George Washington Flowers Memorial Collection DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY ESTABLISHED BY THE FAMILY OF COLONEL FLOWERS REVELATION BY FIRE SERMON J PREACHED IN WORCESTER, AUG. 17, 1862, THE SUNDAY AFTER THE BURIAL or MR. WILLIAM HUDSON, A PRIVATE IX THE TWENTY-FIFTH REGIMENT OF MASSACHUSETTS VOLUNTEERS. BY ALONZO HILL. BOSTON: PRESS OF JOHN WILSON AND SON, No. 0, Water Street. 1862. REVELATION BY FIRE: A SERMON PREACHED IN WORCESTER, AUG. 17, 1862, THE SUNDAY AFTER THE BrPJAL OF MR. WILLIAM HUDSON, A PRIVATE IX THE TWENTY-FIFTH REGIMENT OF MASSACHUSETTS VOLUNTEERS. BY ALONZO HILL. BOSTON: PRESS OF JOHN WILSON AND SON, No. 5, Water Street. 1862. [ Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2014 https://archive.org/details/revelationbyfire01hill S E E j\[ O N. 1 Cor. iii. 13: "Every man's work shall, be made manifest: for the day SHALL declare IT, BECAUSE IT SHALL BE REVEALED BY FIRE; AND THE FIRE SHALL TRY EVERY ^IAN'S WORK, OF WHAT SORT IT IS." Through means of material representation, we are here taught the sublimest truth in regard to the spi- ritual edifice which we are all to build, — the Chris- tian character and condition. In the easy flow of life, when the world goes well with us, and yesterday was as is to-day, and to-day is as shall be to-morrow, we have no test by which to measure our weakness or our strength, or to determine the degree of inward beauty or deformity. We are moulded by outward circumstances ; we cast ourselves upon the current ; we are drifted along ; and no one knows, not even ourselves, what manner of men we are, nor of what stuff we are made. But let the fiery trial come ; let there be a change in our outward condition ; let the sudden, overwhelming calamity fall ; let there be 4 the prostration of our dearest hopes, and the onset of fierce temptation, — and we shall soon learn of what material and with what solidity our spiritual house is built, — how it is mortised and braced in every part. We shall learn the strength of our principles, the firm- ness of our faith, the reality of our trust, — the abso- lute worth of our Christian characters. If they cannot stand this test, no outward appearances, no show of strength, no semblance of excellence, no habits of external conformity, will avail. We are found want- ing; and our painted, gairish structures, which we would pass off" for buildings of solid marble, granite, and gold, are swept away by the blast ; and our loss is inexpressible and irremediable. I have heard these great times in which we live described as awfully perilous to the character of this people. I have heard it said, that no scenes on earth are so fear- fully demoralizing as those of the camp and the battle-field ; that this war is plunging the nation into a gulf of moral ruin, in comparison with which all outward ruin is inconsiderable. I have heard it said, too, that it is not immoral in its tendency, but healthful, invigorating, and purifying, curing selfishness, stay- ing self-indulgence, and calling forth manliness, sympathy, and tenderness. But I think it may be 5 shown — and in this discourse I shall undertake to show — that the sterner trials of life do not so much to form the principle as to reveal and deepen the character ; that a bad man, wanting faith and affec- tion, is made worse by them; while a good man, whose motives are lofty, who walks in purity and with guarded conscience, will, through these very visita- tions, break down and sweep away all false supports, reveal what is most substantial in his life, belief, and purpose, and be made the better for them. This is my doctrine. If we would learn how great crises are great re- vealers of the character, we may find very striking illustrations in Christ's life and conversation. No- where in the world's history shall we obtain more impressive examples of the truth, that the day of God's visitation dissipates all delusions and false pre- tences, and discloses the reality of a people's devotion. Take, for instance, the hour when he was walking in Jewry, and addressing the nation in those deep, thrilling, persuasive tones in which he knew how to speak : Now is the judgment of this world." He meant to say, that the very crisis of the nation's des- tiny had now arrived, — the exact moment w^hen, by the proclamation of higher truth and the requirement 6 of higher duty, the strength of their faith and the sincerity of their professions were to be tested. God had once more come in the might of his majesty, in the storm of civil revolution and the commotion of kingdoms, and in more exacting demands upon the sincerity of their allegiance and the strength of their love. His own Messenger noAv walked the earth, and visited men in their lowly habitations. He sat upon the hillsides of Judsea, and gave utterance to those words of stern rebuke and gentle admonition which none could hear without emotion. He stood before them, the embodiment of the Divinity, in the midst of the formalities and vain hypocrisies of the temple, and the emblem of truth in presence of individual falseness and corruption ; " and the thoughts of many hearts " were now " revealed." It was the decisive hour of the nations trial: and so he proclaimed, " Now is the axe lying at the root of the trees ; and every tree which bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire." Never