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Memoir 
 
 OP 
 
 WILBERFORCE RICHMOND, 
 
 THE SECOND SON OF THE 
 
 REV. LEGH RICHMOND, 
 
 PREPARED FOR SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 PUBLISHED BY GEORGE, LATIMER & CO. 
 
 NEW-YORK: JONATHAN LEAVITT. 
 BOSTON : PIERCE & PARKER AND STIMPSON & CLAPP. 
 
 1833. 
 
JBXsm 
 
 Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 
 1833, by George, Latimer & Co. in the Clerk's Office of 
 the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 
 
 /S^fj* 
 

 PREFACE. 
 
 The materials of this little volume, are 
 chiefly drawn from a very interesting re- 
 cent work, entitled, "Domestic Portrai- 
 ture." It was thought that the publication 
 of this memoir, in a form suitable for Sab- 
 bath-school libraries, and for circulation 
 among the young, might be of great ad- 
 vantage to the cause of piety. It would be 
 difficult to point out a more interesting and 
 satisfactory example of early, eminent piety, 
 and of blissful departure from life. The 
 providence which thus early removes those 
 who bid so fair for usefulness, is mysterious, 
 but wise. 
 
 " He told me," said his sister, " how se- 
 riously it had been impressed on his mind, 
 
 THAT HIS DEATH WAS TO BE THE LIFE OF 
 
 others." That this impression may be re- 
 
IV 
 
 alized, that the reader may follow his ex- 
 ample, may enjoy a like triumphant death, 
 and glorious immortality, is the prayer of 
 the Compiler. 
 
 Philadelphia, April 13, 1833. 
 
MEMOIR, Sec. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The subject of this memoir was born in 
 Turvey Rectory, August 20, 1807. Soon 
 after his birth, he was received into the Chris- 
 tian Church by the rite of baptism, when his 
 father called him Wilberforce. This name 
 was justly dear to Mr. Richmond, as it was 
 borne by one who was, under God, the means 
 of his conversion. 
 
 The following anecdote of the infancy of 
 the subject of this memoir, is interesting, 
 when viewed in connexion with his future 
 history. It was related by his father. 
 
 "I cannot forget a circumstance which oc- 
 curred in his infancy : his mother and myself 
 were on a visit to a friend's house. A large 
 family were assembled at morning prayers, 
 and amongst them was our little boy in his 
 nurse's arms. An aged and venerable minis- 
 ter was conducting the family worship. In 
 the midst of his prayer the child began to cry. 
 a2 
 
O MEMOIR OF 
 
 The good man paused, and beckoned the ser- 
 vant to give him the infant. He took him in 
 his arms, and held him for several minutes, 
 during which he offered up most affecting pe- 
 titions on his behalf, praying earnestly, and in 
 a manner that touched all our hearts, that it 
 might please God to bless him for time and 
 eternity ; that if his life were spared, he might 
 be a blessing to his parents and the Church of 
 God, and finally have an inheritance with the 
 saints in light. He then returned the child, 
 now pacified, to the nurse's arms, and resumed 
 the general subject of his prayer, which had 
 been thus interrupted. There was an affect- 
 ing singularity in the transaction, which much 
 interested us at the time, and now that I am 
 engaged in the retrospective view of what 
 passed from the cradle to the grave of my be- 
 loved son, it recurs to my recollection with 
 peculiar emotions of heart. The venerable 
 man of God is long since gone to his rest, but 
 his prayer was recorded in heaven, and the 
 Lord in mercy has given it a gracious answer." 
 When he was a little more than two years 
 oW, he fell from a window, on the pavement, 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 7 
 
 and though he recovered from the accident, 
 he was lame ever afterwards. This kept him 
 from many boyish sports, which are often the 
 means of leading those who practice them into 
 sin. It obliged him to seek for amusement in 
 other ways, and thus led him to acquire a taste 
 for mental pleasures. His father had a fine 
 little museum of curious things, with which 
 it gavejiim pleasure to make Wilberforce ac- 
 quainted. He also had a philosophical appa- 
 ratus with which he used to make many in- 
 teresting experiments. Wilberforce thus ac- 
 quired a great deal of valuable knowledge, 
 with what were his amusements. He was 
 fond of study, and made rapid progress in 
 science of every kind, but especially in ma- 
 thematics. His teacher, in a letter to his 
 father, respecting him, makes the following 
 remarks : 
 
 " I marked the superior endowments of his 
 mind in the first hours of our intercourse, and 
 was confirmed in my opinion by each succeed- 
 ing year. He caught an idea quickly, never 
 seemed to forget it, for his memory was re- 
 markably strong and retentive, and he made 
 
B MEMOIR OF 
 
 more rapid and solid attainments than any 
 boy placed under my care. At a very early 
 period he read Euclid, and surprised me with 
 his acute and sensible observations on the 
 character of pure mathematics. He appeared 
 delighted to master a difficult problem, and 
 before he was twelve years of age, had ex- 
 ceeded the advance of many men of two years' 
 standing at the University." 
 
 His excellent father began very early to 
 teach him the fear of the Lord. When he 
 could scarcely lisp in accents of prayer or 
 praise, Mr. R. composed the following little 
 piece to be committed to memory, and repeat- 
 ed to his mother every evening. 
 
 WILBERFORCE'S EVENING ADDRESS TO 
 MAMMA. 
 
 Mamma, 'tis Jesus loves ray soul, 
 And makes the wounded sinner whole ; 
 My nature is by sin defiled, 
 Yet Jesus loves a little child. 
 
 I know my temper is not right, 
 I'm often fretful, scold and fight ; 
 I would like him be meek and mild, 
 For Jesus loves a little child, 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 9 
 
 How kind is Jesus, oh ! how good ! 
 For my poor soul, he shed his blood ; 
 For children's sake he was reviled, 
 Yet Jesus loves a little child. 
 
 When I offend you by my tongue, 
 And say and do%hat's very wrong, 
 O pray mamma be reconciled, 
 For Jesus loves your little child. 
 
 He teaches me to shed a tear, 
 Whene'er I grieve a friend so dear ; 
 But though I am so thoughtless, wild, 
 Yet Jesus loves the little child. 
 
 To mc may Jesus now impart 
 Although so young, a gracious heart; 
 Alas ! I'm oft by sin defiled, 
 Yet Jesus loves the little child. 
 
 And I love Him, for he loves me, 
 And hope his faithful child to be ; 
 The Sinner's Friend he's justly styled, 
 And Jesus loves your little child." 
 
 Whenever Mr. Richmond was obliged to 
 leave home for a time, he always used to write 
 to his children, even if they were very small, 
 to express his affection for them, and to give 
 them good advice. The following is a letter 
 that he wrote to Wilberforce. 
 
w memoir of 
 
 " Dearest little boy, 
 " As I was journeying near York last Sa- 
 turday, where should I suddenly find myself 
 but in a little village called Wilberforce, a3 
 my driver, and the way -post informed me. 
 ' Dear me,' said I to my fellow-traveller, ' how 
 a certain little lad of my acquaintance, would 
 be surpiised and pleased had he been in the 
 chaise this moment.' So I got out and walked 
 up and down in Wilberforce, thinking and 
 talking about that said little lad. It is a pretty 
 little place. As I loved the name, both for 
 your sake, and for the sake of Henrietta's god- 
 father, I amused myself with asking different 
 people the name of the place, and every body's 
 answer was the same. I asked an old man, 
 6 What is thi3 village called V c Wilberforce, 
 an' please your reverence,' said he, and so 
 said all the rest ; and thus I pleased myself 
 with making a great many people speak your 
 name, till one of them said, ' I canna think 
 wots the matter wi' the mon ; he made us aw 
 say the same thing. Mayhop the mon's a foo.' 
 Now all that was the matter with me, was that 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. II 
 
 I loved you, and it quite pleased me to hear 
 your name when I so little expected it. 
 
 " On Thursday last I saw a gentleman and 
 a lady mount up in a balloon, a mile high into 
 the air, and after sailing there near an hour, 
 they came down again quite safe. On Satur- 
 day I went to see the finest Church in all Eng- 
 land. It is more beautiful than all the Churches 
 I ever saw put together. To-day I have visit- 
 ed the wonderful dropping well of Knaresbo- 
 rough, which petrifies, after a time, whatever 
 it touches. To-morrow I am going to see one 
 of the finest ruins in the kingdom, Fountain's 
 Abbey. Look at your map, it is near Ripon 
 in Yorkshire. This day I received a most 
 beautiful letter from the Russian Princess 
 Sophia Metcskersky of St. Petersburg!]. I 
 think I never had so pretty a letter. What 
 makes it so pretty ? It is because it is about 
 Jesus Christ. Nothing is good or right or 
 pretty without him* He only is altogether 
 lovely. 
 
 " I hope both your leg and your lessons go 
 on well. If they do, you must thank Mr. 
 C for the one, and Mr. G. (to whom give 
 
12 MEMOIR OF 
 
 my love) for the other, and God for both. j # 
 # * Last night, at ten o'clock, I 
 saw the Aurora Borealis, like a white rainbow 
 stretching all over the sky. On Monday I 
 went to see the iron founders make cannon. 
 They melted the iron in a huge hot furnace, 
 it ran out along the ground like a little river 
 of liquid fire — very terrific ! 
 
 " I have picked up many curious stones for 
 the museum. God bless you, my little boy, 
 and God bless Henry. Tell him I love him, 
 and I hope he loves me. Kiss all your bro- 
 thers and sisters for me, and tell them all to 
 be very good. Behave well to dear mamma, 
 
 and Mr. G , and so good bye 
 
 From your loving papa, 
 
 L. Richmond.' 5 
 
 As Wilberforce grew older, he became more 
 and more thoughtful on the subject of religion, 
 and before he was eleven years old, gave his 
 friends some reason to hope that he was a real 
 Christian. His father, however, was still very 
 anxious about his salvation, as will appear 
 from the following letter. It was written froni 
 Stockport, in Lancashire. 
 
wilberforce richmond. 13 
 
 " Dear Willy, 
 "Are you indeed a good boy during my ab- 
 sence? Shall I have no cause for heart-ache 
 on my return, when I ask how my child has 
 behaved? How he has obeyed his mamma? 
 How he has attended to his lessons ? How he 
 has submitted to his sister's instructions ? 
 How he has conducted himself towards Mr. 
 
 G ? How he has adhered to truth in his 
 
 words ? How he has set H a good exam- 
 ple? Shall I be comforted with the glad 
 tidings, that your heart and your conscience, 
 and your ways, all seem to partake of a happy 
 influence ? that you throw away all indolence 
 of mind and body ? that you actively pursue 
 learning and gain it? that your brother im- 
 proves every day through the effect of your 
 good behaviour? that you seldom or ever 
 quarrel, snap, or snarl at him ? that you pray to 
 God to forgive your sins and hourly offences? 
 Shall I be told that you have prepared a 
 happy return home for papa, by his hearing all 
 this good of you, when he comes back ? Do 
 the four walls of your little chamber bear wit- 
 ness to your prayers and supplications for your- 
 
14 MEMOIR OF 
 
 self and me 1 Do the sun's rays as they early 
 penetrate your window in the morning, find 
 you active to rise, to read, to labour, and to 
 grow in grace ? # # * * # 
 I have seen some beautiful counties since I 
 left you. Staffordshire is full of beauty. 
 Lichfield cathedral too, which, though much 
 smaller than York Minster, is a very fine 
 building : I attended divine service there;the 
 organ notes rolled sublimely along the vaulted 
 arches, pillars, and roof. The exquisitely 
 painted windows assimilated to the sounds, 
 and rendered the effect most enchanting. The 
 spires are beautiful, and large sums have been 
 laid out in repairing and restoring them. 
 
 " One evening I travelled with a friend in 
 a gig for three hours, amidst the never-ceasing 
 distant lightning. The whole western hemis- 
 phere was in a constant blaze. The flashes 
 alternated from one point of the horizon to 
 another, distant about forty-five degrees from 
 each other; sometimes the flashes were sil- 
 very, sometimes yellow, then orange colour; 
 one while sheet-like, and again so vivid, that 
 we seemed to have a peep into more distant 
 
WXLBERFORCE RICHMOND. 15 
 
 regions of space; then more faint, now and 
 then we heard slight rumblings ; then all was 
 silent again. At one point the flashes gleamed 
 on the ruins of a distant castle which appeared 
 all on fire ; a dark forest lay behind, and it 
 formed a fine contrast. Sometimes the forked 
 flashes pursued one another in a kind of play- 
 ful progress; at others they dashed at each 
 other as if in terrible combat ; all this passed 
 between seven and ten in the evening. 
 
 " But what are these lightnings, compared 
 with those which made Moses quake and trem- 
 ble at Mount Sinai, or what were even these 
 contrasted with the lightnings of God's wrath 
 against sinners ? These appearances of nature 
 are striking emblems of Divine justice. You 
 have need to flee from the wrath to come. 
 Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand. 
 The wicked and all the people that forget God, 
 shall be turned into hel!. Dear Willy, if you 
 forget him, what will be your portion ? If you 
 say that you do not forget him, how do you 
 prove it ? 
 
 Video meliora proboque 
 Deteriora sequor, 
 
16 MEMOIR OF 
 
 is the character of too many nominal Chris- 
 tians. I would not have it to be yours ; an 
 enlightened converted mind ; with eyes and 
 tongue to approve what is right, but the feet 
 walking in the paths of evil. A converted 
 heart alone will enable you to follow his steps, 
 who is c the way, the truth, and the life.' 
 
 " I sincerely hope that you are beginning to 
 be truly sensible of the evil and danger of sin, 
 and the necessity of seeking God betimes. 
 Occasional indispositions should remind you, 
 that you may never arrive at man's estate. If 
 you are to die a boy, we must look for a boy's 
 religion, a boy's knowledge, a boy's faith, a 
 boy's Saviour, a boy's salvation; or else a 
 boy's ignorance, a boy's obstinacy, a boy's un- 
 belief, a boy's idolatry, a boy's destruction. 
 Remember all this, and beware of sin ; above 
 all dread the sinfulness of an estranged heart. 
 Pray for a new one ; pray for grace and pardon, 
 and a soul conformed to the image of Christ ; 
 pray for wisdom, for the destruction of pride, 
 vain conceit, and self-sufficiency. Be not 
 slothful in business, but fervent in spirit, serv- 
 ing the Lord. Friends here inquire after you, 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND* 17 
 
 in the full hope that you are going on well, 
 creditably, obediently, industriously, humbly 
 and christianly. Love to all, from 
 
 Your affectionate Father, 
 
 L. R." 
 
 It was Mr. Richmond's desire that all his 
 'sons should be ministers. To this sacred office 
 Wilberforce was dedicated from his birth. 
 Mr. R., however, did not desire to see him a 
 minister, without decided and ardent piety. 
 He said "he would rather follow his son to 
 the grave, than see him in the Church without 
 •being fitted for such a sacred office." 
 
 Hitherto Wilberforce had maintained a re- 
 serve towards his father on the subject of per- 
 gonal religion, that was very painful to him. 
 In the following letter, written when he was 
 •about fourteen years of age, he, in a degree, 
 laid it aside. 
 
