.L4L i ^■■^ > PEES. HOPKINS'S DISCOURSE COMMEMOKATIVE OF AMOS LAWRENCE. 4 .»»— ► Class. Book. AA SMITHSONIAN DEPOSIT 7>} DISCOURSE COMMEMORATIVK OF j2» ^ V AMOS LAWRENCE, DELIVERED BY REQUEST OF THE STUDENTS, CHAPEL OF WILLIAMS COLLEGE, FEBRUARY 21, 1853. BT MARK HOPKINS, D. D. iS^^^' '< PRESIDENT OP THE COLLEGE. iC* ' MB j^ y PUBLISHED BY THE STUDENTS. BOSTON: PRESS OF T. R. MARVIN. 1853. F^9 z Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, by T. R. Marvin, In the Clerk's OflSce of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. DISCOUESE. JOB XXIX. 11-13. ■WHEN THE EAR HEARD ME, THEN IT BLESSED ME; AND -VVHEN THE EYE SAW ME, n GAVE WITNESS TO ME ; BECAUSE I DELIVERED THE POOR THAT CRIED, AND THE FATHERLESS, AND HIM THAT HAD NONE TO HELP HIM. THE BLESSING OF HIM THAT WAS READY TO PERISH CAME UPON ME, AND I CAUSED THE WIDOW's HEART TO SING FOR JOY. The patience of Job, in connection with such signal afflictions, has, in some measure, drawn atten- tion from the general excellence of his character. That patience was no isolated virtue, having its root in some special aptitude for it of the constitution ; but a manifestation, under varied circumstances, of that rational and central excellence that had shone forth under a different form in prosperity. It was but the circling round to us of the completed orb of his character. Not from his conduct in affliction, but in prosperity, it was, that he was called by God ' a perfect and an upright man.' Scarcely, if at all, has the world shown a finer example of all that goes to make up a complete manhood — of vivid and refined feeling, of elevated and tender sentiment, of enlarged benevolence, of parental faithfulness, of intellectual (3) power in the high form of genius, and of an exalted religious character. Up to the time mentioned in the history, these excellences had been manifested in connection with high distinction in life, with great wealth, and unin- terrupted prosperity. God had, as it is said, ' made an hedge about him, and about his house, and about all that he had on every side.' He had ' blessed the work of his hands,' and ' his substance was increased in the land ; — so that this man was the greatest of all the men of the east.' Thus exalted and prosperous, he was, of course, subject to the usual temptations of pride, and vanity, and voluptuousness, and avarice. But these he re- sisted. He did not for a moment forget his great moral relations to the Creator and to his fellow-crea- tures. He abused no power intrusted to him ; and in the acquisition^ the right estimate^ and the right use of property^ he set an example for the world. There is no indication that he was the possessor of hereditary power, or that he had any position or advantage that was not due, under tlie blessing of God, to his own exertions and force of character. But that his wealth was of his own acquisition is clearly indicated by what is said of God's having blessed the work of his hands, and of his substance as increased in the land ; also where he says, " Be- cause mine hand had gotten much," showing that it was his own hand that had gotten it. 5 And this wealth he acquired honestly. No part of it was gained by any process of which any one could complain. No furrow turned for him could bear witness against him, either that the soil was dishonestly acquired, or that the wages of the laborer were withheld. " If," says he, triumphantly, when the unjust suspicions of his friends wrung from him his vindication, — " if my land cry against me, or that the furrows likewise thereof complain ; if I have eaten the fruits thereof without money, or have caused the owners thereof to lose their life ; let thistles grow in- stead of wheat, and cockle instead of barley." Nor did he, as is too often done, either gain or save any thing by any form of hard dealing with his servants or dependants. How noble and solemn is his recog- nition of their claims to equal justice ! •" If," says he, " I did despise the cause of my man servant, or of my maid servant, when they contended with me, what then shall I do when God riseth up ? and when he visiteth, what shall I answer him'? Did not he that made me in the womb make him ? and did not one fashion us in the womb ] " Having thus acquired his property rightfully, he saw its true relations to human life, and placed upon it no undue estimate. Between the idolatry of wealth and of the other creatures of God he made no dis- tinction. " If," says he, " I have made gold my hope, or have said to the fine gold, Thou art my confidence ; if I rejoiced because my wealth was great, and because mine hand had gotten much ; if I beheld the sun when it shined, or the moon walking in bright- ness ; and my heart hath been secretly enticed, or my mouth hath kissed my hand, — this also were an iniquity to be punished by the Judge ; for I should have denied the God that is above." And the property thus acquired, and thus esti- mated, he knew how to use. He employed it in establishing his children " about him," who seem to have lived in harmony, and to have been to him a source of great comfort. He employed it also in sustaining the bountiful hospitality of the east. " The stranger," says he, " did not lodge in the street, but I opened my doors to the traveller." And especially did he employ his wealth in providing for the wants of the poor. "If," says he, "I have withheld the poor from their desire, or have caused the eyes of the widow to fail ; or have eaten my morsel myself alone, and the fatherless hath not eaten thereof ; if I have seen any perish for want of clothing, or any poor without covering ; if his loins have not blessed me, and if he were not warmed with the fleece of my sheep ; if I have lifted up my hand against the fatherless, wlicn I saw my help in the gate, — then let mine arm fall from my shoulder blade, and mine arm be broken from the bone." Of such a man it might well be expected that he could say, as he says in the text, " When the ear heard me, then it blessed me ; and when the eye saw me, it gave witness to me ; because I delivered the poor