itttljfCitpotlfttigork THE LIBRARIES ^^^^^^-^tyl^-i^-c^yr-^ (y^<^ ARTOTYPE E BIERBTADT, LEONARD BACON: P A S T (J R FIRST CHURCH IN NEW HAVEN, NEW HAVEN: TUTTLE, MOREHOUSE k TAYLOR, PRINTERS. 1882. L-SSi See page 7. /;^//: Oil i— o The foUowiiifr pages have lieen pre|)are(l. ;it the request of the First Chureli and Society in New Haven, to eoinmetuorate their late Pastor. It has been no part of our design to speak of liini in any other relation than as Pastor of this church. Some sermons Avliieh bear especialh' on this relation have been included, and the la.st sermon j)rcaehed by him will also be found here. A few newspaper articles respecting Dr. Bacon in various relations, have been gathered, and are at the end of the volume. TI. C. KINGSLEY, LEOXARD J. SANFORD, Y Committee. THOS. R. TROWBRIDGE. Jr. New Havex. .March, 1882. LEONARD BACON: I'ASTOROF THE FIRST CHURCH IN NEW HA\ EN. LeonakI) Bacon was bom February 19, 1S02, in Detroit, Michigan, whither his fatlier liad gone, under appointment of tlie Cyonuecticut Missionary Society, to labor among the Indian tribes in that vicinity. Not finding sufficient encouragement in his work, Mr. Bacon removed in a short time, wth his family, to Tallmadge, in the State of Ohio, at that time a wilderness. Here he died, and his eldest son was at the age of ten years placed under the care of an uncle at Hartford, in this State, where he pursued the usual studies preparatory to entering college. He joined the class which was graduated at Yale College in 1820, in the Sophomore year, in which he sustained a good reputation as a scholar, and especially for literary and forensic ability. After graduation his theological studies were pursued at Andover, Massachusetts, where his talents were conspicuous. He was ordained, as an Evangelist, by the Hart- ford North Consociation, September 28, 182-1, at their meeting held at Windsor, it being his intention to find a held of labor at the West. Just at this moment he received an invitation to preach to the First Church in New Haven, which invitation he accepted, and the pulpit was supplied by him for several successive Sabbaths, o b LEONARD BACON. On December 15, 1824, the Society extended a call to Mr. Bacon to settle with them in the ministry of the gospel, and on the 19th of the same month the clmrch united with the society in their call. This call was accepted by Mr. Bacon January 17, 1825. The proceedings of the church and society, with Mr. Bacon's letters of acceptance, are given at page 13. He M^as installed March 9th and the proceedings of the coun- cil called for this purpose may be found at page 20. He commenced his services as pastor March 13, 1 825. By the favor of the family we are permitted to publish the first ser- mon he preached after taking on himself the ]3astoral office. In this sermon he explained what he considered the require- ments of the field of labor to which he had been called ; how well he judged of them those who have been familiar with his career will be interested to observe. The sermon may be found at page 53. The pastorate thus happily begun was successful to the end. Several revivals of religion marked its history. Dr. Bacon stated in his review of these forty years that the number of persons who united with the church on profession of faith in Christ during this time was six hundred and six, while the number of those who were received by letters from other churches was more than as many more. Dr. Bacon was earnest throughout his ministry in works of moral reform. In his pulpit exercises and through the public press he early advocated the principle of abstinence from in- ,toxicating liquors and had great influence in bringing about the reformation in society in this particular. He was always an opponent of slavery, and in the later part of his ministry especially, preached and wrote with great eft'ect in opposition to the system. He was an early and lifelong friend of the great missionary and other religious and benevolent societies, and was instrumental in recommending them not onl}^ to his own church but to the churches of the country. In local efforts for moral reform, and for meeting the wants of those without church connections, the needy and the destitute, his advice was always souglit iukI his time and influence freely given. LEONARD BACOX. 7 Tlie Pastor loved liis people, the people loved and honored their Pastor, llis salary was iiici'cased from time to time as the increased cost of living and his inereasinff family seemed to I'eqnire. The two-hundredth anniversary of the settlement of the town of New Haven occurred in March, 1S8S, and the occasion was j)uhHcly celebrated. In the preliminary arrangements for tlii.s celebration and in the celebration itself Dr. Bacon was much interested. The organization of the church was coeval with the settlement at New Haven, and Dr. Bacon was led to investigate the early history of the church, which investigation resulted in the delivery of thirteen historical discourses, on Sunday evenings, which were afterwards expanded and pub- lished in a volume. They will always remain a valuable con- tribution to the history of the church and a lasting testimony to the affection of the Pastor for it. Another work which Dr. Bacon performed for the church, after he resigned the pastorate, was the designing and prepar- ing, in llis own felicitous manner, the inscriptions