LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. I ^ i>' \ ^¥^.// .MSS?^ i ! # I UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. ^ %\ ^=^^ife^Ht 4- TWO DISCOURS_ES PREACHED BEFORE THE FIRST CONGREGATIONAL SOCIETY IN MEDFORD; ONE UPON LEAVING THE OLD CHURCH; ^ND ONE ■i^ AT THE DEDICATION OF THE NEW. BY CALEB STETSON, Minister of the Society. PRINTED BY ISAAC R. BUTTS 1840. ■ \a 'M TWO DISCOURSES PREACHED BEFORE THE FIRST CONGREGATIONAL SOCIETY IN M E D F O R D ; ONE UPON LEAVING THE OLD CHURCH; AND ONE AT THE DEDICATION OF THE NEW BY CALEB STETSON Ministejc^ uf the. Society. PRINTED BY ISAAC R. BUTTS 1S40. r A DISCOURSE TAKING LEAVE OF THE OLD CHURCH, DELIVERED ON SUNDAY, 31 AY 12, 1839. DISCOURSE 1.* UPON LKAVING THE OLD CHURCH 1 Chronicles, xvii, 1. Now it caino to pass, as David sat in his house, that he said to Nathan, the projilR't, Lo ! 1 (Iwtll in a house of cedars, but the Ark of the Covenant of the Lord reiiiaiiicth under curtains. This is the expression of a very natural feeling. The minstrel king was fervent and imaginative, full of poetic inspiration and of holy zeal for the worship of tlie God of Israel. As he sat in his apartments, sur- rounded with all the magnificence of Eastern Royalty, lie jia'mfully felt the contrast between the jrrandcur of his own palace and the lowliness of the Tabernacle, that sheltered the consecrated Ark of the Covenant. There are few persons of any devout sentiment, who do not sympathize with the feelings of David. We know indeed that there is a temple not made with hands, holier than any which is built of wood and stones. There the Divine Presence most intimately dwells; and there is the Altar of Sacrifice, that never moulders away by age nor is broken down by violence. The ■ This Discourse, which was delivered in two parts on account of its length, is now printed as one. visible Temple is the outward sign of God's presence ; in the soul of every pure worshipper is the Divine Re- ality. It is not then the costliness or beauty of the shrine, but the holiness of the offering, that the Father regards. But there is an instinct of the soul that will not thus be reasoned down. We feel somewhat of self- reproach, when we see our private dwellings fitted up more expensively and tastefully than the house of the Most High. We are like Hebrew worshippers, who should lead to the sacrifice, the lame, the sickly and the worthless among the lambs of their flock. Our pious forefathers, who founded our churches in the wilder- ness, and cherished them as their highest joy and dear- est hope, had but small and mean buildings for their public devotions. But then their own habitations were smaller and meaner still. These warrior saints of New- England were content to live in rude cabins, inartifi- cially constructed of rough logs. The best they had, they devoted to God. Their Meeting-house, — the erection of which was commonly the first enterprise that united their exertions — built with a substantial frame-work, and covered with unplaned and unpainted boards, rose amongst the humbler private dwellings, in comparative splendor ; as the ordinary farm-house of civilized man would be a palace in a nation of savages. The tastes and wants of man vary with times and circumstances. All the works of his hand wax old and decay. The noblest structures of one generation are superseded and removed as unfit to satisfy the wishes or necessities of another. " The fashion of this world must pass away." Let it pass away then without com- plaint. Let each successive age be the judge of its own wants. Let the edifices, that begin to crumble and totter under the heavy hand of time, be disj)laced by otliers which may better answer their end. Tliere are old things, however, from Avhicli we can- not disengage ourselves without painful emotion, though we know they are to be succeeded by something better. It is to me, my friends, a solemn and aftecting consid- eration, — how much more so, to you, who have come up here to worship from your earliest years, — that this is our last meetinj^ within these venerable walls. But we yield to the irresistible tendency of all things made by man ; they gradually decay, crumble and moulder into dust. Our greatest care could only, for a few years, have put off the ruin to which this Temple of God is liasting, in common with all earth-made structures- Let it pass away then, this House of our devotions, round which holy remembrances and associations have so long been gathering. But not unregretted and un- honored can it pass and be forgotten. Not like a shat- tered and ill-favored shed, can we bear to see it broken down and thrust aside with cold indifference. We would give it a reverent and affectionate farewell. It may be interesting to employ the last hours we are per- mitted to enjoy here, in looking into some memorials of the past with which this edifice connects us. The plantation of INIedford was begun in 1630, the same year in which Boston was founded. It was at first called IMeadford, probably from a fordway across the river in a mead, or meadow, a little above the place where the draw-bridge has since been built. Some however suppose, with equal show of reason, that it was named for one John jMead, who lived near the ford and occasionally assisted travellers in their passage. This important question 1 am wholly incompetent to 8 decide. Of the early transactions of the settlement but few and scanty notices are preserved, as its records, down to 1674, have been destroyed, it is believed, by fire. The present occasion, however, does not call for many historical details, except such as relate to the town in its ecclesiastical character. Deputy Governor Dudley, speaking of the Colonists who came from England and arrived in Massachusetts Bay in 1630, says, " Some of us planted upon Mistic, which we named Meadford." This name was given to a considerable tract, lying along both sides the river, a part of which is now included within the limits of Charlestown. Within two years from its settlement, Meadford became so considerable as to bear its part of the public expenses of the Colony. Yet for more than eighty years it had no organized church or settled ministry. It is difficult to account for a deficiency so unusual at that period, when it was the first concern of our fathers, in their severest straits, to have a pious, gifted and faithful ministry. " It was as unnatural," says Johnson, in his Wonder Working Providence, " for a right New-England man to live without an able ministry, as