that cried, and the fatherless, and him that had none to help him. The blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon me, and I caused the widow's heart to sing for joy." These words, thus spoken by Job, could have been applied to themselves by few men who have since lived, more appropriately than by a distinguished Benefactor of this College, who has recently been taken from the earth. It is known to his friends that Mr. Lawrence stood in the first rank among men in those qualities, both of the head and of the heart, that adorn humanity, and to some of these I may hereafter refer ; but he was known to the public chiefly for his acquisition^ his estimate, and his use of wealth. With an integrity as unsullied as that of Job in the acquisition of property, and with a heart as large and a hand as open in its distribution, if we make allowance for the different length of human life, his charities were probably not less extensive. Among the men of great wealth who have died in this country, he stands, so far as I know, in some respects alone ; and rising as he did from moderate circumstances, there cannot but be involved in his course lessons of instruction, great principles demand- ing not only careful, but special attention in this day of the vast increase, the rapid acquisition, and the selfish and reckless expenditure of wealth. Perhaps one purpose for which he was raised up was to call attention to these lessons and principles. Perhaps the time may be near when higher and more rational views in regard to property and its uses shall prevail ; when numbers shall escape from that weary and monotonous round of mammon — the toilsome and careful accumulation, till death, of sums that gener- ally depress the manhood, and often ruin the charac- ter, of those for whom they are laid up; when it shall be seen that it is not money, but the ' love of money,' that is the ' root of all evil,' and that property is a great trust. Concerning all this, Mr. Law^rence made no new discovery, but he did what is often quite as important. He saw, as by intuition, great practical principles, and by embodying them in ac- tual life, he gave to some that had fallen much into desuetude the freshness and force of anew discovery. He did in his department and sphere what Howard and ]Mills did in theirs. Like most men in this country who have jDosscsscd great wealth, Mr. Lawrence was indebted for it to his own exertions. His parents were of the old Pu- ritan stock, and the formative influences of his child- hood were those of a religious New England flimily. His father shared deeply in the spirit and perils of '76. He belonged to a company of ' minute men ; ' and on the very day of his marriage the alarm was given, his company was called for, and he left his bride, and without returning, gave himself for months to the service of his country. He was a farmer, and a man 9 of standing and influence both in the town and in the church. Above poverty and dependence, he was yet unable to do more for his children than to give them the means of education accessible in their na- tive town, and place them in favorable positions to be the artificers of their own fortune. With the stern manliness that oftenest overlies the deepest and tenderest feelings, he showed them that he was will- ing to make any sacrifice for their good, and they reciprocated the feeling. At the usual age, Mr. Lawrence was placed in a store in Groton as a clerk. This clerkship he re- garded as the turning point of his life, and was wont to trace back his success to the course he then took. He was placed with a man past middle age, who had been long in business, and was supposed to be wealthy. This man spent the most of his time in the store, but did very little, employing several clerks. It was the usage in those days to 'treat' customers after they had traded, the clerks preparing the various mixtures, and often drinking with them. To this usage Mr. Lawrence confonned for a short time, but soon observed that the owner of the store generally showed before night that he had gone too far, and that the older clerks were fast following in his foot- steps. His mind was soon made up. Understanding perfectly the ridicule he should meet with, and w^hich for a time he did meet with in its fullest measure, he yet took at once the ground of total abstinence. 10 Such a stand, taken at such an age, in such circum- stances of temptation, before temperance societies had been heard of, or the investigations had been com- menced on wliich they were based, was a striking in- stance of that practical judgment and decision which characterized liim through life. About the same time, he came to a similar decision in regard to to- bacco, and never used it in any form. In the wisdom of his course on both these points he was confirmed by all his subsequent observation. The man in whose store he was, died a bankrupt and a drunkard ; and every one of those clerks, together with other young men in the village similarly situated, had long since found drunkards' graves. In a letter received from him last summer, which accompanied fifty copies of " Stories on Tobacco, by Uncle Toby," after stating that he had never used it, he says, " To this absti- nence from its use (and from rum) I owe, under God, my present position in society. Further, I have always given the preference, among such persons as I have employed for more than forty years past, to such as avoided rum and tobacco, — and my experience has been to confirm me that it is true wisdom to have done so. The evil is growing in a fearfully rapid ratio among us, and requires the steady course of respected and honored men to prevent its spread, by influen- cing the scliool children of our land against becoming its slaves." Who can tell the bearing upon his busi- ness of thus employing men of unclouded intellect, li and steady nerves, having the power of self-control 1 "Who can tell how many young men, without know- ing the reason, failed to obtain a place which would have been to them a fortune 1 At twenty-one, Mr. Lawrence went to Boston, not