which grace the facade of the church, commemorating the organization of the church and the settlement of the town. They may be found at the commencement of this volume. In the year 1839 an effort was made to induce Dr. Bacon to leave the church to accept a Professorship in Yale College under an appointment from that institution. Dr. Bacon com- municated this fact to the society in a letter which, with the action of the society upon it, may be found at page 22. In 1850 Dr. Bacon communicated to the society his wish to be alloM'ed a temporary absence from the labors and responsi- bilities of the pulpit. His letter, and the action of the so- ciety upon it, are to be found at page 25. Receiving the asked for leave of absence, he went to Pales- tine and some adjacent countries. In an attempted journey from Mosul to Ooroomiah, while in the country of the Koords, he was in great danger of his life. This incident awakened a lively interest not only in this church, but wherever Dr. Bacon was known. His highly interesting account of it, so charac- teristic of the man, may be found at page 29. The time at length came when this pastorate was to termi- 8 LEONARD BACON. nate. Of the five Inindred and fifty members of the ehnreh at the time of the settlement of the yonthfnl pastor, only thir- ty-four remained. The children and grandchildren of those to whom he first ministered were now his parishioners. He preached on the second Sunday in March, 1865, just forty years after his settlement, both morning and afternoon, review- ing his ministry, and closing with the expression of a desire to be relieved from the responsibilities of the pastoral oflice. These sermons may be found at page 75. A sermon preached a month earlier, on his sixty-third birthday, may be found at page 65. Dr. Bacon continued to discharge the duties of pastor and no action was taken upon the suggestions made by him until the annual meeting of the society in the following December, when a committee was appointed to take these sug- gestions into consideration and to report at an adjourned meet- ing. The proceedings which followed are given from the records of the society and the church at page 39. The sermon which he preached on retiring from pastoral duties, September 9, 1866, may be found at page 105. No communication was made by Dr. Bacon to the church except what was contained in the sermon of March 12, 1865, and the church was not asked by him to unite in calling a council to dissolve the relation existing between them. He continued until his death their Pastor, but relieved by the society from all the duties pertaining to the office. Fifty years from the day of his installation, on Tuesday, March 9, 1875, in the afternoon, he preached to a large congre- gation. Beside the venerable Pastor there sat the Eev. Dr. Walker, associated with him, and the Rev. Dr. Buckingham, of Springfield, Mass. In the rear of the pulpit, upon the wall, M^as the following, beautifully worked in immortelles, upon a black background : ' 1S25 — "them that honor mk i will honoh " — 1875. The pulpit was beautifully decorated with large bouquets of rare and fragrant fiowers, and the table beneath was strewn with lilies. The house was full of the friends of the T'astor. LEONAED BACON. 9 Tlie services l)e_u-nii :it o:ir» i\ m. with siiioiim- hy tlie (|iiar- tette. Iininediatelv afterward the Kev. I)r. Walker read appropriate selections of scri})ture. Prayer — in which the occasion was fittingly alhided to — was offered by the Rev. Dr. Buckingham, after which the liev. Dr. Bacon read the 678th hymn : " How firm a loundation. ye saints of tlie Lord." The aged PavStor then arose to address his people. He pre- faced his discourse by reading a portion of the 71st Psalm, beginning at the 14th verse. After finishing the chapter, the speaker remarked tliat the first jiart of the 1 7tli verse would atford suggestions for the discourse. The 17th and 18th verses — so appropriate a text — are as follows : <) God. thou hast taught me from my youtli. and liitherto have T declared thy wondrous works. Now also when I am old and gray-headed, God forsake me not : until J have showed thy strength unto this generation, and thy power to every one that is to come. This sermon may be found at page US). In the evening of the same day a reception was held in the chapel, which was very largely attended. The venerable Pas- tor and his lady occupied the sofa in the alcove before which a half circle was cleared. In this the addresses were made. Rev. T. 1). Woolsey, D.D., delivered a congratulatory address which occupied about half an hour. Dr. Bacon resjjonded in his agreeable and forcible manner, after M'liich Rev. Edward E. Atwater presented a set of resolu- tions of a congratulatory nature, which had l>een passed during the day by the New Haven (^entral Association of Congrega- tional churches. Rev. Dr. Ilai-wood then made a few remarks, which were received with much favor. Dr. Bacon responded, relating his early accpiaintance with Rev. Harry Croswell, Dr. llarwood's predecessor. After the speeches the company partook of refreshments in the back parlor. This entertainment lasted until the reception closed. 