presuming to supersede Divine teaching, he was no 
 despiser of learning in its proper place. This was 
 only another illustration that he was not un-made as 
 a man, in being wez^-made as a Christian. 
 
 To Mr. A. who called to see him, he said — ' I am 
 prostrate, but reconciled and happy. I have found 
 in Christ a happiness I did not think existed on this 
 side the grave. I have been seeking religion for 
 years by reason, but I could not get it, and I have 
 found it by becoming a little child. That is the 
 secret. Let me advise every man to get it in that 
 
164 JANUARY 31. 
 
 way^ then he will 'see all its beauties. Reason is 
 nothing. — what joy ! People have said that Death 
 is frightful. I look on it with pleasure. I see no 
 monsters around me. Death! I see no death at 
 my bed-side. It is that benign Saviour waiting to 
 take me. I could not have a fear. This is not the 
 testimony of one who has nothing to live for. I am 
 in the prime of life, with comforts and friends 
 around me, but the prospect of Heaven is more 
 than all. It is a joy man knows nothing of. 
 what a magnificent book that New Testament is,— 
 what wisdom there is in it !' 
 
 A fear being expressed that he had felt the pre- 
 ceding night very long, through wakefulness, he 
 said—* no, not long at all. I have been too happy. 
 My thoughts have been in Heaven, and in that beau- 
 tiful cemetery. I fear I am sinfully impatient in so 
 longing after Heaven, but it is so glorious ! — Christy 
 not death, is about to take me from earth. There is 
 no death to the Christian. — That glorious gospel takes 
 away death.' 
 
 It was remarked that the Bible resembled a docu- 
 ment written with invisible ink, there being a hid- 
 den secret in it, which none can understand, till 
 taught by the Holy Spirit of God. He fully as- 
 sented to this, saying that he saw and felt its beauty 
 and power, as he had never done before ; that though 
 he had always possessed a sort of Christianity, it 
 was not such as he enjoyed then; that it came to 
 
JANUARY 31. 165 
 
 him in a manner beyond reason, ^changing his whole 
 nature ; that he now understood the doctrine of the 
 Spirit, which he had nerer comprehended before, as 
 well as that of the Trinity, but 'not by his reason,'^ 
 To the Rev. William Knight he said—' Christ is 
 mine! He has promised, will He not be faithful? 
 Then I am safe. Christians have doubts and fears, 
 because they look to themselves. I don't look to 
 myself. I am a mass of corruption, but I revel 
 IN THE ATONEMENT. I could not doubt. To think 
 that the Saviour descended from the throne of God, 
 to suffer all the sorrows .of humanity, and die, to 
 save rebellious man ! Can I doubt when I go to 
 that Saviour ? O it would be most sinful ! I shall 
 never see Death, that monster so often talked of. It 
 is Christ. — Ponder every verse, every word of that 
 holy book, and in a voice of thunder, pour it into 
 their ears. Tell them to read it simply, as it is, 
 and believe it; to take the words as they are, and 
 not reason. Reason only perplexes. I reasoned : 
 but it was in vain. — It is a proof to me that that 
 "^book is Divine, because reason could never have 
 written it.' 
 
 By his request, the writer had selected a spot in 
 the cemetery for his grave. He wished it to be in 
 a pleasant situation, with flow^ers growling near. A 
 spot was therefore chosen beside a weeping elm in 
 the centre of the grounds, and beneath the cluster- 
 ing branches ' f some climbing rose trees. He lis- 
 
^56 FEBRUARY 1. 
 
 tened with much pleasure to a description of it, and 
 examined, with great interest, a sketch which had 
 been taken of it, saying — ' I'm so glad you've se- 
 cured such a beautiful place for me.' His love of ele- 
 gance and order was singularly exhibited in his re- 
 quest, that there might always be flowers growing 
 over the grave, and that if any palisades should be 
 placed round it, they might be kept neatly painted. 
 His feelings were rerj similar to those of Kirke 
 White, expressed in the beautiful " Lines written in 
 Wilford Church-yard:" 
 
 ' Here would I wish to sleep. This is the spot 
 
 Which I have long marked out to lay my bones in. 
 * * * 
 
 It is a lovely spot. » * * 
 
 Yet 'twas a silly thought, as if the body, 
 
 Mouldering beneath the surface of the eartli, 
 
 Could taste the sweets of summer scenery, 
 
 And feel the freshness of the balmy breeze ! 
 
 Yet nature speaks within the human bosom, 
 
 And spite of reason, bids it look beyond 
 
 His narrow verge of being, and provide / 
 
 A decent residence for its clayey shell 
 
 Endeared to it by time. And who would lay 
 
 His body in the city burial place, 
 
 To be thrown up again by some rude sexton, 
 
 And yield its narrow house another tenant, 
 
 Ere the moist flesh had mingled with the dust, 
 
 Ere the tenacious hair had left the scalp, 
 
 Exposed to insult lewd, and wantonness?' 
 
FEBRUARY 1. 167 
 
 Thursday. Feb. 1. — After a restless night, he was 
 moved to a mattress on the floor, that the bed might 
 be arranged for his greater comfort. His body 
 seemed so much reduced that it was astonishing how 
 life and reason could be retained in it. This move- 
 ment caused him much pain, yet not a murmur es- 
 caped him ; and when replaced on the bed, he 
 gratefully and cheerfully said — ' Admirably done ; I 
 have a kind God, and kind friends.' 
 
 Though in so exhausted a state, remembering 
 some accounts which were unsettled, he called for 
 them, and his memory was so unimpaired that he 
 discovered a trifling error in one of them, though 
 the transaction had occurred a long time previously. 
 He said he was anxious, as much as possible, to 
 save trouble to those who would survive him. How 
 different was his conduct to that selfish indolence, 
 which often passes for a renunciation of the world, 
 when the world is already beyond the grasp ! He 
 regarded attention to those trifles which might in- 
 crease the comfort of others, as by no means incom- 
 patible with his exalted spiritual joys, and the near 
 prospect of eternity. Earth, as long as he remained 
 in it, had duties from which the proximity of Heaven 
 did not absolve ; and the pleasure of discharging 
 them was not in the least diminished by his inability 
 tc derive from them any personal advantage. It is 
 a mistake to imagme that an angel, living on earth, 
 would take no interest in earthly things. His very 
 
168 FEBRUARY 1. 
 
 moral excellence would prompt him to a course O! 
 conduct in harmony with any circumstances in 
 which his Maker might place him, and the most 
 trifling duties connected with this world, would be 
 associated with the same sacred dignity which cha- 
 racterises the high praises of the celestial choir. 
 Religion is intended to overturn nothing, but to 
 sanctify everything; not to unfit us for earth by pre- 
 paring us for Heaven, but by that very preparation, 
 to qualify us for the right performance of present 
 duties, and the right enjoyment of present mercies. 
 The piety which in making the saint, unmakes the 
 man, is rather to be suspected as enthusiastic and 
 incomplete, than reverenced as the highest develop- 
 ment of Christian character, which is always found 
 in connection with truth and soberness, and is ever 
 in harmony with all that God has ordained. Much 
 of what is peculiarly esteemed as saintly, is on this 
 account rather to be placed in quite a secondary- 
 rank of Christian attainment. 
 