with the purpose of remaining, but to learn the fash- ions, and see how business was done there. This was in April, 1807. Instead, however, of returning to Groton, as he had intended, he was induced to ro main in Boston as a clerk. Here he so commended himself to his employers, by his energy and business talent, that they very soon offered him a place in the firm. Much to their surprise, and without any definite knowledge of their affairs, he declined the offer. He did not like their manner of doing busi- ness. Here, again, the result showed his sagacity. In less than six months they failed, and he was appointed by the creditors to take charge of the sale of the goods. This he did ; and in December went into business on his own account. He was now exposed to the temptations of a city. But he stood firm. His days were spent in business, and his evenings in useful reading. He avoided the appearance of evil, treading on no questionable ground ; and no stain or suspicion of vice ever rested upon him. Of his business career I know no particulars. I have never understood that he was, in the ordinary sense of that word, a fortunate man. His wealth 12 came to him by no lucky chances, but by a skill and an energy that commanded uniform and great suc- cess. His judgment was shown, not merely in the purchase of goods, and in the lines of business on which he entered, but also, as has been said, in his selection of agents, clerks, and partners; and in deciding whom he might safely trust. He made no bad debts. It is said there has been no man in Bos- ton who took hold of business Avith the same grasp and energy. Quick in his perceptions, deciding as by intuition, and prompt in action, he is said to have had in those days little patience with the slow, the inefficient, the dainty, or those who felt above their business. So energetic young men, in every depart- ment, are apt to feel. They think these things need not be. And perhaps they need not ; but in time they become more tolerant of them, finding, as the Saviour said of the poor, that we have them always with us. The first year his gains were small, but he dealt so promptly and honorably that his customers returned and brought others ; and thus the rills began to come in that formed the river. In a few years he placed himself at the head of a house that, for wealth and mercantile honor, was among the very first in Boston, and which continued so till the firm was dissolved by his death. For twenty-five years he continued in active busi- ness. At the end of that time, he was suddenly 13 prostrated by drinking cold water when heated. There seemed to be a paralysis of the stomach, and for many days he was not expected to recover. After that, he was subject to sudden attacks, which deprived him, sometimes for hours, of all consciousness. From that time, he was obliged to be most careful of his diet. His food was of the simplest kind, was eaten by weight, and for twenty years he sat down at no meal with his family. His attacks often came without warning; he expected to die, as he did, in one of them, and hence expressively called himself, in mili- tary phrase, ' a minute man.' From this time he gave no attention to the details of business, but re- mained the senior partner of the firm, giving counsel and general direction, and being consulted and relied on in all questions of difficulty and importance. In speaking of the acquisition of his property, and as indicating his sagacity and enterprise, it may be mentioned that Mr. Lawrence was among the earliest and most successful of those who engaged in manufactures. Of his estimate of property, and of the modes in which it can be made to contribute to the enjoyment of its possessor, and to human well being, we can judge only from the use that he made of it. It has been supposed by some that his habit of gi\ing largely commenced with his ill health ; but this 14 was by no means the case. It is known that it extended back to the period of his early prosperity, and kept pace with that. He had a sense of re- ligious obligation, and a benevolent heart ; and then, with the same sagacity that governed his business transactions, he perceived the tendency there is in accumulation to increase the love of money, and guarded against it. In his busiest days, he had pasted, in large letters, in his pocket book, passages of Scripture inculcating liberality, and the obliga- tion of good stewardship. But while this was so, we cannot suppose that his views were not modified by the loss of his health. Often struck down in a moment, and awaking to con- sciousness as from the sleep of death, and then re- maining for weeks so feeble that neither he nor his friends expected his recovery, he was led to look fully and calmly at death, and must have gained views of life and its ends which another discipline would not have given him. This was doubtless a part of God's preparation of him for the work he was to do, and he so regarded it. Thenceforth he lived to do good. When it was that he came to the determination not to increase his property I do not know. Nor do I know the whole amount of his charities. Probably that will never be known. I am, however, safe in saying, that, since 1840, his benefactions have not been less than five hundred thousand dollars. 