was there a period of more solemn moral discrimination, never a clearer or more impressive voice heard on these shores of time ; nor ever had a people more distinctly proclaimed their feebleness, falsehood, and utter rot- tenness, nor could they better comprehend their 7 coming destinies. The fig-tree — planted by the way- side, rocked by the gentle winds, warmed by the sunbeams, watered by the showers — stood with its rounded trunk and its fair show of leaves, but blasted and accursed, before them all, because barren like themselves. Moses and the prophets they had re- jected ; the Son of man — with his high commission from God, his acts of mercy, and his air of irresistible dignity and tenderness — they had scorned, and were about to put to death ; and, though one rose from the dead, they would not hear. What could save them from their doom ] They went on, unheeding, the way of their ruin, plunging deeper in their guilt, drawing around them a thicker shade of gloom. They stood and cried, " His blood be upon us and our children ! " And when was ever doom so speedy, and ruin so merciless t Their house was left unto them desolate, ^ their city became a waste, and they were scattered to the four winds of heaven. But, in the order of Providence, death is the pre- cursor as well as the sequence of life. Out of the very crisis which brings desolation and moral ruin springs that higher form of sphitual excellence which is the grand explanation of the lot of humanity. Amid the darkness and horrors which attended the cruci- 8 •fixion of the Saviour, and revealed tlie utmost depravity of man, was brought to light the reality of a disinterested goodness such as the world had never dreamed of before. At the very time when the temple of Jerusalem was become a heap of smoul- dering ruins, and the streets were running rivers of blood, and unheard-of crimes were perpetrated among the people, there was springing up in the midst the germ of a new community, rich in self-sacrificing devotion and saintly virtues. In the embers of ex- hausted pride, passion, and selfish ambition, were flickering the fires of a new spiritual life, just begin- ning to be kindled, — fires that were destined to burn in ten thousand bosoms, purify the world of its sins, and cure it of its brooding miseries. In great times, such as those of Christ's manifestation, wicked men grow more wicked, more reckless, savage, and inhu- man, through the very intensity of their sufi*erings ; while, through the same instrumentality, the true- hearted become more gentle, tender, and afi'ectionate, and the spark of divinity is fanned into a flame of inextinguishable love. So in the history of the ages and the progress of events. Great crises have ever been aflluent in the noblest and the meanest attributes of humanity. 9 The earthquake, that heaves the mountains and shakes a continent, throws up at the same time mire and dirt, and the golden and the silver ore. The hurricane, that sweeps the forest, fells to the earth the old rotten trees which have stood proudly up, and overshadowed the young and thrifty wood ; while the green and healthy sapling will stand, the pride of the hills, for the use and ornament of the coming time. So when nations are rent by civil and religious strifes, and a new era has come, the good and evil of men stand out in boldest relief. Then history is made ; for what is its chief material but the story of the earth's great convulsions, wdien the extremes of human nature, the most violent contrasts, are brought into view ? In quiet times, wdien there is no mighty stir of human passion, and no great sacrifices are demanded, the record of a whole generation fills only a single page ; but the memory lingers over scenes of violent commotion, and the account runs on into volumes : for we then have to tell of the great struggle of the human faculty, of the heart's weak- ness and strength, of the lowest depravities and the sublimest virtues. Look at the English and French devolutions. When they came with their heart- stirring and appalling events, the English and the 2 10 -French nations passed through a moral judgment, decisive Hke that which shall determine the world's final destinies, when God himself shall occupy the seat of justice, and shall separate the sheep from the goats. In those awful convulsions, the record- ing angel swept over, and the moral separation was complete. The old order of things, the usurpa- tions, impositions, and tyrannies which had grown up in tranquil times, began to be tested, and, found wanting, to be cast away as worse than useless ; while the worth of individual freedom, intelligence, and virtue, began to be seen, and a new order of things to come in its place. The old nobility, who in their pride and insolence had presumed on their transmitted privileges, were cast down ; and new families, who had won their distinction by their talents and devotion, arose in their place. How many of the names familiar in the times of St. Louis and the Norman Conquest, — names often repeated on the rolls of the nation's history, and which men for centuries had been taught to revere, — proving unworthy when the great crisis came, disappeared from the page, and gave place to other names, which were mentioned, because they who bore them, com- prehending