 He dwelt much on the text — "This is a faithful 
 saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ 
 Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom 
 I am chief," adding with much emphasis — ^Ah, I 
 am chief.' The following letter from the author of 
 the * Sinner's Friend,' who wrote to him daily, drew 
 from him many similar remarks: — 
 
 'My beloved brother, — Now more dear than eve", 
 I learn that you are still detained on this side the 
 
FEBRUARY 1. 169 
 
 celestial city, the abode of our blessed, and by us, 
 beloved Redeemer. He keeps you here a little 
 .\)nger, that you may bear witness to his saving 
 ^sower, and to that sovereign grace which can 
 ihange the heart, and cause it to sing in the way 
 >f holiness ; for you do sing in tones which excite 
 the joy of angels. Sinners, amongst whom I am 
 the chiefest of the chief, (Dr. G. — *No, I am the 
 chief,') also bless our God on your account ; and 
 with adoring wonder gaze at the ransom of another 
 soul, bought with the precious blood of the Son of 
 God. What thankfulness does your case draw from 
 those who have so often presented earnest prayers 
 for your precious soul ! My poor petitions have 
 long been offered on your behalf, that God would 
 unfold to you his love, and the abundant answer to 
 them has filled me with wonder and praise. You 
 are indeed a wonder to many, but the greatest to 
 YOURSELF. (Dr. G.— ' Ah ! that I am !') This has 
 been my own case, and a much greater wonder 
 than you, my beloved brother. But, Oh ! the mag- 
 nitude of Divine mercy ! Jesus came to save the 
 LOST — therefore I have been found. I meet you, 
 in spirit, with sacred joy every day at one o'clock 
 at the throne of grace, and see the joy beaming in 
 your countenance, and hear you utter the name of 
 Jesus. this is joyful indeed, and I shall meet 
 you in heaven, we shall be near each other, and 
 though you may sing loudly, yet my voice will 
 15 
 
170 FEBRUARY 1. 
 
 surmount every other, because I ha\'e mo?^e to say 
 of long-suffering and pardoning mercy than all the 
 sinners in the world. God be praised, 'tis his own 
 work. But I am not yet out of the battle, for I 
 have a terrible conflict to maintain every hour ; and 
 were it not that the Lord has equipped me (Eph. 
 vi. 11 — 18,) for the war, I should become a prey to 
 the enemy. But here (John x. 28, 29,) is my 
 strength, which can never fail. Your heart has long 
 been in Heaven, and now your soul only awaits the 
 final summons to be for ever with the Lord. my 
 beloved friend, with what raptures shall we meet 
 each other then ! God be praised that we know, 
 by inward evidence, that we are among those who 
 have passed from death unto life, and that nothing 
 can separate us from the Lord!' Dr. G.— 'Write 
 to him in reply, that I am the greatest sinner ; yes, 
 indeed ! tell him that !' 
 
 A deep conviction of sin is one of the best proofs 
 of Divine teaching. It is neither singular nor ex- 
 travagant, that eminent believers should, with the 
 Apostle Paul, feel themselves to be "the chief of 
 sinners ;" for though the external life of one man 
 may be far less criminal than that of another, j^et, 
 as guilt is estimated by God according to the de- 
 gree of holy motive resisted, every one must neces- 
 sarily be conscious of more sinfulness in himself 
 than he can know to be chargeable to any one else. 
 Though there may be greater guilt than his own, 
 
FEBRUARY 2. 171 
 
 this is not within his knowledge. As far as his own 
 experience enables him to judge, there is no greater 
 sinner than himself. But so humble an estimate is 
 never formed unless the Holy Spirit has 'opened 
 the understanding,' and changed the heart. This 
 evidence of regeneration was abundantly furnished 
 in the case of Dr. Gordon, who, notwithstanding 
 the external blamelessness of his life, repeatedly 
 spoke of himself, evidently with deep emotion, as 
 "the chief of sinners." He said — 'I am so deeply 
 sensible of my unworthiness and wickedness ! But 
 then I look to Christ, and He has pardoned me, 
 washed me, and clothed me in his robe of righte- 
 ousness ; and why then should I fear ? This is why 
 I am now contented and happy, with no dread of 
 death, because, though I see my own vileness, I see 
 Christ as my Saviour. . Now that I have got this 
 truth myself, it seems wonderful that any one should 
 refuse to receive it.' 
 
 ■ Friday, Feb. 2. — The state of his health being 
 made the subject of conversation, he said — ' 
 speak to me about Christ. I want to hear of Him. 
 No other subject interests me so much.' Being 
 asked how he felt as compared with a w^eek before, 
 he replied, 'O I have so little interest in my physi- 
 cal condition, that I don't remember. I've had a 
 delightful night ; peace unbroken and indescribable. 
 When once we feel the love of Christ, it gives new 
 views of every thing!' 
 
172 FEBRUARY 2. 
 
 In the afternoon, he suffered considerable j ain 
 and was evidently much worse. As his family were 
 standing round his -bed in much distress, he said— 
 ' Don't grieve for me. I feel I could not murmur 
 again. Talk about my blessed Redeemer. His 
 marked kindness to me has been so great. Philo- 
 sophy do this for me ? Absurd ! This gives me 
 peace, to hear him say — *^ Come unto me all ye that 
 labour and are heavy laden, and I wall give you 
 rest." ' 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. J. V. H. arriving unexpectedly in 
 the evening, from Maidstone, that they might have 
 the melancholy pleasure of bidding him farewell, 
 the following conversation took place : — 
 
 Dr. G. — ' How kind to come and see so unworthy 
 a creature !' 
 
 Mr. H. — ' You are a monument of mercy.' 
 
 Dr. G. — * I am indeed, I am as black as sin can 
 make me.' 
 
 Mr. H. — ^ We grieve to lose you, but the will of 
 God must be done.' 
 
 Dr. G. — * That is what you must say, what I say, 
 every hour.' 
 
 Mr. H.— ' We ought, not only to submit to, but 
 acquiesce in His will.' 
 
 Dr. G. — Very earnestly — * I love it.' 
 
 Mr. H. — ' Don't let me weary you, but I love to 
 talk of the grace of God.' 
 
rEBKUARY 2. 173 
 
 Dr. G. — ' I should like to hear it talked of from 
 morning to night.' 
 
 Mr. H. — * I am afraid of exciting you.' 
 
 Dr. G. — ' It does not excite me. I love it. I 
 nave had a joy and a peace which I did not know 
 existed. And how did I get it } There's the kind- 
 ness, the blessing ! No clouds, no doubts, no fears, 
 — peace unbroken. I am a marvellous instance of 
 the gracious interposition of a kind God. If He 
 sought me w^hen I did not seek Him, why should I 
 doubt, now I have gone to Him ! that magnifi- 
 cent book!' 
 
 N. — ' The wise cannot understand it, but only the 
 fool and the babe.' 
 
 Dr. G. — ' Human wisd6m is folly, folly ! though 
 I once did not think so. I have felt my degradation 
 and my black wickedness, but He has forgiven me, 
 and washed me !' 
 
 Mr. H. — 'What a blessing that He "has forgiven 
 us all trespasses." They alone know this peace 
 who have tasted it. You have.' 
 
 Dr. G. — ' I have indeed. If such an impossi- 
 bility could take place as that I should be restored, 
 nothing could give me the least trouble. I do not 
 think fear of any kind could ever enter my breast. 
 Had I no other evidence than my own feelings, of 
 the truth of Christianity, it would be sufficient. If 
 all the world were Anti-Christian, I should be a 
 Christian.' 
 
 16* 
 
174 . FEBRUARY 2. 
 
 Mr. H. — ' This confidence is from God. Not all 
 the books you have read could have given it.' 
 
 Dr. G., emphatically — 'Never!' 
 
 Mr. H. — ' I remember once, thinking it folly to 
 talk of being born again. We knew not what it 
 meant.' 
 
 Dr. G. — ' But we know now. It is the strong 
 conviction of the truth of Christianity which gives 
 me peace and blessedness. It has so changed my 
 whole nature. This is the evidence.' 
 