for a Smith to work his iron without a fire." It would seem that Medford was not too poor to support the institutions of religion, which were then justly deemed of vital importance to the well-being of a Society ; for the Colony Registers shew that it was superior hi wealth,* within the first eight years of its * The early prosperity of the plantation, may be inferred from the following Note to Gov. VVinthrop's Journal, " Of a tax of £1500 levied by the General Court in 1637, tlie proportion paid by Medford was £52 10s. The proportion of Boston was £233 10s.; Ipswich, £180; Salem, £170 10s. ; Dorchester, £140; Charlestown, £138; Roxbury, £115; Watertown, £110 ; Newton, £106; Lvnn, £105. existence, to several ancient towns which were fur- nished with regular ministers. But whatever may have been the cause of the defi- ciency, it is certain that the consequences were most disastrous. The settlement languished for many years; its prosperity was checked, and its population increased but slowly ; the inhabitants were much di- vided among themselves; and several times they were prosecuted and fined for not having a ministry estab- lished according to law. For in these early days, when the sj)irit of the puritans endeavored to embody, in this new world, its itlea of a true theocracy, the province watched with parental solicitude over the spiritual well- being of her children, — now kindly encouraging and helping them to sustain the institutions of religion, — now severely rebuking them, punishing them even, for neglecting to help themselves. Mr. Matthew Cradock, carried on the first planta- tion,* and he had also extensive fisheries in that part of Mystic, which is now called INIedford, on the north side of the river. lie is often called Governor Cra- dock ; and his name appears in some of the Annual Re- gisters, as the first Chief Magistrate of the colony. But this is a mistake. He was in fact only the head of a commercial company in England, nor is it known that he ever came to this country himself. The first governor of IMassachusetts Bay, was John Winthrop, called by Cotton Mather in his Magnalia, the " American Nehemiah," who came to this country in IGoO. lie was a man of wealth and education, * Mr. Cradock's estate was in the cast part of the town, inrludinj^ tlie heanliful farm now owned by Messrs. James ic Isaac WelliiigUju. After a few years he seems to have abandoned his establishments here. 2 10 equally eminent for his talents and his virtues. For several years he resided during the summer at his house on the south side of the river. "The Court of Assist- ance in 1631, granted to Mr. Governor six hundred acres of land, to be set forth by metes and bounds, near his house in Mistic, to enjoy to him and his heirs for- ever." This place he called the " Ten Hills Farm," a name which it bears to this day. This great and good man, who was loved and revered in his own time, and is now honored in his descendants, may justly be re- garded as the founder * of Medford, or Mistic as it was also called from the river which runs through it. The whole of this territory which lies south of the river, was afterwards annexed to Charlestown, to which it be- longed till 1755, when that portion of it, which now belongs to Medford, was set off to it by an act of the General Court. This town had no representationf in the Colonial * The following passages from Governor Winthrop's Journal intimate his con- nexion with this place. " Thursday, 1st June, 1630. We went to Massachusetts to find out a place for our sitting down. We went up Mistic River, in a boat, about six miles." " 1631, July 4. The Governor built a bark at Mistic, which was launched this day, and called the Blessing of the Bay. Aug. 9, the same year, the Governor's bark, being of thirty tons, went to sea." This arduous effort in the way of ship-building, was the first in the annals of Medford, and, I believe, the first in Massachusetts Colony. It was, no doubt, an enterprise of more difficulty than is now the building of one of those magnifi- cent packet ships, which are so often launched in our waters. " Oct. 30th, 1631. The Governor having erected a building of stone at Mistic, there came so violent a storm of rain, for twenty-four hours, that (it being not finished and laid with clay for want of lime,) two sides of it were washed dowu to the ground, and much harm was done to the other houses by that storm." t About the year 1689, the inhabitants of Medford petitioned the Legisla- ture for an act of incorporation, with the privilege of being represented in the General Court. The answer to the petition was, that " the town had been incor- porated along with the other towns in the province, by a general act passed in 1630. And under this act, it had at any time a right to organize itself and choose a representative, without further legislation." It seems, thei-efore, that Medford was both a town and a parish in 1630, — about sixty years before it recognised itself as such. Will not this neglect ot organization account for its want of" early records, without the accident of fire .' Legislature until about the year 1690, "when Lieuten- ant Peter Tufts was chosen to that office, and it was voted to pay him eighteen pence a day so long as he shall attend the General Court." Nor does it appear that there was any public school till early in the next century, when " ]\Ir. Henry Davison was chosen to keep school lor said town for one quarter of a year. Voted also to allow JMr. Davison the sum of three pounds money for keeping school the time above-stated, and also to diet him for the same." This appears to have been the first germ in this place of the public school system, which has since grown into a matter of so nuich interest and importance to our community. It is amusing to observe, from this distance of time, the economical s|)irit indicated by these arrangements in behalf of legislation and good learning. AVe are apt, however, to underrate the liberality of our ancestors, when we take into account only the nominal pecuniary value which they set upon intellectual labor. It must be considered, that in relation to the means, wants and habits of life, money was then worth five or six times as much as it is in these days of opulence and lavish expenditure. Our ancestors were a frugal people ; but there is a frugality that is not good economy. The community that withholds the means of culture from the x\A\m jreneration, withholds the bread of lil'e from the hungry. Let them be careful and circumspect in their outlay ; let them save, pinch, stint themselves as tliey will ; but let them not stint and starve the minds and souls of their children. 