their time, were found worthy of remem- 11 brancc ! So was it in the times of our civil strife t\yo-tliirds of a century ago. Though brief, they sifted the nation, and separated the unworthy from the Avorthy, — self-seekers, lovers of place, and syco- phants at the foot of the throne, from true patriots and noble Christian men. They dropped and made no lonsjer mention of the Hutchinsons and the Olivers, and their Board of pliant Councillors, but spoke of the Adamses and Hancocks and Otises. Great days draw deeply the line of discrimination. The trial comes, and he that was filthy will be seen to be filthy still ; but he that was true and noble, dis- interested and devoted, will shine as a light in the firmament. Just so it is, and just so it will prove, in our own great trial-hour. A nation is in arms. The Xorth and the South are delus^inor the continent with each other's blood. The social fabric rocks to and fro. A crisis has arrived, in which, unless it be shortened, no fiesh can be saved. And do you suppose that it will come and go without revealing the characters of men, and separating the chaff" from the wheat ? In God's great ordering, it cannot be. The miserable politi- cian, who has no service and no thought but for himself, must now retire, and all his plausibilities and 12 nicely adjusted schemes perish amid the tremendous realities which occupy men ; and the poor military official, who claims much because of his academic distinctions or his rare opportunities, albeit abused by habits of self-indulgence, now convicted of incompe- tency, must give place to fresh men, — the gifted, the enterprising, and devoted,— who will stand with bared breast between their country and her harm, and pour out their blood like rain, if the sacrifice may but redeem her perilled life. Look at the subject on a broad scale ; trace the history and destiny of nations : and is it not perfectly clear, that great crises are the revealers of men ; that by the throes of the State are brought to light the weakness, follies, and vices which work her ruin, and the resplendent vir- tues which are a wall of fire round about her, and a glory in the midst of her ? " Every man's work shall be revealed as by fire ; and the fire shall try every man's work, of what sort it is." We are to-day try- ing, as they have never been tried before, the reality and depth of our patriotism. We are trying the strength of the Republic, and the worth of the insti- tutions with which God has blessed us and our fathers before us. Let them survive the shock that is now upon them, and they will stand before the world the 13 noblest monument of human wisdom, and the richest gift of God's benignant providence. What is true of nations and communities of men is also true of individuals. Great trials test their inward character, and bring it out in bold relief. How many live and die unappreciated because they have had no opportunity for expression ! How many do not know themselves, their strength or weakness, their power to do and dare and endure, because they have never been tried ! Men and women of heroic and saintly virtues, compelled to walk in obscure paths, obtain no memory on earth ; but let the occasion come, and they will stand conspicuous among the honored and trusted. It is said that the genius of the great Emperor Napoleon was never more signally displayed than in the ready discern- ment with which he detected ability in the meanest guises, and the skill with which he would apply it to his own uses. From his elevated position as com- mander of great armies, he would look along the lines, and from the very ranks select the general of division and the marshal of the empire ; and from the awful scenes of the battle-field, where energy, courage, and constancy are made conspicuous, choose those to Avhom he would intrust the most difficult 14 enterprises, and with whom he would share the toils of state. So great occasions are imperial in their gift of insight. They reveal even to the transient eye the qualities which otherwise had remained hidden for ever. Ordinarily, men take their places side by side, clothed in like garb, and with like form and feature, and you shall not distinguish them ; but let the occasion come, — some disinterested act to be done, some heavy burthen to be lifted, some fearful calamity to be borne, — and they will stand revealed before you, as widely different in inward resources, in strength of character, and the perfection of their graces, as if they belonged to different species, and had been trained on opposite circles of the globe. How often have I seen men, devoted to the little cares of the shop or the field, walking apart on their own path and responsibility, calling forth no remark, and attracting no attention, yet, under a change of cir- cumstances, disclosing mines of unsuspected richness, awakening admiration, and thrilling with sweet sur- prises ! How often have I seen women, tenderly and delicately nurtured, accustomed to ease and luxury and unrestrained indulgence, yet tried, beset with difficulty, pressed down wdth cares, urged on by a noble aim, putting forth a courage, energy, and 15 perseverance of which they never suspected them- selves possessed ! I think of women of whom I have read, — refined, gentle, loving, — leaving a home of luxury, and the comforts of