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over him with the tenderest solicitude; and it was doubtless owing, in a great degree, to this tenderness, that Cowper was placed under the care of Dr. Cotton. While he remained at St. Albans, his brother visited him, and, as has been related above, became the means of contributing materially to his recovery. On Cowper's removal to Huntingdon, these affectionate brothers adopted a plan for a frequent and regular interchange of visits, so that they were seldom many days without seeing each other, though the distance between their places of abode was fifteen miles; and, even after Cowper's removal to Olney, his brother, during the first two years, paid him several visits; they seemed, indeed, mutually delighted with an opportunity of being in each other's com

pany.

Cowper, on hearing of his brother's illness, immediately repaired to Cambridge. To his inexpressible grief he found him in a condition that left little or no hopes of his recovery. In a letter to Mrs. Cowper, he thus describes his case: "My brother continues much as he was. His case is a very dangerous one-an imposthume of the liver, attended by an asthma, and dropsy. The physician has little hopes of his recovery; indeed, I might say none at all, only, being a friend, he does not formally give him over by ceasing to visit him, lest it should sink his spirits. For my own part, I have no expectation of it, except by a signal interposition of Providence in answer to prayer. His case is clearly out of the reach of medicine, but I have seen many a sickness healed, where the danger has been equally threatening, by the only Physician of value. I doubt not he will have an interest in your prayers, as he has in the prayers of many. May the Lord incline his ear, and give an answer of peace. I know it is good to be afflicted; I trust you have found it so, and that under the teaching of the Spirit of God, we shall both be purified. It is the desire of my soul to seek a better country, where God shall wipe away all tears from the eyes of his people, and where, looking back upon the ways by which he has led us, we shall be filled with everlasting wonder, love, and praise."

Finding his brother on the verge of the grave, Cowper discovered the greatest anxiety respecting his everlasting welfare. He knew that his sentiments on some of the most important truths of religion had been long unsettled; and fully aware that while such was the case, he could experience no solid enjoyment in the present life, whatever might be his condition in future, he laboured diligently to give him those

views of the gospel, which he had himself found, so singularly beneficial; nor did he labour in vain. He had the unspeakable gratification to witness the complete triumph of the truth, and its consolatory influence upon the mind of his beloved brother, in his dying moments. Writing to Mr. Hill, he says: "It pleased God to cut short my brother's connections and expectations here, yet, not without giving him lively and glorious views, of a better happiness, than any he could propose to himself in such a world as this. Notwithstanding his great learning, (for he was one of the chief men in the university in that respect,) he was candid and sincere in his inquiries after truth. Though he could not agree to my sentiments when I first acquainted him with them, nor in many conversations, which I afterwards had with him upon the subject, could he be brought to acquiesce in them as scriptural and true, yet I had no sooner left St. Albans, than he began to study with the deepest attention those points on which we differed, and to furnish himself with the best writers upon them. His mind was kept open to conviction for five years, during all which time he laboured in this pursuit with unwearied diligence, whilst leisure and opportunity were afforded. Amongst his dying words were these Brother, I thought you wrong, yet wanted to believe as you did. I found myself not able to believe, yet always thought I should be one day brought to do so. From the study of books he was brought, upon his deathbed, to the study of himself, and there learnt to renounce his righteousness, and his own most amiable character, and to submit himself to the righteousness which is of God by faith. With these views, he was desirous of death: satisfied of his interest in the blessing purchased by the blood of Christ, he prayed for death with earnestness, felt the approaches of it with joy, and died in peace.”

It afforded Cowper inexpressible delight, to witness, in his brother's case, the consoling and animating power of those principles, which he had himself found to be so highly beneficial. This had been the object of his most anxious solicitude, from the period that God was pleased to visit him with the consolations of his grace. From that time he took occasion to declare to his brother what God had done for his soul; and neglected no opportunity of attempting to engage him in conversation of a spiritual kind. On his first visit to him at Cambridge, after he left St. Albans, his heart being then full of the subject, he poured it out to his brother without reserve, taking care to show him, that what he had

received was not merely a new set of notions, but a real impression of the truths of the gospel. His brother listened to his statements at first with some attention, and often laboured to convince him, that the difference in their sentiments was much less real than verbal. Subsequently, however, he became more reserved; and though he heard patiently, he never replied, nor ever discovered a desire to converse on the subject. At the commencement of his affliction, little as was the concern he then felt for his spiritual interests, the thoughts of God, and of eternity, would sometimes force themselves upon his mind; at every little prospect of recovery, however, he found it no difficult matter to thrust them out again. It was.evident that his mind was very far from being set on things spiritual and heavenly, as on almost every subject, but that of religion, he could converse fluently. At every suitable opportunity Cowper endeavoured to give a serious turn to the discourse, but without any apparent success. Having obtained his permission, he prayed with him frequently; still, however, he seemed as careless and unconcerned as ever.