1 make these remarks, however, with no intention to reproach the men of another age. If they had no pub- he schools, I have no doubt that tliey supported private 12 institutions of learning according to their ability. The spirit of the age and country would not have suffered them to neglect this duty. The fathers of New-Eng- land in the seventeenth century made the education of the whole people their great concern. Their means were small, but their good will was great. They de- nied themselves, they higgled with their appetites, they drove hard bargains with their housekeeping, that they might have wherewithal to train up the young in mo- rality, religion, and sound knowledge. They gladly threw their two mites into the treasury of wisdom when it was all their living. How resolutely, and with what heroic self-sacrifice did they exert themselves, in times of severest privation, to establish and endow the col- lege, — which was so long the object of their prayer and hope, — " to the end " — as they beautifully said — " that good learning may not be buried in the graves of our fathers." These early sacrifices in the cause of education were not acts of public bodies, or gifts of the rich from their superfluity, but free-will offerings of a whole people. The virtuous and enlightened poor came up with gen- erous enthusiasm, bringing the products of their labor and self-denial, — often in shape of articles of furniture, which they could, or could not well spare from their poorly-furnished habitations. Often they contributed money, in sums so small that they would now excite a smile. But these lowly offerings of poverty indicate a noble spirit in men, worthy to become the fathers of a great nation. And while they so affectionately nourish- ed the College, they did not neglect the humbler insti- tutions of learning. In the midst of want and suffer- ing, and surrounded by a savage wilderness and more 13 savage enemies, they laid the deep and broad founda- tions of that common school system which is the glory and liope of the country, — the nursery of intelhgence, freedom and virtue. It cannot be supposed that the inhabitants of Mystic, living hard by the metropolis of this wise and enlight- ened people, were indifferent to the great interest which lay so near tlie hearts of their brother colonists. They could not have j)assed the greater part of a century without any schools for their children. Undoubtedly tliey had means of education which do not appear in their records. The documents which have survived the waste of accident and time, sliow no want of practical ability, no deficiency in the accomplishments which a connnon school is expected to bestow. The leading men, who filled the various oflices in the town, appear always to have been persons of more than ordinary capacity and endowment. I come now to the period when the town of Med- ford assumes the character of a Parish, and its ecclesi- astical history begins. Before the year 1G90, the people, having no regular church or constant preaching, attend- ed public worship in the neighboring towns. But from this time their records show that they were zealous and anxious to secure a settled ministry of the gospel ; and tliey were willing to make liberal appropriations to maintain it. Cut off as they were from all conve- nient* access to the means of grace, they severely felt * The following anecdote, related willi imirli simplicity in Governor Win- throp's Jovnniil, U an amiisins; illustration of the inconvenience of goinsi out of town to attend public worship, especially when a deep tide water without a brid^je lies in the way. " Onr Daiddn and his wife, dwellinj^ near Meadford, coining from C"aml>ridcc, where tliry had spent their Sahhath, and heing to pass over the rivi-r at a ford, the tide not JMing fallen enough, the husliand adventured over and finding it too deep, persuaded liis wife to slay awhile. Hut it raining very sore she would needs adventure over, and was carried away with the 14 the disadvantages of their condition. They could not enjoy the order and godly peace of a well-organized Christian people. A civil community without a church is a body without a soul. It is " without God in the world," when the Divinity is manifest in no religious institutions. The culture and salvation of souls re- quires some visible embodiment of the religious idea. The means of grace must be brought near, and made objects of our personal care and solicitude, or their in- fluence will never flow through the great heart of soci- ety. If they must be looked for in other towns, be- yond the sphere of our local interests and our social affections, they will be irregularly sought and unprofit- ably used. They should ever stand out prominently among the objects that most engage our attention and sympathy. Our children should be reared under the droppings of the sanctuary, that their earliest culture may be hallowed by devout reverence for God, His truth and His authority. They should see the venera- ble elders bowing in lowly and grateful worship to the Supreme Benefactor, and their whole being, mind, heart, speech, action pervaded and inspired by divine sentiments and principles. Then only will filial piety become an early habit of the soul, when religious es- tabhshments stand interwoven with the business and pleasure, the joy and sorrow of every-day life, and the genius of the place is instinct with the spirit of rever- ence and devotion. Thus a whole community is bathed in an atmosphere of holiness, and breathes in Heavenly influences. God is in the midst of His peo- stream past her depth. Her husband not daring to go and help her, cried out and thereupon his dog caine forth from his house near by, and seeing something in the water, swam to her, and she caught hold of the dog's tail, so he drew her to the shore and saved her life." 15 pie, bodied forth in their institutions, and manifest to their souls through the visible symbols of His presence; and they are brought up at the feet of Infinite Wisdom. In the latter part of the seventeenth century the ec- clesiastical history of this comnmnity began to devel- ope itself. For many years from that time the town records are chiefly occupied with religious affairs, such as the employment of preachers, and the making of arrangements for the building of a meeting-house, and a parsonage. The town had never