15 This he did not dispense at random, nor yet by any rigid and inflexible system that could not be moulded and shaped by the calls and aspects of each new day. He wished to know his duty as a Christian man, and to do it, and to gratify his best affections. He aided family connections near and remote, and old friends and acquaintances. If any of them needed a few hundred dollars to help 'them over a difficult position, it was sure to come. But his sympathy was not lim- ited at all to kindred or acquaintance, or in any way narrowed by sect or party. He was a true man, in sympathy with suffering humanity, and was always glad — it gave him real pleasure — to find a worthy object of his bounty. He sought out such objects. He learned histories of reverses, and of noble struggles with adversity, that were stranger than fiction. Those thus struggling he placed in positions to help them- selves, furnishing them, if necessary, with sums from one hundred to a thousand dollars, or more, as freely as he would have given a cup of cold water. He visited almshouses, and hospitals, and insane asylums, and retreats for the deaf and dumb, and the blind, and became deeply interested in many of their in- mates. He was watchful of every thing needed there for comfort or for instruction, and his presence always carried sunshine with it. He distributed useful books. He aided genius, and encouraged promising talent. A true son of New England, he appreciated education, and gave his money and his influence to 16 extend it, and to elevate its standard in every grade of our institutions, from the primary school in Bos- ton to the College. Not only the Academy at Groton but several Colleges, and more particularly this Col- lege, were largely aided by him. Other persons have aided this College generously, and have our thanks and those of the public ; but he was its chief benefactor. With one exception,* he is the only person who has ever given the Col- lege, at any one time, a larger sum than one thousand dollars, and the only person who has thus given more than that to its unrestricted use. As your request that I should address you on this occasion had its origin in his benefactions to the Col- lege, some account of them will be expected. In October, 1841, the building known as the East College was burned. Needy as the institution was before, this rendered necessary an application to the legislature for funds, and when this failed, to the public at large. 0\ving to a panic in the money market, this application was but slightly responded to, except in this town. In Boston the amount raised was less than two thousand dollars, and the largest sum given by any indi\ddual was one hundred dollars. This sum was paid by Mr. Lawrence, who was applied to by a friend of the College ; and this, it is believed, was the only application ever made to * Woodbridge Little, Esq., who gave $2,500, and bequeathed $3,200, to aid indigent and pious young men. 17 him on its behalf. This directed his attention to the wants of the College, but nothing more was heard from him till January, 1844. At that time, I was delivering a course of the Lowell Lectures in Boston, when his son, Mr. Amos A. Lawrence, called and informed me that his father had five thousand dollars which he wished to place at the disposal of the Col- lege. As I was previously but slightly acquainted with Mr. Lawrence, and had had no conversation with him on the subject, this was to me an entire surprise ; and embarrassed as the institution then was by its debt for the new buildings, the relief and en- couragement which it brought to my own mind, and to the minds of others, friends of the College, can hardly be expressed. Still, this did not wholly re- move the debt. On hearing this casually mentioned, he said, if he had known how we were situated, he thought he should have given us more ; and the fol- lowing July, without another word on the subject, he sent me a check for five thousand dollars. This put the College out of debt, and added two or three thousand dollars to its available funds. In January, 1846, he wrote, saying he wished to see me ; and on meeting him, he said his object was to consult me about the disposition of ten thousand dollars, which he proposed to give the College. He wished to know how I thought it would do the most good. I replied at once, " By being placed at the disposal of the trustees, to be used at their discre- 18 tion." He said, " Very well ; " and that was all that passed on that pomt. So I thought, and knowing his simplicity of character and singleness of purpose, I felt no embarrassment in making that reply. Here was a beautiful exemplification of the precept of the Apostle, " He that givetli, let him do it with simpli- city." Such a man had a right to have for one of his mottoes, " Deeds, not words." This was just what was needed — not all that was needed, but it gave us some breadth and enlargement, and was a beginning in what it had long been felt must sooner or later be undertaken — the securing of an available fund suitable as a basis for such an institution. His next large gift was the library. This came from his asking me, as I was riding with him the following winter, if we wanted any thing. Nothing occurred to me at the time, and I replied in the negative ; but the next day I remembered that the trustees had voted to build a library, provided the treasurer should find it could be done for twenty-five hundred dollars. This I mentioned to him. He inquired what I supposed it would cost. I replied, five thousand dollars. He said at once, " I will give it." With his approbation, the plan of a building was subsequently adopted that would cost seven thousand dollars, and he paid that sum. A year or two subsequently, he inquired of me the price of tuition here, saying he should like to connect Groton Academy with Williams College; and he 19 paid two thousand dollars to establish four scholar- ships for any who might come from that institution. His next gift was the telescope, which cost about fif- teen hundred dollars. The history of this would in- volve some details which I have not now time to give. In 1851, accompanied by Mrs. Lawrence, he made a visit here. This was the first time either of them had seen the place. In walking over the grounds, he said they had great capabilities, but that we needed more land ; and authorized the purchase of an adja- cent piece, of four acres. This purchase was made for one thousand dollars ; and if the College can have the means of laying it out, and adorning it suitably, it will, besides furnishing scope for exercise, be a fit addition of the charms of culture to great beauty of natural scenery. In addition to these gifts, he has, at different times, enriched the library with costly books, of the expense of which I know nothing. Almost every thing we have in the form of art was given by him. In December, 1845, I