10 LEONARD BACON. As Rev. Dr. Bacon and Lis wife were stepping into their carriage, Deacon Walker presented them with a purse of nearly l|;2,000 — the generons gift of the church. After it was understood that Dr. Bacon was to retire from the pastoral care of this church, he received an invitation to become a Professor in 'the Theological Department of Yale College, which invitation he accepted and entered on his new duties in the autumn of 1866, in which duties he continued until his death. But the church was without an acting Pastor for two years after this, and again for a period of two years and a half, and for a third jieriod of the same length of time, during all of which Dr. Bacon was called on to attend funerals and to perform other pastoral work. These voluntary lahors he not only ungrudgingly performed, l)ut encouraged the peo- ple to call on him in their needs. In the year 1881, for the first time, he became aware of a disease of the heart which threatened to terminate his life at any moment. He did not hesitate nor falter in the discharge of his various duties. His lectures to the Theological students he delivered as usual, the last one only thirty-six hours before his death. He attended the church seiwices twice each Lord's day, occasionally performing the services himself, and at other times ministered to the people of his congregation as they called on him. The last time that he preached was on the day of Public Thanksgiving, November 24, 1881, only one month before his death. The sermon may be found at page 137. On the morning of Saturday, December 24, 1881, with less pain than had marked other similar attacks, he departed this life. The funeral services were attended on Tuesday, December 27th. In the forenoon of that day Rev. T. D. Woolsey, D.D.. lately President of Yale College, through life an intimate friend, and for many years a very near neighbor, offered prayer at the late residence of Dr. Bacon, in the presence of the family, their intimate friends, and the officers of the church. In the afternoon public services were held in the church. The remains had been borne from the house to the church at noon. At half-past two o'clock the church was crowded with . mourners. The audience-room was heavily draped with black LEONAHl) HA CON. 11 elotli ; ill front of the pulpit, on the couinuiiiion tal)le, stood a largv full slieaf of ripe wheat. The family and relatives of Dr. Bacon, the officers of the church and society, the members of the church and congregation, large numbers of citizens, many ministers from various parts of tlie State, constituted tlie mourning company. Pleyel's Ilymn was played on the organ, the choir of the church chanted the Lord's prayer. Rev. George P. Fislier, D.D., Professor in Yale Theological Semi- nary, invoked the Divine blessing, and read selected passages of scripture. The choir of the church then sang the anthem, " Sleep thy last sleep." An address of remarkable tenderness and beauty was delivered by Rev. Timothy Dwight, D.D., Professor in Yale Theological Seminary, which may be found at page 149. Rev. Edward Hawes, D.D., pastor of the North Church, offered the closing prayer. The congregation united in singing ^ Hail tranquil hour of closing day," a hymn written, by Rev. Dr. Bacon, and then the loved and honored remains of the deceased Pastor were borne from the church by his six sons. A brief prayer was offered at the grave by Rev. Wm. M. Barbour, D.D., Pastor of the church in Yale College. On January 15, 1882, Rev, George Leon Walker, D.D., formerly Pastor of the church, and now Pastoi" of the First Church in Hartford, by request, preached a memorial dis- course. The choir sang tlie anthem, " Nazareth," and the hymn " Oh, holy night." The other hymns sung were, " Hark ! a voice divides the sky," and " It is not death to die." Dr. Walker's sermon may be found at page 167. The will of Rev. Dr. Bacon was written by himself and in its main provisions is of no interest to the public, but its com- mencement bears in it so striking an affirmation of his faith tliat it is here o-iven. t'2 LEONARD BACON. Preamble and Introductory Article from the. Will OF Rev. Leonard Bacon, D.D. I, Leonard Bacon, of the City and County of New Haven, in the State of Connecticut, being, by the favor of God, not- withstanding my age of more tlian seventy-six years, in full health and of sound, disposing mind and memory, do make and establish in these following articles my last will and testa- ment : First, Holding fast that faith in the Lord Jesus Christ which I have preached to others, and which, by God's blessing on the diligence of my godly parents, has been my strength and comfort from my youth up, I commit my soul to Him, the Lamb of God who taketh away the sins of the world. In this confidence I hope to die, assured that he is able to save to the uttermost all who come to God by Him. Concerning the burial of my body, I ask of those on whom that care shall devolve, that the funeral may be managed with an exemplary care to avoid expense, by whomsoever the expense may be defrayed. Let the dust return to dust. I hope to rise with them who sleep in Jesus, I,K(>NAKI> I?AC()N. l;^ Pnircedinos of tlie l^rst (uxiosiastiral Soriety HKLATlN(i Tt) CALL OF n K y . L K () X A R I ) B A (' () N . Friday Evening, Dec. 10, 1824. o'clock. The society met at the lectnre-rooni according to tlic hist adjournment. James Ilillliouse, Esq., moderator. Deacon Whiting opened the meeting with prayer. Voted, That this society do approve of tlie ministerial ser- vices of the Rev. Leonard Bacon among