Articles. Happy Georgiana!"
At the beginning of 1844 he wrote, "I am tolerably well, but intolerably
old." He complained of "nothing but weakness, and loss of nervous energy."
"I look as strong as a cart-horse, but cannot get round the garden without
resting once or twice," Soon he was back again at St. Paul's, preaching a
sermon on Peace, and rebuking the "excessive proneness to War." "I shall
try the same subject again--a subject utterly untouched by the
clergy."[143] The summer passed in its usual occupations, and on the 28th
of July he preached for the last time in the pulpit of the Cathedral. His
subject was the right use of Sunday; and the sermon was a strong protest
against the increasing secularization of the holy day. The best ways of
employing Sunday, he said, were Worship, Self-Examination, and Preparation
for Death. The sermon ended with some words which indicate the sense of
impending change:--
"I never take leave of any one, for any length of time, without a deep
impression upon my mind of the uncertainty of human life, and the
probability that we may meet no more in this world."[144]
He now left London for Combe Florey. "I dine with the rich in London, and
physic the poor in the country; passing from the sauces of Dives to the
sores of Lazarus." His bodily discomforts increased, but his love of fun
never diminished.
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