 " My dear Father, 
 " You will believe me, when I say, that I 
 entirely and most thoroughly agree with you, 
 1 that it is time we should communicate fre- 
 quently, intimately, and confidentially.' I 
 b 2 
 
18 MEMOIR OF 
 
 feel very thankful that you have so plainly 
 declared your thoughts and determination con- 
 cerning me : I know my inability to answer 
 you in the way you wish, but I rejoice in an 
 opportunity of telling you what my thoughts 
 have been and still are in respect of the most 
 important subject of your inquiry. I deeply 
 regret that a false shame has hitherto deterred 
 me fioman open avowal of my sentiments and 
 feelings. I will honestly confess to you, that 
 I have never seriously considered the subject 
 of the ministry till within the last few months. 
 Brought up from my infancy with the expec- 
 tation of becoming a clergyman, and accus- 
 tomed as I have been to think and speak of it 
 as my future profession, I have been little 
 aware of the difficulty, and have not sufficiently 
 considered the responsibility of the office 
 which I hoped would one day be mine. You 
 know how much this prospect has pleased me 
 all through my childhood. I have had many 
 fears and alarms about my sinful state, but 
 they soon faded away. The impression has 
 never been permanent till dear little Atherton 
 died. At that time it pleased God to awaken 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 19 
 
 in me a deeper sense of my dangerous condi- 
 tion, and I prayed very earnestly that God 
 would pardon my sins for Christ Jesus' sake, 
 and that the Holy Spirit would renew my heart. 
 Then I fell into another error, for I began to 
 trust myself instead of the Saviour. I thought 
 I was now proof against temptation, and had 
 the presumption to suppose myself fit for the 
 ministry. But I was awfully deceived. There 
 arose soon after in my mind many doubts of 
 the authenticity of the Scriptures. Wherever 
 I went, or whatever I was doing, these doubts 
 haunted me. I found that I could not, I dared 
 not pray. At first I repulsed these sugges- 
 tions with horror, but they gradually laid so 
 fast hold of me, that they destroyed all my 
 peace. When engaged in my studies, that 
 which was often ascribed to idleness, w T as 
 really occasioned by the state of my mind , which 
 was so perplexed that I could not attend to 
 other things; even my pleasures were damped 
 by uneasiness. I have no doubt that if I' had 
 been in some situations, I should have become 
 a determined infidel. I tremble, dear papa, 
 while I write thus; and when Hook back and 
 
20 MEMOIR OF 
 
 think of my situation at that time, I cannot 
 feel sufficiently thankful that my life was 
 spared, and that I was not cut off from God 
 for ever. I found that I had trusted in my 
 own strength, that I had neglected prayer, 
 and while I continued in that neglect, I could 
 not reasonably expect the removal of these 
 distressing searchings of heart. It was with 
 some difficulty I could bring myself on my 
 knees again. I was fearful that God would 
 not hear me. But I read the Bible for encou- 
 ragement, and I found it there. By continual 
 prayer I was directed to the means of relief., 
 and I have not been troubled with one more 
 doubt since that time. Indeed, I cannot but 
 believe that the death of our poor little Ather- 
 ton was blest to me. It affected me more than 
 any conversation or other event, and more 
 than any one knew; I have never lost the 
 impression. 
 
 " Yet I cannot feel comfortable in becoming 
 a minister of Christ in my present state of 
 mind. My conscience would be uneasy, if I 
 presumed to fill an office, whose functions are 
 so far above my ability or piety ; but I earn- 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 2i 
 
 estly pray that God may give me such a mea- 
 sure of his grace, as may in some degree fit 
 me to become an unworthy, but true servant 
 of the Lord Jesus Christ. 
 
 "Having now freely and confidently told 
 you what has been passing in my mind, I lie 
 in your •hands, and trust that you will pardon 
 any error of expression or sentiment which 
 may appear in my letter, and that you will 
 correct whatever you see wrong in me. Re- 
 ceive, my dear papa, my confidence, as the 
 strongest mark of affection and gratitude 
 which can be given by your affectionate, but 
 unworthy son, Wilberforce." 
 
22 MEMOIR OF 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 During the two succeeding years, we have 
 no incidents to record. He continuecLhis stu- 
 dies under able and pious instructors, and ap- 
 peared to make progress in true religion. In 
 1823, when he was sixteen, he thus wrote to 
 his father who was absent on a journey to 
 Scotland. 
 
 " # # # * I have thought and 
 considered a great deal on the contents of your 
 last letter ; I read it, I assure you, with many 
 tears, but they were tears of love to you, and 
 of sorrow that I fell so far short of your wishes 
 and reasonable expectations. You say you 
 wish me first to be a true Christian, and then 
 a true minister ; believe me, when I say, that 
 though it is the first, the nearest, and the 
 dearest wish of my heart, I would not have a 
 desire, not the slightest desire of entering the 
 Church in an unfit state of mind. I would 
 rather engage in the meanest occupation of 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 23 
 
 life, than be a disgrace to the religion of 
 Christ, by entering into the holy profession 
 while I am unfit for it. When I look at the 
 apostles of old, and mark how full they were 
 of love to Christ and their fellow-creatures ; 
 or when I look to good men of our own day 
 who tread in their steps, I shrink from assum- 
 ing a profession for which I cannot but know 
 myself most unworthy. I am conscious of 
 being a great sinner, and I seem to myself 
 utterly incompetent to be more than an humble 
 disciple in the Church of God. But I know 
 that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from 
 all sin, and his Spirit can enable me, sinful as 
 I am, to love and serve him. I have much to 
 be thankful for. I ought to be thankful that 
 I am permitted to think about these things. 
 At times I have felt very happy in prayer and 
 reading the Scriptures. My joy has been 
 such, that I seemed ready not only to love God> 
 but give up all the world for his sake ; then 
 again the cares and pleasures of life have laid 
 hold of mc, and sunk me into sorrow. 
 
 " Pray for me, my dear father, that my wa- 
 vering mind may be fixed in the paths of truth, 
 
24 MEMOIR OF 
 
 and may choose that better part, which when 
 once obtained, shall never be taken away from 
 me ; and may God direct me to that profession 
 of life, in which J may most promote his glory, 
 and my own good, and that of my fellow-crea- 
 tures." 
 
 In the spring of 1824, when he had reached 
 his seventeenth year, his friends were first 
 alarmed for his health. He took cold from a 
 wet ride, and a slight cough succeeded. One 
 morning in the month of May, his father dis- 
 covered symptoms of his having ruptured a 
 blood-vessel. His fears were greatly awakened, 
 as appears from a note in his papers. " As I 
 looked on him that morning, I felt a shock 
 which seemed to shatter me to the very soul, 
 and I have never recovered it." In a short 
 time, Wilberforce's appearance was considera- 
 bly altered, and his spirits were depressed. 
 
 It was deemed expedient that he should visit 
 Scotland, and be committed to the care of the 
 Rev. James Marshall, his brother-in-law. It 
 was hoped that the effects of a sea voyage, and 
 change of air, and the benefit of Dr. S.'s ad- 
 vice, who, it was thought, had been remarka- 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 25 
 
 bly successful in several instances of consump- 
 tion, might possibly arrest the progress of this 
 insidious disorder. 
 
 It was impossible for his father, at that time, 
 to accompany him. What were his feelings 
 in prospect of separation, will appear from the 
 following letter to Mrs. Richmond. 
 
 St. NeoVs, Monday night. 
 " My ever dear love, 
 " * * No one knows, or ever 
 
 can know, the anxiety which I have felt on 
 our dear child's account. Little as it may 
 have been perceived, I have been inwardly 
 agitated beyond expression, and this must 
 apologize for any weakness or inconsistency 
 of which I have been guilty. God only knows 
 what I have suffered. I have been taken by 
 surprise. The alarming symptoms in the dis- 
 ease of our beloved child, have awakened a 
 thousand feelings and fears. I have reflected on 
 his bodily, but much more acutely on his spiri- 
 tual estate. I have been unwilling to separate 
 from him under all the probable, or at least 
 possible contingencies of the disorder. I have 
 wept and trembled. I have mourned over my 
 
26 MEMOIR OF 
 
 past deficiencies towards him. I have had my 
 hopes, not being ignorant of the exercises of 
 his mind for years past. Yet I have had my 
 fears, lest he should have fallen from his first 
 love, and lest his literary pursuits should have 
 weaned his heart from God. For more than a 
 year past, I have hourly meditated on the 
 course of his education and preparation for the 
 sacred ministry. He has been the star of my 
 hopes, the source of my anxieties. I have an- 
 ticipated with exquisite, though unuttered joy 
 and hope, his entrance on the glorious work of 
 preaching the unsearchable riches of Christ, 
 and I have also been full of anxiety in a view 
 of the falls and disappointments which yearly 
 occur amidst the contaminations and injurious 
 companionship of a college career. Yet I 
 have never ceased to hope that God will work 
 with him and by him. My declining years 
 have been cheered by associations connected 
 with my interesting boy ; but the Lord now 
 sees good, — and blessed be his name, — to 
 hang a dark curtain between me and all these 
 thoughts and visions. Hence I am sometimes 
 fearful, sad, and heavy. 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 27 
 
 "I see fully the necessity and propriety of 
 the proposed journey, but I doubt his strength 
 and ability to encounter the fatigue and trial 
 inseparable from it. Chiefly I dread being 
 absent from him when heart and strength may 
 fail, and I may only see him again sinking into 
 the grave, unaided, unstrengthened, unblessed 
 by his affectionate father. Did I but know 
 more of his mind, I might possibly be more 
 at ease ; but his reserve withholds from me 
 this consolation. 1 have made a gentle, and I 
 hope a considerate attempt to draw him out by 
 a little opening discussion of the sacrament. 
 I start for Cambridge at half-past four to-mor- 
 row. The sight of that place will most acutely 
 remind me of the past as it relates to myself, 
 connected with the contingencies of the future 
 as it may concern him. I have many fears 
 mingled with the hope of his recovery. I feel 
 very anxious from day to day. May God over- 
 rule all these things for the good of each of 
 us. Give my love to all, and an especial 
 blessing to Willy. 
 
 Your affectionate 
 
 L. R," 
 
28 MEMOIR OF 
 
 It was determined to send him to Scotland 
 
 by a sea voyage, in company with Mr. . 
 
 His father was to follow him in a few days. 
 He was much depressed at this time. It was 
 his first separation from the paternal roof, and 
 his mind became deeply affected when the 
 parting hour arrived, and when he was to bid 
 farewell to his beloved mother, to brothers and 
 sisters, to domestics and neighbours, endeared 
 to him by every sweet and tender tie of youth- 
 ful affection; to the home of his infancy; to 
 almost every person, place, and thing, with 
 which he had been accustomed to associate 
 happiness ; the agitations of his feelings in- 
 creased the weakness of his frame ; the con- 
 flict of his mind w T as visible in his counte- 
 nance, he looked pale and languid ; a painful 
 contrast to the usual smile which played on 
 his countenance. On the morning of his de- 
 parture he was very silent. He looked on all 
 his friends as they stood around him, and with 
 tears in his eyes he stepped into the carriage. 
 
 During the interval of separation, his father 
 corresponded with him, and was very earnest 
 to draw from him a more unreserved commu- 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 29 
 
 nication, and to satisfy himself more thoroughly 
 of Wilberforce's piety, of which he entertained 
 some doubts, amidst many hopes. The fol- 
 lowing is Wilberforce's answer to a letter 
 pressing on his attention the important sub- 
 ject of the Lord's Supper. 
 " My dear Father, 
 "I thank you for the kind letter you wrote 
 to me on the subject of the Sacrament. I 
 could not have received one which would have 
 more truly convinced me of your affection and 
 desire for my spiritual welfare. Oh ! may 
 God give an answer to your prayers and de- 
 sires on my behalf, and may you see me walk- 
 ing humbly and sincerely in that narrow path 
 which leads to life eternal. I have thought 
 much on the contents of your letter, and have 
 been deeply affected. At first I was discou- 
 raged by a sense of unworthiness, and shrunk 
 from the thought of approaching the Lord's 
 table. It then struck me, that even if I had 
 not attained all I desired, I might still ven- 
 ture with a humble and prayerful spirit, and 
 an entire dependence on Christ. I thought, 
 also, if I neglected attendance. I should be 
 c2 
 
30 MEMOIR OF 
 
 dishonouring the Saviour by a refusal of an 
 appointed means of grace ; and I do hope that 
 by presenting myself to Christ in his own or- 
 dinance, I may be confirmed and strengthened 
 in my faith, and helped on to fulfil the vows 
 made at my baptism, and fight manfully under 
 Christ's banner, against the world, the flesh, 
 and the devil. I would, then, my dear father, 
 put on the garb of humility, and go and kneel, 
 as the very lowest of his disciples, at the foot 
 of the cross of Jesus, and commemorate with 
 gratitude his cross and passion, his glorious 
 resurrection and ascension, — on the merit of 
 which alone are fixed all my hopes in this 
 world and the next. How thankful do I feel 
 that I may kneel at the foot of the cross. Oh ! 
 where besides could I wish to stretch out my 
 aching limbs and die. 
 
 "I suppose my journey will make some de- 
 lay in your intentions, but if I return with 
 renewed health and strength, I would consider 
 that in receiving the Sacrament, I give a 
 pledge to God and you, to devote myself, soul 
 and body, to the promotion of the divine glory. 
 But if I should not return in health, and if it 
 
WILBEREORCE RICHMOND. 31 
 
 should seem fit to the Almighty to shorten my 
 life, yet if he will renew my soul by his Holy 
 Spirit, oh ! how unspeakable a blessing to 
 wing my flight from sin and sorrow. 
 
 "If I were certain of his favour, and my 
 own change of heart, I should only wish to 
 see my Saviour face to face, and praise and 
 love him for ever. I have written hastily, but 
 as long as I could without fatigue, a short, but 
 1 assure you a sincere letter. 
 
 Your affectionate 
 
 WlLBERFORCE." 
 
 In the course of a fortnight, his father and 
 sister followed him into Scotland. They met 
 him as they entered the Frith of Clyde, in a 
 steamboat. He looked much better ; his spi- 
 rits were good, and the meeting between them 
 inspired reciprocal feelings of hope and joy. 
 
 Mr. Richmond took a small cottage at Roth- 
 say, in the Isle of Bute, at a convenient dis- 
 tance from his physician's residence. From 
 hence he made frequent excursions by sea and 
 land, and used every means for the recovery 
 of his beloved son. For a while his health 
 seemed to be improved, but it soon appeared 
 
32 MEMOIR OF 
 
 that there was no material amendment. For 
 a few weeks he was buoyant in spirit, and ap- 
 parently restored, then the hectic fever flushed 
 his cheek, he grew weaker, and again sunk 
 into depression. 
 
 His father was greatly depressed about the 
 spiritual state of his child — the more so, be- 
 cause he shrank from all personal conversa- 
 tion on religious subjects, though his thought- 
 ful, and often depressed countenance, exhibit- 
 ed traces of inward conflict, and need of help 
 and comfort. He afterwards deeply regretted 
 his silence, and said, " It was a device of 
 Satan to retard my progress in vital experi- 
 mental piety." 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. $3 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The following chapter is from the pen of 
 Wilberforce's sister. 
 
 I do not think Willy was fully aware of his 
 danger at this time, though from his reserve 
 it was difficult to ascertain his opinion of him- 
 self ; and his physician was afraid of dis- 
 couraging him by a disclosure of his real 
 situation, as he considered it of importance 
 that he should expect recovery, and cultivate 
 cheerfulness of temper. 
 
