The Life And Death Of Henry Cole

Gospel Standard 1859:

A Short Account Of The Last Illness And Peaceful Death Of Henry Cole, D. D., Late Of Clare Hall, Cambridge, And Of Highbury Place, Islington; And Also Late Sunday Evening Lecturer Of St. Mary Somerset, Upper Thames Street, London.

[We have felt some difficulty in giving insertion to the following Obituary, which, indeed, has been one reason of its being delayed, as it has been some months in our possession. The difficulty was this. As Dr. Cole, at one period of his life, left the Establishment and afterwards returned to it, it formed a stumbling-block in our mind which we could not very well get over. But he never departed from the truth which he held in its experience and power, was heavily afflicted in mind and body during the latter period of his life, and, judging from the record before us, was favored in his last illness with, the blessing and presence of God. As such we give it our readers, and hope that they may find that in it which will leave a sweet impression on their spirit, as we have felt in our own, that he has entered into that rest and peace of which many things concurred to rob him here below.]

For some days previously the Doctor had complained of much and great general exhaustion of mind and body; but on the 1st of January, 1858, an alarming state of what appeared to be a frenzied state of mind set in, and he felt almost beside himself; in this state he went up to his bed-room, and I attended him. He fell on his knees by the bedside, and offered up a prayer with much energy, in strong entreaties to his God and Saviour, that he would remember the word which had on a former and similar occasion, when he had his second attack, been of infinite relief to him at Lewisham: “All power is given unto me.” “Yes, all power over disease, and therefore he is able to keep the mind from derangement.” The great burden of his prayer was that the Almighty would in mercy keep him in a sound mind, that he might never say a word against the honor of God, or anything that could wound the mind of his people. The Almighty heard his prayer, and, as in a miraculous manner, stayed the raging of the disease; so that in a short time he was able to go to the same spot and return thanks to the God of his salvation for his great change; and after a second returning of thanks at night, before retiring to rest, he had a safe and quiet night, and rose in the morning lull of praise to God.

Brighton, Sunday morning, May 23rd.—Dr. Cole felt himself unusually poorly while dressing, and nearly fainted. He said he felt as if struck with death. He thought his sensation of sickness and fainting might proceed from indigestion, and accordingly took some suitable medicine. After a little time he felt pretty well again. In the evening of the same day he was very anxious to retire to rest, saying he never felt such extreme prostration and exhaustion before. He slept pretty well that night, and rose much as usual on the Monday morning; but, while sitting at breakfast, he became suddenly faint again, and lost nearly all power of the right hand, the left hand having been affected by his former attacks. He again recovered in a short time, and finished his breakfast, and remarked he was glad he had arranged to return home to London that day, thinking himself in a very precarious state of health.

Friday, May 28th.—This day he fell down twice, the left side for a time becoming partially useless; and from this day he was obliged to be led and assisted when moving from one room to another, not being able to walk steadily. He complained at times greatly of his head; sometimes he was without any pain whatever, and expressed much gratitude to God for such freedom from pain. Went to bed very poorly.

Saturday.—At 4 o’clock in the morning was very sick; could not get up to breakfast. Mr. C. said that with perfect rest of brain and plenty of nourishment he hoped he would soon be better, and able to go to Tunbridge Wells for change of air. The Doctor attempted to rise as usual, but was too weak to stand; said he thought he was in a dying state; “had no word.” Got into bed again; shortly after prayed to God to remember that promise that he would “make all his bed in his sickness.” In a little while he said, “I am very happy; God’s eye of mercy is upon me, a poor sinner, and he will make all my bed, &c. I have a good hope, I am full of peace, and of the goodness and mercy of God, a reconciled Father in Christ.” He then repeated, with great emotions of gratitude and praise, the following verses of the 103rd Psalm: “Bless the Lord, O my soul; and all that is within me, bless his holy name. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits; who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases; who redeemeth thy life from destruction; who crowneth thee with lovingkindness and tender mercies; making a short comment, while repeating them, on their blessedness and suitableness to his case. When the medical man called, shortly after, Dr. C. told him he was dying, “full of peace and the goodness and mercy of God,” that he “made all his bed in his sickness.” He said to one attending upon him, he hoped she might have the same peace and comfort in her death.