On one occasion, after his brother had, with much difficulty, survived a severe paroxysm of his disorder, he observed to him as he sat by his bed-side, "that, though it had pleased God to visit him with great afflictions, yet mercy was mingled with the dispensation. You have many friends that love you, and are willing to do all they can to serve you, and so, perhaps, have many others in the like circumstances; but it is not the lot of every sick man, how much soever he may be beloved, to have a friend that can pray for him.” He replied, "That is true; and I hope God will have mercy upon me." His love to Cowper, from that time, became very remarkable; there was a tenderness in it more than was merely natural; and he generally expressed it by calling for blessings upon him in the most affectionate terms, and with a look and manner not to be described. One afternoon, a few days before he died, he suddenly burst into tears, and said, with a loud cry, "O forsake me not!" Cowper went to the bed-side, grasped his hand, and tenderly inquired why he wished him to remain. "O, brother," said he, "I am full of what I could say to you; if I live, you and I shall be more like one another than we have been; but, whether I live, or not, all is well, and will be so; I know it will; I have felt that which I never felt before; and am sure that God has visited me with this sickness, to teach me that I was too proud to learn in health. I never had satisfaction

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till now, having no ground to rest my hopes upon; but now I have a foundation which nothing can shake. I have peace in myself; and if I live, I hope it will be that I might be a messenger of peace to others. I have learned that in a moment, which I could not have learned by reading many books for many years. The light I have received comes late, but not too late, and it is a comfort to me that I never made the gospel-truths a subject of ridicule. This bed would be to me a bed of misery, and it is so; but it is likewise a bed of joy, and a bed of discipline. Was I to die this night, I know I should be happy. This assurance, I hope, is quite consistent with the word of God. It is built upon a sense of my own utter insufficiency, and all-sufficiency of Christ. There is but one key to the New Testament; there is but one interpreter. I cannot describe to you, nor shall I ever be able to describe to you, what I felt when this was given to me. May I make a good use of it! How I shudder when I think of the danger I have just escaped! How wonderful is it that God should look upon me! Yet he sees me, and takes notice of all that I suffer. I see him too, and can hear him say, Come unto me, all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you peace." He survived this change only a few days, and died happily, rejoicing in hope of the glory of God.

An event like this, could not fail to make a deep impression upon the tender spirit of Cowper, and his feelings on the occasion, were such as are not experienced by ordinary minds. The following letter to his amiable cousin shows clearly the state of his mind:-"You judge rightly of the manner in which I have been affected by the Lord's late dispensation towards my brother. I found it a cause of sorrow that I lost so near a relation, and one so deservedly dear to me, and that he left me just when our sentiments upon the most interesting subject became the same. But it was also a cause of joy, that it pleased God to give me a clear and evident proof that he had changed his heart, and adopted him into the number of his children. For this I hold myself peculiarly bound to thank him, because he might have done all that he was pleased to do for him, and yet have afforded him neither strength nor opportunity to declare it. He told me, that from the time he was first ordained, he began to be dissatisfied with his religious opinions, and to suspect that there were greater things revealed in the Bible, than were generally believed or allowed to be there. From the time when I first visited him, after my release from St. Albans, he began

to read upon the subject. It was at that time I informed him of the views of divine truth, which I had received in that school of affliction. He laid what I said to heart, and began to furnish himself with the best writers on the controverted points, whose works he read with great diligence and attention, carefully comparing them with the Scriptures. None ever truly and ingenuously sought the truth, but they found it. A spirit of earnest inquiry is the gift of God, who never says to any, Seek ye my face, in vain. Accordingly, about ten days before his death, it pleased the Lord to dispel all his doubts, to reveal in his heart the knowledge of the Saviour, and to give him that firm and unshaken confidence in the ability and willingness of Christ to save sinners, which is invariably followed by a joy that is unspeakable and full of glory."

Of the character of his much beloved brother, whose death. filled him with mingled emotions of joy and grief, Cowper has given the following interesting description:"He was a man of a most candid and ingenuous spirit; his temper remarkably sweet, and in his behaviour to me he had always manifested an uncommon affection. His outward conduct, so far as it fell under my notice, or I could learn it by the report of others, was perfectly decent and unblamable. There was nothing vicious in any part of his practice, but being of a studious, thoughtful turn, he placed his chief delight in the acquisition of learning, and made such progress in it, that he had but few rivals. He was critically skilled in the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew languages; was beginning to make himself master of the Syriac, and perfectly understood the French and Italian, the latter of which he could speak fluently. Learned, however, as he was, he was easy and cheerful in his conversation, and entirely free from the stiffness which is generally contracted by men devoted to such pursuits."

"I had a brother once;

Peace to the memory of a man of worth!
A man of letters and of manners too!
Of manners, sweet, as virtue always wears,
When gay good humour dresses her in smiles!
He grac'd a college, in which order yet

Was sacred, and was honoured, lov'd, and wept
By more than one, themselves conspicuous there."

Notwithstanding the cheerfulness with which Cowper bore up under this painful bereavement, when it first occur

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