 Willy wrote a few letters during his resi- 
 dence at Rothsay, of which the following are 
 specimens : 
 
 "Dear , 
 
 "I am not inattentive or indifferent to the 
 kind solicitude you have expressed for me. I 
 now experience what I have only heard be- 
 fore, that nothing is more consolatory in sick- 
 ness than to be remembered by those we loved 
 
34 MEMOIR OF 
 
 in health. I have been very unwell since I 
 saw you, and I once thought I must have given 
 up my former enjoyments, my future hopes 
 and prospects, even the pleasure of seeing 
 
 dear friends such as you, , and all I held 
 
 most dear on earth. I shall never forget the 
 pang which almost broke my heart at leaving 
 home, when I saw the tops of the houses, and 
 the Church, and the fields, and the trees of 
 my native village, disappear from my sight. I 
 thought, perhaps I am looking for the last 
 time on the scene of my earliest recollections 
 — my fondest and dearest enjoyments — but it 
 was a moment of weakness, and I fear it was 
 mingled with a feeling of repining. I had al- 
 ways been happy — too happy, my heart was 
 satisfied with this world, but God was leading 
 me by a path I knew not, in which I should 
 find more certain and durable enjoyment. I 
 needed something to convince me of the emp» 
 tiness of the world, and to lead me to fix my 
 affections higher. I am now much better in 
 health. I do not look like the same person, 
 and I hope I am not presumptuous in antici- 
 pating another day with you as happy as that 
 
W1LBERF0RCE RICHMOND. 35 
 
 spent at W a few months ago. Perhaps 
 
 you will think it a common-place remark, if I 
 express a wish for your company at Rothsay. 
 The situation is beautiful, but beautiful as is 
 the sea stretched now before us, and the 
 mountains and little romantic islands which 
 surround us on all sides, need I say how much 
 more I should enjoy their beauty, were you 
 here to enjoy it with us ? I am glad to have 
 dear with me. We share our joys to- 
 gether, and think so much alike about every 
 thing. To have been translated so suddenly 
 as I have been, from our flat country to this 
 mountainous region, seems like being taken 
 to fairy land. Neither description nor ima- 
 gination can do justice to Scottish scenery ; 
 but do not suppose that amidst all its charms 
 I have forgotten England. Oh no ! I more 
 than ever love the little blue hills of my native 
 country ; the fertile plains, grassy meadows, 
 waving valleys, and elegant rusticity of the 
 cottages, in which we so much excel the ho- 
 vels of Caledonia. We have here fine exhi- 
 larating mountain air, but the nights are cold 
 and bleak, I long to enjoy again an English 
 
36 MEMOIR OF 
 
 summer evening — to recline as I have often 
 done on a bank warmed by the setting sun, to 
 feel the balmy breeze which wafts the fra- 
 grance of the flowers — to listen to the warbling 
 strain of the nightingale, and give way to the 
 wanderings of my imagination, which gave 
 perhaps a delusive yet fascinating sensation 
 of pleasure to the fleeting moment. 
 
 "I have sailed above a thousand miles on 
 the sea. I am beginning to like boisterous 
 weather, though I seldom escape the con- 
 sequences. Adieu. 
 
 Yours, sincerely, 
 
 WlLBERFORCE." 
 
 About this time my father began to pre- 
 pare Wilberforce to receive the holy sacra- 
 ment for the first time, and they used to retire 
 together every day after breakfast during our 
 stay at Rothsay. Willy listened to instruc- 
 tion with respectful silence, and seeming ac- 
 quiescence in the sentiments laid before him : 
 he appeared interested and anxious to be re- 
 ceived into full communion with the Church 
 of God, and was often observed to be in deep 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 37 
 
 thought, and sometimes greatly depressed. 
 His unwillingness, however, to free commu- 
 nication rather increased, and as his health 
 was not materially improved, his father's anx- 
 iety often amounted to agony, and he could 
 not conceal the mental agitation which afflict- 
 ed him. He continued to weep and pray in 
 secret for his child's confidence. From Wil- 
 berforce's conversations at a later period, and 
 from letters written about this time, unknown 
 to his father till after his decease, we learnt 
 what had been the deep exercises of his 
 mind — that he was then earnestly seeking the 
 knowledge and enjoyment of God — that eter- 
 nal things were daily subjects of his contem- 
 plation and inquiry, and that he also suffered 
 much from an insurmountable repugnance to 
 make known his feelings, his wishes, and 
 wants. He told us afterwards, that though 
 he suffered more from suffering alone, he 
 seemed like one bound with a chain, and could 
 not venture to lean or place his confidence 
 on any human help. At this time he wrote 
 as follows : 
 
38 MEMOIR OF 
 
 " Rothsay. 
 "My dear Mamma, 
 
 " I was beginning to write to you when 
 your letter arrived. Very many thanks to you 
 for it. It is impossible for me to say how 
 much a letter from home rejoices and relieves 
 me, under the peculiar circumstances by which 
 I am separated from it. The simplest thing 
 which happens in Turvey, becomes to me an 
 object of interest. 
 
 " I am very sorry I should be the cause of 
 anxiety to you or to any one I love. I feel 
 this thought more than any pain I suffer in 
 my body. Indeed 1 lament our separation as 
 much as you can do. This period is one in 
 which I could have wished we might all have 
 been together, but things do not fall out as 
 we would have them, and it is best for us that 
 they do not. I wish to feel resignation in 
 every thing. As for my illness, I trust I re- 
 ceive it at the hands of God, and most firmly 
 believe it to be the greatest mercy he ever 
 vouchsafed me. My heart was engrossed by 
 this world. My affections were not set on 
 things above. I did not sufficiently feel my 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 39 
 
 need of a Saviour. Christ was not my beacon- 
 star to direct the future wanderings of my life, 
 but I looked to the false glare of human am- 
 bition, which would have led me to serve my- 
 self rather than God ; now I have discovered 
 the worthlessness of all my hopes and aims. 
 I find that all I have hitherto done is of no 
 avail in sickness. I have seen what earthly 
 dependance is — when the world and all that 
 ifl in it seems about to be hidden from our 
 view for ever. I trust also I have known 
 something of the joy arising out of depend- 
 ance on Christ in the moment of extremity. I 
 would ask God's forgiveness for making less 
 improvement of his " loving reproof" than I 
 ought to have done. Remember me to Mr. 
 and Mrs. G — . I hope the school is going on 
 prosperously. 1 wish my class to be told, 
 that though far from them, I have not forgot- 
 ten them. I hope they are regular in their 
 attendance, and that if I return, I shall find 
 them all much improved. Oh ! if you knew 
 how very often I think of home. I did not 
 know till now how much I was attached to 
 Turvey. I shall never forget my feelings 
 
40 MEMOIR GF 
 
 when I lost sight of our little village. I was 
 obliged to summon up every weak and weary 
 faculty to prevent my quite sinking under the 
 removal from it. * * * 
 
 Your most affectionate and dutiful Son, 
 
 WlLBERFORCi:." 
 
 Rothsay, September. 
 My dear Mamma, 
 " Many thanks for your affectionate birth- 
 day letter. I shall always recollect my last 
 birth-day, for it was the first in which I felt 
 melancholy. In the full enjoyment of health 
 and spirits, surrounded by all I most loved, 
 and by the companions of my boyhood, those 
 days were wont to pass away more quickly 
 and happily than any other. But as I sailed 
 pensively down the waters of Loch-lomond on 
 the 20th of last month— a day dark and gloomy, 
 and in unison with my feelings — I felt that I 
 was no longer in the spot where I had spent 
 the former anniversaries with those who shared 
 and welcomed my happiness. Yet I solaced 
 the desolation of feeling with the recollection, 
 that though absent, there were those who were 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 41 
 
 thinking of me, and of this your letter con- 
 vinced me. *.--,,*•-.'*■* \y e 
 spent last Sunday at Greenock ; a day, I trust, 
 ever to be remembered by me, for on that day 
 I was admitted to the highest Christian pri- 
 vilege, the sacrament of the body and blood of 
 our Saviour Jesus Christ, ordained by him a3 
 a perpetual remembrance of his precious 
 death and passion. Oh ! that it may be to me 
 a sign and pledge of my admission to the mar- 
 riage supper of the Lamb in glory. T was 
 very much affected, and should have been 
 quite overcome by the emotions of my own 
 mind, if 1 had not felt stronger and better than 
 usual on that day. Now that I am an outward 
 member of the visible Church of Christ, may 
 I daily prove myself to be one inwardly, in 
 spirit and in truth ; and whatever portion of 
 life God is pleased to allow me, I would de- 
 vote it to his service, and love him with my 
 whole heart, who first loved me. I wish an- 
 other summer was at hand, instead of another 
 winter. I feel a dread of the winter. There 
 is already an autumnal feeling here. The 
 leaves are beginning to change their lively 
 d 2 
 
42 MEMOIR OF 
 
 green to more varied hues. Did the fading 
 leaf ever remind you of the decay of a Chris- 
 tian in this world? Like the early tints dis- 
 played by the unfolding bud, are the opening 
 dispositions of a young Christian. His active 
 walk and conversation resemble the healthy 
 vigor of the full matured foliage and fruit. In 
 the signs of withering decay we see an em- 
 blem of his closing scene, when he has arrived 
 at the end of his mortal existence, and sinks 
 into a temporary suspension, to shoot forth in 
 a never-fading spring of immortal joys." 
 
 We spent the months of July, August, and 
 September, in the Isle of Bute, but as the sea- 
 son advanced, we were advised to return home. 
 Apparently, there was little improvement in 
 Wilberforce's health. Probably from being 
 constantly with him, we had not noticed the 
 gradual, yet real increase of the disorder. He 
 certainly considered himself much better, and 
 entertained hopes of recovery, and expressed 
 great pleasure in returning to Turvey. We 
 passed a few days on our way home, with 
 some dear friends in Yorkshire, with whom 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 43 
 
 our father left us while he went to preach at 
 Bradford. 
 
 My brother arrived at Turvey Rectory the 
 beginning of November, and was restored to 
 the quiet and peace of his own family. Six 
 weeks elapsed with little or no alteration in 
 his appearance. In a letter which my father 
 wrpte to me at this time, he says, 
 
 " Dear Willy is much the same. I wish he 
 was more confidential and communicative as 
 to the real state of his soul. Oh ! what would 
 I give for one voluntary conversation or letter, 
 detailing the former and present history of 
 what is passing in his mind. I think well of 
 it, and I hope it is comfortable ; but I want to 
 know this from himself. Many a secret tear 
 does his silence cost me.'' 
 
 It was during the six months following 
 his return from Scotland, that poor Willy's 
 soul was so severely tried. He never spoke 
 of death, but he must have been sensible of 
 increasing inward decay. He could not hide 
 from himself or his family, the depression and 
 anxiety of his spirit. He was much alone, 
 and when he returned from his closet to his 
 
44 MEMOIR OF 
 
 family, the signs of sorrow and the traces of 
 some deep mental conflict were frequently 
 visible in his countenance. The Bible was 
 scarcely ever out of his hand, and after his 
 return from the north, he seldom took up any 
 other book, religious or literary ; which was 
 the more remarkable, as his chief occupation 
 and delight had ever been in reading authers 
 on almost all subjects. He would now sit for 
 hours, and nearly whole days over the Bible, 
 in deep abstraction ; he was still silent to all 
 about him, and it was sometimes more than 
 my dear father could bear, to witness the in- 
 creasing uneasiness of his mind, and the suf- 
 ferings of his body. After so many ineffec- 
 tual efforts to penetrate the real state of his 
 heart, our afflicted parent had but one re- 
 source — to commit his child to God, in faith, 
 and under the pressure of his agonized feel- 
 ings to cry, "thou hast wounded and wilt 
 heal ; hast broken and wilt bind up again." 
 The following letters were, 1 believe, the last 
 my brother wrote : 
 
wilberforce richmond. 45 
 
 Dear , 
 
 " I am afraid that you will conclude that 
 our trip to the north has cooled our affections, 
 and frozen them into indifference to former 
 
 friendships. You must think so no longer. 
 
 # # # # # * 
 
 " I am now in that dear home which has 
 sometimes been rendered still dearer by your 
 presence. I reflect on those hours with much 
 pleasure, but the remembrance is mingled 
 with a feeling of melancholy. It is possi-ble 
 they may return ; I mean hours of the same 
 delight : yet I must not forget my gradual de- 
 cline for the last six months. I am now in a 
 state in which a slight increase of disease 
 might prove fatal ; but I am hoping, always 
 hoping ; for hope is a symptom of my disorder, 
 so I must hope. I am no longer what you 
 once knew me. The glow of health and spi- 
 rits does not now enliven my countenance, 
 which looks, I believe, rather sad ; yet I know 
 not why it should do so, for I have lost only 
 that w r hich endureth for a moment, and if T 
 obtain that which endureth for ever, the love 
 and mercy of Christ, surely I have reason to 
 
46 MEMOIR or 
 
 rejoice in the exchange. In Christ, and Christ 
 alone I find peace. — He will not cast me 
 away. I have thrown myself, as an unworthy 
 sinner, at the foot of the cross, and there in 
 peace will I lay my head, and I trust, cheer- 
 fully resign my breath to him who gave it. I 
 used once to love the rose of all the flowers 
 the best ; but now it has left me, and I turn to 
 the lilly, for it seems to betoken my approach 
 to a world of purity— nor have I any wish for 
 life, if Christ will receive one so unworthy. 
 From how much sin and temptation shall I 
 make my escape by an early death, and quit- 
 ting these, enter into a heaven of joy where 
 there is no more curse. I know that in very 
 faithfulness God has afflicted me ; my chief 
 sins were pride and ambition, and these have 
 been the very means, at least the chief cause 
 of my disease. Proud of my talents, and 
 seeking the admiration of men, I neglected 
 my health till it was too late to correct the 
 error, and now my dream of future happiness 
 in this world and all my ambitious hopes are 
 fled. But I would not exchange the humility 
 of a Christian for the phantom at which I 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 47 
 
 formerly grasped. People tell me I shall re- 
 cover. There may be hope, but my own im- 
 pression is to the contrary. Pray for me, 
 
 dear , and let a tear fall for the sins of 
 
 Your affectionate 
 
 WlLBERFORCE.'' 
 
 January 4, 1825. 
 " Many, many thanks, dear Mamma, for 
 your long and kind letter. I know you love 
 me, and think of me while you are absent ; 
 and it is some little consolation for your ab- 
 sence, and yet but little, for I long for your 
 return, very, very much. The house is dull 
 without you, and I am dull ; for I am deprived 
 of the society of one I hold most dear. Do 
 come as soon as circumstances will permit. I 
 would not press it, mamma, but I am not 
 near so well as when you left me. My spi- 
 rits are weak, and my appetite almost gone. 
 # * # * # 
 
 I am glad that you wrote to me so openly and 
 candidly on the subject of death. I feel my 
 earthly tabernacle fast wearing away, and 
 every day brings more occasion for solemn 
 
48 MEMOIR OF 
 
 thought and serious reflection ; and now, dear 
 mamma, having said this, I know you will be 
 very anxious to hear something about the state 
 of my mind. Just now it is most unhappy. The 
 thought has forced itself upon me, that I am 
 not a child of God, but have been deceiving 
 myself with false hopes. My breast heaving 
 with anguish, and my eyes swollen with tears 
 too big to find a passage, would bear witness 
 to the agony of spirit I have endured this day. 
 But I have cast myself at the feet of my hea- 
 venly Father, and have implored him by his 
 mercy, by the love which led him to send a 
 Saviour into the world, by the death and in- 
 tercession of that Saviour, by the encourage- 
 ments he has held out to sinners to come unto 
 him, and by the help which he has promised 
 to all those who do so come — I have implored 
 him not to send me empty away. I have not 
 yet found comfort, but I am looking and 
 trusting. He has said, Whom I love I chasten. 
 I do hope this may be his dealing with me, 
 and if so, I shall be thankful for it. Amidst 
 these conflicts, I see as it were, a light glim- 
 mering through the darkness, which leads me 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 
 
 49 
 
 on in hope. Oh ! mamma, if you love your 
 son, join your prayers to his, that this life, 
 this ray of hope may increase, and that he 
 may have a sure and certain hope of a joyful 
 resurrection to eternal life. I thank you for 
 Miss Jerram's Memoir. I never read any 
 book with more interest. She had exactly the 
 same feelings I have, but God removed them 
 in his own good time ; and I derive a hope 
 from her deliverance, that I shall not be cast 
 away. I will not think it. I should deny his 
 word — his promises. Sorrow not, mamma, 
 that I must leave you, we shall not be long 
 separated. Two little ones are gone before 
 me, and will you not rejoice that God has 
 been so gracious to them ? They knew not 
 the sin and sorrow of the world. I have 
 known both, and I wish to encounter no more. 
 Not one prayer have I offered up for life ; but 
 I have said, Lord, give me a converted heart, 
 and do with my life as seemeth thee best. I 
 feel no desire for life. Do not think I want 
 affection. The thought of parting with you 
 all, is more than I can well bear, but God 
 will give me strength. 
 
50 MEMOIR OF 
 
 " You blame yourself for not having talked 
 with me on religious subjects. I am sorry to 
 say you would have found in me a backward- 
 ness which I was never able to overcome, but 
 now if you were here I could talk most con- 
 fidentially with you. * 
 May the spirit of God rest upon you. May he 
 comfort you under present anxiety — May he 
 speak to your heart in future sorrows — May 
 you find joy in all your tribulations, and an 
 earnest of that rest which is prepared for the 
 people of God. I am, 
 
 Your affectionate 
 
 WlLBERFORCE." 
 