 N. — ' John Newton, when entangled by scepti- 
 cism, resolved to test the truth of Christianity by 
 seeking the Divine influence promised in answer to 
 prayer, arguing that if the religion were true, the 
 result of such seeking would be an evidence of it.' 
 
 Dr. G. — ' That is the argument which weighs 
 with me. — No mere reason of man could have writ- 
 ten that book. Reason may find fault with it, but 
 could not have made it. it is a book ! read every 
 word of it, and believe it just as it is.' 
 
 On taking leave for the night, he said — ' Let me 
 see a great deal of you. Constant talk of my blessed 
 Saviour, will be my greatest happiness.' 
 
 Mr. H. — ' How blessed it is to feel a thrill of joy. 
 within at the name of Jesus !' 
 
 Dr. G.— ' To know it in the head, is not to know 
 it.' 
 
 Mr. H. — * I have been called mad because I love 
 Christ, and delight to talk of Him continually.' 
 
FEBRUARY 3. 175 
 
 Dr. G. — * I wish all the world were mad.— -My 
 blessed Saviour is always w^ith me.' 
 
 He was much fatigued by this conversation, the 
 last of any length in which he was able to take part. 
 The time of his departure was evidently near, and 
 though he suffered no violent pain, seasons of dis- 
 tressing and alarming exhaustion became so fre- 
 quent, that almost every hour was expected to be his 
 last. 
 
 Saturday, Feb. 3. — His faculty of observation 
 continued to be so keen, that on awaking this morn- 
 ing he noticed that a vase on the mantel-piece at 
 the extremity of the room, was not exactly even 
 with the corresponding one, and desired that it might 
 be arranged properly. He shaved himself with a 
 little assistance, and settled a few accoiyits. He 
 said at different times — ' What set of men could have 
 written a book so adapted to our wants as the Bible, 
 unless they had been taught by God ? — It must be 
 felt in the heart and not merely understood in the 
 head. — I did think mine a hard lot, but since this 
 came to me, I have deeply repented of that w^icked- 
 ness, and thought it a blessed lot. The Lord knew 
 what He was doing with me. — It is only having 
 Christ with me that takes away my fear. What a 
 blessed thing to have Him for your Friend and 
 Brother! — I have much to say, but I cannot speak. 
 Tell them what God has done for me.' In the after- 
 noon, he was so exhausted as to appear on the point 
 
176 FEBRUARY 3. 
 
 of death. To the remark — ' you are going home/ 
 he responded — 'I feel at home already.' Then at 
 intervals he added — * What great things the Lord 
 has done for me ! — I love Him, and why ? because 
 of his love to me. — O what a book it is, meeting 
 you at all points, adapted to all conditions!' It 
 being observed that his learning and wisdom could 
 not have taught him this, he replied — * my wis- 
 dom \ a poor, degraded, wicked, ignorant, foolish 
 child ! A fear being expressed that though able to 
 say very little himself, so much conversation carried 
 on by others at his bed-side would exhaust him, he 
 said — * No, it does not — it strengthens me — it in 
 vigorates me !' 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 FROM SUNDAY, FEB. 4, TO HIS DEATH, ON 
 WEDNESDAY, FEB. 7. 
 
 DEATH SWALLOWED UP OF LIFE — LORd's SUPPER INCREAS- 
 ING DEBILITY — DEATH CONCLUDING ADDRESS — CHRISTI- 
 ANITY NOT A DELUSION — WHAT IT TEACHES — THE JOY IT 
 IMPARTS. 
 
 Sunday Feb. 4. — Dr Gordon was now too feeble to 
 bear any sustained part in conversation. What he 
 said was chiefly an earnest response to what was 
 uttered by others ; but the intense feeling concen- 
 trated in his emphatic ' aye,' eloquently revealed 
 how strong his faith and how bright his hopes con- 
 tinued to be. 
 
 To Mrs. E. — ' My gracious God has been very 
 merciful to me. He has given me a joy I never felt 
 before, an inconceivable joy !' 
 
 Mrs. E. — ^ I hope we shall all meet in the New 
 Jerusalem, where there will be no more dying.' 
 
 Dr. G., emphatically — ' There is none here J* 
 
 177 
 
178 FEBRUARY 4. 
 
 Mrs. E. — ' I hope He will give you, to the end, 
 that peace which passeth all understanding.' 
 
 Dr. G.— ' I have it.' 
 
 Death was quite lost sight of by him. How 
 striking his reply to the remark, that there will be 
 no dying in heaven, — * there is none here V He 
 looked on departing to be with Jesus, as * far bet- 
 ter.' Death was indeed, in his case, * swallowed 
 up of life.' The day following, he said to Mr. S., 
 a friend who came from the country to visit him, 
 and who was speaking of the state of his health, 
 * I shall live ;' — a reply which to those unacquainted 
 with the peculiar state of his mind, might be re- 
 garded as intimating the possibility of restoration 
 to health, but which he meant as a declaration of 
 his conviction, that there could be no death to a 
 believer in Christ. He realized the full import of 
 our Saviour's words, ** I am the Resurrection and 
 the Life : he that believeth in me, though he were 
 dead, yet shall he live, and he that liveth and be- 
 lieveth in me, shall never die?'' This was a theme 
 continually referred to in conversation around his 
 bed, and on which he delighted to dwell. He felt 
 that there would be no interval of unconsciousness, 
 no cessation of activity, no intermission of enjoy- 
 ment ; that though the mode of existence would be 
 changed, the existence itself would be neither 
 destroyed nor suspended ; that to be absent from 
 the body was to be instantly present with the Lord, 
 
FEBRUARY 4. 179 
 
 and that if life is to be estimated by the exercise 
 of the spiritual faculties, as these will all be vastly 
 augmented when the soul is separated from the 
 corruptible body, that separation is rather to be de- 
 signated life than death. How much happier would 
 Christians be, did they thus realize the great truths 
 made known to them in the gospel ! Christ came 
 to ''destroy death, and him that hath the power 
 of death, t^at is, the Devil ; and to deliver them, 
 who, through fear of death, were all their life- 
 time, subject to bondage." How very seldom is 
 Death, as such, spoken of in the New Testament' 
 The writers seem to regard it as annihilated in the 
 case of the believer. We live here, surrounded by 
 many m^cies, but exposed to many sorrows, and 
 conscious of much imperfection ; and surely that 
 great event in our history which transports us to 
 the full possession of the promised inheritance, 
 where no element of grief shall be mingled in the 
 cup of gladness, where no lingering corruption 
 shall interfere with our obedience and defile our 
 worship, where no temptation shall ever demand 
 viofilance and conflict, where no weariness shall 
 suspend our service, but ceaseless activity shall be 
 the rapture of repose, and where death being for 
 ever excluded, eternity will be stamped on every 
 enjoyment, — surely the event which introa'ices us 
 to such a state of being, cannot correctly be desig- 
 nated, Death. No, it is rather Life. The dead are 
 
186 FEBRUARY 4. 
 
 those who are left behind, not those who thus de- 
 part, and the moment of dissolution is the birth 
 of the soul. The ordinary sepulchral emblems are 
 most inappropriate to the case of a departed saint 
 The torch, instead of being reversed and extin 
 guished, now blazes with a living light and quench- 
 less energy it never before possessed. The column 
 instead of being shattered, is now firmly fixed, 
 while its fair proportions and exquisite polish are 
 only now completed. Death is the portal of life, 
 the dawn of immortality, the transition into Hea- 
 venly glory. Every Christian may say with Dr. 
 G.—^ I shall live!' 
 