Sunday morning.—Said he found himself weaker and more helpless, and thought he was paralysed all over; that it was a gradual attack, and had been coming on for some time; and remarked, “How merciful of God to deal with me so gently; I am quite happy with it all; he might have cut me down suddenly.” Then he repeated again those verses, “Bless the Lord, O my soul,” &c.; and requested me to read to him the first four verses of the 41st Psalm, “Blessed is he that considereth the poor,” &c. He said he was glad he had been spared five years, since his first attack, to serve God here on earth. Spoke much of other cases of paralysis, much worse than his had hitherto been, and that he must not now complain. After breakfast he got up, and with considerable difficulty, being supported on the left side, walked down to his sitting-room. He requested to have read to him the account of the last illness and death of his late dear friend and fellow-laborer, Mr. Chamberlain, of Leicester. He enjoyed it very much; remarking the great similarity of Mr. Chamberlain’s last illness to his own, Mr. C. having very gradually sunk under the same disease. He expressed much of his love to, and union in spiritual things with, Mr. C., and was all that morning in a very happy and praiseful frame of mind. When moving (with assistance) from the sofa to a chair for dinner, he remarked, with much glory on his countenance, “My limbs are all loosened, but there will be no loosening of limbs in heaven no paralysis there;” he added, he should soon be there; and spoke of Mrs. Cole, who had gone before; and dwelt on the happiness she was enjoying. He said also, during dinner, “I am very happy, God is so good to me.” Frequently during this flay he wept under a sense of the goodness and mercy of God.

Monday. Had a very bad night. His medical man called at half-past 9 in the morning, and said that Dr. Cole was in a very precarious state indeed. The Doctor remarked during the day that he thought he should not live long, and expressed himself very happy in the prospect of death said he had no fears about eternity. He was asked to try and sleep a little; he replied, he could not, he was so happy in God. Mr. P. called in the evening; Dr. C. told him many scriptures had comforted him, but he was unable, from weakness, to repeat them.

Tuesday morning.—Again repeated that favorite portion, “Bless the Lord, O my soul,” &c.; and when he came to the words, “Who crowneth thee,” he remarked, “He maketh me king over all my troubles and all disease.” Afterwards he said, “Suppose it is the Lord’s will now to take me to himself, what can a man want more than first to have peace with God through the blood and righteousness of his dear Son our Redeemer?” and added, with tears, “God is so merciful, I am quite happy.” Addressing one attending on him, he said, “I hope you may have the same religion when you come to die;” and afterwards observed, “What a mercy mine is not a painful disease!” meaning, not painful in the limbs, for he had throughout his last illness and also during his several years of paralyzed affliction suffered much from painful distress on the brain.

Thursday, June 3rd.—Greatly enjoyed the first and last verses of that hymn commencing,

“Jesus, thy blood and righteousness.”

Monday, June 7th. A nephew and niece of the Doctor’s called. He was suffering very much with his head this day; he could only see them for two or three minutes, to shake hands and give them his blessing. In the afternoon, while sitting in his easy chair, he said he thought himself very near death; he never had such a solemn view of death before; he felt “no great joy, but no fear nor dread, but peace and quietness.” Felt he should soon be in the presence of his Saviour. Repeated that portion of Scripture, 1 Pet. 4:19 (which he frequently repeated during his illness): “Wherefore, let them that suffer according to the will of God commit the keeping of their souls to him in well doing, as unto a faithful Creator,” saying after each clause, “I do, I do!” He then spoke of God’s faithfulness also as a Redeemer, and dwelt much upon the righteousness of Christ being his righteousness, by which he was justified before God. He said, no thought, or word, or act of his could form any part of his justification before God, for he was a vile, a base sinner; yet he could say, with holy confidence and humility, that no one sin of his, however aggravated, could ever condemn him before God, because he was justified by the righteousness of his dear Redeemer. He spoke much and often of his prospect of soon enjoying the presence of Christ, and hoped he might know his dear late wife; but he could now leave all that to God. He knew he should enjoy his presence, and what could he want more? Said he felt a great nearness to God his Saviour.

