he proved even the _innocent_ occasion of drawing me from Him. I feared
that you would do this. For a little time the conflict of my feelings
was dreadful beyond description. For a few moments I wished I had never
seen you. Had you been a right hand, or a right eye, had you been the
life-blood in my veins (and you are dear to me as either) I must have
given you up, had I continued to feel as I did. But blessed be God,
He has shown me my weakness only to strengthen me. I now feel very
differently. I still love you dearly as ever, but my love leads me _to_
Christ and not _from_ Him.

Dr. Payson received repeated invitations to important churches in
Boston and New York, but declining them all, continued in the Portland
pastorate until his death, which occurred October 22, 1827, in the
forty-fifth year of his age. The closing months of his life were
rendered memorable by an extraordinary triumph of Christian faith and
patience, as well as of the power of mind over matter. His bodily
suffering and agonies were indescribable, but, like one of the old
martyrs in the midst of the flames, he seemed to forget them all in the
greatness of his spiritual joy. In a letter written shortly after his
death, Mrs. Payson gives a touching account of the tender and thoughtful
concern for her happiness which marked his last illness. Knowing, for
example, that she would be compelled to part with her house, he was
anxious to have a smaller one purchased and occupied at once, so that
his presence in it for a little while might make it seem more home-like
to her and to her children after he was gone. "To tell you (she adds)
what he was the last six memorable weeks would be altogether beyond my
skill. All who beheld him called his countenance angelic." She then
repeats some of his farewell words to her. Begging that, she would "not
dwell upon his poor, shattered frame, but follow his blessed spirit to
the realms of glory," he burst forth into an exultant song of delight,
as if already he saw the King in His beauty! The well-known letter to
his sister Eliza, dated a few weeks before his departure, breathes the
same spirit. Here is an extract from it:

Were I to adopt the figurative language of Bunyan, I might date this
letter from the land of Beulah, of which I have been for some weeks a
happy inhabitant. The celestial city is full in my view. Its glories
beam upon me, its breezes fan me, its odors are wafted to me, its sounds
strike upon my ear,