 Reference being made to the grace of Christ in 
 bestowing His own righteousness on the sinner, 
 while taking away the sinner's guilt, he said, — ' It 
 is that which removes all my fear ; every particle 
 of fear; nothing else could!' Being reminderi 
 that a few days before, he had said, that he did 
 not see Death at his bed-side, and being asked if 
 he saw him now, he replied, — ^ No ! it is Christ, 
 who has washed us !' Then, after a few minutes' 
 silence, he said spontaneously and with earnestness, 
 — 'I have Christ by me. See Death ? I see nothing 
 but Christ.' Sir W. — ' You now see the beauty and 
 glory of the plan of salvation.' Dr. G. — * I do — 
 and more — I fekl it. — I have nothing,— but God 
 and Christ.' N. — *What a happiness to have Christ 
 svithin yoru, the hope of glory!' Dr. G.— "I /eel 
 
FEBRUARY 4. 181 
 
 Him : I have laid hold on Him ; I have embraced 
 Him. — What love to have brought me to this ! — I 
 love to hear you talk of that merciful Saviour.' 
 Mr. J. V. H. — * You must not let me tire you, but 
 the love of Christ so fills my heart that it seems as 
 if it would burst, if I did not speak of Him !' Dr. 
 G. — ' Let it burst on me !' 
 
 By his ovi^n request, the Lord's Supper was again 
 celebrated in his room. The beautiful hymn of Dr. 
 Watts' was sung — 
 
 ' There is a land of pure delight 
 Where saints immortal reign ; 
 Infinite day excludes the night, 
 
 And pleasures banish pain,' &c. &c. 
 
 After each verse the children's chorus was sung — 
 
 • We're marching through Immanuel's ground, 
 And soon shall hear the trumpet sound, 
 O then we shall with Jesus reign. 
 And never, never part again. 
 What ! never part again 1 
 No, never part again — 
 O then we shall with Jesus reign. 
 And never, never part again !' 
 
 None but those who have sung such a hymn 
 under similar circumstances, can understand its 
 full meaning and effect. It was a reality. There 
 lay one on the very verge of that ^ land of pure 
 delight.' We were bidding him farewell, but were 
 16 
 
182 FEBRUARY 4. 
 
 convinced it was not a final separation, looking 
 forward to that home which death does not invade, 
 and from which Hhey go no more out for ever.' 
 The passage of Scripture which was read, was pecu- 
 liarly applicable to the occasion— " Verily I say 
 unto yoUj I will no more drink of this fruit of the 
 vine, until I drink it new with you in my Father's 
 kingdom." We all felt convinced, that when next 
 we met at such a celebration, it .would be in the 
 " general assembly and church of the first-born" 
 above. At the close of the service, the well-known 
 hymn of Toplady's was sung, ^ Rock of Ages,' to 
 which Dr. G. always listened with great interest. 
 Most fully did he respond to the sentiment of the 
 third verse — 
 
 *In my hand no price I bring-, 
 Simply to thy cross I cling ; 
 Naked, come to Thee for dress, 
 Helpless, look to thee for grace, ^ 
 Leprous, to the fountain fly, 
 Wash me, Saviour, or I die.* 
 
 And the last verse was felt to be especially ap- 
 propriate to his present circumstances — 
 
 • While I draw this fleeting breath, 
 When my eyelids close in death. 
 When I soar to worlds unknown, 
 See Thee on Thy judgment throne, 
 Rock of ages, cleft for me, 
 Let me hide myself in Thee.' 
 
FEBRUARY 5. 183 
 
 Another hymn, in which he was much interested, 
 and which he requested might be frequently read 
 to him, was one of Newton's, — *What think ye of 
 Christ,' to the last verse of which he frequently re- 
 ferred as expressing his own feelings : — 
 
 If asked, what of Jesus I think? 
 Tho' still my best thoughts are but pooFj 
 I say — He's my meat and my drink, 
 My life and my strength and my store ; 
 My shepherd, my husband, my friend, 
 My Saviour from sin and from thrall ; 
 My hope from beginning to end, 
 My portion, my Lord, and my all. 
 
 While lying in a state of much exhaustion, he 
 suddenly and earnestly asked for a cushion. We 
 thought he w^anted it to raise his head a little 
 higher, but to our surprise he said — * For dear aunt 
 to lean on ;' having noticed that his beloved sister- 
 in-law was uncomfortably seated and appeared 
 fatigued. So considerate w^as he, to the very last, 
 of the convenience of others. 
 
 As the night advanced, his pulse became so feeble, 
 that it w^as thought he w^ould not survive till the 
 morning. Yet, in all the intervals of dozing, he re- 
 quested that hymns and passages of Scripture might 
 be read, frequently uttering an expression of plea- 
 sure, and requesting that a mark should be placet 
 in the margin of whatever specially interested him. 
 
 Monday, Feb. 5. Contrary to all expectation, he 
 
184 FEBRUARY 5. 
 
 Still survived. On awaking, he asked for some- 
 thing to be read to him on the subject of the cruci- 
 fixion. He could now speak but very little, though 
 he was never wearied with listening to conversa- 
 tion or reading on those subjects which occupied 
 his thoughts. What he said was chiefly responsive, 
 and very brief. The following will serve as a speci- 
 men : — * Is Jesus, precious to you now ?' — ' yes !' 
 * You w^on't be wearied of singing his praises in 
 heaven ?' — ' No ! I shan't !' ' You are clothed with 
 that white robe ?' — ' I am !' 'Do you feel any fear 
 now V — ' Not the slightest !' ' Human reason and 
 goodness as a foundation, would give way at a time 
 like this.' — ' It would indeed.' ' Though you are 
 going to a better Friend, you love us still ?' Look- 
 ing round very affectionately at us all, he fixed his 
 eyes on his wife, and said, ' My dear one,' and then 
 holding his daughter's hand, he added — ' My darl- 
 ing child !' After this, Mrs. J. V. H., taking leave 
 of him for a few hours, he requested that his right 
 hand might be lifted from under the bed-clothes. 
 This w^as done hastily, from a fear that the position 
 of the arm might be giving him pain, but his ob- 
 ject was to clasp her hand, which he did very 
 atfectionately, saying — * You'll not forget it.' Then 
 he added — ' I am a marvellous illustration of HiiJ 
 goodness!' 
 
 He complained of his memory failing, and of 
 double vision. It was very distressing to witness 
 
FEBRUARY 6. 185 
 
 his extreme exhaustion. He was now ani^ole to 
 turn himself, nor could he be moved for the bed to 
 be made. As we stood beside him, thinking his 
 end was at hand, he said very tenderly to his 
 daughter — ^ My darling child !' — She replied — ' 
 Papa, what can we do without you!* Dr. G. — 
 ' Trust in the Saviour !' He then requested some 
 of those around him to seek repose, saying — ^ the 
 living must not kill themselves for the dead.' 
 
 Tuesday, Feb. 6. — He was again much revived. 
 Several friends called to see him, though he was 
 unable to speak to them, except in monosyllables. 
 
 The following poem of Herbert's drew from him 
 strong expressions of pleasure. He requested that 
 it might be marked for further reference : — 
 
 A PARADOX. 
 
 THE WORSE THE BETTER. 
 
 Welcome mine health : this sicliness makes me well. 
 Medicines adieu ! 
 When with diseases I have list to dwell, 
 rU wish for you. 
 
 Welcome my strength : this weakness makes me able. 
 
 Powers adieu ! 
 When I am weary grown of standing stable, 
 
 I'll wish for you. 
 
 Welcome my wealth : this loss hath gained me more. 
 
 Riches adieu ! 
 When I again grow weary to be poor, 
 
 I'll wish for you. 
 16* 
 
186 FEBRUARY 6. 
 
 Welcome my credit : this disgrace is glory. 
 
 Honours adieu ! 
 When for renown and fame I shall be sorry, 
 
 I'll wish for you. 
 