them, and are desii'ons that he shonld settle with them in the work of the gospel ministry, and that he be invited to take charge of the society and the church connected with it accordingly, as their Pastor and gospel minister. Yeas, 4:2; Nays, 21. Adjourned to Wednesday evening, Dec. 15, at 6 o'clock. Attest, T. D. WILLIAMS, Soeietifs Clerl: ADJOURNED MP]ETIXG. Wednesday Evening, Dec. 15, 1824. o'clock. The society met at the lecture-room pursuant to the last adjournment. James Ilillliouse, Esq., moderator. The meet- ing was opened with prayer by President Atwater. Voted, That the society reconsider the vote passed at the last meeting respecting the invitation to the Rev. Mr. Bacon. Voted, That this society do approve of the ministerial servi- ces of the Rev. Leonard Bacon among them, and are desirous that he should settle with them in the work of the gospel min- istry and that he be invited to take charge of the society and the churcli connected with it accordingly as their Pastor and 3 14 LEONARD BACON. gospel minister, on such terms and conditions as may hereafter be agreed upon by the society and Mr. Bacon. The votes were, affirmative, 68 ; negative, 20. Voted, That the church in the society be requested to unite with them in the above invitation. 4 Voted, That Messrs. Dyer White, Dennis Kimberly, Nathan Whiting, Stephen Twining, CUiarles Atwater, Jonathan Knight, Henry Daggett, Jr., and Elihu Sanford be a committee to report at a future meeting the terms and conditions of the set- tlement of the Kev. Leonard Bacon. Adjourned to Monday evening, Dec. 20, at B o'clock. Attest, T. D. WILLIAMS, Societifs Clerk. ADJOURNED MEETING. Monday Evening, Dec. 20, 1824. 6 o'clock. The society met at the lecture-room pursuant to the last adjournment. James Hillhouse, Esq., moderator. The meet- ing was opened with prayer by Deacon Whiting. The com- mittee appointed at the last meeting i-eported. Voted, That in case the Rev. Leonard Bacon shall accept the invitation of this society to take the charge of them and the church connected with them as their Pastor, the society will pay to him during the continuance of his ministry with them, a salary of one thousand dollars a year, which ' salary shall be paid half-yearly in advance. 49 affirmative, 21 negative. Voted, That Dyer White, Nathan Whiting, and Stej^hen Twining be a committee to transmit to Mr. Bacon the several votes passed by the society, and comnnmicate witli him on the subject of his settlement, and "repoi't his answer thereto at some future meeting. And the society adjourned without day. Attest, T. I). WILLIAMS, Society's Clerk. ins ("ALL TO TIIK I'ASTOHAl^K. 15 SPECIAL MKKTlXd. At a special ii;eetiii<;' of the l*'irst Ecclesiastical Society legally warned and lioldon at the lectn re-room Monday after- not)n, January 81, IS-J."). Dyer White chosen nioderatoi*. Voted, That William J. Forbes, Henry Daggett, Jr., and Isaac Mills l)e and they hereby are appointed a committee, in conjunction with a committee to be appointed in the church together with Mr. Bacon, to fix upon the time and adjust the arrangements necessary for his installation as a minister of this society. The following letter from the liev. Leonard Bacon was read at the opening of the meeting : Andover, Dec. 30, 1824, Messrs. Dyer White., Stephen Twining., and Nathan Whiting: Gextlemen — Yours of the 21st, communicating the pro- ceedings of the First Ecclesiastical Society in New Haven, by which they have invited me to settle with them in the work of the gospel ministry, and enclosing a communication from the church connected with that society was duly received, A Temporary absence from town prevented my making an imme- diate acknowledgment. At present I have only to say that the subject which has thus been laid before me shall receive the attention it deserves, and that my answer to the invitation shall be given at the ear- liest period consistent with the deliberation which is due to a question involving consequences so momentous, God only can teach us what he would have us to do, and when I look to Him for the wisdom which I need, there is encouragement in the thought that others are lifting up their hands to the Father of lights and praying Him to guide me by His counsel. Wishing to you and to the people for whom you act, grace, mercy and peace from God our Father, and from the Lord Jesus Christ, I am, brethren, vour servant in the gospel, LEONARD BACON. 16 • LEONARD BACON. LETTER OF ACCEPTANCE ADDRESSED TO THE SOCIETY. Andover, Jan. 17, 1825. To the First Ecclesiastical 8ooiety in New Haven : Brethren and Friends — The votes by which you have invited me to settle with you in the work of the gospel minis- try was duly transmitted and received, and have been deliber- ately considered. When I received your call, and became acquainted witli the circumstances in which it was given, my impressions were, on the whole, favorable to your invitation. In the progress of a serious and careful deliberation these im- pressions have continually grown more distinct and certain, and have resulted in a conviction of duty. Under the influence of this conviction I do now accept the proposals with which you have seen fit to honor me. I may have erred in following what I supposed to be the guid- ing hand of Providence ; and the probability of such an error — when we think of it in its connection with the prosperity