received a letter from him, dated the 22d, or ' forefathers' day,' which enclosed one hundred dollars, to be used for the aid of needy students, in those emergencies which often arise. This was entirely at his own suggestion, and nothing could have been more timely or appropriate in an institution like this, where so many young men are struggling to make their own way. Since that time, he has furnished me with, at least, one hundred 20 dollars annually for that purpose, and he regarded this expenditure with much interest. Thus, in different ways, Mr. LaAvrence had given to the College between thirty and forty thousand dol- lars, and he had expressed the purpose, if he should live, of aiding it still further. Understanding, as he did, the position and wants of this College, he sympathized fully with the trustees in their purpose to raise the sum of fifty thousand dollars, and at the time of his death was exerting a most warm-hearted and powerful influence for its ac- complishment. In reference to this great effort, we feel that a strong helper is taken away. The aid which Mr. Lawrence thus gave to the College was great and indispensable, and probably no memorial of him will be more enduring than what he has done here. By this, being dead, he yet speaks, and will continue to speak in all coming time. From him will flow down enjoyment and instruction to those who shall walk these grounds, and look at the heavens through this telescope, and read the books gathered in this library, and hear instruction from teachers sustained wholly or in part by his bounty. Probably he could not have spent this money more usefully, and there is reason to believe that he could have spent it in no way to bring to himself more en- joyment. The prosperity of the College was a source of great gratification to him, and he said, more than once, that he had been many times repaid for what 21 he had done here. That he should have thus done what he did unsolicited, and that he, and, I may add, his family, should have continued to find in it so much of satisfaction, is most grateful to my own feelings, and must be so to those of every friend of the College. In doing it, he seemed to place himself in the relation, not so much of a patron of the Col- lege, as of a sympathizer and helper in a great and good work. Having thus spoken of the use of his property by Mr. Lawrence, I observe that it was distinguished by the three characteristics, which seem to me essential to the most perfect accomplishment of the ends of benevolence ; and that in two of these he was pre- eminent. The first of these is, that he gave the money in his lifetime. No man, I presume, has lived on this con- tinent, who has approximated him in the amount thus given ; and in this course there are principles involved which deserve the careful attention of those who would act conscientiously, and with the highest wisdom. There may, doubtless, be good reasons why property destined for benevolent uses should be re- tained till death, and he is justly honored who then gives it a wise direction ; but giving thus cannot fur- nish either the same test, or discipline of character, or the same enjoyment; nor can it always accom- plish the same ends. By his course, Mr. Lawrence 22 put his money to its true work long before it would have done any thing on the principle of accumula- tion, and to a work, too, to which it never could have been put in any other way. He made it sure also that that work should be done, and had the pleasure of seeing its results, and of knowing that, through it, he became the object of gratitude and affection. So doing, he showed that he stood completely above that tendency to accumulate which seems to form the chief end of most successful business men, and which, unless stronsrlv counteracted, narrows itself into avarice as old age comes on, almost with the cer- tainty of a natural law. He did stand completely above this. No one could know him without per- ceiving that in his giving there was no remnant of grudging or of reluctance; that he gave not only freely, but with gladness, as if it were the appropri- ate action of a vital energy. And in so doing, and in witnessing the results, and in the atmosphere of sympathy and love thus created, there was a test, and a discipline, and an enjoyment, as well as a benefit to others, that could have been reached in no other way. The second peculiarity in the bounty of Mr. Law- rence, and in which he was preeminent, was the personal attention and sympathy which he bestowed with it. He had in his house a room where he kept stores of useful articles for distribution. He made up the bundle, he directed the package. No detail 23 was overlooked. He remembered the children, and designated for each the toy, the book, the elegant gift. He thought of every want, and was ingenious and happy in devising appropriate gifts. In this attention to the minutest token of regard, while, at the same time, he could give away thousands like a prince, I have known no one like him. And if the gift was appropriate, the manner of giving was not less so. There was in this the nicest appreciation of the feel- ings of others, and an intuitive perception of delicacy and propriety. These were the characteristics that gave him a hold upon the hearts of many, and made his death really felt as that of few other men in Boston could have been. In these we find not a little of the utility, and much of the beauty, of charity. Even in his human life, man does not live by bread alone, but by sympathy, and the play of reciprocal affection ; and is often more touched by the kindness than by the relief Only this sympathy it is that can establish the right relation between the rich and the poor, and the necessity for this can be superseded by no legal provision. This only can neutralize the repellent and aggressive tendencies of individuals and of classes, and make society a brotherhood, where the various inequalities shall work out moral good, and where acts of mutual kindness and help- fulness may pass and repass as upon a golden chain, during a brief