civilized and social life, for the sake of the Heathen ; of women like Mrs. Judson, — the East-India missionary, — who stood alone unmoved in the midst of a savage mob, with a woman's instincts, and, with more than woman's valor, guarded the besieged prison of her husband, and vindicated his honor, winning admiration and receiv- ing honors from the British army, as if she had been a queen. I think of women whom I have known, once courted and flattered, but, through altered circum- stances, left in charge of a large family of children to struggle with their lot, in feeble health and with straitened means, yet, with a brave heart and un- wavering trust, undertaking the unequal task, perse- vering day by day, year by year, uncomplaining, undespairing, serene amid the troubled waters, cheerful in the darkest hour, rising with the threat- ening billow, triumphing at last. And, when I think of such, I ask not why troubles are sent; but I thank God for the mines of marvellous excellence, the inw^ard strength, beauty, and grace, which they reveal. 16 I might show, from every condition in life, how out of its great trials flow the heroic and saintly virtues. The doctrine finds especial illustration in those awful scenes of carnage which are changing our country into one huge battle-field. No sorer calamity can visit a people than a civil war; and yet I might go on, and gather, from the history of the campaign, incidents to show that there are no such revealers of inward power as are found in the midst of its very horrors. I could tell, you of young men from our cities, used only to the refinements of a highly cultivated state of society, w^elcoming the privations and hardships of the camp, enduring the long march, and keeping their dreary night-watch without a murmur ; in their first battle, thinking, like young Shurtlefi", not of themselves, but of their command ; or faUing on a bloody field like Lowell, and borne away by merciless foes, yet maintaining such angelic sweetness in their sufi'erings as to win their admira- tion ; or mortally wounded like Putnam, yet, with a chivalry akin to that of Sir Philip Sidney, rejecting the profi'ered attentions of the surgeon, and refusing a draught of cold water in tenderness towards a dying soldier lying by their side. I could tell you of rough, care-worn men, familiar with the rudeness of the 17 camp and the awful scenes of the battle, and yet gentle, tender, and full of sympathy, as if all their lives they had been attendants, in the hospitals, of the sick and wounded. But I leave all these, and tell of one who has often met with us here on these pleasant sabbath mornings, and whom we last week bore, wrapped in his coun- try's flag, to our beautiful cemetery. I speak of Mr. Hudson* gratefully, because of the thirty young men of this parish, who have been enrolled in the service of the Union, he is the first that has fallen in the campaign. Others at home, younger than he, have sunk, the victims of ordinary disease ; but none, until now, have come from the distant field of warfare to claim a place at the side of then* kindred. I speak of him, too, the more freely, because, among the seven hundred thousand devoted men who have gone forth for the defence of the country, none have * Mr. William Hudson was born in Boston on St. Patrick's Day, March 17, 1822. In childhood he was removed to Lexington ; and there, in the midst of the scenes of the first battle of the Revolution, its associations and heart-stirring me- mories, and in sight of its monument, he spent his youth and early manhood. He came to Worcester with his family about eight years ago, and was a partner in a respectable shoe manufactory in this city. He enlisted for the war in Company H, Capt. Moulton ; and was much respected by officers and men. He went with his regiment into active service in North Carolina, and never returned to his home again but for his burial. 3 18 gone with more of disinterested love, with more of singleness and unselfish devotion, than he. An only son, a parent's happiness bound up in his, engaged in a successful business, at the head of a little family, wife and children as dear to him as ours are to any of us, he might have claimed exemption from mili- tary service if any of us can, and, with a clear conscience, have made no response to his country's call ; and we who saw him, day by day, a quiet, thoughtful man, pursuing his quiet, thoughtful ways, apart from the popular excitement, would have said, " He surely will never be allured from the peaceful pursuits which occupy him and the home that he loves. He hears not the noise of the spreading storm. He sees not the shadow of the coming cala- mity. He will linger long. He will not be swift to engage in great and perilous enterprises." How lit- tle, my friends, do we comprehend the men whom we daily meet, until some signal crisis calls them out! I had not conceived of the fires of fervent patriotism that were burning in his bosom, I knew not how pro- found were his convictions of duty, how mighty was the stir of his bosom, and how sincere the offering of his best service, until I saw him last autumn on the field of encampment, a volunteer for the war. He 19 had joined the Twenty-fifth Regiment of Massachu- setts Volunteers in the capacity of private, ready to do the duty and endure the