yet had a regular minister, though attempts had been made to settle one in its very infancy. Within four years after its first settlement, the celebrated James Noyes, afterwards minister of Newbury, preached in this place about a year. " He was born at Choulderton in Wiltshire, of godly parents, in 1608. His father was a minister in the same town. He was educated at Oxford University, and emigrated to New-England in 1634, and when he arrived he was immediately called to preach at JMistic, which he did for nearly a year. He was much beloved and respected, a very holy and Heavenly-minded man, and as much mortified to the world as almost any in it. He scarce called any thing his own, but his books and clothes. He was a man of singular qualifications, in piety excelling, an implacable encmv to all heresv and schism, and a most able warrior against the same. He was of a reaching and ready apprehension, a most pro- found judgment, a rare, tenacious and comprehen- sive memory, fixed and unmovable in his grounded conceptions, — sure in words and speech, without rash- ness, — gentle and mild in all expressions, without any passion or provoking language. He was of so loving, compassioitate and humble carriage, that, 1 believe, 16 never any were acquainted with him but did desire the continuance of his society and acquaintance. He was resolute for truth, and in defence thereof had no re- spect for persons. He was courageous in dangers, and still was apt to believe the best, and made fair weather in a storm. He was much honored and esteemed in the country, and his death was greatly bewailed. I think he may be reckoned among the greatest worthies of this age." * Such was the first preacher of the gospel in this town, and it does not appear that he had any successor for nearly sixty years. From 1693 to 1712, various ministers were employed ; several of whom were call- ed to a permanent settlement, and a provision made for their support, which, in those days, might be deemed lib- eral. None of them, however, accepted the invitation, on account of certain difficulties and dissensions hinted at, but not explained in the town records. The first of these candidates was Mr. John Hancock, grandfather to the celebrated John Hancock, so well known in the history of the Revolution. He received a call but did not accept it ; and was soon after settled in Lexington, where he labored in the work of the ministry for more than fifty years, enjoying such consideration and influ- ence among the clergy that he was usually called Bishop Hancock. In his own parish he was reverenced as the father and ruler of his people. He was in the habit of settling all manner of questions and controversies among them, such as are now carried into courts of justice, in the most summary way, with the authority of an absolute prince ; and the parties cheerfully acquiesced * See a long account of him in Mather's Magnalia, written by his friend, the Rev. Mr. Parlier, and his nephew, Nicholas Noyes, minister of Salem. 17 in his decisions ; for he was a good and wise man, and all the people loved and lionored him.* The next preacher in this town, who received a call, was Dr. Colman, settled afterwards over Ikattle Street Church in Boston. He hecame (^niinent in the profession, and was elected President of the College in 1724, but de- clined the office. lie was succeeded by Mr. Si- mon Bradstreet, afterwards a distinguished minister in Charlestown. lie preached in Medford about a year, l)ut declined an invitation to settle here permanently. The Rev. John Tufts and several others were engaged as temporary preachers, and received calls, but yet no settled minister was obtained. In 1698, Mr. Benjamin Woodbridge was invited to preach in Medford, with a view to a permanent settle- ment. He continued to supply the pulpit lor nearly ten years. And he seems to have performed the du- ties of a pastor without being legally settled in the min- istry, for I find his record of baptisms, running through the whole period of his ministerial labors. A dark cloud has settled over the meniory of this person, which I am not able to penetrate. His connexion with the town seems to have been unhappy ; his ministry was unquiet, and his reputation remains equivocal. There was much discussion about him in town-meetings, and eviden tl a great deal oi" dissatisfaction. But no defi- nite charges against him are recorded ; and nothing appears by which he can be either acquitted or con- * There arc still traditions of him in Lexington, which show the veneration in which he wni held. In his time disputes abowt the bonndaries of land were not infrequent. Wlun a dilhculty of lliis kind arose biiwcen two neighbors, Mr. H. would call upon the parlies and tell ihetii to follow liiin. When he came upon the debated ground he would patiently exniuine the facts of the case, hear all they had to say, and then set up the landmarks with his own hand, and tell them" to go home and live in peace, and serve God." His judgmont.s were final ; no ap- peals were made from them. 3 demned. Frequent attempts for several years were made to give him a legal settlement, but always some unexplained difficulty sprung up to prevent it. The town had voted him a salary from year to year, and raised a considerable sum by taxation to build a par- sonage for his use. Then there were controversies, now unintelligible, between him and some of the car- penters, who were employed to build the house ; and also between him and the town's committee, growing out of obscure pecuniary transactions. These seem to have embittered his connexion with the people, and prevented his ordination from time to time, whenever he or his friends undertook to urge it. Two or three times, a formal protest against his ministry was entered on the town books by some of the most respectable in- habitants. But in vain. They could neither settle him nor remove him. For several years meeting after meeting was held, and vote after vote was passed, now to dismiss him, now to ordain him ; but always a reso- lute protest was entered against either measure. How strong the tie was between minister and people at that period, may be inferred from the fact, that Mr. Wood- bridge's friends protested against dismissing him on the ground " that a town has no power to dismiss its min- ister," though as yet he appears to have been invited only to preach as a candidate. He often expressed his wish to be ordained, but the painful controversies which created so much uneasiness remained unsettled, and