of the church, and with your own eternal interests— is enough to make us tremble. Whether I have been thus mistaken we know not now, but we shall know hereafter in the day when all secret things shall be revealed. And now I commend you to God, and to the word of His grace ; and praying that His love may be shed abroad in all your hearts, I am, your friend and servant in Christ, LEONAED BACON. Andover, Monday, Jan. 17, 1825. Messrs. Dyer White, Stephen Tvnnitig, Nathan Whiting, Committee : Gentlemen — I send you my answer to the invitation of your society. Enclosed is a corresponding communication to the church. Respecting the time which the church and society may appoint for the solemnity of installation I have nothing to say except that the earliest notice of whatever arrangemeuts they may choose to make will very niucli oblige your friend and brother, LEONARD BA(H)N." And the society adjourned without day. Attest, T. T). WILLIAMS, Soviet //s Cirri-. HIS CALL TO THE PASTOKATK. Proceedings of ilie First fhurcli in New Haven IX HKLATIOX TO ("ALLTNO RKV. LEONARD HA CON At a meeting of the First (%ureli in New Haven on Sab- bath morning, llHh December, 1824. Tlie Kev. .ledediah Morse, D.D., was chosen moderator. The meeting was opened witli prayer 1)y the moderator. Voted, That the clinrch do unite with the society in their vote passed on the 15th of December instant, inviting tlie Rev. Leonard Bacon to settle with them in the work of the gospel ministry. A^oted, That the Senior Deacon be requested to transmit the above vote to the Rev. Leonard Bacon. Tlie meeting was closed with prayer l)y the moderator. Attest, SAMUEL DARLING, Deacon. 18 LEONARD BACON. LETTER OF ACCEPTANCE ADDRESSED TO THE CHURCH. To the First Churcli of Christ in New Haven : Brethren — On tlie 24th of last month I received a commu- nication from yoiir committee informing me of the vote by which you have invited me to become your Pastor. In a mat- ter of so great importance to myself and to you and to the cause of our common Redeemer, I was unwilling to be gov- erned by my first impressions of duty, and I have therefore delayed answering your call till now that I might have opj^or- tunity for more careful and deliberate enquiry. Such enquiry I have attempted to make, looking up to God for the light of His countenance and the guidance of His spirit, and the result is that I now accept your invitation, praying God to forgive me the unworthiness of which I am conscious, and to glorify His strength in my weakness. The uncommon unanimity which has marked your proceed- ings, has seemed to me and to those in whose judgment I may confide, to indicate what the great Head of the Church would have me do. In this I may have mistaken the leadings of Providence, for we are all blind to the future, and the book of God's designs can be read only as its leaves are successively unfolded before us. God only knows, for he ordains, what is to be the result of our designs, and blind as we are, we may- rejoice in this, that as he knoweth our frame and remem- bereth that we are dust, so by his own wisdom and his own power he will accomplish his purposes of grace and establish the glor}^ of his church, notwithstanding all our mistakes and all our weakness. The partiality with' which you have been led to regard me, while it fills me with solicitude respecting the expectations you may liave formed, inspires also the hope that as 3^ou become more acquainted wnth the imperfections of my character you will look on them with the forbearance and kindness demanded by the endearing character of the relation which will then subsist between us. niS CAT,L TO THE PASTORATE. 10 Bretliren, pvny for iiie ; and now may our Lord .lesns Christ himself and (rod, even our Father, wh(» hath h»ved us, and given us everlastino; eonsohition and i2:ood hope throug-li grace, comfort your hearts and establish you in every good word and work. Yours in the faith and feUowshi]) of tlie gospel, LEONARD BACON. Andovcr. Massachusetts, .I;in. 17. 1825. At a meeting of the First ( 'hurcli in New Haven on the Slst of January, 1825. Deacon Natlian Whiting, moderator. A letter from Rev. Leonard Bacon j accepting of the invitation of this church and the society to settle with them in the gospel ministry, was read. Voted, That this church do approve and accept of the an- swer of Rev. Leonard Bacon and do order it to be recorded. Voted, That Samuel Darling, Stephen Twining, and Nathan Whiting be and they are hereby appointed a committee, in con- junction with a committee ajipointed by the society, together ■with Rev. Mr. Bacon, to fix upon the time and adjust the arrangements necessary for his installation as a minister of this society. SAMUEL DARLING, Beaeon. 20 LEOXARD BAOON. Proceedings of the Ecclesiastical Council CALLED TO INSTALL REV. LEONARD BACON. At a meeting of an Ecclesiastical C^ouncil convened at the house of Aaron Morse, in New Haven, Tuesday, March 8, 1825, and held at the lectnre-rooni in Orange street, for the purpose of installing Rev. Leonard Bacon as Pastor over the First Church and society in New Haven. Present : Rev. Jeremiah Day, President of Yale College. Rev. Nathaniel W. Taylor, Professor of Theology in Yale College. Rev. Stephen W. Stel)bins, from the First Church in West Haven. Rev. Samuel Merwin, from the church in the United Society in New Haven. Thomas F. Davies, their delegate. Rev. Eleazar T. Fitch, from the CJhurch in Yale (Allege. Elizur Goodrich, their delegate. Rev. Joel Hawes, from the First Church in Hartford. Henry L. Ellsworth, their delegate. Rev. Carlos Wilcox, from the North C'hurch in Hartford. Eliphalet Terry, their delegate. Joseph Webster, delegate from the South Church in Hart- ford. Rev. Messrs. Ahner Sniitli, David Smith, Elijah Waterman, Daniel Crane, Erastus Scranton, Samnel Whittlesey, Nathaniel Hewit, Samuel R. Andrew, Edward AV^. Hooker, and David L. Ogden, being present, were invited to sit with the council. [IIS INSTALLATION. 