grateful
and enthusiastic his love to his Hamilton home, to his father,
mother, and wife, and how faithful and loyal he was to the society
and the brotherhood of his Alma Mater.'

The Rev. G. Owen, at a memorial service held in Peking very shortly
after Mr. Gilmour's death, gave a sketch of his character and work, and
thus summed up his life:--

'He spared himself in nothing, but gave himself wholly to God. He
kept nothing back. All was laid upon the altar. I doubt if even St.
Paul endured more for Christ than did James Gilmour. I doubt, too,
if Christ ever received from human hands or human heart more
loving, devoted service.

'If anyone asks, "Would it not have been better if Mr. Gilmour had
taken more care of himself and lived longer?" I would answer: "I
don't know. His life was beautiful, and I would not alter it if I
could. A few years of such service as he gave Christ are worth a
hundred years of humdrum toil. We need the inspiration of such a
life as his. Heaven, too, is the richer for such a man and such a
life. The pearly gates opened wide, I have no doubt, to receive
him. Angels and men gave him glad welcome, and what a smile would
light up the Saviour's face as He received His faithful servant
home!"

'And he being dead yet speaketh. He says, "Be faithful, work hard,
for the night cometh when no man can work. Be earnest, for life is
brief; be ready, for life is uncertain." But why did God call him
away in the midst of life and work? I don't know. Possibly work
here is not of such importance as we think. Or there is more
important service elsewhere waiting for such men as Mr. Gilmour. He
has been faithful over a few things; he has been made ruler over
many things, and has entered into the joy of his Lord.'

Mr. Parker wrote to the sons of his late colleague on June 6, 1891:--

'It is sad that my first letter to you should be to tell you about
your father's death, of which no doubt you have heard long ago....
The last photographs of yourselves which you sent out he always had
where he could see them. Whenever he travelled he took them with
him. At Tientsin during his last illness he had them on a low side
table, just on a level with his bed, so that as he lay there he
could see them.... He was very happy, and died like a faithful
soldie