the people without a pastor. The matter was referred to a council of churches, which decided that " Mr. Woodbridge should be dismiss- ed and another minister obtained." From this result of council an appeal was made to the General Court, which decreed that " ]Mr. Woodbridgc was not le<,^ally the minister of Medford, and ordered the town to settle another without delay." Such was the authority exert- ed by the government of the province in the early part of the last century I The town immediately took measures to comply with the order ; and meanwhile, " humbly bes[ged the General Court not to impose a min- ister upon them without their consent!'''' Mr. Wood- bridge was dismissed froui his ministry, but never re- moved from the town. lie died* here soon after in 1710. Three candidates were then nominated to the town, of which one was to be settled as the permanent min- ister. They were Amos Chevers, John Tufts, and Aaron Porter. Mr. Porter was chosen, and was or- dained, the lirst regular minister of this town, Feb. 11, 1713, about eighty-three years after its settlement. It seems strange to us that, in an aii-e when the ministra- tions of the Gospel were so highly appreciated, this town should have remained so long destitute of them. There were, however, in the Colony, other instances of the same kind. The ancient and important towns of Marblehead and Portsmouth, had no regular churches or ministers for about fifty years after their first settle- ment. To the want of religious institutions, the slow growth of Medford, its unprosperous condition, and the great difficulty it met with in obtaining a min- * From flic following extract from Jiidsc SewMirs mannscipt Journal, it wowlil seem that Mr. Wooi(lent (ol College), Mr Hobart of Newton, Mr Hrattie, Mr IJradstreet, Mr Parsons, Mr Ruggles of Uillericay. Hy reason that it was lecture day and Mr Colman preached and the wind very high and blustering not one Hostun minister was there." For some extracts from this Journal, relating to Mr. Woodbridge and Mr. Por- ter, 1 am indebted to Rev. Mr. Scwall, of Burlington, a descendant of the Judge. 20 ister, have been reasonably attributed. The beginning of a long period of harmony and prosperity had now arrived. During the times of three successive minis- ters, extending over more than a century, " the church had rest and was edified ;" the people were in a thriv- ing state, " and walking in the fear of the Lord and in the comfort of the Holy Ghost, were multiplied." On the day of Mr. Porter's ordination, a church was organized and a covenant adopted, by which the breth- ren agreed to walk together, as disciples of Jesus, in Christian love and fidelity, " keeping the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace." This covenant was con- ceived in a spirit of liberality truly evangelical, making no mention of those points of doctrine, which have since been so strenuously insisted upon as conditions of Christian communion. It was signed the same day by fifteen male members who had all belonged to churches in the neighboring towns. January 24, 1722, Mr. Porter died after a ministry of a httle less than nine years.* He was graduated at Harvard University in 1708. What manner of man he was, what were his gifts, graces and attainments, there is neither record nor tradition to tell. That his short ministry was a happy and a useful one may well be supposed, for it has no history, save what was written in the souls of those who received from him the " words of Eternal hfe." His answer to the call of the town, and his account of the feelings and purposes with which * I cannot ascertain when or where he was born. The following extracts con- tain all that can be know of him except his own brief records in the church books. " 1721-22 Jan 24, Mr Brattle told me that Mr Aaron Porter ye desira- ble pastor of ye ch in Meadford was dead of a fever, which much grieved me." Judge Se wall's MS. Journal. " 1721--22 Jan 23 The Rev Minister of Meadford dies, Mr Porter, which mar- ried Unkle Sewall's daughter."— MS Journal of S. Sewall Esq., of Brookline. 21 he entered upon the work of the ministry, show him to have been ti man of faith, of fervent piety, and of a sound and tlioughtful mind. Tlicy breathe the very spirit of meekness, holiness and love. A dim outline appears through the mists which have gathered over the distant past ; but indistinct and shadowy as it is, it reveals an image of great spiritual beauty. Mr. Ebenezer Turell was ordained as successor to Mr. Porter the 2.5th of November, 1721. He was born in Boston in tlie year 1701, and graduated at Harvard College in 1721. His ministry was long and tranquil, disturbed by no divisions or tumults among his people. President Allen in his Biographical Dictionary says of liim, " He was an eminent preacher, of a ready inven- tion, a correct judgment, and fervent devotion, who delivered divine truth with animation, and maintained discipline in his church with boldness temjiered by pru- dence." Of these great qualities, however, I can find no evidence. IMany of my aged hearers remomlier him as he appeared in the latter years of his life ; but there is no memory or tradiiion that he had any un- common learning or endowments.* His orthodoxy, according to the received opinions of his time, was unimj)eached and unimpeachable, but he was neither a bigot nor a fanatic. He was remarkable for per- sonal beauty and the accomplishments of a gentle- * A story is told of liiin from which it inii;ht he iiifcirod that he was a pfted speaker. When Whitfield was preacliin;; in this vicinity, and drawing multi- tudes after him, Mr. Turell, in common with the mo-^t eminent divines of the country, looked with distrust and apprehension upon his ecrentric and tumultu- ous movements. One week a report w.is circulated that Mr. \\ . was to preach in Medforil the next Sunday. He liid not come; a stranger from Maiden came to hear him, hut instead of him, heard .Mr. Turell, without knowing the person of either. Accordingly he went home exceedingly moved and edilied, supposing he had heard the great Mr. WhitfieM ; nor did he cease to talk in raptures about his " wonderlul preaching," until, .several weeks after, he accidentally dis- covered his mistake. I suppose there is nothing very extraordinary in a delusion of this kind. When a man is in search of the marvellous, he is apt to find what he looks for. man, — a social, vivid, genial man, w^ho enjoyed society and contributed largely to its pleasure ; yet nowise neglecting the