21 T\\v council tlu'ii. after rccoivinn' tVoiii IJcv. I>. IJacoii a cer- tificate of his ()r(linati(Hi as an Kvangeiist, and exaniiniiif)^ with respect to his (inalitications for tlie niinistrv of the gospel, voted that tliev would proceed to his installation to-morrow, A. M., at half-past ten oVdock. The parts of the service were then assigned as follows: The introductory prayer to liev. Carlos "Wilcox. The sermon to Kev. Joel ITawes. The installing prayer to Rev. Ste])lien \\ . Stehhins. The charge t^) Rev. N. W. Taylor. The right hand of fellowship to Rev. E. T. Fitch. The council then a; ON TTTE ST'RJErT OF 1118 APPOINTMENT, To the Meii)he)'/< of the First EreJesiastieaJ Society in New JFaven : Gentlemen — I have already iiifoi-med yon of the fact that I have been ap}3ointed to the Professorship of Tilietoric and Oratory in Yale College. In tlie communication wliich T i-ead to tlie congTegation I stated the reasons by which I felt myself bound to consider the subject and to ask yon to consider it also before giving any answer to the a])pointment. When the proposal was first made to me informally, and arguments were nsed showing the importance of the call, I replied to the gentlemen who conferred with me, " If the case is as clear as you think it is, you can probably make it clear to my people ; if they think that the greatest good requires them to give me up they will yield and then I will consent/" What I ask of you then is that you will first hear what the gentlemen from the college have to offer on this subject, and then after all necessary deliberation among yourselves express your judgment. I wish you to look not at the interests of the society only, nor of the college only, but at the interests of the town, of the State, of the country, and of the Church of Christ universally, and to say whether these interests in voui- judgment require you to give up your Pastor to this call. Some of you, I am informed, have received the impression that my preference is to accept the invitation. Others will ask which way my inclination leads. Let me say then dis- tinctly, I have no wish to leave you. I am not called to a higher salary, nor to a station which will be to me more hon- orable or less laborious. Consulting my own feelings alone, whether of affection or of interest, T should immediately deter- mine to remain as I am. The question will be asked. What is my opinion as to mj duty in the case '{ I answer, if I saw it to be ni}- duty to 24 LEONARD BACON. accept the appointment I should say so at once, and ask you to consent to my dismission. But my own reflections on the sub- ject have not led me to form such an opinion. I can only say, as I have already said, that I wish you to hear the whole case and then to decide for yourselves whether those great and gen- eral interests, which as citizens and as Christians we ought all to regard, require you to give up your Pastor to this call. Respectfully and affectionately your friend and Pastor, LEONARD BACON. New Haveo, Monday, 'id September, 1839. HIS LKAVK OF ABSENCE. 25 Proceedings in relaiion lo j^ivin^' Rev. Dr. Bacon a Temporary Absence. SPECIAL MEETING. . At a special meeting of tlie First Ecclesiastical Society in New Haven, held pursuant to legal notice at their lecture- room in Orange street, on the 15th day of July, 1850, at half- past 7 o'clock P. M. Dr. Jonathan Knight was chosen nmxler- ator. Edward I. Sanford was appointed to act as clerk of the society during the absence of Henry AYhite, Es(|. The object of the meeting was to consider a pi'oposition to give the Rev. Dr. Bacor a temporary respite from his labors as Pastor of the society. A communication was received from the Pastor relative to the matter, and sundry resolutions were offered. Yoted, That the members of the society present aj)prove of the general object of the resolutions and that the same, together with the communication, be referred to a committee of three, who shall report at the next meeting. Henry Peck, Henry Trowbridge, and Jonathan Knight were appointed such committee. The society then adjourned to meet at the chapel in Orange street, on Monday evening, July 22, 1850, at half-past 7 o'clock. Attest, EDWARD I. SANFORD, Society's Clerl\ jyro tern. 26 LEONARD BACON. ADJOURNED MEETING. The society met pursuant to adjourunient on Monday evening, July 22, A. D. 1850. Dr. Jonathan Knight in the chair. The committee to Avhom was referred tlie resolutions and communication, referred to in the record of the last meeting, made verbal report that tliej^ had had under consideration the matters referred to them, and would beg leave to offer the fol- lowing resolutions and reply to the Pastor's letter of the 15th. The following is the communication presented at the last meeting, and now re-read. To the First