pilgrimage and scene of probation. It is a great and a good thing for a rich man to set 24 the stream of charity in motion, to employ an agent, to send a check, to found an asylum, to endow a professorship, to open a fountain that shall flow for ages ; but it is as diflerent from sympathy with present suffering, and the relief of immediate want, as the building of a dam to turn a factory by one great sluiceway, is from the irrigation of the fields. Both ought to be done. By Mr. Lawrence both were done. The third characteristic referred to, of the bounty of Mr. Lawrence, was, that he gave as a Christian man, — from a sense of religious obligation. Not that all his gifts had a religious aspect. He gave gifts of friendship and of affection. There was a large enclosure where the affections walked foremost, and where, though they asked leave of Duty, they yet received no prompting from her. Whether he always drew this line rightly, whether in the measure and direction of his charities he was always right, whether so much of diff"usion and individuality was wise, it is not for me to say. Certain it is, that this form of charity holds a place in the church, now, less prominent relatively than it did in the early ages ; and it may be that the proportions of Christian char- acter, in portions of the church, need to be remod- elled and recast in this respect. These are ques- tions for each individual. It is sufficient to know that ]\Ir. Lawrence looked the great doctrine of stewardship full in the face, and prayed earnestly 25 over it, and responded to it practically as few have done. This is what is chiefly needed by us all, as intrusted by God with our various gifts and means of influence. This it is that is needed by men of wealth. The feeling of the absolute ownership of property, and of the full right of its disposal within the range of human law, is entirely different from that of steward- ship — of a trust held under another, and to be admin- istered with reference to his will. This position is one which the man of wealth is most slow to take. Every natural feeling resists it. But not till this position is taken will the man himself find his true place, or wealth its true uses, or the wealthy them- selves the highest and the appropriate blessedness which it can confer. That Mr. Lawrence took this position, will ap- pear by an extract from one of his letters, " If," he writes, " by the consecration of my earthly pos- sessions to some extent, I can make the Christian character practically more lovely, and illustrate, in my own case, that the highest enjoyments here are promoted by the free use of the good things intrusted to us, what so good use can I make of them ? I feel that my stewardship is a very imperfect one, and that my use of these good things might be extended prof- itably to myself" Hitherto wealth has been a great corrupter. It has inflamed the passions, and narrowed the heart, 26 and made it sordid. It has been harder for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of heaven than for a camel to go through the eye of a needle. The pro- bation of wealth has been more perilous than that of poverty. But let this broad position of steward- ship be taken, and under it let the characteristics before mentioned come in ; let the rich man no longer reverse in its spirit the precept to do with his might what his hand findeth to do because there is no work in the grave, and refuse to do any thing till he goes there, and because he is going there ; let him hold always his own heart close to the beating heart of humanity, so that they shall throb with a common pulsation, — and these evils will vanish, and will bear away with them many of the chief evils of society. The man rich in this world will be " rich in good works, ready to distribute, willing to communi- cate." He will not do a vain work, that shall have no relation to the great plans of God ; and " at his end be a fool." He will lift up his eyes upon a world lying in wickedness, and in consequent suffer- ing, and will seek to remove the wickedness, and to relie"S'e the suffering. The accumulated and con- centrated water that had before carried desolation in its course, and left its channel dry and dusty, will now show a long track of verdure where it flows ; it will find its way to the roots of a thousand flowers, that shall cover the earth with their beauty, and fill the air with their perfume. 27 In what has now been said, some traits of the character of Mr. Lawrence have been indicated. Something more of him you may wish to know, and it may be proper for me to state ; but it must be with a painful sense of its inadequacy. Words and descriptions must fail to convey to others an impres- sion of what he was to his friends. This must always be so where the strength of a character lies so much as did his in the affections. You may give to the perished flower its botanical name and scientific description, but this is not to see it in its living beauty, and to enter the sphere of its fra- grance. Undoubtedly he was a man of great original pow- ers. On this point I have had but one opinion since knowing him. His mind was not speculative, dis- cursive, metaphysical ; but in the high moral quali- ties, in decision and energy, in intuitive perception and sound practical judgment, in the sensibilities and affections, and in the imagination, he was great. Like all remarkable men who are not one-sided, he had large faculties, which found their harmony in their conflict, or rather in their balance. He was quick and tender in his feelings, yet firm ; ardent in his affections, yet judicious ; large in his gifts, yet discriminating ; he was a keen observer, yet kind in his feelings ; he had a fertile and shaping imagination — he built air castles, and they vanished, and then he built others ; but when he decided to build any thing 28 on the ground, it was well planned and promptly finished. His tastes were natural and simple, his habits plain, and his fccliugs always fresh, genuine, and youthful. Not even the smell of the fire of pros- perity had passed on