duties of a devout, earnest and faithful minister of Christ. The society flourished and in- creased greatly during his time. He died in 1778, in the 77th year of his age, and the 54th of his ministry. For four or five years before his death, the town em- ployed other preachers to supply the pulpit, whenever the infirmities of age rendered him unable to perform the services. And on the 14th of September, 1774, Mr. Osgood was ordained over, the church and society as his colleague pastor. David Osgood, D. D., was born at Andover, October 25th, 1747, and graduated at Harvard University in 1771. On leaving college he devoted himself to the work of the ministry, and pursued his theological studies at Cambridge. He was one of the most distinguished men of his time, — of a character so strong, decided and original, that for many years he occupied a com- manding position, and exerted great influence in the community. He gave the best affections of his heart, and all the strength of his gifted and highly cultivated mind, to the cause of truth and righteousness. He was what may be called a ivhole man ; there was no tem- porizing, or halfness in his soul, — none in his life. He was free from all guile. He followed with uncon- querable firmness, the convictions of his own mind and conscience. So little was he disposed to disguise his sentiments or qualify the expression of them for the sake of pleasing, that not unfrequently he appeared abrupt and rough in his address. He was an honest man, sincere, simple, single-hearted, — often to the neglect of " those soft parts of speech," which serve 23 to give smoothness to the common intercourse of hfe ; or to conceal the intrinsic harshness of contradiction or rebuke, under the forms of sweetest courtesy. Yet he was courteous in the best and highest sense of the word. However plain and uncompromising he might l)c in the utterance of truths, not always agreeable to those who heard them, he had great magnanimity and nuich gen- uine kindliness in his dis[)osition. Accordingly, it his honest freedom of speech at any time wounded a feel- ing that deserved regard, he was the readiest of all men to heal it by a quick atonement. His stern integrity, and the directness and force of his remarks, which gave great authority and weight to his character, did not ex- clude the gentler qualities, which conciliate alfection. Those who knew him best loved him as well as revered him. " In the minds of all wdio enjoyed his acquaintance, there is evidence enough that his heart was the honje of many of the kindest dispositions and tenderest feel- ings of our nature. His conversation was very often enlivened with iiniocent hilarity and playful cheerful- ness ; and few men have made their intercourse sought on these accounts more than he."* He was a man of God, fervent, reverential and de- vout. His piety was not fitful and passionate, but the settled habit of his soul, imparting a savor of holiness to his life. He was indeed a good and great man, car- nest, courageous, and high-principled. The elevation of his character and the unconquerable force of his will, gave him in all councils and conventions of clergymen, an authority which few ventured to resist. Everywhere he exercised among men that kind of sovereignty which • Rev. Mr. Francis's Obituary Notice. 24 belongs, by divine right, to strong and great souls. As a theologian and as a preacher Dr. Osgood is placed by common consent in the highest rank. A large part of my hearers will need no description of his character- istics ; for he was not a man to be forgotten by those who had enjoyed his ministration, even in their child- hood. I never saw him but once. It was on an occa- sion deeply interesting to him, when he assisted at the ordination of a young minister, one of his own church, for whom he felt an almost paternal regard. More than twenty years have since passed away ; but the earnest looks and thrilling tones of emotion, with which the venerable and eloquent old man uttered that solemn charge can never pass away from my memory. There was a current of strong and impassioned thought which bore his hearers along with him. His manner was un- like any other, and altogether indiscribable ; it seemed to spring directly from his feehngs, unshackled by any rules or precedents in oratory. His mind, originally vigorous, Avas enriched and adorned by a generous cul- ture in the best classic learning. He was a scholar, " a good and ripe one ;" for he devoted a long hfe to the acquisition of knowledge, which he knew how to employ in public discourse with singular power. In preaching, his method was natural and his conceptions clear ; and his vivid imagination enabled him often to set forth his subject with great felicity and beauty of illustration. His professional studies were pursued dil- igently to the end of his life ; and few men were so famihar with the Scriptures of the Old and New-Testa- ment in their original languages. He never went into the pulpit without carrying with him the mature results of his best studies and thoughts. A nd yet perhaps the J;j power of his preaching was the power of a great char- acter more than that of a great intellect. He excelled in clear statements of moral triitli and in strong appeals to the conscience. In his faithful rebukes and solemn warnings he is said to have been " truly awful." Yet in that strong and brave heart were deep fountains of sensibility. When he spoke of the Father's infinite mercy, the Savior's love, and the invitations of the Gospel to guilty and lost men, it seemed as if his whole being were melting in unutter- able tenderness and pity. With a spirit so free, ener- getic, full of emotion and fire, and richly furnished with the best learning, he could not be other than a powerful preacher. He had not the fear of man before his eyes ; he dared always to be true to his own convictions, and faithful to the souls of his people. Still more interesting to us is his large and liberal soul, utterly incapable of a narrow sectarianism. He respected the rights of every mind and conscience in their fullest extent. The freedom of thought, which he claimed for himself, he granted to others. He suf- fered no expression of bigotry or intolerance to pass unrebuked in his presence ; for he was as bold and downright in word and deed, as he was honest and true in heart. He was what is commonly called Orthodox in his opinions, yet no man in the community did so much, or could do so nine h as he, to restrain that spirit of exclusiveness, which