 The last letter my brother attempted was 
 to Mr. -, in Scotland. It was written un- 
 der great debility, and was left very unfinished. 
 " My dear Brother, 
 
 " Forgive me if I write this letter in a very 
 disjointed style. I cannot write long together, 
 and it is difficult to resume thoughts once 
 broken in their connexion. Many thanks for 
 your kind letter. You need not have begun with 
 excuses. You make me anxious to have you 
 
WfLBERFORCE RICHMOND. 51 
 
 with me — I want to unburden my heart to you. 
 I wish to hear a voice of comfort from you. 
 I never could speak freely on these subjects 
 — I am sorry you found me so backward to 
 religious conversation, but I could not sur- 
 mount my repugnance — I found it impossible 
 — I was not near enough to death — I had not 
 known trials and conflicts enough to overcome 
 my reserve, and induce me to unbosom my 
 thoughts and feelings. But now that I am 
 struggling for life, now that I have experi- 
 enced hours of mental agony, which might 
 often have been alleviated could I have open- 
 ed my heart, how much do I long to have you 
 near me. How confidently, how freely would 
 I now converse with you." 
 
 Hitherto Willy's decline had been so gra- 
 dual, as scarcely to be observed by those who 
 were constantly about him. He rode on horses- 
 back daily, sat much with my father in the 
 study, and appeared to his family nearly as 
 usual, except that an increased anxiety was 
 visible in his countenance. But early in 
 January, 1825, a considerable alteration was 
 apparent. He wasted rapidly — death was evi* 
 
52 MEMOIR OF 
 
 dently approaching. We were taken by sur- 
 prise, for our fears had been lulled asleep. 
 My dear father wrote as follows, 
 
 " My dearest F. 
 
 -"As I think more uncertainty hangs over 
 the day of your arrival than I wish, I write to 
 hasten your return. Dear Willy droops, he 
 declines fast. He misses you much, and often 
 says he wants you. Many symptoms increase 
 my anxiety about him. He is much weaker 
 within the last few days. Come to us imme- 
 diately. We want another nurse. His breath- 
 ing is with difficulty and pain. His sleep and 
 appetite fail — his looks are pale and wan — his 
 whole frame is sinking — his mind seems very 
 calm arid composed, but he still says nothing. 
 1 am persuaded that a great deal more has 
 passed within than we know of, and that of an 
 excellent kind. Peace and grace be with him 
 and you, and with 
 
 Your affectionate father, 
 
 L. R. 
 
 " P. S. — Since I wrote the above, I have 
 had a very long, free, unreserved conversation 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 53 
 
 with our dear boy, most affectionate and af- 
 fecting, and close to the great point. It is an 
 immense relief to my mind. He is to me an 
 interesting mixture of anxiety and hope. His 
 language sometimes resembles . that of your 
 own letter ; at other times he can trust more. 
 Oh ! that I might see both my beloved children, 
 yea, all of them, living by faith on the Son of 
 God. By grace are ye saved, through faith, 
 and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of 
 God. 
 
 " Willy's most distressing symptom is a 
 kind of suffocating feeling. We know not 
 "what this may produce. You will not be sur- 
 prised at my distress. Do not wait for an es- 
 cort, but trust Providence for a safe journey 
 home." 
 
 (Tuesday.) 
 
 " You will be anxious to hear how the dear 
 boy is to-day. He is extremely ill in body, 
 and exceedingly well in mind — in a peculiar- 
 ly holy frame. He slept a little in the arm- 
 chair last night, but his decay is rapid. He 
 wishes to talk with you on many subjects. I 
 hope he may have strength at intervals to do 
 e2 
 
54 MEMOIR OF 
 
 so. His conversations with me have been 
 most valuable and interesting: praised be 
 God ! I am so comforted by my dear boy's 
 unreserved communications, that I frequently 
 forget the pain of parting. Who could be so 
 selfish as to wish to stop his journey to heaven. 
 Yet how trying to nature is the idea of part- 
 ing with him. Well, under every bereavement 
 and separation from others, forget not, my 
 
 dear F , the use you may always make of 
 
 your father who loves you. You also have 
 been too reserved towards him, for he is in- 
 deed and indeed, 
 
 Your own affectionate parent, 
 
 L. R." 
 
 My mother was still at B , to which 
 
 place she had been summoned to attend the 
 dying bed of her own parent, and my father 
 wrote to beg her return. 
 " My dear love, 
 
 " Our dear Willy's weakness has increased 
 with such unexpected rapidity within the last 
 three days, that I wish you to return home 
 immediately. He is exceedingly anxious 
 that you should not delay an hour in coming 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 55 
 
 to him. Amidst my great anxieties, I have 
 the pleasure of telling you that the spell of 
 silence is happily broken between us, and he 
 has opened his whole heart to me. He is in 
 a very anxious but hopeful frame of mind. By 
 our mutual conversation of yesterday and to- 
 day I am relieved from a heavy burden. All 
 the nameless pangs of my mind, during the 
 last eight months, have been almost blotted 
 : out of my remembrance by my present conso- 
 lations. My prayers are answered at last, the 
 *door of utterance is opened, and I am truly 
 thankful. Your mind as well as mine has 
 long anticipated the probable result of this 
 sickness. We must go to the strong hold for 
 help, and we shall not fail to find it. I am 
 staying from Church to enjoy a Sabbath with 
 our dear boy ; he has had a very bad night, 
 chiefly in the arm-chair ; the fever has been 
 excessively high, and the pulse at the utmost. 
 But take comfort from the state of his mind. 
 It is truly interesting. All its natural superi- 
 ority mingles with its spiritual characteristics. 
 He that once comforted you in your own dan- 
 gerous sickness will comfort you in the dis- 
 
56 MEMOIR OF 
 
 tress of your soul. Let us trust God in over- 
 ruling all for the best. When not oppressed 
 by debility and pain, Willy's countenance 
 beams with sweet smiles of composure and 
 love. He often inquires w r hen you may be 
 expected. # # Of my other feelings 
 
 I can say but little. No one but God knows 
 all that has passed in my heart for more than 
 eight months, I may say years, concerning 
 Wilberforce, but God is good and gracious. 
 Most affectionately yours, 
 
 L. R." 
 All reserve was now banished from my bro- 
 ther's mind. He opened his whole heart to 
 his father, told him minutely of all his past 
 conflicts, spoke of his present comforts, and 
 begged that he might be closely examined. 
 He wished to satisfy his parent and pastor 
 that his faith was scriptural and sincere. He 
 seemed to go beyond his strength in convers- 
 ing — even to extreme exhaustion, and ap- 
 peared very anxious to tell how God had en- 
 lightened, converted, strengthened and com- 
 forted him. He would sit for hours with his 
 dear father in the study, supported in an easy 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 57 
 
 chair, telling him all he had gone through- 
 entreating his pardon for the uneasiness he 
 had occasioned him by his past silence, and 
 expressing his great joy at now being able to 
 converse with freedom, and mingle their souls 
 together in the delightful interchange of con- 
 fidence. It was now that our beloved father 
 was indeed comforted, and that he received a 
 full answer to patient prayer. Edified, re- 
 freshed, and soothed by the holy language of 
 his child, his mind was supported under the 
 expected and long dreaded pang of parting. 
 These conversations, which were continued 
 until increasing weakness rendered them im- 
 possible, induced my father to form the reso- 
 lution of writing a memoir of Wilberforce, 
 the imperfect outline of which is all that is 
 left to us. I have often heard my father and 
 brother give the same opinion of the reserve 
 which occasioned so much pain on both sides, 
 and to which frequent allusion has been made. 
 They considered it as God's way of dealing 
 with a peculiar state of mind — intended to 
 humble the pride of the understanding, and 
 silence a love of argument. It was the Holy 
 
58 MEMOIR OF 
 
 Spirit^ as a sovereign, converting without hu- 
 man agency. Wilberforce said, that for more 
 than three months, he had never looked into 
 any book but the Bible ; that God's word had 
 been his only study, and that amidst all his 
 anxiety, often amounting to agony of mind, 
 he could find no relief, either from religious 
 books or religious conversation ; but was 
 obliged to go to the Bible for every thing he 
 wanted to know :— that whenever he opened 
 the Bible, he turned verse after verse into 
 prayer as he read, and that in so doing he felt 
 a force, a sweetness and consolation passing 
 all understanding — that though he knew he 
 had a father who loved him tenderly, and was 
 so able and willing to instruct him and re- 
 move his perplexities, he felt himself as one 
 who was spell-bound, and could not break si- 
 lence — and so he retired to his solitary cham- 
 ber to weep and struggle on in darkness — 
 until the Holy Spirit became his teacher, 
 showing him the piercing spirituality of a per- 
 fect law ; amidst conviction and terror of con- 
 science, leading him to the cross to seek for 
 mercy through him that was crucified upon 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 59 
 
 it ; and enabling him to receive the promises 
 of free salvation in Christ by his blood and 
 righteousness unto justification. I have built, 
 he would say, all my hopes for eternity on 
 God's word, which is unerring truth. I have 
 found peace there, and have been sealed by 
 the Spirit which indited that word, an earnest 
 of the heavenly inheritance. It was without 
 human aid, that I might give God the glory. 
 
60 MEMOIR OF 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 This chapter is from the pen of Mr. Rich-, 
 mond. 
 
 On Saturday he expressed a wish to see our 
 family surgeon ; "not," said he, " that I want 
 medicine, which will do me no good, but I 
 wish for his opinion of the progress of the dis- 
 order; it will be a great satisfaction to me to* 
 know precisely, how long he thinks I may 
 live. My strength fails, yet the symptoms, 
 vary very much." The surgeon arrived in the 
 evening. Willy conversed freely with him* 
 and begged him to be open and explicit. Mr. 
 
 saw clearly that he was now in the last 
 
 stage of consumption, and he was surprised 
 at the cheerful and unembarrassed manner with 
 which he discoursed on his present situation. 
 I left them together for a few minutes. On 
 my re-entering the room, I was struck with 
 his countenance, which presented a mixture 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 61 
 
 of calm and lively satisfaction, as he was con- 
 versing with his medical attendant, who on his 
 return to the family spoke with great feeling 
 of his patient. He said, " the danger is im- 
 minent, though it is impossible to say how 
 long he may remain," and added, " I have 
 scarcely ever witnessed so much cheerfulness 
 and composure in any one in the prospect of 
 death ; certainly never in so young a person." 
 
 I returned to my son, who said that Mr. — 's 
 visit had afforded much relief to his feelings. 
 " I see w T hat he thinks of my case, and it was 
 right I should know it." There was a union 
 of thoughtfulness and serenity in his manner 
 which affected me exceedingly, but it filled 
 me with gratitude and thankfulness to witness 
 in this well-ordered and calm state of mind, 
 an evidence of God's work, and of a divine 
 change. He observed, " I have no expecta- 
 tion of any advantage from medicine, but it 
 may palliate distressing symptoms. The great 
 Physician alone will regulate all for the best, 
 both for body and soul. Oh ! I want to trust 
 him more and more !" 
 
62 - MEMOIR OF 
 
 In the evening, as we were sitting alone in 
 the study, I asked him whether he had read 
 the book I had put into his hands, and whe- 
 ther he had found its contents satisfactory. In- 
 stead of giving any direct reply to this ques- 
 tion, he looked at me with an earnest expres- 
 sion of countenance, and said, " Papa, do not 
 be afraid ; I wish you to examine me. I am 
 anxious neither to deceive, nor be deceived 
 in respect to my spiritual estate. You cannot 
 be too plain with me." I had been for a long 
 time past earnestly longing for a full disclo- 
 sure of his thoughts, but his reserve had hith- 
 erto kept me from all knowledge of his real 
 state. In answer to questions of a personal 
 nature, he would only reply, " I hardly know 
 what to say ; another time I may tell better." 
 On religious subjects in general he never re- 
 fused to converse freely, but he shrunk from 
 every attempt at personal application. I was 
 therefore delighted when he thus voluntarily 
 afforded me an opportunity of knowing the 
 secret state of his mind, for which I had long 
 and most anxiously prayed. I told him how 
 much I had wished to gain his confidence, 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 63 
 
 and feared I had not urged him to freedom of 
 intercourse with sufficient earnestness. " In- 
 deed, papa," he said, " the fault was not yours. 
 I have felt a backwardness, particularly of late, 
 to disclose what was passing in my mind, and 
 had you pressed me more than you have done, 
 to speak of myself, I believe you would have 
 failed to have obtained your object. But now 
 I feel quite at liberty to talk of myself; and 
 I first tell you that I think I see God's de- 
 sign in keeping me thus shut up from you. It 
 was his gracious purpose to teach me, in the 
 privacy and solitude of inward meditation, my 
 state as a sinner, and the nature of salvation 
 by a Saviour ; here I learnt the deep things of 
 God, and now I would come forth and tell 
 you what Christ has done for my soul." His 
 countenance brightened as he uttered these 
 words ; a tear dropped from his cheek, and 
 his eye glistened with animation, as he said, 
 " I have had great exercises of mind of late, 
 but God has been very merciful to me in the 
 midst of them." 
 
 " And what," said I, " are your present 
 feelings, my dear boy ?" "I feel, papa," he 
 
64 MEMOIR OF 
 
 replied, " more hope than joy. I have read 
 of ecstacies in the view of dying, which others 
 have experienced, and to which I am still a 
 stranger ; but I have a hope founded on the 
 word of God, which cheers and supports me. 
 I know in whom I have trusted, and I believe 
 he will neither leave nor forsake me. I am 
 not afraid of death ; but as I think my time 
 will not be long, I wish to put myself first into 
 the Lord's hand, and then into yours, that you 
 may search and try me, whether I am in any 
 error." Such an important moment was not 
 to be neglected. I received my child's con- 
 fidence as an answer to many an anxious and 
 earnest prayer which I had offered up to God, 
 and I resolved to use it, as affording an op- 
 portunity of peculiar interest to us both. Sa- 
 tisfied as I had long been with the general 
 view of his religious and moral character, 
 strengthened by a discovery of many evi- 
 dences of inward principle, still, when I con- 
 sidered the near approach of death and eter- 
 nity — the value of an immortal soul— the dan- 
 ger of spiritual delusion, and my own im- 
 measurable responsibility as a parent, I re- 
 solved to leave nothing unsaid or untried, 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 65 
 
 which would bring our hearts into mutual re- 
 pose on the great subject of salvation, and my 
 clear child's personal interest therein. 
 
 I found his mind perfectly clear as to the 
 great principle of his acceptance with God, 
 solely and unequivocally through the death 
 and righteousness of Christ. In the mo3t sim- 
 ple and satisfactory manner he renounced all 
 dependance upon every word and deed of his 
 own. " It is, said he, as a guilty sinner be- 
 fore God, that I throw myself on his mercy. 
 I have no excuse to offer for myself, no plea 
 to put in why God should not utterly destroy 
 me, but that Jesus died to save, to pardon, and 
 to bless me. It is his free gift, and not my 
 deserving. Oh ! papa, what would become of 
 me if salvation was by works? What have I 
 ever done, and above all, what in my present 
 state could I now do, to merit any thing at his 
 hands ? God forbid that I should rest on such 
 a flimsy, fallacious system of divinity, as that 
 which ascribes merit to man. I have no merit. 
 I can have none. I have long known this. I 
 fear many trust in themselves, and thus rob 
 Christ of his glory. Is not this true papa? 
 f2 
 
66 MEMOIR OF 
 
 " Yes, my dear Wilberforce, many do de- 
 ceive themselves, and build for eternity on a 
 wrong foundation. But I have endeavoured 
 to impress on your mind from your childhood, 
 that salvation by grace, and not of works, is 
 the peculiar feature of the Gospel of Christ ; 
 and do you not now see that this is the doc- 
 trine of the Bible ? 
 