 Welcome content : this sorrow is my joy. 
 
 Pleasures adieu ! 
 When I desire such griefs as may annoy, 
 
 I'll wish for you. 
 
 Health, strength, and riches, credit and content, 
 Are spared best sometimes when they are spent : 
 Sickness and weakness, loss, disgrace and sorrow, 
 Lend most sometimes, when they seem most to borrow. 
 Blest be that hand that helps by hurting, gives 
 B} taking, by forsaking me relieves. 
 If in my fall my rising be Thy will, 
 Lord, I will say, The worse be better still. 
 I'll speak the Paradox, maintain Thou it, 
 And let Thy grace supply my want of wit, 
 
 Leave me no learning that a man may see, 
 
 So I may be a scholar unto Thoe.' 
 
 In the afternoon, by his request, his favourite 
 chants, ' Behold I shew you a mystery,' and ' The 
 Lord is my shepherd,' with the beautiful hymn, 
 ^ There is a happy land,' all so peculiarly suited to 
 his circumstances, were sung in an adjoining room, 
 that mellowed by distance, the sound might be the 
 better suited to his debilitated condition. 
 
 Mrs. G. — ' You are very weak, but are you ab'e, 
 notwithstanding this debility, to take pleasure in 
 
FEBRUARY 6. 187 
 
 thinking of Christ ? Dr. G.—' yes !' Mrs. G.— 
 * Jesus can make a dying bed, * Feel soft as downy 
 pillows are,' and that's true in your case.' Dr. G. 
 — ' Yes, indeed !' Sir W. L.—' You've no anxiety 
 —no fear ?' Dr. G., emphatically—' None !' 
 
 The symptoms became very alarming towards 
 evening ; and about midnight, as we were all w^atch- 
 ing round his bed, fearing his consciousness was 
 gone, his daughter, taking his hand, said— ' Its your 
 child, father!' Dr. G., with much tenderness— 
 *My great gem!' Then turning to his wife, he 
 said— 'And is this Mater?' fixing on her a look of 
 indescribable affection. He afterwards, in like 
 manner, recognised all present individually, with an 
 expression of countenance which can never be for- 
 gotten. N.— ' Christ is with you.' Dr. G.— 'I feel 
 Him !' N. — ' We are broken-hearted in the prospect 
 of losing you.' Dr. G.— ' We shall all live together 
 in Heaven ; cleave close to Christ — walk with Him.' 
 N. — * Then He will bring us to you. You see Him 
 smiling on you.' Dr. G.— ' Yes, and 1 feel Him,' 
 N.— -' Though death conquers your frail body, yet 
 you are the real conqueror, through Him that loveth 
 us.' Dr. G.— ' yes !' N.— 'Your quick feeble 
 pulse (generally at one hundred and twenty) is hur- 
 rying you away, but you are not afraid ?' Dr. G 
 — ' No, I never had a fear.' N.— ' There is nothing 
 b fear, if Christ is our's. You can say—" Death, 
 
188 FEBRUARY 7. 
 
 where is thy sting?"' Dr. G., very emphatically 
 — 'I can indeed !' 
 
 Wednesday, Feb. 7, 2 .o'clock, a. m. He called 
 for some refreshment, but the effort of eating was 
 very exhausting to him. From a fear that the light 
 on the tray might distress him, he was asked if it 
 should be removed. Dr. G. — *not while you are 
 ' here:' implying his wish to look on the faces of his 
 family. He then said—* But when am I to leave 
 you ?' N. — ' One of our medical friends told us 
 you would not see the day-light.' Dr. G. — ' No, 
 I shall live longer than that.' Desiring, but unable to 
 to speak more, N. said — * You cannot talk now, but 
 we know" what you would say if you could. Your 
 heart is full of love to us and to Jesus.' Dr. G., 
 very earnestly — * That is it.' 
 
 At 6 o'clock, A. M. it w^as evident from the sud- 
 den change which had taken place in his appear- 
 ance that his end was at length rapidly approaching. 
 E.— 'You'll soon be in heaven!' Dr. G.— * Ye's, 
 and you'll all follow me, and I'll welcome you. We 
 all hold the same principles.' E. repeated the 
 twenty-third Psalm, and on coming to the verse — 
 "Though I w^alk through the valley of the shadow 
 of death, I will fear no evil : for thou art with me ; 
 thy rod and thy staff they comfort me."— Dr. G. 
 responded — * Yes, if He were not with me, how 
 dark it would be— but its all light !' 
 
 At 8 o'clock, having awaked from a short sleep. 
 
TEBRUARY 7. 1S9 
 
 he listened* with deep interest, to some of Laving- 
 ton's ' Sacramental Meditations,' on the love of 
 Christ in first inviting the sinful soul to come to Him 
 for pardon, and then calling that soul to the posses- 
 sion of glory. Passages from the close of Baxter's 
 < Saint's Rest,' were also read ; Dr. G. manifesting 
 in his beaming countenance, his full concurrence 
 and heartfelt delight, in the sentiments expressed. 
 This was especially the case in reference to the fol- 
 lowing hymn of Toplady's : — ■ 
 
 TRIUMPH OVER DEATH. 
 
 ' Deathless principle arise I 
 Soar thou native of the skies! 
 Pearl of price, by Jesus bought, 
 To his glorious likeness wrought! 
 Go, to shine before his throne ; 
 Deck his mediatorial crown ; 
 Go, his triumph to adorn : 
 Made for God, to God return. 
 
 * Lo ! he beckons from on high : 
 Fearless to his presence fly : 
 Thine the merit of his blood, 
 Thine the righteousness of God ! 
 Angels, joyful to attend, 
 Hovering, round thy pillow bend ; 
 Wait to catch the signal given, 
 And escort thee quick to heaven. 
 
 ' Is thy earthly house distrest, 
 Willing to retain its guest ] 
 
190 FEBRUARY 7. 
 
 'Tis not thou, — but it must die 
 Fly, celestial tenant, fly ! 
 Burst thy shackles ; drop thy clay ; 
 Sweetly breathe thyself away. 
 Singing, to thy crown remove, 
 Swift of wing and fired with love. 
 
 'See the haven full in view! 
 Love Divine shall bear thee through. 
 Trust to that propitious gale ; 
 Weigh thy anchor, spread thy sail. 
 Saints in glory perfect made, 
 Wait thy passage through the shade : 
 Ardent for thy coming o'er ; 
 See ! they throng the blissful shore. 
 
 ' Mount, their transports to improve ; 
 Join the longing choir above ; 
 Swiftly to their wish be given; 
 Kindle higher joys in heaven.— 
 Such the prospects that arise 
 To the dying Christian's eyes ; 
 Such the glorious vista, faith 
 Opens through the shades of death,' 
 
 His daughter, awaking from a short slumber, 
 after watching all the night, was greatly distressed 
 to see his altered features, and the obviously near 
 approach of death. On her saying — * what am I 
 to do without you. Papa .^' he replied, by directing 
 his eye from herself to her husband, and looking at 
 him most tenderly. 
 
FEBRUARY 7. 191 
 
 About noon, M. A. R., a friend coming in from 
 the country once more to bid him farewell, he made 
 a great effort to speak, saying, 'Give her a chair,' 
 so politely considerate was he to the very last, of 
 the comfort of others. 
 
 Sir W. L. entering his room, was much shocked 
 to witness his altered appearance, and said — ' This 
 looks like a defeat, Gordon, but it's a victory.'' Dr. 
 G. emphatically, though in a w^hisper — 'It is!' 
 Sir W.— ' We shall often think of you.' Dr. G.— 
 'Thank you!' Sir W. — 'You can say — "Thanks 
 be to God which giveth us the victory." ' Dr. G. 
 — 'Indeed I can.' 
 