in the latter part of his hfe be- gan to create nnha|)py dissensions in the churches. He would never admit that any man should be denied the Christian name and fellowship on account of his sin- cere convictions, however widely these convictions might dilfor from his own. lie would keep the unity of tlie spirit only by the bond of peace — of mutual 4 26 chanty — of brotherly kindness. Hence his pubhc hfe -4a« a ministration of power and love, of truth and char- ity, in rare and beautiful union. The strongest sym- pathies of his heart, and the most intimate of his minis- terial relations were with the most hberal of his clerical brethren. And to the younger among them, who re- vered him as a father, he was ever ready to afford aid and counsel from his stores of rich experience and solid wisdom. The following declaration of his Catholic sentiments is found in one of his sermons pubhshed a hw years before his death. " Each of us ought to think and judge for himself, using the reason which God has given us, in searching and studying His re- vealed will. — From this unrestricted freedom variety of opinion may always be expected to follow. Prin- ciples may be adopted by some, which, in the judgment of others, seem to sully the glory of the Gospel. Un- der the influence of other principles, however, held in common by both parties, their hearts and lives may be conformed to the precepts of Christ. In this case, there can be no excusable pretence for either party^s ex- cluding the other from Christian or ministerial fellowship. It is certain, that the spirit of Christ is not confined to any one sect, party or denomination of his follow- ers. — "By their fruits shall ye know them, not by their doctrines, nor by their professions."* " It is not easy," — says one who was able to appre- ciate the great qualities of his mind and heart, — " to estimate the good. influences exerted on the community by a powerful mind thus employed. We believe Dr. Osgood did much to stay the progress of an uncharit- able and exclusive spirit, to strengthen a sense of the value of our religious privileges, and of the respect ^_ ■* Sermon preached at the ordination of Rev. Mr. Francis, Watertown. 27 we owe each other as disciples of Jesus. He liad a weijiht of character whicli made his influence felt in a remarkable degree in society." — With regard to the direct ellects of his nnnistry, he had the satisfaction which must belong to ;i good and faithful servant ot Christ. But he set up no fiillacious standard ol' minis- terial success ; nor did he count any man a useless laborer in the vineyard, merely because he had not been able to stir up a spiritual commotion among his peo{)le, nor to raise that ieverish excitement, which too often ends in spiritual pride, and consumes the true foundation of the Christian character. No man was more in earnest than he in the cause of religion ; no man loved better to witness its progress, " pure and undeliled ;*' — he saw with joy every indication of the power of the Gospel among his people ; his delight was to win souls to Christ. 13ut he wished for no wild and violent efforts at religion ; lie sought not to produce agonies and raptures, but to place the hearts of his hearers under the tuition of the spirit of the Gospel, and to impress upon them that a good life is the best orthodoxy, and a bad one the worst heresy. He dwelt upon the consideration that a good minister at least prevents much evil ; and therefore that he should not be wholly discouraged, though in looking around he should see but few palpable and direct etiects of his exertions."* The usefulness of Dr. Osgood continued, and the power and fervor of his preaching is said to have in- creased to the end of his long life. His last {)ublic services were on the day of the annual Thanksgiving, only a week before his death. He died the 12th day of December, 1822, in the 76tli year of his age, and * Obituary notice of Dr. Osgood, Christian Disciple, November and December. 1822, attributed to the Rev. Converse Francis. 28 the 49th of his peacetul and happy ministry. He was succeeded by the Rev. Andrew Bigelow, who was born in Groton, but had, from his childhood, been a member of this society. Mr. Bigelow had been be- fore ordained as an Evangelist, and had labored with ability and success in the ministry at Gloucester in this State and at Eastport in Maine. He was in- stalled as minister of this society on the 9th of July, 1823. In about three years he resigned his charge ; and is now Pastor of the first C on gre Rational Church in Taunton. The time for speaking of his character is, I hope, far distant. Yet my regard to his feehngs need not prevent my bearing testimony, to the deep regret of his people, that any circumstances should, in his opinion, have made a separation from them desirable. He left behind him many aching hearts, and many warm friends, who will not forget how he labored among them as " a good minister of Jesus Christ," in all faithfulness and love. The present Pastor was or- dained as his successor on the 28th of February, 1 827. As long as Dr. Osgood lived the whole town of Med- ford was one parish, upon which the sectarianism of the times had made no distinct and manifest impression. It was its happiness never to have had an ilhberal min- ister. The true spirit of protestantism seems to have presided over the dispensation of the word ; and the free action of mind in search of truth had never been im- peded by ecclesiastical or clerical domination. This h-eedom of soul, encouraged by a Catholic and benefi- cent ministration of the Gospel for more than a centu- ry, had gradually mellowed and softened down the harsher features of the ancient New-England theology, until a large majority of the Society had become de- cidedly liberal in their sentiments. This movement I 29 towards purer and hiiilior forms of spiritual truth, had been long observed by Dr. Osgood ; hut he had too much sympathy with the independence and progress of the soul, to feel any anxiety about the results of its free action, or throw any hindrance in its way. It could not be expected, however, that all would be ecjually satisfied ; lor where there is freedom of mind there will ever be diversity of opinion, — some having a natural affinity ibr religious views, which, to others, are alto- gether distasteful, and seem to have no foundation cither in reason or in the revelations of God. it is not necessary to go into a detail of events so recent as the formation of two new societies, the