 " Yes, papa, and it is because, after long 
 and repeated study of the Bible, I have found 
 the doctrine there, that I believe, and am now 
 comforted by it. You will pardon my saying 
 that the opinions which I have formed, and 
 the doctrines on which I rest, have not been 
 imbibed from the sermons I have heard, or 
 the books which I have read, but from a close 
 study of the Scriptures themselves. I have 
 been accustomed to bring sermons and books 
 to the test of the Bible, and not the Bible to 
 them. You cannot think what light and 
 comfort I have found in reading God's own 
 word. I never found any thing like it from 
 any other book." 
 
 I particularly inquired into the history of 
 
WILBERFOKCE RICHMOND. 67 
 
 his mind for more than three years past, in 
 reference to those sceptical temptations which 
 he had formerly described to me ; and whether 
 he had been lately tried by the same doubts 
 and difficulties in respect of the truth of the 
 Scriptures." " Never," replied he ; " no, 
 never. From the time to which you allude, 
 I have felt the most perfect reliance on the 
 word of God ; and by much reading of it, and 
 praying over it, I have been so confirmed in 
 my persuasion of its divine origin, as not to 
 have had my confidence once shaken since 
 that period. I have been tried deeply in 
 other respects, but I have never again varied 
 on that important question. The book of God, 
 by God's blessing on its contents, has proved 
 its own heavenly character to my understand- 
 ing. How thankful I feel for this !" 
 
 A flush of hectic fever occasioned at this 
 moment a short period of debility, and he 
 paused for a few minutes. He soon resumed 
 his affecting conversation, and said, " I am 
 not ignorant of my besetting sin. It was the 
 pride of the understanding. I always loved 
 to examine thoroughly into the ground of 
 
68 MEMOIR OF 
 
 an opinion before I received it, and generally, 
 though not always, to be deliberate incoming 
 to a conclusion. This habit has often made 
 me appear over-confident in what I said, and 
 I know you have felt and lamented it. I do 
 entreat your forgiveness of any instance of my 
 folly which has hurt and grieved you." Then 
 he added, " The recollection of it has greatly 
 humbled me ; I trust I have seen my fault, 
 and have not applied in vain to the blood 
 which cleanseth from all sin. ? * 
 
 I asked him what had been his views of the 
 ministry in case God had spared his life. He 
 replied, " You know, papa, it has always been 
 my wish and expectation to be a clergyman, 
 and with this view I have sought to attain 
 various kinds of literary knowledge. I have 
 very often prayed to God to fit me for this of- 
 fice, and I have thought much of the doctrines 
 I should have to preach to others. But I can 
 see a reason why God has put an end to these 
 intentions and prospects. He is removing me 
 out of this life, and does not permit me to 
 enter into the ministry, lest I should be tempt- 
 ed, from the peculiar turn of my mind, to 
 
WILBERFOECE RICHMOND. 69 
 
 seek the honour and praise of men in my mi- 
 nistrations, more than God's glory, and the 
 salvation of sinners. T think I can see both 
 wisdom and goodness in this dispensation. 5 ' 
 
 I remarked that the same God who had con- 
 vinced him of his danger, could have hum- 
 bled his heart in a variety of ways, and pre- 
 pared him for the service of the sanctuary,, 
 without endangering his safety ; and doubt- 
 less would have done it if he had seen good 
 to have prolonged his life. " Such disco- 
 veries of your own heart, my dear boy, are 
 evidences not only of what God can do, but a 
 pledge of what he would have done for you." 
 " True, papa, but if he is pleased to humble 
 me in the valley of death, may it not be safer 
 and happier for me ? The Lord's way must 
 be the best way." 
 
 He then adverted to another subject. " I 
 have been much occupied of late," said he, 
 " in thinking of man's natural depravity, and 
 the deceitfulness of the human heart. I have 
 discovered it in many things in which we 
 are apt to overlook or make excuses for it. I 
 am sure /have no ground of hope except I 
 
70 MEMOIR OF 
 
 stand with St. Paul, and cry out, I am the 
 chief of sinners.'' I referred to a conversa- 
 tion which I once had with an individual, who 
 objected to an application of that expression 
 to himself, and said, it was intended only to 
 describe the peculiar circumstances of St. 
 Paul. " Then I am sure," replied Wilber- 
 force, " that person could not have been right- 
 ly convicted of guilt in his own conscience. 
 I do not know what the critics may say on 
 such a passage, but I am quite satisfied that 
 when the heart is opened to itself, the ex- 
 pression, chief of sinners, will not appear too 
 strong to describe its character. I have often 
 heard you say, papa, that the view of religion 
 which most honours God, is that which most 
 debases the sinner, and most exalts the Sa- 
 viour. I never felt this to be so true as at 
 the present moment." 
 
 His pallid but intelligent countenance as 
 he said this, seemed to express more than he 
 could find w 7 ords to utter. He paused a while 
 and continued, " What a comfort I find in this 
 conversation with you ! It is such a relief to 
 my mind ! and I am very thankful for iU M 
 
WILBEKFORCE RICHMOND. 71 
 
 My own heart was too responsive to that of 
 my beloved child, not to re-echo his own sen- 
 timents. I knelt down and returned thanks 
 to God for the consolation afforded to us both, 
 and prayed earnestly that he would continue 
 to us the same holy interchange of kindred 
 spirit and feelings. 
 
 In another conversation my dear boy ex- 
 pressed great satisfaction at the remembrance 
 of the preparation for the Lord's Supper, while 
 we resided in the Isle of Bute the preceding 
 summer ; a preparation carried on for several 
 weeks before he first received that sacrament 
 in the Episcopal Chapel of Greenock. He ob- 
 served that in his daily opportunities of read- 
 ing and conversing with me, he could seldom 
 express his thoughts with freedom, though he 
 deeply felt the importance of the subject be- 
 fore us, but " I shall always feel thankful to 
 you, papa, for the diligent and affectionate 
 manner in which you instructed me. I love 
 that book of Mason's. I shall never forget 
 that day at Greenock ChapeL I was greatly 
 comforted. You preached from Isa. lv. "Ho! 
 every one that thirsteth, come ye to the wa» 
 
72 MEMOIR OF 
 
 ters ; and he that hath no money, come ye, 
 buy, and eat ; yea, come, buy wine and milk, 
 without money and without price." I did in- 
 deed thirst for the waters of salvation. Poor 
 Charlotte B was there also. Her unex- 
 pected death affected me much." 
 
 " What were your thoughts," I said, " when 
 you wrote those lines in her album the night 
 before you parted from her."* 
 
 " I thought them," he replied, " very suita- 
 ble to my own feelings, but I little thought 
 she was to realize the sentiment before I 
 did." " She has joined her father in a better 
 world," I said. " Yes, and may I soon be with 
 them ; but God knows best, and I wish to 
 commit myself into his hands, for life or 
 death." He then sunk for a while into his 
 chair, and dozed. When he awoke he began 
 again to converse. " But, papa, papa, do you 
 indeed think I am on the right foundation ? I 
 
 * It matters little at what hour of the day 
 The righteous falls asleep. Death cannot come 
 To him untimely who is fit to die j 
 The less of this cold world, the more of heaven ; 
 The briefer life, the earlier immortality. 
 
 Millman. 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 73 
 
 cannot bear the thought of being deceived ; 
 but I do think Christ loves me too well to 
 cast me away, and that I may say, Faithful is 
 he that has promised, who also will do it. I 
 love God. I love his word, I love his ways. 
 I love his people, though I feel so unworthy 
 to be counted one of them. Surely such feel- 
 ings as these do not fit me for hell." An in- 
 describable look of animation pervaded his 
 countenance as he uttered these words, and 
 bespoke the love, faith, hope, and sincerity of 
 his heart, too plainly to be mistaken. 
 
 " If," he continued, " God meant to destroy 
 me, would he have shown me these things?" 
 
 " I am persuaded not," I answered. " Ma- 
 noah's wife has proved a comforter to many, 
 and I rejoice that her argument for the mer- 
 ciful designs of God prevails with you." 
 
 "I am now fatigued, and must go to bed," 
 said he. " Pray with me, and then, good 
 night!" 
 
 Having the assistance of a much valued 
 friend to undertake the public services of my 
 Church, and feeling great anxiety to avail my- 
 self of this opportunity to devote myself to my 
 
 G 
 
74 MEMOIR OF 
 
 son in his critical and alarming state of health, 
 I remained at home with him the whole day. 
 Although much oppressed by the rapidly in- 
 creasing progress of disease and consequent 
 debility, yet he was able to engage in some 
 interesting and very important conversations 
 at intervals during the day. He was carried 
 into the study about eleven o'clock. At his 
 breakfast he expressed a hope that there were 
 many now engaged in prayer for him in the 
 congregation assembled for divine service. 
 "I should love to be in the midst of them, 
 but it cannot be now. It never will be in this 
 world. What a comforting consideration, papa, 
 that wherever two or three are gathered to- 
 gether in his name, Christ has promised to be 
 present with them. Do you not think he is 
 here IV I replied, " I cannot doubt it, my 
 dear boy. It is one of the most consolatory 
 views of the word of God, not only that he is 
 constantly present with every individual be- 
 liever, in every place, and under every cir- 
 cumstance, but he is also especially present 
 with all such, however great or small their 
 number, who unite together in acts of wor- 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 75 
 
 ship and religious intercourse. He is alike 
 present at this time with our friends in the 
 Church, and with you and me in this room. 
 May God give us grace to realize this and be 
 thankful." 
 
 Soon afterwards, while the servant was re- 
 moving the breakfast things, I was stirring 
 the fire, as he complained of the cold ; and a 
 short silence ensued. He said presently, with 
 a playful smile, " I was thinking while you 
 stirred the fire, how much easier it is to rake 
 the ashes from the grate than to get rid of sin 
 from the heart ;" and then relapsing into a 
 grave look, he added, " how often the ashes 
 of sin deaden the flame of religion in the 
 heart." This remark — originating in an ap- 
 parently casual incident — led to a close con- 
 versation on the nature of sin, and the diffi- 
 culties with which a Christian has to contend 
 in his conflicts with indwelling and inbred 
 corruption. I was much struck with his deep 
 acquaintance with the exercises of his own 
 heart, and with the Gospel plan of salvation, 
 which he evinced as he continued to dwell on 
 this subject. I rejoiced to observe in him a 
 
76 MEMOIR OF 
 
 personal and practical application of the grand 
 truths of revelation to his own heart ; the re- 
 sult of much prayer and meditation, and read- 
 ing of the sacred volume : his Inmost thoughts 
 were thrown into our discourses, which mani- 
 fested a power and demonstration of the Spi- 
 rit of God far beyond what I ever anticipated. 
 The reserve which had caused me so much 
 solicitude was entirely removed. With a 
 sweet and endearing freedom of heart and 
 tongue he expressed himself so openly, and 
 with such sincerity, as filled me with grati- 
 tude, and rendered me for a moment insensi- 
 ble — comparatively insensible — to the pang of 
 bereavement which was so soon to be under- 
 gone. To possess such satisfactory evidences 
 of my child being an heir of glory, that my 
 temporary loss would prove his eternal gain, 
 and the hope that we should one day meet in 
 the presence of God to part no more, cheered 
 my spirit and tranquillized my mind, under an 
 affliction otherwise insupportable. 
 
 I was making a reference to some expres- 
 sions in the seventh chapter of the epistle to 
 the Romans* on the nature and character of 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 77 
 
 St.. Paul's own experimental acquaintance 
 with the truths which he enforced on others, 
 when I was summoned to join my other chil- 
 dren at the dinner table. I told him my ab- 
 sence would allow him a respite from the fa- 
 tigue of conversation, but that I would soon 
 return to him and resume the subject, and 
 begged him to seek repose for a little while 
 in his own arm-chair. This appeared to me 
 the more necessary, as I had observed an evi- 
 dent and painful struggle between the de- 
 bility of his frame and the animation of his 
 thoughts. The hour of the afternoon service 
 arriving, I returned to my son, whom I found 
 with the Bible opened before him. He look- 
 ed at me with a smile, and said, " Well, papa, 
 J have not been asleep. I have been other- 
 wise employed. I revived almost as soon as 
 you left me, and as I wanted to converse with 
 you on the epistle to the Romans, I have 
 been reading through the first eight chapters, 
 whilst you were below, in order that I might 
 have this subject more clear in my recollec- 
 tion." I was surprised and pleased to find that 
 he had strength sufficient for such an exer- 
 g2 
 
TS MEMOIIT OF 
 
 tion, and I reflect on the circumstance with 
 greater interest, as this was, I believe, the 
 last time he was able to read at all. 
 
 He observed that he had purposely stopped 
 at the eighth chapter, because the Apostle had 
 there seemed to make a division in his sub- 
 ject and argument. " What a beautiful sum- 
 mary of doctrine these chapters contain, 
 papa ! I have thought on them again and 
 again. St. Paul lavs his foundation deep in 
 the corruption of human nature, and shows 
 so plainly that neither Jew nor Gentile has 
 any hope from works, but only from faith in 
 Christ Jesus. I have found great comfort from 
 that view of the righteousness of Christ, 
 which the Apostle declares to be the only way 
 of salvation. There is, there can be no other. 
 We have no righteousness of our own — all are 
 under sin — every mouth must be stopped, 
 and all the world become guilty before God. 
 I have been at times perplexed about the prin- 
 ciple of acceptance with God, but now I see 
 it quite clear. With w 7 hat earnestness does 
 the Apostle labour to prove the vanity of all 
 human dependance. I have been thinking as 
 
WILBER FORCE RICHMOlfD. 7 l j 
 
 I read these chapters, how entirely the walk 
 of a believer depends on his faith in Christ, 
 and how closely connected the holiness, and 
 
 : mfort, and the reliance of the soul are 
 with each other." He proceeded to comment 
 on the fifth and sixth chapters, as a train of 
 
 ■mental and practical reasoning deduced 
 from those which preceded them, adding, 
 •• but the seventh and eighth chapters have 
 been my delight. I have found my own case 
 so exactly, and so clearly described in the 
 seventh, and have been so much comforted 
 by St. Paul's description ol his own feelings 
 about sin and Christ, as I can never express. 
 And then the eighth crowns the whole. Oh, 
 what a chapter is that.' Every word has 
 given me instruction, strength, and comfort." 
 I here said, " And can you make an inward 
 application of the latter part o{ that chapter 
 " Indeed papa, I hope I am not 
 deceiving myself, but I do think I can. It 
 lifts me up with such hope and confidence, 
 the language is so sublime, and the doctrine 
 so convincing. It sometimes seems too much 
 for a sinner like me to say ; — but all things 
 
80 MEMOIR OF 
 
 are possible with God, and he whom God 
 saves, has a propriety in all things." He 
 then went through the whole subject of the 
 chapter, making a variety of sensible and solid 
 remarks upon it, and entreating me to ex- 
 amine him as to his personal application of 
 these glorious and gracious truths to his own 
 heart. After he had made some animated ob- 
 servations on the concluding part of this chap- 
 ter, he said, "But now I want to add one sen- 
 tence from another part of the epistle to wind 
 up the whole, and that is, ( Oh ! the depth of 
 the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge 
 of God ! how unsearchable are his judgments, 
 and his ways past finding out ! For who has 
 known the mind of the Lord ? or who hath 
 been his counsellor? or who hath first given 
 to him, and it shall be recompensed to him 
 again ? For of him, and through him, and to 
 him are all things to whom be glory for ever, 
 Amen.' " I shall ever retain a vivid recollec- 
 tion of the tone of his voice, and the spark- 
 ling look of his eye, which accompanied the 
 utterance of these words. He became im- 
 mediately much exhausted — the difficulty of 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 81 
 
 breathing increased — the fever ran very high 
 — he bent over the table and fell into a doze, 
 which lasted half an hour. He gradually 
 awoke, and I observed him to fix his eyes on 
 a globe of water which stood near the win- 
 dow, and contained a gold fish. I inquired 
 what he was looking at so earnestly. He re- 
 plied, " I have often watched the mechanical 
 motion of our gold and silver fish in that 
 globe* There is now only one left, and that 
 seems to be weak and sickly. I wonder 
 which of us will live the longest — the fish or 
 I?" He paused, and then added, " That fish, 
 my dear papa, is supported by the water in 
 the vessel, but I hope I am supported by the 
 water of salvation. The fish will soon die 
 and live no more ; but if I am upheld by the 
 water of salvation, I shall live forever." 
 