EcclemintiGal Society in New Haoen : Gentlemen — I have been informed that you are summoned to meet this evening with reference to giving your Pastor leave of absence for a few months, and it has occurred to me that some expression of my views and wishes may be not unacceptable. You will allow me then to say that I have felt very sensibly the kindness with w^hich many of you have proposed to me a temporary suspension of my labors among you, and a voyage across the Atlantic ; I have a strong desire to visit the churches of the country from which our ancestors came, to see what a stranger can see of the state of religion there, and in some other countries of the old world. I have a yet stronger desire to visit, if possiljle, the various missionary stations in the countries surrounding the Mediterranean, and most of all to visit Palestine and the adjoining regions — the lands of the Bible. I have thought that at my time of life, after a quarter of a century of labors, which, however unworthily performed, have rarely been interrupted, a vacation of perhaps a twelve- month, spent amid new scenes and new excitements, may be the means of postponing for a while that decay of natural vigor which must, ere long, begin to come upon me. I have thought that in such a circle of travel as I have been led to contemplate, I might be continually increasing my resources of knowledge, and preparing myself to be more useful if God HIS LKAVK OF AHSKNCE. 2T sliould ^ive me a prosperous joiinioy and a safe retui-ii. Tliis is what I have thoiiolit of since the sul)ject has been proposed to nie, and with great kindness nri>ed npon nie. AVhetlier it will be in niv power to leave niv family the present season is very d(»ul)tful. The protracted illness of a dear and venerable member of my family forbids me just now to leave her. But, if by. the lirst of September next her health should be restored, I think I shall be willing to go, provided the consent of the church and society be freely given. Should there be any reluctance on your ])art I shall readily give up the plan. If you give your consent to my going, I shall wish to make whatever arrangements will be most satisfactory to y(ju for the supply of my place in my absence. With a most grate- ful remembrance of the kindness which you have shown toward me these many years, I am, gentlemen, affectionately your friend and Pastor, LEON^AED BACOX. New Haven. July 15, 1850. REPLY OFFERED FOR CONSIDERATION BY THE COMMITTEE. The First Ecclesiastical Society in New Haven to Rev. Leonard Bacon, D.D. : Rev. AND Dear Sir — This society has received your com- munication of the 15tli of July, and given it that consideration which its importance demands. While regretting that for any cause we may be deprived for a season of your useful and val- ued labors among us, we are fully aware of the force of the reasons which have led you to contemplate a temporary suspen- sion of them for the purposes mentioned in your communica- tion to us. Believing as we do that a suspension of your arduous ministerial labors, which have been continued almost without interruption for twenty-five years, and a journey to countries so full of interest to every literary man, and especially to every Christian minister, as those which you propose to visit will promote your happiness, your health and future use- fulness, we cheerfully consent to a suspension of them for such a time as may be necessary for this purpose. 28 LEONARD BACON. We would also express tlie heartfelt desire that all your an- ticipation of present enjoyment, of increased vigor of body and mind, and of capacity for future usefulness, from the measure proposed, may be fidly realized. With much respect and esteem, your parishioners and friends, in l)ehalf of the society. J. KXKrllT, Chairman. Edward I. Sanford, Clerk. , New Haven, July 22, 1850. Resolved^ That the Rev. Leonard Bacon have leave to sus- pend his ordinary ministerial labors with this society for such a time as he may jiidge necessary to accomplish the objects men- tioned in his recent connnunication to this society, and that his usual salary shall be continued to him during such suspension. Resolved., That the society's committee be requested to pro- vide for such expenses as may accrue in providing ministerial labor during the absence of the minister of the society. Resolved^ That a connnittee of live be apjjointed whcj, after consulting with oui' respected minister, shall have in charge the duty of providing such ministerial labor as shall be necessary during his absence, and that the society's committee be reques- ted to appoint two of their nundjer to be mend)ers of said com- mittee. Voted, That the report of the committee be accepted, and that the resolutions be passed. In accordance with the third resolution, Dr. Jonathan Knight, Charles Robinson, Esq., and Deacon Lewis Hotchkiss were appointed as part of the connnittee in l)elialf of the society. AMOX(; THK K(>OKI)S. 29 Extracts from a Letter from Dr. Bacon GIVING AN ACCOUNT OF Ills EXPEEIEN(^E WITH THE KOORDS. [He left Mosul for Oorooiuiah in coinpanv with liis son and Rev. Mr. Marsh, an American Missionary.] Instead of pitching- our tent and sleeping under the canvas, we spread our beds on the roof of a house ; and after connnit- ting oui-selves and tlie dear and distant objects of our affections to the mercies of a covenant God, we lay