one Calvinistic and the other Universalist, within the last sixteen years. A similar story may be told of almost every town in the Conunouwealth. The elements of dis- union, which had been long fermenting in the bosom of the community, at length broke forth, intimating that the time of division had come. For where the miuoritv of a peoj)le, from irreconcilable diflcrenccs of opinion, camiot worship with the rest with edification and comfort, they had better withdraw and provide for themselves a separate ministration which will satisfy their spiritual wants. I am not disposed to regard the dismemberment of our ancient parish as a calamity ; for since the exasperation of sectarian feeling, usually occasioned by such events, has had time to subside, our community is at peace. The troubled waters of life have become clear again. Instead of one, we have three well fdled churches, and three societies, — each, as we may hope, doing some humbhj ])art in the great work of humanity. After the formation of a second society, the two streams of civil and ecclesiastical history, which luid 30 long flowed on together, are forced into separate chan- nels. I traced, as well as I could, in its scanty and meagre records, the course of the town, until it be- came a parish. I now leave it at the point where it loses it ecclesiastical character and ceases to be a par- ish. It may be well, however, to notice the several houses in which this Society has, in times passed, suc- cessively worshipped. The first was built in 1695 and 6, — a very humble edifice, thirty feet long and twenty- seven wide. It stood upon a rock beyond the brook, which runs through the valley a little to the west of the place where we are now assembled. " A committee was appointed by the town to seat the people in the new meeting-house," giving them precedence, partly according to the taxes they paid, and partly on some mysterious principle of social rank, not now understood among us. At first no pews were built; the men were placed on one side of the house and the women the other, after the present fashion of the Shaker Societies. The origin of pews seems to have been as follows. In January, 1701, on a petition of Major Nathaniel Wade, the town voted, that he have leave to build a pew for himself and his family in the meeting-house." Similar grants were soon after voted to persons of consequence ; pews became fashionable ; and at length nearly the whole house was occupied in this manner. The old sys- tem of seating the people was given up, and the pews became private property, either by grant or purchase. This house was soon found to be too small for conveni- ence, and accordingly, in 1727, a little more than thirty years, a new edifice was built, and opened for public worship. It was considerably larger than the first, be- ing fifty-two feet long and thirty-eight wide. It stood by the side of what was called Marrabell's brook, a I 31 liort distance to the eastward of the former house. In the year 17G9, forty-two years afterwards, the town erected the edifice in which we are now assembled for the last time, before it is taken down, that a more commodious and tasteful structure may be reared on its site. And now, my friends, we are to bid farewell forever to this temple of God, which, though time-worn and unsiijhtly in its appearance, is dear and venerable to many of us for its holy remembrances. Not with un- mingled pain, however, do we leave it, for we hope in a few months to see a more beautiful house of our CJod spring up on the same consecrated ground where we and our fathers have worshipjied. The inspiring asso- ciations of the old temple we will carefully cherish and transfer to the new. Soon will the golden candlestick reappear in its wonted place, and we shall rejoice to- gether in its light. There are two aspects in which we may consider the building of which we are taking a final leave. We may look upon the old and decaying house as a sign of weakness and decrepitude, of the decline of the in- stitutions and spirit of religion. The sentiment of re- ligion is the tree of Life, mentioned in the Apocalypse, " and the leaves of the tree are for the healinjr of the nations." The " leaves " are institutions, houses of worship, all outward means and instruments of grace. They are not perennial ; they all liavt; in tiicni the princii)le of decay. They " fall into the sear and yel- low leaf of autumn ; " they wither, moulder awav, nnd mingle with dust from which they sj)rung. Ijut the vitality of the tree is not impaired. It survives the se- verest winter of calamity and persecution ; and ever does it clothe itself anew witli the freshness and beauty 32 of genial youth. So our hope in human estabhsh- ments, — the mere clothing of the religious idea, — rests not upon their permanence, but upon their per- petual regeneration. The institutions and forms of one age may be ill adapted to the spirit and wants of another; then let them be reconstructed. The vast and solemn cathedral and the lowly meeting-house sooner or later will fall into decay ; then let them be rebuilt. Let the " Tree of Life," have its roots in the depths of our spiritual being ; let its branches stretch up towards Heaven, ever renewing its " leaves for the healing of the nations," and bearing fruits of righteous- ness to nourish and bless the souls of men. There is a deep and holy sentiment connected with an ancient house of worship. We cannot give? it up without a pang. But the feeling may be indulged too far. We may fondly chng to our falling house till we are crushed and buried under its ruins. A Christian society may reject the outward means of its renovation, from a blind attachment to what is old, till its strength and life are gone, and nothing old is left to them worth preserving. The reverence which binds us to an an- cient place of worship, had it been too tenaciously cherished, would have prevented the building of the edifice in which we are now assembled ; and we must have been at this day a feeble few, crowding into the little and ruined meeting-house which our ancestors erected in the time of their sore trials and straits. And now, my friends, however painfully we may go from this house, let us go cheerfully and hopefully. We go to return again. This visible pile is to disap- pear in a few days, but the temple of God is not to be removed out of its place ; here on this consecrated ground it is again to stand restored, — a symbol of the 33 resurrection. With profound sensibility wc go away, to conic a