 N. — ' If sin be pardoned, I'm secure 
 Death has no sting beside ; 
 The law gives sin its damning power, 
 But — Christ my Saviour died !' 
 
 Sir W.—' That's your consolation — Christ my Sa- 
 viour died.' Dr. G. — ' Yes, it is !' N. — ' We are 
 on this side the river, but Christ is on the opposite 
 bank beckoning you to himself.' Dr. G. — ' He is !' 
 N. — ' We cannot bear to part, but w^e shall meet in 
 Heaven.' Dr. G. — ' Christ is there.' He said this 
 with peculiar emphasis, as if to convey the idea, 
 that however great the joy which the reunion of 
 friends would impart, and none more fully entered 
 into this than himself, yet that the chief joy of the 
 heavenly world, would arise from the presence oi 
 Jesus, and resemblance to Him. 
 
192 FEBRUARY 7. 
 
 He then asked the author to read some favourite 
 hymns, and passages of Scripture, to which he 
 hstened with an expression of earnest attention and 
 delight. Several friends having arrived, he beckoned 
 all present to his bed-side, and placing his finger on 
 his mouth, intimated his wish to bid us a final fare- 
 well. Such indeed it was felt to be, for those lips, 
 to the affectionate and holy utterances of which we 
 had so long delighted to listen, were already cold, 
 and denoting the approach of death. He then said 
 to his attached man-servant, * God bless you, 
 Tranmer. — He will be with you and be your friend. 
 Persevere in godliness and purity of life.' Then to 
 another faithful domestic, and his nurse, he added, 
 ' You have been a kind friend to me.' He thus 
 manifested to the last that gratitude for the kind 
 offices of servants, and that appreciation of regard 
 from persons of upright character in every grade of 
 society, which had so eminently distinguished him 
 throughout his life. 
 
 In order to secure quietness, and a free circula- 
 tion of air, most of the party now retired to another 
 room. When left alone with his nearest relatives, 
 he said, as if carrying on some train of thought in 
 his own mind — * It's what I like to hear!' Being 
 asked if he meant that it w^as Christ and His love 
 which he took such pleasure in, he replied earn- 
 estly — ^Aye!' After a pause, during which his 
 thoughts were evidently intent on the heavenly city 
 
FEBRUARY 7. 193 
 
 he was so soon to enter, he said — * Repeat that 
 about the great army!' Mr. Knight replied — "I 
 beheld, and lo, a great multityde, which no man 
 could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and 
 people, and tongues, stood before the throne and 
 before the Lamb, clothed with white robes, and 
 palms in their hands, and cried with a louH voice, 
 saying. Salvation to our God, which sitteth upon 
 the throne, and unto the Lamb." The author 
 added — " What .are these which are arrayed in 
 w^hite robes, and whence came they ? These are 
 they which came out of great tribulation, and have 
 washed their robes, and made them white in the 
 blood of the Lamb. Therefore are they before the 
 throne of God, and serve Him day and night in His 
 temple, and He that sitteth on the throne shall dwell 
 among them. They shall hunger no more, neither 
 thirst any more, neither shall the sun light on them, 
 nor any heat. For the Lamb, which is in the midst 
 of the throne, shall feed them, and shall lead them 
 unto living fountains of waters, and God shall wipe 
 away all tears from their eyes." 
 
 Though he said nothing, his expressive counte- 
 nance plainly manifested that his request had been 
 understood. He was by faith, beholding ' that 
 great army' whom he was so soon to join in cele- 
 brating the high anthem of Heaven — " Blessing 
 and honour, and glory, and power, be unto him 
 that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb for 
 17 
 
194 FEBRUARY 7. 
 
 ever and ever." Prayer was then offered by Mi, 
 Knight, in which we unitedly commended the spirit 
 of our dying friend to the care of his Divine Sa- 
 viour, praising God on his behalf, for the abundant 
 grace and strong consolation with which he was 
 favoured. 
 
 After we had risen from our knees, still conside- 
 rate for others, he asked if his brother-in-law would 
 take some refreshment— fearing he had not break- 
 fasted. This led to some remarks on the feast of 
 bliss which Jesus was preparing for all his followers, 
 and to which he was at that moment waitinof to re- 
 ceive our beloved friend as a guest. To this he 
 replied in a tone of earnest desire — ' I wish He 
 would come !' 
 
 He then took a most tender farewell of his 
 afflicted wife. To his daughter, who bent over him, 
 in great distress, he said, with inexpressible tender- 
 ness — ' Bless thee, my child !' 'You love me still, 
 father?' 'Yes, dearly.' He then opened his hand, 
 which had now almost lost its power of motion, 
 for the purpose of receiving hers, which he tenderly 
 pressed together with that of the writer. This was 
 its last act. 
 
 After a pause, he said suddenly, but not without 
 considerable effort — 'Bring them all.' His mean- 
 ing not being at first apprehended, various sugges- 
 tions were made by those around him, respecting 
 the probable nature of his wish, to all of which he 
 
FEBRUARY 7. 195 
 
 expressed his dissent by a motion of the head. It 
 ,vas very painful not to be able at once to gratify 
 his desire, as he was most anxious to make us 
 understand him, though he now seemed to have 
 entirely lost the power of speech. But making one 
 more attempt, with a desperate struggle he whis- 
 pered — ' Every body!' 
 
 These were his last words. They were an evi- 
 dence how fully conscious he was, of his being on 
 the point of departure, as well as a final and 
 striking illustration of his thoughtful regard to 
 others. We imagined he might yet survive an hour 
 or two, but, judging from his own feelings that his 
 departure would be immediate, and knowing the 
 melancholy satisfaction of being present at the 
 actual death of a dear friend, of which they might 
 be deprived who had kindly quitted his room lest 
 he should be inconvenienced by a crowd, his last 
 effort of affection was to summon all in the house, 
 into his chamber, which was now filled with sorrow- 
 ing but silent friends. 
 
 It was indeed a solemn season ! Grief itself 
 was awed into stillness, by the majesty of death. 
 What event can boast such dignity ? It was the 
 exit of a soul ! It was his entrance into glory ' 
 Angels were there waiting to be the escort ! The 
 Lord of angels Himself was present, " He who 
 liveth, and was dead, and is alive for evermore, 
 and hath the keys of Death and of Hades." He 
 
196 FEBRUARY 7. 
 
 himself turns the lock, and opens the door, dis- 
 missing from this world, and welcoming into the 
 next, the souls of all who believe and obey Him ! 
 We felt, as we watched the departure of our friend, 
 that, to use his own beautiful words, it was ' no 
 frightful monster at his bed-side, but that benignant 
 Saviour waiting to receive him." 
 
 Increased difficulty of breathing was the only 
 distressing symptom. He appeared no longer con- 
 scious of what took place around him. He gazed 
 upwards as in a rapt vision. No film overspread 
 his eyes. They beamed v/ith an unwonted lustre, 
 and the whole countenance, losing the aspect of 
 disease and pain, with which we had been so long 
 familiar, glowed with an expression of indescri- 
 bable rapture. As we watched in silent wonder 
 and praise, his features, which had become motion- 
 less, suddenly yielded for a few seconds, to a smile 
 of ecstacy which no pencil could ever depict, and 
 which none who witnessed it, can ever forget. And 
 when it passed away, still the whole countenance 
 continued to beam and brighten, as if reflecting the 
 glory on which the soul was gazing. Like Ste- 
 phen, he was, by faith, looking up to Heaven, and 
 with a clearer vision than may be hoped for, till 
 the river of death is well nigh passed, was behold- 
 ing through the opening gates of glory, " the Son 
 of man standing at the right hand of God." It is 
 not too much to say, that as far as the expression 
 
FEBRUARY 7. 197 
 
 of holy rapture could contribute to it, like Ste- 
 phen's, ^' his face was, as it had been the face of 
 an angel." 
 