 His remark led me to make some observa- 
 tions on the practical use which may be made 
 of natural objects, and the advantages of cul- 
 tivating a habit of seeking something of God 
 and the soul every where, and of accustoming 
 the mind to seek such comparisons and allu- 
 sions as tend to improve and delight it. Wil- 
 
82 MEMOIR OF 
 
 berforce observed, " This is the very prin- 
 ciple exemplified in our Lord's parables, and 
 in all the figurative language of Scripture.'* 
 At this moment a gleam of light from the 
 setting sun shone upon the gold fish, and pro- 
 duced a brilliant reflection from its scales, as 
 it swam in the glass vessel. " Look," said 
 he, " at its beauty now." " So, my dear boy, 
 may a bright and more glorious sun shine 
 upon you, and gild the evening of your days." 
 " I hope," he replied, " although I sometimes 
 feel a cloud and a doubt pass across my mind, 
 that in the evening-time there shall be light* 
 and then in his light I shall see light." 
 
 Thus, the gold fish furnished us with a 
 kind of parable. It so happened that the fish 
 survived my son two or three weeks, but I 
 never afterwards saw it without a lively re- 
 collection of the conversation to which it gave 
 rise ; and the ideas associated with it still 
 mingle with the cherished moments of his 
 latter end. 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 83 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The two following chapters are in the lan- 
 guage of Wilberforce's sister. 
 
 From this time my brother kept his room, 
 being too weak to be removed to the study. 
 He sat up during a part of the day in his arm- 
 chair, and conversed with his father in the 
 same strain of elevated piety. His mind was 
 at times strong and vigorous, full of faith, re- 
 joicing in the prospect of death, his heart 
 trusting in God, — then trembling and leaning 
 on his spiritual guide, who watched over him 
 with the overflowings of tenderness, gratitude, 
 and love, while his dying son besought him 
 to probe his inmost soul. My father, when 
 with us, usually preserved a dignified compo- 
 sure ; speaking little, and with tears ; pouring 
 forth his soul in the family devotions; and 
 seeming to say, " He will soon leave me, but 
 blessed be the name of the Lord." 
 
 I returned to Turvey on the 10th of January. 
 
84 MEMOIR or 
 
 My father met me in the hall. He wept much 
 as he told me there was no hope of Willy's 
 life ; but he soon recovered himself and said 
 that the agony of bereavement was forgotten 
 in the blessed thought, that he had trained up 
 a child for glory. He then took me up stairs, 
 where I found the dear invalid in a chair be- 
 fore the fire, looking very pale and emaciated, 
 but with a countenance full of peace and love. 
 His eye glistened as I entered. He leaned 
 his head on my shoulder, but was too deeply 
 moved to utter a word. He continued silent 
 a long time, and scarcely spoke or answered 
 the usual inquiries of affection. In the even- 
 ing he revived, and seemed disposed to con- 
 verse. I asked if he could view the approach 
 of death without fear. 
 
 " Yes, dear F , I have no wish to stay 
 
 one day longer on earth, but I must not be im- 
 patient. Lord Jesus ! come quickly ! If it be 
 thy will, I would not linger here, but I pray 
 
 for patience. Ah ! F how I long to be 
 
 free from this poor body, and see my Saviour's 
 face. You can never know how 1 long for 
 this, till you also have heaven in view. I 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 85 
 
 know in whom I have trusted. He will save me, 
 for he has promised, and he never changes/' 
 He then fell into a kind of stupor, murmur- 
 ing distinctly, " Christ the sinner's hope." 
 When he awoke, the fever was very high, and 
 his mind seemed to wander. My father en- 
 tered. He looked up and said, " He fights 
 hard and I fight hard, but Christ fights harder." 
 He began to pray aloud, struggling for strength 
 and thought, and intreatingGod that he might 
 not be given up to delirium, of which he had 
 a great dread, and then he praised and blessed 
 God for giving him strength to offer another 
 prayer. 
 
 I sat up with him the greater part of the 
 night. He once startled me with the energy 
 with which after a long silence he cried out, 
 " I know in whom I am trusting. I know he 
 never yet left one soul that trusted in him. I 
 will not doubt.' 5 He passed a painful night, 
 with alternate fits of fever and shivering. He 
 continually expressed a fear that the fever 
 would occasion delirium. He felt his time so 
 precious, that he could not bear to lose a moment 
 
86 MEMOIK OF 
 
 by insensibility ; he exclaimed with the utmost 
 vehemence, "OGod! most merciful ! — OGod! 
 do not afflict me with the greatest of all evils, 
 insanity. I long to glorify thee in my death. 
 Can I glorify thee in delirium, when I know 
 thee not 7 Yet not my will but thine be done." 
 
 About five o'clock on Wednesday morning 
 he said, " Now call up papa, and ask him to 
 come and talk with me. I feel as if I should 
 have much to suffer to-day, and I want him 
 here that I may call up some comfort and 
 strength." He came immediately. I retired 
 and did not hear their conversation. 
 
 After breakfast I returned to relieve my 
 father, who, amidst his daily sufferings, was 
 not unmindful of his family or his parish. 
 * I must work while it is called to-day? 9 
 seemed to be the prevailing sentiment of his 
 mind, and his beloved child's death gave ad- 
 ditional weight to the admonition, " what thou 
 doest, do with all thy might." 
 
 Wilberforce sat silent for some time, then 
 looked up and said, " Come, and sit close to 
 me. Let me lean on you." Then putting 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 87 
 
 his arms round me, he exclaimed, " God bless 
 you, my dear" — He was agitated and ceased 
 speaking. Presently he said — " I must leave 
 you— we shall walk no further through this world 
 together — but I hope we shall meet in heaven. 
 Let us now talk of heaven. Do not weep for 
 
 me, dear F , do not weep, for I am very 
 
 happy ; but think of me, and Jet the thought 
 make you press forward. I never knew happi- 
 ness till I knew Christ as a Saviour." He 
 then exhorted and encouraged me to study 
 the Bible with perseverance. " Read the Bi- 
 ble — read the Bible. Let no religious book 
 take its place ; — through all my perplexities 
 and distresses, I never read any other book, 
 and I never felt the want of any other. It 
 has been my hourly study, and all my know- 
 ledge of (he doctrines, and all my acquaintance 
 with the experience and realities of religion 
 have been derived from the Bible only. I 
 think religious people do not read the Bible 
 enough. Books about religion may be useful, 
 but they will not do instead of the simple 
 truth of the Bible." He then spoke of his 
 regret at parting with us. " Nothing con- 
 
OW MEMOIR OF 
 
 vinces me more of the reality of the change 
 within me, than the feelings with which I can 
 contemplate a separation from my family. I 
 now feel so weaned from the earth, my affec- 
 tions so much in heaven, that I can leave you 
 all without a regret. Yet I do not love you 
 less, but God more." I asked him whether 
 his mind had been distressed for the last few 
 months at the thought of parting from us, — 
 for knowing the strength of his affections, I 
 fancied he must have suffered much in sub- 
 duing and controlling them. "Oh! my dear 
 F— — -, the pain, the agony I have felt, when 
 I said to myself ' I must leave them all.' — You 
 will never know what bitter hours I have 
 passed ; none but God knows what it cost me 
 to break those ties which bound me so strongly 
 to earth. Never, never will you know what I 
 suffered, as I looked at you all, and felt my 
 strength declining, and remembered it must 
 soon be a last look. I thought this must be 
 the bitterness of death ; and even after I had 
 found acceptance and peace with God, I still 
 suffered deeply in the prospect of separation, 
 and never supposed I could willingly part from 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 89 
 
 my family. I knew that God would support 
 me, and carry me through this trial ; but a 
 trial I felt it must be to the last ; — and yet, see 
 me now in the immediate prospect of part- 
 ing — I am quite happy, and can leave you all 
 without a tear — I know God can unite us all 
 again ; and I can trust him here as I can in 
 every thing else. Now this change must have 
 been effected by God. It is so evident, I can- 
 not mistake it. I could not have acquired 
 this composure myself, God has done it, but I 
 have suffered much in the process." He al- 
 ways appeared comforted when he heard that 
 ; any one had prayed for him, and frequently 
 entreated those about him to pray, but he used 
 to add, "Do not pray for my life, but that I 
 may have comfort in death." 1 was writing to 
 
 W and asked him if he had any message 
 
 to send. He said, " They have been very 
 kind to me, but I am too ill to think of them." 
 Afterwards seeming to recollect himself, he 
 said, " Come and hold my head while I try 
 to remember them. I would send some mes- 
 sage. Tell dear M that I am suffering 
 
 very much, but I can and do rejoice in my 
 H 2 
 
90 MEMOIR OF 
 
 sufferings, for every pain is bringing me nearer 
 to heaven. I shall not see her again in this 
 world :" here he seemed quite exhausted. 
 After a while he revived a little. " I want to 
 
 say something to dear Mr. W , you told 
 
 me he had been praying for me. I wish him 
 to know how much I have been comforted by 
 this. How grateful I feel to him, tell him how 
 much I value his prayers, and that they have 
 been answered ; for Christ is now precious to 
 me. Through him the fear of death is taken 
 away. I want to tell him more. If I can I 
 will to-morrow, but say this." He now be- 
 came exceedingly ill : he breathed with great 
 difficulty ; he panted for breath, and his strug- 
 gles were distressing. The sufferings of his 
 body affected his mind, and he seemed to lose 
 his comfort and confidence in Christ. He 
 cried out many times, " Oh ! pray for me, 
 pray for me, pray for me. This is hard to 
 bear, how different the pains of death are 
 from any other. It is such a struggle to get 
 free." He appeared to suffer much in his 
 mind. My father said, " My dear boy, Christ 
 is still with you. Where he once fixes his 
 
WILEERFORCE RICHMOND. 91 
 
 love, he never takes it away. You may not 
 see him just now, but he is not the less near 
 to you. Nothing can, nothing shall separate 
 you from Christ." Willy cried out, " And 
 did not he say, ' My God, my God, why hast 
 thou forsaken me V " Then he twice repeated, 
 " For a small moment have I forsaken thee, 
 but with great mercies will I gather thee." 
 " Oh ! papa ! — what shall I do — I am suffering 
 So very much !" " Not one pang too many, my 
 child," said his weeping father, while the big 
 tears rolled down his cheek. " I know it, 
 papa," he answered, " I believe it, I feel it," 
 He continued in a state of suffering nearly the 
 whole day. Towards evening he sank into a 
 sort of lethargy. He seemed scarcely to 
 know any thing that was passing. About 
 eleven o'clock at night my father read the 
 23d Psalm, and prayed with him. He was 
 able to attend, and it seemed to cheer him. 
 He was better in the morning, and had much 
 comfortable conversation with his father 
 
 throughout the day. Mr. G came to see 
 
 him. Willy wished to converse with him. 
 He was fearful at first, and expressed some 
 
92 MEMOIR OF 
 
 doubt of his salvation ; but Mr. G en- 
 couraged him by his remarks. He assured 
 him that Christ would never give up a soul 
 who had fled to him for refuge. Here Willy 
 interrupted him, " I believe it, yes, I believe 
 it. Christ has brought me thus far, and he 
 will not leave me. He has said, ' whosoever 
 cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out.' 
 I feel now quite certain that Christ will save 
 me." He then adverted to his love for us, 
 and the parting with us. "We have been a 
 happy family ; so closely united ! Every two 
 of us can say, how dearly we love each other — 
 Our love has been more than common — I 
 think we shall be a family of love in heaven — 
 Two of us are in heaven already, and there 
 will soon be a third — Oh, I feel persuaded we 
 
 shall meet again." Mr. G proposed to 
 
 read a chapter in the Bible. Willy said he 
 
 could listen, and Mr. G chose parts of 
 
 the last two chapters of the book of Revela- 
 tions. He appeared greatly refreshed. His 
 face beamed with joy while he listened to the 
 sublime and glorious description of the new 
 Jerusalem, and anticipated the moment of his 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 93 
 
 own entrance into the holy city, to go out no 
 more for ever; when he should join the me- 
 lody of the heavenly choir, and make one of 
 the countless throng before the throne of God. 
 " Glorious things are spoken of thee, O city 
 of God." After a short pause he said to Mr. 
 
 G , " Tell me about the song of Moses 
 
 and the Lamb, my memory is failing. Repeat 
 
 it to me." Mr. C* repeated from Rev. 
 
 xv. " Great and marvellous are thy works, 
 Lord God Almighty ; just and true are thy 
 ways, O King of Saints ; who shall not fear 
 thee, O Lord, and glorify thy name, for thou only 
 art holy; for all nations shall come and wor- 
 ship before thee, for thy judgments are made 
 manifest." 
 
 Mr. G took leave of him, and some 
 
 time after his departure, Willy said, " Mr. 
 
 G seemed sent to bring the close of the 
 
 Bible to be the consolation of the close of my 
 life. It is singular that he should have fixed 
 on those chapters, for 1 have read them so 
 often ; again and again in my hours of sorrow, 
 longing, praying, but not daring to believe J 
 
94 MEMOIR OF 
 
 should ever be admitted to that glorious com- 
 pany ; how have I wept over them !" 
 
 Mr. F. paid him a visit, and Wilberforce was 
 very earnest in pressing him to examine the 
 state of his mind, saying, " I would neither 
 deceive nor be deceived." Mr. F re- 
 plied, " You are now too much exhausted for 
 conversation; I have heard from your papa 
 the state of your mind, and I am quite satis- 
 fied with his opinion of you, for our ideas of 
 true conversion are the same." " Yes," said 
 he, " but I would rather you should examine 
 for yourself, — I want you also to search me." 
 
 He asked Mr. F- whether the feeling of 
 
 assurance was necessary to salvation. "I do 
 not," he said, " always feel alike ; sometimes 
 when illness overpowers me, my comfort is 
 gone, and I am afraid that after all I shall 
 perish ; but I know that in my darkest season 
 I still love my Saviour above every thing." 
 
 " My dear Wilberforce," said Mr. F , 
 
 " you cannot have a more able counsellor in 
 your perplexities, than your affectionate father, 
 and your very weak state inclines me to be 
 brief. Our religion may be explained in few 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 95 
 
 words, at least as far as it is necessary to your 
 peace and safety. You must have a title to 
 heaven, and a meetness for its enjoyment ; you 
 need not now trouble yourself on other points. 
 The title is Christ's merits. Do you rest on 
 them alone for acceptance with God?" 
 
 " Oh yes ; I have no other hope or trust. 
 If I have confidence or comfort, I get it only 
 there." " Well, then, the next thing is a 
 meetness for heaven. If any man belong to 
 Christ he has the mind of Christ ; he is a new 
 creature; religion is his life as well as his 
 peace." " Indeed, indeed," he replied, " I 
 do love Christ ; I long to be where he is, to 
 dwell with him for ever." " Then all is safe, 
 Wilberforce ; I am quite satisfied that he who 
 has worked the one in you, has procured the 
 
 other for you." " But your eye, Mr. F , 
 
 your eye looks as if it doubted of me." " No, 
 my dear Wilberforce, I am not doubting, I 
 am looking on you with a deep interest." 
 
 Mr. F went away with a promise to see 
 
 him again in a few days, but my brother died 
 before the time fixed for another visit. 
 