Tuesday.—The Doctor observed in the afternoon that he felt a great deadening to this world, as though it were nothing to him; thought he should very soon leave it, and requested me to read to him Christ healing the sick of the palsy. Said he wanted that word applied afresh to him, “Son, thy sins be forgiven thee;” said he knew they were forgiven him, his conscience told him so; but he wanted it said afresh. He thanked and praised God that he had no temporal troubles, that he had sufficient to carry him to his grave now that he could not work; God had not forgotten him in this.

Monday, June 14th.—The Doctor was taken worse at 4 o’clock in the afternoon, with entire loss of speech and greater helplessness, but did not lose consciousness. (From this time, just a fortnight before he died, his speech never fully returned, although he could occasionally speak a little; and up to the last week, when his hand became too feeble, he would write on a slate what he wished to say.) His medical attendant was sent for, who thought it right to take a little blood from the arm to relieve his head, which appeared to be much distressed. Recovering his speech a little, and feeling faint after the bleeding, he said, “I am not afraid to die;” and asked me, “Is this death?” I replied, “I hope it is only faintness.” He then added, “It is appointed unto all men once to die.” In the night he sent for me, and tried to make me understand how happy he was, and said, with tears, “Must die, but so happy!” and turning up his eyes to heaven, with a countenance full of joy and triumph, appeared to be enjoying some blessed revelation, but was unable further to articulate. He motioned for a slate, and wrote, “My heavenly Father’s will,” and something more which could not be deciphered. I spoke to him of the Saviour’s death for us; “Ah, ah!” he exclaimed, with tears of sorrow and joy, putting his right hand across his bosom, as if hugging the thought. The bliss in his countenanee I shall never forget.

Tuesday, June 15th.—He was too weak to rise; and from that tune kept his bed, only being lifted out occasionally for a few minutes.

Thursday, June 17th.—Mr. C., his medical man, considered him better. The Doctor asked for a Bible this morning, which was held up for him while he read that passage in Peter before alluded to: “Wherefore let them that suffer,” &c.; and Acts 13:39: “And by him all that believe are justified from all things from which they could not be justified by the law of Moses.” These two texts he frequently repeated during his illness, with tears of gratitude and joy.

Friday.—He felt an extreme sense of weakness; thought he should not live till Sunday, but should spend that Sabbath in heaven. Said, “My affliction is very great;” and looking up to heaven, “Was ever sorrow like unto his sorrow? Job says, “My soul chooseth strangling, and death rather than life.” I can now understand what Job felt; but was ever sorrow like unto his sorrow!” He added, “I never saw the glory of that word as I do now.” Several scriptures were blessed to him that day, which I am sorry to say I have no note of; one was John 14:3; “I will come again and receive you to myself, that where I am there ye may be also.”

Sunday, June 20th.—Very much comforted with this text: “This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him, and saved him out of all his troubles.” This text he continued to repeat, more or less, as long as he could be heard to speak. Sometimes he could only be heard to say, looking up, “Poor man, poor man.” Spoke again very much of Job’s experience, when he said, “My soul chooseth strangling,” &c., but said he wished to suffer all God’s will. He hoped God’s people would pray for him. Mr. P. called in the evening, but could not see him; Dr. Cole feeling himself unable, and his medical man also having said he must not see any one, but be kept perfectly quiet. I said I had told Mr. P. of his wish that God’s people would pray for him. After a little pause he said, “They can say, ‘He whom thou lovest is sick; come and heal him;'” and added, “Did you tell him about ‘the poor man?'” meaning how much he had enjoyed the text just quoted. He prayed much for patience and thankfulness.