him. He shunned notoriety. He had a strong repugnance to all affectation, and pretence, and misplaced finery. A young man with rings on his fingers had small chance of employment or favor from him. He was impatient of talk when action was called for, and of all attempts to substi- tute talk for action. His command over the English language, especially in writing, indicated his power. Style is no mechan- ical product, that can be formed by rules, but is the outgrowth and image of the mind ; and his had often great felicity and strength. When he wrote under the impulse of his feelings, he seemed to impregnate the very paper, and make it redolent of them. He loved nature, and instead of becoming insensi- ble to it as years came on, it seemed rather to open upon him like a new revelation. It was full of life and of teaching, and the charms of natural beauty were heightened by those associations which his quick imagination connected with its objects and scenes. After the death of two of his children, he says, " Dear S , and E , speak in words without sound through every breeze, and in every flower, and 29 in the fragrance of every perfume from the fields or the trees." Years ago, after a long confinement, with little hope of recovery, he visited, when first able to get out, the Panorama of Jerusalem, then on exhibition in Boston, and remained there till the scene took full possession of his mind. Shortly after, on a fine day, he rode out to Brookline ; and as returning health threw over those hills a mantle of beauty that he had never seen before, they were -immediately associated in his mind with the Panorama of Jerusalem, and then with the glories of the Jerusalem above. This association was indisso- luble, and he would take his friends out to see his ' Mount Zion.' In 1850, he says, " It really seems to me like the sides of Mount Zion, and that I can cling to them as I view them." Soon after the death of his youngest son, a storm rent a large bough from one of the oaks that shel- tered his grave. The oak bled, and when he saw it, he applied it to himself The next time he visited Mount Auburn, the gardener had removed all appear- ance of injury, and covered the wound with what seemed to be bark ; and he fancied that the remaining portions of the tree had now a more vigorous growth. This thrilled him — it was a sermon, and his appli- cation of it will be seen in the following extract : " And then again the calls, as I visit Mount Auburn, speak to me with an eloquence that no tongue can equal, when I see the old oak holding its head erect, 30 its opposite branches more extended ; its leaves have been greener, larger, and more numerous, as its whole nourishment has gone into one side of the tree the past year, and thus have taught me that my precious ones secured, would encourage me to cheer on such as need the shade and encouragement this old oak can supply." Hear him again, at the close of 1851, associating natural beauty with social blessings.. " The closing of the old year," says he, " was like our western ho- rizon after sunset, bright and beautiful ; the opening of the new, radiant with life, light, and hope, and crowned with such a costume of love as few old fathers, grandfathers, and uncles can muster." Thus sensitive to the pulsations and suggestions of nature, it might be expected that he would be still more so within the sphere of the domestic affec- tions. He was ; and in these, few men have been as happy. His home was all that a home could be ; and then, like Job, he had his children about him, and his children's children. Bereaved of two of his children, he could still say, " And with all these pre- cious ones left, it seems as though I had sources of enjoyment that any man might be justified in craving. If I starve my body, I feed my spirit, and thus receive my full share of the good things of life. My greatest trouble is, not rendering due returns for these." This is a charmed circle with which the stranger may not intermeddle ; but perhaps a single 31 extract, showing his feelings on the return of his son from abroad, may be allowed. " The intelligence of son W 's arrival in New York preceded his arrival in Boston only one hour ; and the effect of the intel- ligence was like the gas which is called laughing gas, only with me it was crying. In truth, it was more than I could stand ; and I allowed nature fair play, and cried, and gave utterance to my feelings aloud and alone, as I did not wish my wife to know how it was with me. By the time W came, I was self- possessed in a good degree, and for three days I have lived, in the matter of enjoyment, full three months." With such avenues of enjoyment open, though sometimes pitied as an invalid, he might well be, as he was, a most cheerful and happy man. As inti- mated in an extract above, his abstemiousness may have made him more keenly alive to the higher sources of enjoyment, and even in sensitive good he did not regard himself as a loser. " If," says he, " your young folks want to know the true meaning of epicureanism, tell them to take some bits of coarse bread, (one ounce and a little more,) soak them in three gills of coarse meal gruel, and make their din- ner of them and nothing else, beginning very hungry and leaving off more hungry. The food is delicious, and such as no modern epicureanism can equal." But man has wants deeper than can be supplied by wealth, or nature, or domestic affections. His 32 great relations are to his God and to eternity. This Mr. Lawrence felt, and he was a deeply religious man. His trust in God, and his hope of salvation through Christ, were the basis of his character. He- believed in the providence of God as concerned in all events, and as discriminating and retributive in this world. He felt that he could trust God in his providence where he could not see. " The events of my life," he writes, " have so far been ordered in a way to make me feel that I know nothing at the time except that a Father rules ; and his discipline, however severe, is never more so than is required." He believed in the Bible, and saw rightly