 He slept for some time, and then suddenly 
 
$6 MEMOIR OF 
 
 sat up in his chair with apparent ease ; he 
 breathed freely, spoke distinctly, seemed free 
 from pain, and his countenance looked satis- 
 fied and happy. I was quite surprised at the 
 change, and said, " My dear Willy, you seem 
 much better." "Yes," he answered, "I am 
 much better. This is a precious moment, and 
 now I hope I shall be able to talk to you a 
 little. This is an answer to prayer, dear F — -. 
 I have much longed to glorify God in my 
 death, and ever since last Sunday I have been 
 praying for one hour of ease and strength to 
 speak to you all for the last time, and tell you 
 what I now think of religion. Hitherto you 
 have seen me so overpowered by disease, that 
 you could not judge of my comfort and con- 
 fidence in my principles. But God has grant- 
 ed my request and I will glorify him." He 
 then began an i-nteresting conversation, and 
 spoke with astonishing ease. He was very 
 plain and sincere. He told me kindly of 
 faults and errors which he had observed in me ; 
 and he endeavoured to correct them, and en- 
 couraged me from his own experience to per- 
 severe in striving against them. " My dear, 
 
WlLBERfrORCE RICHMOND. 9? 
 
 my very dear F ," he said, " I hope we 
 
 shall meet in heaven* I could not talk to you 
 in this calm manner, if I did not believe we 
 should meet again. But you have much to 
 learn-^-much to do before you can get there. 
 There is but one road, and without an entire 
 dedication of the heart to God, you cannot 
 walk in it." He spoke of the dangers of a 
 religious education ; of having the form of re- 
 ligion, while the heart was still unchanged, 
 and the will unsubdued. He spoke also of 
 what he called sentimental religion, telling me 
 how easy it was to write in beautiful poetic 
 language without any real feeling of heart; 
 and he mentioned some instances where reli- 
 gion was but a bright fiction of the imagina- 
 tion ; and others where it proved itself a trans- 
 forming principle in the life and conduct. 
 " My dear sister, be a real disciple — Be in 
 earnest — You will want heart religion when 
 you come to die— The poetry of religion will 
 not do then ;" — reminding me of some letters 
 I had written to him. He again recommend- 
 ed to me most earnestly the constant study of 
 the Bible. " Here," he said, " I speak in a 
 i 
 
98 MEMOIR OF 
 
 peculiar manner from recent experience — For 
 the last three months the Bible has been my 
 sole instructor — It has gradually led me on to 
 clear light and real experience, till every pro- 
 mise is my own — I have read the greater part 
 of it through several times during my illness — 
 and often on a Sunday, when I have spent the 
 day alone, I have read the whole of the New 
 Testament, unable to leave off till I had 
 grasped all the mind of the Spirit at once. 
 Perhaps papa has thought I read too few reli- 
 gious books — He has looked anxious at my 
 neglect of many he put in my way — I do not 
 give myself in this respect for an example — 
 but I have found little benefit from books, ser- 
 mons, or conversations — The Bible, the Bible 
 alone has taught me every thing. If I read 
 books on religion, however excellent, the 
 thought always haunted me — this is human — 
 it may be wrong. I could not rest till I went 
 to the Bible. Here I felt all was divine and 
 infallible ; and I found such comfort in the 
 simple truth of God's word, that I set aside 
 every other book dissatisfied. I may be earn- 
 est then, in pressing you to go to the Bible." 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 99 
 
 He then said, u But you must pray over the 
 Bible — without the teaching of the Spirit it 
 will do you no good, you must apply it as you 
 go on to yourself, arid feel it personally, or you 
 will get no benefit, though you stand the whole 
 day over it. — I have been in the habit of read- 
 ing the Bible on my knees, and I recommend 
 you to do the same. It encourages prayer. 
 f have found it very useful to turn Scripture 
 into prayer, using the very words. There is 
 not a psalm I have not turned into a prayer. 
 I have felt so safe in making prayers from the 
 Bible because then I knew I could not err ; 
 and let prayer always be preceded by self-ex- 
 amination ; lay your heart bare before God ; 
 indulge not even a doubtful feeling; one 
 secret sin will cloud all." 
 
 I had marked the depression of his spirit 
 when the symptoms of his disease appeared 
 more unfavourable, and I asked him if he had 
 any fear of death now. He answered me with 
 great firmness,—" No, not any — I have un- 
 shaken confidence in Jesus as a Saviour — He 
 has taken away the sting of death, and for his 
 sake the Father will receive me as a child." 
 
100 MEMOIR OF 
 
 I replied, " You had, dear Willy, great doubts 
 of your salvation, and many fears of death 
 during some periods of your illness." " Oh ! 
 yes, indeed I had ! I have been on the verge 
 of despair, and have known its agonies. — My 
 pain of body was at times very great, but 
 nothing in comparison with the agony of my 
 spirit. I struggled on in darkness and in 
 silence. It was known only to myself and 
 God, but I was supported and carried through 
 all, and now I would encourage you, my dear- 
 est sister, by telling you what succeeded in 
 my case. I will tell you just what I did. 
 After a season of much doubt and terror, dur- 
 ing which I felt as if all was delusion, and I 
 should be cast into hell, T determined to go at 
 once boldly to God, in the name of Christ, and 
 plead the promises which were then before me 
 in the Bible. 1 fell down upon my knees— 
 I groaned— I wept — I prayed most fervently — 
 I said, Here I am, Lord, a poor perishing sin- 
 ner — My sins are heavy and alarming-^-I can- 
 not bear them myself — I feel my body decay- 
 ing — I must soon die, and I dare not appear 
 before Thee, the pure and holy God, as I now 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 101 
 
 am — I read of a Saviour thou hast provided 
 for sinners, and I come to him to be saved 
 from eternal death — I come to the cross of 
 Christ — I cling to it as my only hope — If thou, 
 O Christ, will not save me, no one else can, 
 and I must perish — Lord, save me — Jesus ! 
 have mercy on me ! I persevered thus again 
 and again — I kept on praying in this way — I 
 took nothing with me but a broken heart, 
 and a contrite spirit, and I said, ' Lord ! I will 
 not go except thou bless me !' I know I prayed 
 sincerely, and I was heard and answered. I 
 found that promise true, c Whosoever cometh 
 unto me, I will in no wise cast out.' God 
 was good to me. My soul required severe 
 discipline, but he comforted me in his own 
 time — I found Christ able and willing to do 
 all I required — I was enabled to receive him 
 as my complete salvation, and I sometimes 
 had such peace in believing on him, such 
 hours of unspeakable happiness, that the re- 
 membrance of it makes up for all this suffer- 
 ing. I never again lost my hope with Christ, 
 though for the moment my disease overpow- 
 ered me and clouded the past. Now I tell 
 i2 
 
ios 
 
 ME3I01R OF 
 
 you all this for your encouragement and direc- 
 tion. Seek as I did, and you will find the 
 same pardon for sin, the same peace in death.'' 
 We next talked about prayer. I told him of 
 the difficulties I felt. I remember well his 
 eager look as he said, " Not find comfort in 
 
 prayer, dear F ? It sounds like a strange 
 
 contradiction to me — It is my only comfort. 
 When I am able to pray, I am sure to be hap- 
 py, and my prayer is that I may have strength 
 and sense to pray. But I must remember how 
 differently we are circumstanced — I am just 
 entering eternity-^-I see every thing in a new 
 light, as I never did before — as none but a 
 dying person can see— All my thoughts and 
 feelings are changed — I have not memory now 
 to recollect how I used to feel, when I first 
 began to pray — Perhaps I had the same doubts ; 
 my memory is gone — Oh ! how the Lord has 
 humbled me — I used to be so proud of my un- 
 derstanding — I can now scarcely answer the 
 simplest question." Presently he seemed to 
 gather strength and said, " We were talking 
 about prayer ; yes, all my comfort is in prayer* 
 There must be comfort in prayer — The chief 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 103 
 
 thing is to examine your heart — Ask God to 
 search it for you — Take care you are cherish- 
 ing no secret sin or hidden idol. God is a 
 merciful God, but he is a jealous God, and he 
 will have the whole heart — Only persevere in 
 praying, and indeed you will find comfort in 
 prayer. He then told me how seriously it had 
 been impressed upon his mind, that his death 
 was to be the life of others- " I think, my 
 dearly loved sister, it is for your good ; and 
 will not this thought make you more in earn- 
 est 1 Oh! I would die ten painful deaths to 
 save one soul ! We shall meet again in heaven* 
 Now come and kiss me, and let me lean upon 
 you." He rested a short time and said, 
 
 " Now send for H , I want to speak to her 
 
 while my strength lasts." His conversation 
 with her was very searching, but very affec- 
 tionate. He loved this sister very dearly. 
 She was naturally volatile and buoyant in her 
 spirits, and this disposition sometimes betrayed 
 her into levity. The liveliness of her conver- 
 sation had often pleased him, but he now 
 thought he had encouraged her in some things 
 inconsistent with real piety. He was earnest 
 
104 MEMOIR OF 
 
 beyond his strength in conversing with her. 
 He put very plain and close questions ; — say- 
 ing, " I must be answered ; I must speak 
 plainly ; I am afraid, my beloved sister, you 
 do not think enough about religion. I do not 
 see decided proofs of real conversion in you. 
 I have not a sure hope, that if you die as you 
 now are, I shall meet you in heaven. Oh ! 
 
 H , it is my last request — with my dying 
 
 breath I am entreating you to seek the salva- 
 tion of your soul. Suppose you were in my 
 place — in this chair instead of me— waiting 
 for death day by day— could you meet it as I 
 do? Oh! do, my dear sister! do think of 
 death while you are in health. If I had not 
 sought Christ before I was brought so low, I 
 should have no strength or sense to seek him 
 now. I went to Jesus as a poor weak sinner, 
 and found sweet rest, and I am happy now 
 amidst all this suffering." He spoke in a very 
 affectionate manner of the subject nearest her 
 heart. " Your merry peal will soon succeed 
 my death-knell. Take care that the good 
 seed is not choked by the pleasures of life ! 
 Seek first the kingdom of God. Itemember 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 105 
 
 H , you have to die. Oh ! I cannot leave 
 
 you in peace, unless I have a good hope that 
 I shall meet you in heaven. If I thought 
 there was one amongst you — oh ! I cannot bear 
 
 that thought !" He continued, "H , there 
 
 is nothing so opposed to religion, — to the mind 
 of Christ, as levity and trifling. It will keep 
 you back more than anything. Take my 
 solemn warning — I speak from my own ex- 
 perience, — you will never be a consistent 
 Christian, and you will never grow in grace, 
 if you indulge in habitual trifling conversation. 
 It is not like the mind of Christ ; your temper 
 is very playful and volatile, and Satan may 
 use it as a snare to injure your soul. Piety 
 and levity cannot long dwell in the same heart. 
 One will destroy the other. 
 You see dear H , I am very plain and sin- 
 cere. I used to be so shy. But 1 do not feel 
 afraid of speaking my mind now. How little 
 does one care about the world and its opin- 
 ions when death is near ; death takes away 
 all reserve. I care not if the whole world 
 were assembled around me — I would tell them 
 what I now think of religion — I should like 
 
106 MEMOIR OF 
 
 to see many here, that I might tell them what 
 the Lord hath done for my soul." He then 
 sent for H , his favourite brother and com- 
 panion. Willy was much affected. He seemed 
 
 to say farewell to H- w r ith deep emotion. 
 
 He entreated him to supply his place in every 
 thing — particularly in being a comfort to his 
 father, and filling his place in the ministry. 
 On this latter subject he spoke much. He 
 said, "From a child it has been my delight 
 to think of being a clergyman of the Church 
 of England ; but it is God's will to pass me 
 
 by, and take you, dear H — , and honour you 
 
 thus. I resign my place to you — Fill it faith- 
 fully." — Then turning to his father, he said, 
 
 " Give H a double portion of your love. 
 
 He is to fill my place, as well as his own, to 
 you. I make a transfer to him of all the af- 
 fection you have borne to me." He paused for 
 breath and then continued. ' ' We have loved 
 each other very dearly, we always loved as 
 brothers amidst our little quarrels — did we 
 not ? I love you now more than ever, and I 
 must talk to you about your soul." He ad- 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 107 
 
 dressed him in very plain language, asking 
 
 him questions. H seemed confused and 
 
 distressed, for thereVere others present. Willy 
 said, " Poor H , you feel shy on this sub- 
 ject — I used to feel the same once — I could 
 not speak once, but that reserve is all gone. 
 I am not ashamed to say what I feel now. You 
 will feel as I do, some day." He then begged 
 
 that all would retire and leave H alone 
 
 with him. No one heard the conversation 
 which passed between them. He next sent 
 for his younger brothers : — They wept much 
 as he addressed them. He spoke very touch- 
 ingly to his youngest sister, who was then a 
 little child. " Would you like to meet poor 
 
 Willy in heaven, dear C , then you must 
 
 love God. Pray to God to make you love 
 him, and to make you a good child. Will you 
 
 promise me one thing, my dear C , that 
 
 you will never go out of your room in the 
 morning till you have read a few verses in the 
 Bible, and pray edto God ? If you do not pray 
 to God, you will not meet poor Willy in hea- 
 ven. I will give you a verse to think of when 
 
108 HEMOIft or 
 
 I am dead. 'Suffer little children to come 
 unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is 
 the kingdom of heaven.' Say that verse to 
 yourself every night when you lie down." 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 109 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 He sent for several people in the village to 
 come and bid him farewell. There was one 
 old person for whom he had a special regard. 
 She had been much with him in his child- 
 hood, and he used to tell her, " if he lived to 
 be a man, and had a house of his own, she 
 should come and keep it." He held out his 
 hand to her affectionately, and, alluding to 
 his promise said, " I shall have no house in 
 this world, Nanny, for you to come and keep 
 — but I shall still have a house — a house not 
 m&$e with hands, eternal in the heavens." 
 His countenance, as he spoke, assumed a sin- 
 gularly sweet and happy expression — such a 
 beaming look of love and joy, that every one 
 noticed it. The hectic flush glowed on his 
 cheek — his eyes sparkled with a peculiar lus- 
 tre — and the marble forehead was smooth and 
 placid. It was the parting loveliness of a 
 body irradiated by a soul full of meekness, 
 
110 MEMOIR OF 
 
 calmness, joy, and confidence. Instead of 
 being exhausted by such lengthened conver- 
 sations, as we expected, he seemed full of 
 vigour, and rather refreshed. He conversed 
 a good deal with both his parents. " What a 
 striking answer," he said, " I have had to 
 prayer; God has allowed me time and 
 strength to speak to you all, and has so filled 
 me with sweet peace and joy, that I never 
 could have conceived there was such happi- 
 ness to be known here." He then said, " I 
 should like the whole family to assemble 
 round me, that I may look at you altogether, 
 while I am so happy." He then offered up a 
 fervent and touching prayer to God, blessing 
 him for his great goodness, and commending 
 us to him for salvation. He paused a moment 
 and concluded, w Lord ! now lettest thou thy 
 servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have 
 seen thy salvation." 
 
 He remained in this happy frame of mind a 
 short time, when all seemed to pass away as a 
 dream : the fever returned — great suffering 
 succeeded — his whole frame was agitated. At 
 intervals he referred to the past season of hap- 
 piness, and the recollection of it comforted 
 
W1LBEKF0RCE RICHMOND. Ill 
 
 him. He repeated what he had before said, 
 several times, " I would go through all again 
 for one such sweet hour." 
 
 In the evening he was dejected by a dread 
 of delirium, and prayed earnestly that he 
 might retain his senses to the last, often ex- 
 claiming, " I cannot glorify thee in delirium." 
 He called this a happy day, because he 
 thought he had done good by his faithful ad- 
 dresses. 
 
 My father came to read and pray with him, 
 before he retired to rest. Willy said, " I am 
 too tired to listen. I should like to dream of 
 the past ; papa, there will be no distraction 
 in heaven." 
 