On Monday evening he repeated the following text with much fervor, though with much difficulty in articulation, “For we must needs die, and are as water spilt on the ground, which cannot be gathered up again; neither doth God respect any person; yet doth he devise means that his banished be not expelled from him.” (2 Sam. 14:14.) And again, when speaking of his bodily sufferings, he said, “I know well the meaning of that scripture.” In the morning thou shalt say, Would God it were even!, and in the even thou shalt say, Would God it were morning!’” (Deut. 28:6,7) and added, “What a glorious book!, it contains a word for every state and every trial. ‘He has set my feet upon a rock.’”

Wednesday.—Mr. C. thought the Doctor could not live many days; his speech was more gone, and he was very weak and helpless. Often, when he could say nothing, he would lift up his eyes to heaven, and look at me to do the same. Was weaker still in the evening; and Mr. C. thought he could not survive twelve hours.

Friday.—The Doctor lay praying all night, continually lifting up his eyes, and saying a great deal which could not be understood. I could only occasionally understand a few ejaculations, such as, “Dear Lord, help!” “Jesus, help!” “Come, come!” “Take home.” He looked round to me frequently, evidently anxious that I should understand what he was saying. I said, “You wish me to know you think you are dying.” He nodded, and tried to say, “Yes,” and seemed glad at being understood. I continued, “You are happy?” He smiled, and replied in the same way. I then said, “You say you want to go home.” He replied as before; and appeared more satisfied afterwards. I then repeated that portion of the 23rd Psalm to him, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” His countenance expressed much peace and comfort.

Saturday, June 26th.— Continued about the same as the previous night, except taking less notice, but praying much, with greater feebleness of expression. At night it was evident he was very fast sinking, and could not continue many hours.

Sunday, June 27th.—The Doctor kept frequently looking up to heaven, but could not speak or take anything until the middle of the day; when he revived a little, and took some nourishment, and again sank very low. From that time he took nothing, save a little moistening of the mouth and lips. In the evening, about 7o’clock, his breath became very laboring and continued so; he lying in one position without being able, it seemed, to move a finger, until the following day.

Monday, June 28th. About 3 o’clock in the afternoon, his breathing became more feeble and irregular. He appeared sensible up to this time, occasionally raising his eyelids, and looking to have his lips moistened. He now closed his eyes, and his breath became more and more difficult, until 25 minutes past 7, when he peacefully and quietly breathed his last, and joined the “spirits of just men made perfect.” Aged 66 years.

Oxford Road, Islington, July 14th, 1858. M. L. C.

P. S. Perhaps it would not be out of place here to add a few more recollections relative to the last year of Dr. Cole’s life.

About twelve months ago he was under a very serious and dangerous affliction, which brought him so low that he then considered himself fast sinking, and thought he had not long to live. The Doctor never quite recovered his former strength after that illness; but it was evident that “as the outer man decayed, the inner man was renewed day by day.” His worship and conversation both showed a great ripening for glory. He was, during that illness, very richly supported and comforted by God’s word. Amongst many others, the following texts: “Before his translation, he had this testimony, that he pleased God,” (Heb. 11:5,) Rev. 7:13 to the end, and Rev. 21 he much enjoyed at this time. The Doctor often expressed the wish that he were able to preach and tell the glorious things which he saw in God’s word deeper and richer than he had ever seen and experienced them before; and would say, how kind of God to favor him with such meditations and such drawings near to himself, and at times such meltings of soul in his private worship, when he was unable to join in the public worship of God. He said, not long before his last illness, when dwelling on death, as he frequently did of late, that he hoped his language in death would be “Black, but comely.” At another time he expressed the wish, if it were God’s will, that he might have his senses in death, and be able to tell a few friends that he died in the faith he had preached.

The Doctor also said, during his last illness, “O that I could preach now, and tell the people how God can support the body in afflictions as well as the soul.” Before taking to his bed, he often prayed over the account of the sick of the palsy, and said he had no other help, he looked nowhere else. The following text was much blessed to him one night, a little before his death: “To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the hidden manna, and will give him a white stone, and in the stone a new name written which no man knoweth saving he which receiveth it;” (Rev. 2:17;) also, “God hath not appointed us to wrath, but to obtain salvation by our Lord Jesus Christ.” (1 Thess. 5:9)

M. L. C.