Nevertheless, he continued to preach almost to the very last. The last time he presided at the communion he spoke of the experience he had had of the love of Christ, and of Satan's temptations; "yet, after all," he said, "here am I, and the religion I received from God is not worn out, but I feel my work is almost done, my Master has told me so; but come life, come death, I am builded on the Rock—Christ." On the Wednesday evening following he preached his last sermon, from the words, "Remember how thou hast received and heard, and hold fast and watch."
In the following week he became so much weaker that his wife determined to hurry him off to Tunbridge Wells. He was put into the carriage, but was so ill by the way that he nearly died. One object was to get him next door to the lawyer's, as his worldly affairs were still unsettled.
What a satire it seems on his early life to have to recount that this man of faith, this man who had lived by simple trust in God for so many years, should in his last hour, instead of the calm repose and silent meditation he once enjoyed, have been worried by lawyers, perplexed by all kinds of worldly business, and driven in the end to have a will drawn up disastrous to the interests of his children and congregation.
Some of his children came to see him. He rose from his bed, and said he would sit up and sup with them for the last night before he died. "I am heartily glad to see you," he said to them. "I do love my children, and should have been glad to see them all here, if they could have come to see me."
The ruling passion was strong even in death, and after supper he discoursed for about half an hour on the words, "Blessed are the dead that die m the Lord." On the following evening (July 1, 1813), he quietly departed without a struggle.
The funeral was such an one as had never before been witnessed in Sussex. The hearse which conveyed the remains of this peasant preacher through his native Weald was drawn with regal pomp by six horses. At Godstone it was met by vast numbers who had walked or ridden from London, until the procession reached a mile in length. All that summer's day the long black line wound its tortuous course up and down the hilly
