that they had often heard her say, that if she might choose the manner and circumstances of her death she would die praying *.

PRINCE OF CONDÉ.

Died 1686.

Behold I shew you a mystery, we shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed.

A CELEBRATED French general, and eminent Christian. Without waiting for the approach of illness, or the warnings of mortality, the great Condé now dedicated his hours to religious reflections. A pious friend attended him in his chamber; with this Christian monitor he perused the sacred page, and drank at the fountain of Divine wisdom. Would to God that all would imitate his example! How inconsiderate to defer ones preparation for another world, till one languishes on the couch of death. The mind of this pious hero being strengthened by this preparatory discipline, he became equal to the last conflict. When the awful time drew near, and he was informed of the anticipated event, he cried out in the most energetic manner, "Thy will, O

Dr. Gibbons.

God, be done: Oh give me grace to die the death of the just!" From that moment he appeared as in the day of battle, occupied, but not ruffled; resolute, but calm with equanimity he looked upon death, whether it presented itself in the form of disease, or whether it came unexpectedly in combat. Religion now claimed his last thoughts, and took entire possession of his mind. As the ministers of the altar drew near, he cried out with an impressive voice, These are my true physicians. While they recited the prayers of the dying, he listened with an awful and submissive expectation. Calling his confessor, he solemnly attested that he had ever adhered to the belief of the Christian doctrine; he added, that belief was now attended with a stronger conviction, and he cried out with a rapturous confidence,

Yes, I shall behold my God face to face." He seemed as if he was suddenly illuminated, as if a celestial ray had pierced human ignorance. Instead of deploring his death, I will labour to make my own resemble it *.

*Translated from Bossuet's Funeral Oration on the great

Condè.

CHRISTOPHER WITTICHIUS.

Died 1687, aged 62.

When thou with rebukes dost chasten man for sin, thou makest his beauty to consume away, like as it were a moth fretting a garment: every man therefore is but vanity.

Ps. xxxix. 12.

AN illustrious Professor of Theology and Philosophy in the Universities of Nimeguen and Leyden. In the last day of July, after exposing himself in an open carriage to drenching rains, he was sitting at the table of a friend in Amsterdam, when in a moment he changed colour, and fell to the ground. A severe attack of paralysis immediately followed. His infirm body was completely shaken. Kept alive by an external application of heat, the learned Wittichius exhibited a deplorable spectacle of the frailty of human nature. In his chamber an almost sepulchral stillness was observed, and for eight months he was confined to one seat. AIthough his funeral day was thus delayed, he was during life, celebrating, as it were, his own obsequies; buried, yet not laid in the grave, he was an exile from life and all its joys. But during the whole of his many and severe trials, no repinings, no ungrateful expressions escaped his lips. For a long time he had looked forward to the confines of life and death, and had experienced within himself the conflict between them; life not yielding submissively, but death inflicting his blows: he was less solicitous for life than for that haven of rest into which his

shattered bark long driven to and fro on the billows of life might be quickly steered. Reflecting on those subjects, which in past years he had heard, read, or taught unto others, he converted those reflections to their proper uses, and then prepared himself for his departure, and was thus enabled to struggle with death, manifesting a fortitude of mind which distinguishes the true Christian. What did he more ardently desire, than to depart from this polluted world to those sacred fields above? upon this subject he frequently discoursed: considering that he should there receive higher intellectual powers, with which he might survey the now inscrutable designs of Omniscience, and understand the heavenly will inscribed in the Bible. In the whole course of his life it was his object never to propose or complete any work, unless guided by the Supreme will. So far from being averse to death, in his prayers he longed for the day that should end those sorrows and vexations which men brought down on themselves and fellow creatures, by their own particular sins, or the general depravity of the times. In prayer and meditation he was devout, and even during life his mind and soul were in heaven. Sometimes he deeply regretted that the sickness of his body, which ought to have brought him nearer his God, occasionally appeared to throw obstacles in his advances toward heaven. Death now approached with rapid strides: his friends at various times inquired, if he viewed the change from time to eternity with joy; if with expiring

Jacob, he beheld the salvation of the Lord approaching nearer and nearer, waiting on his threshold and entering into his soul. If with Simeon, he rejoiced that the hour of freedom was near, and that he was soon to be released from those tyrants and wild beasts the unruly passions of sinful men, and the galling chains of evil affections with which human nature is fast bound: if his thoughts of salvation were affixed to that only anchor of hope, his Saviour Jesus, sent by the lovingkindness of the Lord, to lighten the sorrows of nature. Wishing to disclose the sentiments of his bosom, he replied to each question respectively, it is, it is so, Amen, this is my firm hope, &c. &c. The minister of the Church approached to inquire if the professor dreaded death, with tears he replied, Why should I fear it? with Job I desire it, knowing that hereafter I shall see God. The minister said, you are about to depart for the courts of divine truth and knowledge, where no clouds shall intervene to obscure the lustre of wisdom and understanding, and you who have taught those things to others, shall there receive a rich reward; to which he answered, I have endeavoured so to study, that I might place my talent to the best account. He afterwards said, Come Lord Jesus, come quickly. A panting respiration then succeeded for the space of three hours. He expired with a tranquil and cheerful countenance *.

⚫ Jacobi Gronovii laudatio funeris Wittichii, fol. 30, et seq.