juncture to my dearest Lord, to his
gracious and compassionate care and providence; together with my works,
and any small design to serve him and my generation; and I do intreat
new supplies of his grace and strength to secure and make his poor
servant (if it were his blessed will) yet more abundantly forth-coming
to him. And with hopes of acceptance I write this Jan. 1st, 1694. _Post
tenebras spero lucem._

R. FLEMING.

But now drawing near his end in the same year 1694, upon the 17th of
July he took sickness, and on the 25th died. On his first arrest, O
friends, said he to such as were about him, sickness and death are
serious things; but till the spark of his fever was risen to a flame, he
was not aware that that sickness was to be unto death; for he told a
relation, That if it should be so, it was strange, seeing the Lord did
not hide from him the things that he did with him and his. Yet before
his expiration, he was apprehensive of its approach: Calling to him a
friend, he asked, What freedom he found in prayer for him? seems God to
beckon to your petitions, or does he bring you up and leave dark
impressions on your mind? This way, said he, I have often known the mind
of the Lord. His friend telling him he was under darkness in the case,
he replied, I know your mind, trouble not yourself for me; I think I may
say, I have been long above the fear of death.

All the while his groans and struggling argued him to be under no small
pain, but his answers to enquiring friends certified that the distress
did not enter his soul. Always he would say, I am very well, or, I was
never better, or, I feel no sickness. This would he say, while he seemed
to be sensible of every thing besides pain. But the malignant distemper
wasting his natural spirits, he could speak but little, but what he
spoke was all of it like himself. Having felt himself indisposed for his
wonted meditation and prayer, he thus said to some near him, I have not
been able in a manner to form one serious thought since I was sick, or
to apply myself unto God; he has applied himself unto me, and one of his
manifestations was such as I could have borne no more. Opening his eyes
after a long sleep, one of his sons asked how he did? He answered, Never
better. Do you know me? said his son. Unto which with a sweet smile he
answered, Yes, yes, dear son, I know you. This was about two hours
before he died. About an hour afterwards he cried earnestly, Help, help
for