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was seized with such weakness as rendered him wholly unable to proceed. Having been taken home, he went to bed, but from that bed he rose no more. On the fifteenth of February his spirit was summoned to eternal realities. The last assembly he met on earth was an assembly of God's people, with whom he was essaying to worship. In a few days after, his spirit mingled with that illustrious and noble army of martyrs who

"shine

With robes of victory through the skies."

We had not the opportunity of being at his bed-side immediately before his death, and we can not accurately give you his dying words. But we know that it was a privilege to be there, for

"The chamber where the good man meets his fate
Is privileged beyond the common walks of life,
Quite on the verge of heaven.”

We know that he was not at all dismayed as he stood, conscious of approaching dissolution, on the very verge of eternity. Oh! no. But over its dark and untraveled vastness he cast a fearless eye; and, as he saw himself hastening

"to join

The innumerable caravan that moves

To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take

His chamber in the silent halls of death,

He went not like the quarry slave at night,

Scourged to his dungeon; but, sustained and soothed

By an unfaltering trust, approached his grave,

Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch

About him and lies down to pleasant dreams."

Mr. Day is gone! Never more will his voice be heard within these walls. Never more will he lift up the voice of warning to the impenitent and administer

encouragement and comfort to the desponding believer. Never more will he mingle in the public councils of the nation and assist, by his presence and instruction, in the various enterprises of popular interest. He is gonefrom the Church and state! Hear it, ye aged fathers! and strive to do with all your might whatsoever your hands find to do. Hear it, O cheerful youth! and lay aside your trifling hilarity, and think of the responsibilities which must soon fall upon you, and endeavor to qualify yourselves for their assumption.

While, however, the death of Mr. Day has occasioned an irreparable loss to Church and state, we do not feel to entertain unmingled emotions of sorrow. He has left us an illustrious example. We have reasons for congratulations in view of the noble instance afforded for the contemplation of the world, the encouragement of the Church, and the emulation of the rising generation, of a long life of self-denial and usefulness closed with a beautiful serenity—a dignified calmness and peace. Such a life, such a death, constitute a legacy richer than the silver mines of Peru, and more valuable than the sparkling deposits of Australia or California. Let us avail ourselves of it.

"Lives of great men all remind us,

We can make our lives sublime;
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sand of time."

A CHAPTER

IN THE

HISTORY OF THE AFRICAN SLAVE-TRADE.

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