 Friday was a mournful day. My brother's 
 sufferings were greatly increased. He could 
 find no position in which to rest. He breathed 
 with difficulty, and at times seemed almost 
 suffocated; and the soul, as if in sympathy 
 with the body, became full of doubt and terror. 
 He called out in great agitation — " Oh ! pray 
 for me — pray for me — say something to com- 
 fort me. I read him some verses from the 
 43d of Isaiah. He continued to exclaim — 
 " Oh ! pray for me, pray for me! I am in great 
 
112 MEMOIR OF 
 
 suffering." I opened the Annals of the Poor, 
 and read to him the account of the Dairyman's 
 Daughter's last hours. He listened attentively, 
 and then repeated the words, " The Lord 
 deals very gently with me. and gives me peace. 
 It is not dark, my Lord is there, and he is my 
 light and salvation." He appeared a little 
 more composed, and I turned to the tract of 
 Little Jane. I read to him some passages. 
 "Ah!" said he, "they got safe through, and 
 
 why not I ? I am glad, dear F , that you 
 
 thought of the Dairyman's Daughter and Little 
 Jane. They are just the examples I want. 
 They suffered much, but it was not dark to 
 them. Oh, death ! death ! what is it ? I have 
 still to go through death — the dark valley." 
 He sat for some time in silence, with his head 
 resting on the table. Though he did not 
 speak, I could perceive that there was some- 
 thing passing in his mind which shook his 
 whole frame. Suddenly, with a wild expres- 
 sion of countenance, and in a bitter tone, he 
 exclaimed — " Oh ! agony ! agony ! agony ! 
 agony ! I shall perish after all." I was much 
 frightened, and went to call my father. I told 
 him Willy must be delirious. When my fa- 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 113 
 
 ther saw him, he said, " Oh no ! this is not de- 
 lirium. I know exactly what he is passing 
 through." He sat down beside Wilberforce, 
 and began to talk soothingly to him, but he re- 
 fused to be comforted. He still cried out with 
 his whole remaining strength — "Oh agony! 
 agony ! agony ! Satan will have me after all 
 ^-Papa, pray for me, he tells me 1 shall be 
 lost — He tells me my sins will damn me — 
 Oh, papa, this is agony ! — all is dark, dark — 
 all gone — all lost — and has Christ brought 
 me thus far to leave me at last V 9 My dear fa- 
 ther was much overcome at this scene, and 
 struggled hard for composure. He repeated 
 text after text ; and with apparent calmness, 
 and in his own tender and peculiar manner, en- 
 larged on the faithful love of the Saviour. He 
 assured Willy of his full persuasion that 
 Christ's honour was pledged in presenting his 
 soul safe to the Father : that this was the last 
 attack of Satan: that he took advantage of 
 his bodily weakness, to distress, when he 
 could not harm him. But poor Willy seemed 
 still more agitated. The cold drops stood on 
 his forehead — his look betrayed the deepest 
 k2 
 
114 MEMOIR OF 
 
 anguish, and he shook with terror. "Oh! 
 papa ! what will become of me," he cried ; " I 
 am going into the dark valley alone. Jesus 
 has left me. It is all dark, dark, dark — The 
 rod and the staff do not support me — Satan 
 fights hard for me, and he will carry me away 
 at last." His bodily sufferings seemed quite 
 forgotten, and were lost in the bitter anguish 
 of his mind, and he still continued to repeat, 
 " agony — agony." My dear father tried again 
 by a variety of arguments, and by a frequent 
 appeal to Scripture, to support his despairing 
 child, but in vain. He seemed given up for 
 a time to such sharp and sore besetments as 
 baffled all attempts to administer comfort. 
 After a silence of some minutes, and when he 
 seemed nearly fainting, my dear father so- 
 lemnly repeated, " Simon, Simon, Satan hath 
 desired to have thee, that he may sift thee as 
 wheat ; but I have prayed for thee, that thy 
 faith fail not." These were the first words 
 that made any impression on Wilberforce. 
 He said, M Ah! papa, I used to love those 
 words, but they are gone — I will try to un- 
 derstand them — Say them again." My father 
 repeated the affecting words of the Saviour to 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 115 
 
 his tempted disciple. Willy listened to them 
 with intense interest. When he heard the 
 words, " but I have prayed for thee, that thy 
 faith fail not," he exclaimed, " Oh, my dear 
 papa, do you think that Christ is praying for 
 me? Does he pray for me in this hour of dark- 
 ness, when I have no faith?" " Certainly, my 
 dear boy, I cannot doubt it. I am quite sure 
 he is praying for you at this instant. Take 
 courage then. Do you think God will not 
 hear Christ's prayer? Him the Father hear- 
 eth always. 5 ' His mind became a little calmer, 
 but he still looked uneasy, and replied slowly, 
 " Can I have been brought to love him so, 
 only to perish? Can such feelings as I have 
 — such a hatred of sin, be fitting me for hell ? 
 No, it cannot be — Such feelings could not 
 exist in hell — He will save me as the chief of 
 sinners." Presently he exclaimed, " Jesus 
 has not left me. I see him again — more pre- 
 cious than ever — my Saviour — my hope. How 
 could I distrust him — I am more than con- 
 queror. Papa, I feel safe — I am Christ's — 
 Why did I doubt? I am so strengthened. 
 Dear papa, I can give you no idea of the an- 
 guish of my heart. It exceeded all I supposed 
 
iie 
 
 ME3I01R OF 
 
 endurable ; I thought myself in Satan's hands 
 — it must have been such anguish as this 
 which made the Saviour cry out, " My God, 
 my God, why hast thou forsaken me ?' ? I never 
 knew what suffering was before — I thought I 
 was lost." " And what do you now think V 9 
 " I have great peace, firm confidence — I 
 am so strengthened, papa, in my faith — so 
 strengthened — hell shall not prevail ; Christ 
 has saved me — none shall pluck me out of his 
 hand. I should not be afraid to grapple with 
 this dreadful foe again — I should not be afraid 
 if Jesus were standing by" — and then shud- 
 dering at his own recollections, he added, 
 " But papa, I hope God will not see it neces- 
 sary to try me in this way again ; I hope not — 
 It was indeed a dreadful struggle." " Why say 
 so V 9 said his father^ " it is possible God may 
 see fit thus to try your faith again. You see 
 how he has supported you — you have been the 
 conqueror — why then shrink ?" 
 
 " Oh no ! I will not shrink, I could go 
 through it again if it were God's will — I could 
 not see my Saviour in that dark hour, but now 
 I know he was near me." And then shud- 
 dering at his own words, he added, " but I 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 117 
 
 hope it it will not be necessary again to try 
 me thus." 
 
 This last sorrow attached him more than 
 ever to his father. He could not bear that he 
 should be out of his sight, and listened to 
 every word which fell from him, with the most 
 grateful love and confiding simplicity. He 
 truly hung upon his lips. Never was there a 
 more affecting sight, than to behold this loving- 
 father and no less loving son, now blending 
 every feeling and thought of their hearts to- 
 gether, and so closely united in religious in- 
 tercourse, that they seemed as it were a twin 
 soul. 
 
 My father was obliged to leave Wilberforce 
 for a little while ; on his return, the latter 
 looking up with a smile said, " Papa, I cannot 
 pray now — I am so very ill ; but I have been 
 praising." " For what, my dear boy ?" " I 
 have been blessing God forgiving me such a 
 father : — when I can say nothing else, I can 
 praise God for such a dear father, to whom I 
 can tell all, and who helps me on to heaven." 
 This was almost too much for my father ; he 
 could neither speak nor weep, he seemed ab- 
 
1 18 MEMOIR OF 
 
 sorbed in unutterable feeling- — the fountain of 
 tears was dried up. 
 
 Willy did not wait for a reply. " I am sorry, 
 papa, I did not open my mind to you before, 
 how much happier I should have been, if I 
 had done so. I have now no reserve — I can 
 tell you every thing — You are my friend and 
 my guide — my dear, dear papa, I do love you. 
 You have so helped me in my great trial." 
 
 In the evening he conversed with my fa- 
 ther on the bitter agony through which he 
 had passed in the morning, with calmness 
 and faith. Some one present asked him what 
 he thought to be the best evidence of con- 
 version — " A broken heart and a contrite spi- 
 rit," he replied. " This is what I brought 
 to God, and it was the only evidence I could 
 rely on." 
 
 The next day he expressed some impatience 
 at lingering so long, earnestly desiring thai 
 this might be his last day, but he soon check- 
 ed himself, and prayed against a restless spi- 
 rit. He sometimes cried out, " How long, 
 how long ! when shall I be free ! How my 
 spirit struggles to get away from this poor 
 weary body ! Papa, do you think I shall lin- 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 119 
 
 ger here another day ?" and without waiting 
 for a reply he said, " but my times are in thy 
 hands, O God — I must die daily — I will pa- 
 tiently wait thy will." He called me to him, 
 and gave me a copy of Miss Jerram's Memoir. 
 He said it had been of great use to him, and 
 that God's dealings with her had sometimes 
 comforted him. " We both passed through 
 great sorrows, but God comforted us both in 
 
 his own time. Read it dear F ; I give 
 
 you my copy — I have no further need of it ; 
 and may God bless it to you." He asked to 
 have the 17th chapter of St. John read to him, 
 and remarked, " how very plain is the doc- 
 trine of that chapter. I wonder there should 
 be so much controversy about it." 
 
 " What is to-morrow 1" ho asked, " It is the 
 Sabbath." lie seemed pleased, and earnestly 
 begged that the congregation might be re- 
 quested to pray for him in the Church. On 
 Sunday morning he was much weaker, and 
 his end was evidently fast approaching. To 
 a kind friend who had nursed him, he said, 
 " How do I look now ?" She saw the ap- 
 proach of death in his languid eye and pallid 
 countenance. " You look worse, master WiU. 
 
120 MEMOIR OF 
 
 berforce, I do not think that you can live 
 much longer." The effect produced by her 
 opinion was truly astonishing. His dim eye 
 lighted up, all his features assumed a new 
 life, and turning to her, he said, " Oh, thank 
 
 you, dear Mrs. G , good news ! you tell 
 
 me good news. Shall I indeed be in heaven 
 to-day?" My father came into the room. 
 " Papa," said he, u how do I look — am I al- 
 tered ?" " No, my dear boy. I see little dif- 
 ference in you." He was evidently disap- 
 pointed. "Do you see no difference," said 
 he, £ Mrs. G does. She made me so hap- 
 py. She thinks I may die to-day." My fa- 
 ther sat with him the whole of the day while 
 we were at Church, and Willy asked him to 
 read the service for the visitation of the sick. 
 He listened with devout attention, and when 
 it was ended, he said, " Oh my dear papa, 
 what beautiful prayers ! what an affecting ser- 
 vice ! it expresses my whole heart." 
 
 He then said to his mother, " I love to look 
 at you, mamma. I love to smile at you, but 
 I want to smile at Jesus." He asked her to 
 draw near, and let him lean on her bosom. 
 ;i It is sweet to lean on you, dear mamma, — 
 
WILBERFORCffi RICHMOND. 12l 
 
 but I long to lean on the bosom of Jesus." He 
 conversed with his father in the afternoon for 
 the last time. 
 
 He had been accustomed to teach a class in 
 the Sunday school, and begged that his dying 
 message might be written down and sent to 
 the children that evening. He had not been 
 able to lie in bed for a week, owing to the 
 pain in his side, but on Sunday evening he ex- 
 pressed a wish to be undressed and put into 
 bed, being inclined to sleep. He was ac- 
 cordingly put into bed, and lay very tranquil 
 and comfortable. My father stood watching 
 beside him till he thought him asleep. He 
 then went to his study, as he afterwards told 
 us, to pray that* if it were God's will, his 
 child might have quiet and ease in his last 
 moments ; for he much dreaded the severity 
 of a dying agony, which from the past he 
 thought probable. As he was going away he 
 blessed him, and looking at him as he lay, se- 
 rene and beautiful in his repose, he said, " So 
 he giveth his beloved sleep." Willy opened 
 his eyes on hearing these words, and replied* 
 *' Yes, dear papa, and the rest which Christ 
 
 L 
 
122 MEMOIR OF 
 
 gives is sweet." These were his last words. 
 He immediately sunk into a long and peaceful 
 slumber. We were sitting near him. Mrs. 
 — — , his faithful nurse, stood and watched 
 beside him. We could hear distinctly every 
 breath he drew, and the least change in the 
 sound was perceptible. One or two breath- 
 ings were slower and longer, which made us 
 get up and look at him. He appeared as if 
 slumbering very sweetly. There was no al- 
 teration in his countenance, and we were 
 
 going to sit down again, when Mrs. said, 
 
 "call your papa immediately." We did so, 
 and he came just in time to hear his last sigh. 
 I think he awoke from sleep but felt no pain, 
 nor was sensible of death. My father raised 
 Willy's head upon his arm, and contemplated 
 it for a minute. The countenance looked pla- 
 cid, as if it had beheld the Saviour's face in 
 righteousness, and was satisfied. My father 
 pressed the lifeless body to his bosom, and 
 burst into a flood of tears, struggling with na- 
 ture's anguish. At length subduing his feel- 
 ings, he said, " My child is a saint in glory." 
 He bid us all follow him to the study, that we 
 might praise God for his mercy and loving- 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 123 
 
 kindness. He opened the Bible and read the 
 last two chapters of the Book of Revelations, 
 and then knelt down and prayed with us. It 
 was a moment not to be forgotten. Our dear 
 father appeared so absorbed in the contem- 
 plation of his child's entrance into heaven, 
 and its union with the spirits of the just made 
 perfect, as to be scarcely conscious of the pre- 
 sence of his family around him. 
 
 Between the death and the funeral of my 
 brother, my dear father's mind was often se- 
 verely exercised. Sometimes he would weep, 
 and say, " All thy waves and storms are gone 
 over me," and then, " Precious in the sight 
 of the Lord is the death of his saints." " He 
 giveth and he taketh away, and blessed be 
 his holy name." He would rise early in the 
 morning to gaze on the peaceful countenance 
 of his departed child. We overheard him 
 giving vent to the mingled emotion of his 
 heart in the chamber of death. But he was 
 comforted in tribulation, and he returned to 
 his family, to sooth their sorrows with the 
 comfort wherewith he was comforted of God* 
 He said little, but his calm and subdued spi- 
 
iS4 
 
 MEMOIR OF 
 
 fit bespoke Christian resignation. He used 
 to teach us that disquiet was the result of dis- 
 trust, and we saw in his silent submission an 
 example of his own principle, that his heart 
 trusted in God. " Though his hand be lifted 
 up to destroy, yet from that very hand do I 
 expect salvation."* 
 
 A vault was opened for Wilberforce under 
 the chancel. An incident occurred which 
 much affected us, and which showed the 
 pious and affectionate sympathy of the people 
 in the sorrows of their pastor. The workmen 
 had not completed the vault till past eleven 
 o'clock at night, when they agreed to de- 
 scend into it, and consecrate the place which 
 was shortly to receive our brother's remains, 
 by prayer. The sepulchre of the dead became 
 holy ground. They joined in praises to Him 
 who is the resurrection and the life, and who 
 has enlightened the gloomy grave by his own 
 presence. They contiuued in prayer till mid- 
 night, commending their beloved minister to 
 the grace of God — invoking blessings on his 
 
 * Leighton; 
 
WILBERFORCE RICHMOND. 125 
 
 family, and entreating that this mournful event 
 might(be over-ruled to the increase of religion 
 in the parish ; — and may we not hope that 
 prayer was heard ? The subsequent state of 
 the village may be described as life from the 
 dead. In the morning of my brother's inter- 
 ment, my father prayed with his family. I 
 trust that the spirit of God poured out his spe- 
 cial influence on the minds of those present. 
 A friend afterwards observed, " This is the 
 fervent prayer of a righteous man, which avail- 
 e'th much. Can we doubt that it is recorded 
 in heaven, and will long be remembered on 
 earth. 
 
 From this time, our dear father gave himself 
 up to the work of the ministry with re-doubled 
 diligence. The congregations were large and 
 attentive. He went daily from cottage to 
 cottage amongst the poor, warning, exhorting, 
 comforting, and confirming the souls of the 
 disciples in the grace of God. He used to 
 meet persons nearly every evening in the 
 week, for prayer and exposition of the Scrip- 
 tures. Many a heart in Turvey^still glows at 
 the recollection of these seasons. There was 
 
1 26 MEMOIR, &C 
 
 a general revival of religion both amongst old 
 and young, and scarcely a day passed in which 
 some one did not anxiously inquire, "What 
 must I do to be saved ? ,? There might be in 
 this excitement something that was of a doubt- 
 ful character, but there were certainly many 
 real conversions, and a general and increased 
 attention towards religion, unknown at any 
 former period. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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