its relation to all our blessings. " What," he writes again, " should we do if the Bible were not the foundation of our system of self-government 1 and what will become of us when we wilfully and wickedly cast it behind us '? " He read the Bible morning and evening in his family, and prayed with them ; and it may aid those who are acquainted with the prayers of Thorn- ton, in forming a conception of his religious charac- ter, to know that he used them. Family religion lie esteemed as above all price ; and when he first learned that a beloved relative had established family wor- ship, he wept for joy. He distributed religious books very extensively, chiefly those of the American Tract Society and of the Sunday School Union. He be- lieved in revivals of religion, and prayed for them. In 1848, he wrote, " This religious awakening among 33 your college students is among the blessings that our Father vouchsafes to his servants who labor faith- fully in their work, and I can see his hand as plainly in it as though it was thrust before my face as I write this sentence. Let us, then, bless his holy name, and thank him as disciples and followers of Christ the beloved, and urge upon these young men to come forward as ' doves to their windows.' If my work and my trusteeship have in any manner been instru- mental in this good work in your College, it will be matter of grateful thanksgiving while I live." Of the religious movement in Boston, in 1849, he says, " Our dead Unitarianism of ten or fifteen years ago is stirred up, and the deep feelings of sin, and salva- tion through the Beloved, are awakened where there seemed to be nothing but indifference and coldness, and my hope and belief is, that great good will fol- low." Still later he says, " And now let us turn to matters of more importance — the awakening of the young men of your College to their highest interest, the salvation of their souls. I have been moved to tears in reading the simple statement of the case, and I pray God to perfect the good work thus begun." Of creeds held in the understanding, but not influen- cing the life, he thought little ; and the tendency of his mind was to practical rather than doctiinal views. He believed in our Lord Jesus Christ as a Saviour, and trusted in him for salvation. He was a man of habitual prayer. The last time I visited him, he said to 34 me that he had been restless during the night, and that the only way in which he could " get quieted was by getting near to God ; " and that he went to sleep repeating a prayer. During the same visit, he spoke strongly of his readiness, and even of his desire, to depart. He viewed death with tranquillity, and hope, and preparation, for it was habitual with him. What need I say more'? At midnight the sum- mons came, — and his work was done. The vacancy caused by such a death is wide, and cannot be filled. It cannot be filled to afiection, to friendship, to those who were cheered and strength- ened by his sympathy and aid. If it can possibly be filled to this College, it cannot be to some of us. It is not now a branch from the old oak that is rent away ; itself is laid low, and those upon whose heads the sun of trouble " beats heavy," can no more find shel- ter under its broad branches. The vacancy cannot be filled ; but his name will stand high among the benefactors of the race, and his example and influ- ence will live through all time. The sphere of Mr. Lawrence and his line of life were different from those contemplated by the most of us. But success in life, in all departments, de- pends on the same general qualities ; and in these, as I have now spoken of them, he may well be an ex- ample to us. Especially would I ask you to go back 35 to that period when he was of the age of many of you, and when, as he uniformly said, the foundation of his prosperity was laid. Of this he had then no distinct foresight ; but when the lines of life that seemed almost parallel had diverged widely, he could see it, and could say, as he did, " The difference hetween doing exactly right and a little ivrong, makes all the difference between success and failure in lifer Oftener than young men suppose, when they know it not, their destiny is sealed by the pro- cesses and decisions of their own minds before they are twenty. How great and precious the results of such a life ! How different from those of a different course ! How striking that such consequences should depend on what was passing in the mind of a lad in a country store ! Who can estimate the capabilities wrapped up in any such lad \ Who, especially, can say of any one of you, what may be depending upon the course that he shall take from this time onward \ I feel, my friends, that this will take hold, not on time only, but on eternity ; and I entreat you to be wise. Let me add a single word on the position of young men in our Colleges whose facilities of education are thus furnished by a spirit of self-sacrifice, and enlightened patriotism, and Christian benevolence. It cannot be, my friends, that you are under no obli- gation to regard the spirit in which these are given, and to do your part in securing the results contem- 36 plated. Of this young men are too often reckless. They sometimes think that they pay for their educa- tion. No one pays for it. If paid for in money, few could afford it ; but for the sacrifices that have been made, and are making, in this cause, money cannot pay. There is in them a spirit of love that contem- plates high results, intellectual, moral, spiritual ; that yearns for these, and can be satisfied with noth- ing less. Such results must be realized in our insti- tutions, or they are a failure. Who, and what, then, is the young man, indolent, self-indulgent, profane, vicious, who can enter such an enclosure, and exhale an influence of disaster and of moral death 1 Only in and through you, my friends, with your intelli- gent and voluntary cooperation, can the results thus sought be secured. Who, then, will not Avork to- gether with these noble benefactors 1 Who will not be a co-worker with God \ ^\^,\^J6] LfcJa'i2