 Though his emaciated frame, propped up by 
 pillows, was incapable of the least effort, yet such 
 was the effect on the bystanders of his upward, 
 outstretching gaze, that even the motionless body 
 itself seemed to be reaching forward as if impa- 
 tient for the summons to depart. We saw as much 
 as mortal eye could see, of the entrance of a soul 
 into glory. Nothing more could have been given 
 us, but the actual vision of the separate spirit, and 
 its angelic convoy. This glorious spectacle lasted 
 for about a quarter of an hour, increasing in interest 
 to the last, during which the soul seemed pouring 
 itself forth from the frail tenement which had im- 
 prisoned it, into the embrace of its Lord. The 
 breathing now became shorter and shorter — then, 
 after a long pause, one last gentle heaving of the 
 chest — and, without a struggle, at two o'clock, the 
 soul had fled ! 
 
 Was this dying ? All present felt that their de- 
 parted friend had never before been so emphatically 
 alive. How fully were his own words realized, 
 that he should not die I There was grief, but no 
 gloom in that chamber. The glory of Heaven 
 seemed to illumine it. The sun had gone down 
 while it was yet day, in full radiance, without a 
 cloud, and the reflexion still rested on those who 
 17* 
 
198 FEBRUARY 7. 
 
 had watched its setting. We could not look on that 
 corpse and imagine for a moment it was our friend. 
 It was but the dwelling in which for a little season 
 he had lodged. He himself had now entered that 
 " building of God, the house not made with hands, 
 eternal in the heavens." The weary pilgrim had 
 landed on the shore of the celestial Canaan, and 
 was welcomed by angels and by Christ. The 
 Christian Philosopher, having long been tri- 
 umphing OVER DEATH, now, ' morc than conqueror,' 
 had exchanged the conflict, for the crown of life 
 which fadeth not away. It was rather a translation 
 
 than a death. He was not, for God took him. 
 
 \ 
 
 'Thus star by star declines, 
 
 Till all are passed away, 
 As morning' high and higher shines 
 
 To pure and perfect day : 
 Nor sink those stars in empty night, 
 But hide themselves in heaven's own light 
 
CONCLUSION 
 
 A.FTER the perusal of the preceding narrative, the 
 thiee inquiries with which it opened, are again 
 respectfully urged on the reader's attention: — Is 
 Christianity from God"? What does Christianity 
 teaui 9 What can Christianity effect ? 
 
 Reader, can you close this volume, with the 
 deliberate conviction that the great subject it 
 attempts to illustrate, is a delusion ? If so, it can 
 onl) be owing to the inadequacy of the description, 
 for sarely no one could have witnessed for himself 
 that chamber of death, without feeling his scepti- 
 cism shaken. It was not an ignorant enth\isiast 
 who manifested such joy ; it was not a despiser of 
 learning who so cast reasoning aside. It was a 
 man of acute and powerful intellect, of varied and 
 profound learning, whose whole life had been spent 
 in investigation, whose independence of thought 
 was proverbial, who during many years had pon- 
 dered all the objections adduced by scientific men 
 and philosophers, against the divine origin of Chris- 
 tianity, and who pronounced the result to be so firm 
 
200 CONCLUSION 
 
 a conviction of its truth, that * though all the world 
 were antichristian,' his faith would still be unshaken. 
 
 He had found in the Gospel, what everything 
 else had failed to supply. The necessities of his 
 nature were met. The cravings of his soul were 
 satisfied. Apart from all external evidence, he 
 affirmed the religion itself to be its own witness, in 
 its felt adaptation to human wants and human woes. 
 It made him happy in the midst of severe trials, and 
 though life presented to him every attraction, he was 
 not only resigned, but rejoiced, to leave it. 
 
 Some meet death without fear, because they are 
 thoughtless, and consider not the momentousness 
 of it ; or superstitious, and rely on frivolous cere- 
 monies to prepare them for it ; or self-righteous, 
 and by a vain esteem of their own merits, think 
 themselves in justice secure from all penal conse- 
 quences of it ; or sceptical, and by the theory of 
 sleep ^or annihilation, take away, in their estimation, 
 the terror of it. It is not surprising that such men 
 should meet death with little dread. But he, enter- 
 taining the most ample and vivid conceptions of the 
 solemn consequences of dying ; with the judgment- 
 seat, and the final sentence, and the eternal award 
 full in view ; conscious of guilt in himself, as he 
 was convinced of the stern integrity of the judge 
 before whom he must stand, and the righteous 
 requirements of the law by which he must be tried ; 
 and as devoid of the least superstitious reliance on 
 
CONCLUSION. 201 
 
 any ceremonies, to prepare him for the great event, 
 as he was of the slightest reference to any good- 
 ness of his own, as entitling him to an acquittal 
 before the tribunal of a Holy God, — he could still 
 anticipate the approtich of what soiajd call the king 
 of terrors, as that of a welcome friend. 
 
 Was the religion which, while it admitted the 
 truth of reason's anticipation of a future existence, 
 and countersigned those accusations which every 
 faithful conscience must adduce against its posses- 
 sor, and recognised the justice of the Omniscient 
 ruler and the holiness of His righteous law ; yet at 
 the same time allayed every anxiety, and imparted 
 a blissful hope of endless felicity — was this merely 
 a delusion ? If so, how happy are the victims of 
 it !' Who might not reasonably wash to be the sub- 
 ject of an infatuation which elevates the moral 
 nature, which dignifies humanity, which qualifies 
 for the discharge of all the duties, and the endu- 
 rance of all the trials of life, which gives comfort 
 to the sorrowful, and fresh elation to the glad, which 
 can throw^ such a halo of joy around the pilgrim 
 throughout the journey of life, and enable him to 
 anticipate its termination with hope rather than 
 terror ! Yes ! be it a delusion, the Christian's por- 
 tion is nevertheless far to be preferred to that of the 
 unbeliever, and he w^ho should convince him of his 
 mistake, w^ould rob him of that which the wealth of 
 the universe would be insuflScient to replace. 
 
202 CONCLUSION. 
 
 If it is a delusion, it is one in which multitudes 
 have shared, not of the ignorant merely, but of the 
 wisest of mankind. The testimony of Dr. Gordon 
 io the felt truth and power of religion, has substan- 
 tially been given by millions besides, both of the 
 dead and the living ; of men in all countries and 
 of all conditions. Add to this experimental evi- 
 dence, the external and historical proofs of the truth 
 of Christianity, which no subtlety has ever yet been 
 able to refute, but which every fresh investigation 
 tends to strengthen and multiply; and can you be 
 quite sure that all is a mistake ? You may suppose 
 this, but can you prove it? Must you not admit 
 that it may be true ? Is there not a voice w^ithin, a 
 moral nature which whispers, despite all your so- 
 phistry, that at least there is a probability that 
 Christianity is Divine ? 
 
