Thus he died with his harness on, not aware, probably, that he was so near
his end; else he might have uttered some dying testimony, which would have
passed into the literature of the church to be the comfort of other saints
in their mortal agony. But, on his own account, no such dying testimony
was required. For thirty-seven years he had stood his ground gallantly in
Berlin, witnessing for Christ in the face of a learned skepticism, and he
could well afford to pass directly, without an interlude, from the toils
and conflicts of earth to the joys and triumphs of the redeemed in heaven.
His labors had been prodigious. He usually lectured not less than fifteen
times a week, published twenty-five volumes, and left behind him several
other volumes nearly ready for the press. His health was never firm. A
rheumatic disease lurked in his system from the time of his illness at
Goettingen. Three years before he died, this disease settled in his eyes,
and made him nearly blind. But against all impediments, he struggled on,
fighting the good fight of faith, patient and resolute, till suddenly his
course was finished, and he took his crown.
POEMS.
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