hardships of a private. I well remember the surprise which I expressed, and shall not forget the look of determination with which he responded. Marching with his regiment to the seat of war, he was attached to the command of Gen. Burnside. Prompt, active, intelligent, and capable, it was soon perceived that he could do better service elsewhere than in the ranks. He was selected as one of the signal corps connected with the Burnside Expedition. In the sailing of that expedition, he encountered a more than full share of its perils and disasters. Placed on a leaky vessel, and driven out to sea, he was tossed about in the Gulf Stream for fourteen days in fearful stress, and imminent danger of foundering. But spared, and once more permitted to join the army, he was present in all the stirring scenes of Roanoke and Newborn ; and, in consequence of his especial duties, was never far from the front lines and the post of danger. But, wherever he was, he was faith- ful to the one vow with which he left the endearments of home, and entered on his untried way : that was, to serve his country as best he might in any capacity, 20 without fear of personal loss, or hope of personal gain. As connected with the army signals, I learn that his services were particularly valuable. He was observant, exact, laborious, watchful over his habits, faithful in the minutest duty, and altogether trust- worthy. The movements of the army, the very success of the campaign, might safely rest on his fidelity. But his duties exposed him to the rains and dews and burning heats of that sickly climate. The firm- est health, the most guarded watchfulness, could not prevent the access of disease ; for the malaria hangs over the swamps, and the night air is pestilential, poisoning the very fountains of life. He was seized with the Southern fever. It was rioting in his veins : but, always hopeful, he still worked on, until his exhausted strength compelled him to seek the shelter of the hospital, and the constant service of the physician ; and then it was too late. The seeds of death were sown, and its harvest could not long be delayed. Friends whom you and I know were around his bed, with sleepless watch and careful and tender nursing. But human aid could not now avail, nor the prayers of many save him. He sunk day by day ; though there were seasons of apparent reviving, 21 when his countenance would light up as they spoke of his speedy recovery, and of the friends whom he would meet in his far Northern home. But it was only the flicker of the dying lamp. Hopes were awakened only to be disappointed. The light gleamed for a moment, only to be followed by a deeper darkness. Letters came, and told that on Wednesday, Aug. 6, the crisis was past, and he would soon be well. Letters came again, and told that on Thursday, Aug. 7, his warfare was over, and he had gone to his rest, — having lived a hero's life, and died a hero's death, as undeniably as if a nation had mourned for his departure, and cities and villages had united to deck the grave where he lies. I have thus endeavored to show how man's work is revealed by fire ; how great and trying times disclose his character, and bring to the light virtues and graces which else had never been known. Terrible days and seasons of awful calamity strip away the veil of seeming goodness, and bring us face to face with sternest realities. Let us accept, then, these signal days which God has chosen, to prove the sin- cerity of our aims and the integrity of our lives. They are days which, in their sudden and overwhelm- ning vicissitudes and imperative exactions, try us as 22 by fire. And, my friends, we must shrink from, we must fear them ; we must be appalled by the awful events which they bring, just as we are unprepared by moral watchfulness and spiritual strength to meet them. If we venture to encounter them as we do or- dinary days, — with lightness and feebleness, habits of self-indulgence, reckless living, and moral waste, — then, be sure, these scenes of civil conflict and car- nage, from the visions of which in our sleep we awake to a more dreadful reality, will only serve to deepen the gloom and bring on speedier destruction. But if, in a spirit of profound trust, of generous sym- pathy and hearty devotion to the interests of country, religion, and humanity, we will put on the whole armor of God, — helmet, buckler, and crested mail, — then will the great trial, shedding unconscious, unac- knowledged influences, scatter blessings on its way, give depth to our convictions, purity to our purposes, and sincerity to our prayers. Then will the awful visitation, the agony and strife of the hour, stir up and mould anew our whole inner being, and the day of darkness help to prepare for the day which no night shall follow. God be Avith you, my friends, and succor you in the great urgency of the times ! God soothe your 23 anxieties ! God sanctify your bereavements, and out of these sore troubles bring life and peace and blessedness eternal ! " Mourn ye not as they Whose spirit-light is quenched. For him the past Is sealed. He may not fall ; he may not cast His birthright hope away. All is not here of your beloved and blessed : Leave ye the sleeper with his God to rest." \ 973.79 Z99M v. 7 no.l^io 364456 IHIS VOLUME DOES NOT CIRCULATt OUTSIDE THE LIBRARY BUILDIMC