 Ponder well what that probability involves before 
 you treat it with indifference. It is probable that 
 there is after death a righteous judgment, a Heaven, 
 and a hell ; probable that the soul will live for ever, 
 and that unless it obtains the salvation provided in 
 the gospel it will be lost! If this is a mere proba- 
 bility, since the risk incurred is so tremendously 
 great, is it not the extravagance of folly to neglect 
 the gospel ? If men think there is a probability 
 that their property or their lives may be in danger, 
 do they not take precautionary measures zealously 
 and at once ? How much more should you, when 
 
CONCLUSION. 203 
 
 there is a probability that the soul is in dangp^ ! 
 If there is a prohahility of success in any path of 
 commercial enterprise or worldly ambition, how 
 many and how eager are the competitors, though 
 it is only a may be and some must certainly fail. 
 And if men thus act in reference to the riches that 
 are corruptible and the crowns that fade, should 
 you not much more be earnest when there is a pro- 
 bability of winning Heaven with its imperishable 
 glories and eternal joys.'' Should not the mere 
 chance, if it be only a chance, induce you patiently 
 to investigate such a system, and diligently to 
 labour to make its probable advantages your own ? 
 For should it eventually prove a delusion, you 
 would have been no loser ; but should it be proved 
 to be from God, how infinite your gain if a Chris- 
 tian, — how irremediable your loss, if not ! 
 
 But it is more than a probability. " Heaven 
 and earth shall pass away, but God's word shall 
 not pass away." Be entreated then, reader, how- 
 ever you may boast of the depth of your philosophy 
 and the acuteness of your reason, to study the 
 Bible, as did Dr. Gordon, in the spirit of a little 
 child, seeking to be taught of God, and then in 
 answer to your prayer — " Open thou mine eyes" — 
 you will "behold wondrous things out of God's 
 law." 
 
 But if Christianity is indubitably from God, what 
 does it teach ? If w^e are to gather a reply from 
 
204 CONCLUSION. 
 
 .Jie preceding narrative, Christianity is not a heart- 
 less assent to any creed or formulary of faith — it is 
 not the punctual performance of a routine of cere- 
 monies — it is not zealous adherence to any par- 
 ticular system or church — it is not a mere course 
 of human virtue, integrity, and benevolence. The 
 Christianity of Dr. Gordon was more than this. 
 Teaching him the evil of his own nature, it led 
 him to seek the renewing and sanctifying influence 
 of the Spirit of God, by whom he became a " new 
 creature, old things passing away, and all things 
 becoming new." Revealing to him his own guilt 
 and his Saviour's grace, it laid him low^ in self- 
 abasement and godly penitence, while it enabled 
 him to rejoice in the all-sufficient sacrifice of Christ, 
 and as he himself expressed it, to ^ revel in the atone- 
 ment.^ It displayed the Creator to his view as a 
 God of love, his companion, his friend, his Father, 
 rendering sin against such a Being the object of 
 intense abhorrence, and holiness his greatest desire 
 and delight. The Bible became to him the best of 
 books, prayer the most precious of privileges, the 
 love of Christ the most engrossing of themes, and 
 the prospect of heaven the most transporting of 
 hopes. 
 
 Reader, if your's is a religion which allows you 
 to think complacently either of your piety or your 
 virtue; if it does not humble you in the dust ot 
 contrition, and cause you to rely on Christ alone 
 
CONCLUSION. 205 
 
 for salvaticn ; if it does not warm your heart with 
 love to God, and render it impossible for you to 
 live in the indulgence of any thing which is dis- 
 pleasing to Him ; if it does not make you delight 
 in submission to His authority and in the con- 
 templation of His word — then your Christianity 
 essentially differs from that described in this book. 
 But was not Dr. Gordon's religion that of the Bible.'* 
 If so, what is yours ? 
 
 To the inquiry, * what can Christianity effect ?' 
 an emphatic reply is furnished in the " peace which 
 passeth all understanding," and " the joy unspeak- 
 able and full of glory," which Dr. Gordon so 
 abundantly enjoyed. Why should such a case be 
 at all remarkable ? What reason is there why all 
 believers should not thus habitually rejoice ? Have 
 they not the same Father, the same Saviour, the 
 same Sanctifier, the same promises, and the same 
 hopes ? May not all Christians 'make a companion 
 of God!' Has not the blood of Christ washed 
 away their sins ? Are they not " accepted in the 
 beloved?" Have they not "received the earnest 
 of the Spirit into their hearts, teaching them to cry, 
 Abba, Father ?" Do not all things, sorrows as well 
 as joys, " work together for their good ?" Do they 
 not carry about a charmed life which nothing can 
 injure ? Is there not care for them in Heaven ? Are 
 not angels their ministering spirits ? Does not God 
 himself ever watch over them to shield them from 
 18 
 
206 CONCLUSION. 
 
 all harm, and supply them with all good ? Is not 
 the grace of Jesus sufficient for them, and has not 
 He promised, that "they shall never perish?" Is 
 not death deprived of its sting in their case? Is it 
 not true of them that believing in Him who is ^'the 
 Resurrection and the Life, they shall never die?" 
 Are not mansions of glory preparing for them, to 
 the enjoyment of w^hich death is only the mes- 
 senger ? When that hour comes, will it not be 
 " far better to depart and be with Jesus ?" 
 
 If men of the world rejoice in those riches and 
 honours and delights which are so unsatisfactory, so 
 uncertain, and so fleeting, should Christians who 
 have such exalted privileges, such boundless pos- 
 sessions, such transporting hopes, ever appear with 
 a sad countenance ? Should they not always wear 
 a srnile of gladness, and stand on the tip-toe of 
 delight and expectation ? Should they not thus 
 prove to the world how much superior is the Chris- 
 tian's portion, even here ? Should they not honour 
 tlie giver of such joy by the fullest appreciation and 
 reception of the gift ? If the banquet is so plenti- 
 ful, should they not comply w^ith the invitation — 
 " Eat, friends, drink abundantly, beloved ?" 
 We are not only permitted but commanded to rC' 
 joice. "Be glad in the Lord, ye righteous, and' 
 shout for joy, all ye that are upright in heart." — 
 " These things have I spoken unto you, that your 
 joy might be full." — " Finally, my brethren, rejoice 
 
CONCLTJSION. 207 
 
 in the Lord. — Rejoice in the Lord always, and 
 again I say, rejoice " ! 
 
 But how is this to be attained ? By simple re- 
 liance on the word of God. If w^e believe w^hat 
 He has spoken, we can neither be afraid nor deject- 
 ed. He has provided " strong consolation," for all 
 who have " fled for refuge to lay hold on the hope 
 set before them in the gospel." Instead of con- 
 tinually pondering our own guilt and frailty, let us 
 contemplate the all-sufficiency of Christ ! Instead 
 of debating, and arguing, and resolving to have 
 every mystery explained, before we derive comfort 
 from the " exceeding great ana precious promises" 
 of God's word, let us in the humility of faith, and 
 with the simplicity of little children, take God at 
 His word, believe that He loves us, and rejoice in 
 His salvation. This was the secret of Dr. Gordon's 
 peace. Without hesitation, he threw himself on the 
 promises of the gospel, and experienced that " per- 
 fect love casteth out fear." To conclude with his 
 own emphatic words, which furnish the best and 
 most comprehensive reply to these three inquiries: — 
 
 * I REASONED, AND DEBATED, AND INVESTIGATED, 
 BUT I FOUND NO PEACE TILL I CAME TO THE GOSPEL 
 AS A LITTLE CHILD. ThEN THE HOLY SPIRIT SEEMED 
 TO FILL MY HEART. I SAW MY SINFULNESS IN ALL 
 ITS VIVID DEFORMITY, AND FOUND THERE WAS NO 
 ACCEPTANCE W^ITH GOD AND NO HAPPINESS EXCEPT 
 THROUGH THE BLESSED REDEEMER. I STRIPPED 
 
208 CONCLUSION. 
 
 OFF ALL MY OWN DEEDS— WENT TO HIM NAKED HE 
 
 RECEIVED ME AS HE PROMISED HE WOULD THEN I 
 
 FELT JOY UNSPEAKABLE, AND ALL FEAR OF DEATH 
 /^T ONCE VANISHED.' 
 
 THE END. 
 

 ^1 
 
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