down to sleep with the everlasting mountains around us, and with the starry host watching in the ti-an(|uil, cloudless sky above us. The house which gaA'e us its little Hat roof for a resting place was built against the hill side, so that on the rear it was not more than four feet above the ground, and a projecting rock conveniently near served us instead of ladder or staircase. That our l)aggage might be safe from nocturnal pillagers, and that we and our men might sleep without any anxiety on that score, we hired an old man of the village to keep watch on the roof through the night. In the course of the night Mr. Marsh w^as awakened by a low sound of voices in a kind of suppressed conversation. Raising himself a little from the pillow, and propping himself on his ell)ow, he saw in the star-light several men — he thinks there were six — stealthily a])i)roaehing the house toward one of the corners where the roof came nearest 'to the ground. ()])- serving that he \vas awake they suddenly stopped and after ex- changing a few whispers one of them came upon the roof with his gun in his hand, and without giving any answer to Mr. Marsh, wdio addressed him in Aral)ic, he entered into conversa- tion in a low voice with our sentinel, who aj)i3ears to have been asleep and just then to have waked from his slumber. By this 4 30 LEONARD BACON. time I had begun to be aware that something was going on around me, and Mr. Marsh spoke to me and told me that there was a man upon the roof. Our unwelcome visitor soon de- scended and went off with his companions. Khudr [their serv- ant], who had been waked from a- profound and well-earned sleep, and who, like the rest of us, was not without alarm at what we had seen, enquired of our sentinel as to the meaning of all this. His report to us was that these were men of the village who, returning home at a late hour, and perceiving that there had been an arrival of strangers were curious to enquire about us. Satisfied with this explanation we slept on till morning. But in the morning, when we were just ready to go on our way, our old watchman told us another story. The men, he now said, were from the next village on our road. They came with the intention of killing us, and were hindered from exe- cuting their purpose only because we were under his protection and in relations of hospitality with his village. He added that he had given us a different account in the night l)ecause he was unwilliuij: to alarm us. What were we to do in these circum- stances 'i The man, according to his own account, had no scru- ple about sj)eaking falsehood, when falsehood was necessary to what he considered a good end. Whether the story of the night, or that of the morning, or some other story yet to be told, was the true one, who can decide 'i At the next village was an Agha from whom, as we had been told at Akre, it would be important to obtain a letter. To him we were ex- pecting to present our letter from the Pooha of Mosul with a request for such an escort as might be necessary for our safety. After consultation with the muleteers and the others in our caravan, finding that in their opinion our nocturnal visitors were men of Biyeh, we determined on proceeding and hired our old man to go with us and present us to the Agha. At the distance of about two hours from Biyeh, oui" road which for some time had been a narrow path ])etween a steep ascent on one side and the steeper bank of a rivulet on the other, l)rought us to the l)ase of a projecting ledge of rock, where an armed party of six men were waiting to meet us. They first addressed our guide, and seemed dis2)osed to (piarrel with him for having taken us under his protection. It was ex- A mom: 'IMIK KOOUDS. .)| plained to tlicm that we were ^'oiiii;- to the A^-lia ; l»iit after a brief couversation between tlieiii on one side and the ninleteei-s and Khndi- on tlie otlier, they refused to let us pass without a present or Itakhshisli of Hfty piastres, a little nioiv than two dollars. This we consented to ii;ive tlieni, glad to escape at so cheap a rate, but we sti])ulated with them and they accepted our proposal, that in return for our bakhshish they should escort us to the Aglia. l)Ut here arose a new difficulty. We had not so much money in oni- pockets and all that we and Khudr could make out was less than twenty piastres. Tlie remaindei' oi' oiir ti'a\elino; money was packed away among our luggage. We feared to unload a mule in the presence of such persons, whose forl)earance was not likely to be proof against much tem])tation. Our proposal to pay a ])art of the money in a(hance and the remainder on our ari'ival at the Agha's house was tiei'cely re- jected, and while we were consulting for a moment among our- selves, they hastily primed and cocked their guns ; three of them placed themselves in the narrowest part of the pass before us and the other three leaped behind the rock, which served them as a parapet, and resting their long guns on the rock with a grin of fiendish delight took aim at us. Negotiation was ob- viously at an end. We gave them to understand that we sur- rendered and inmiediately prepared to unload the mule in order to get at the writing case in which our money was deposited. In this emergency our chief muleteer, who had at first declined rendering us any such aid, offered to loan us as much as would make up the fifty piasters ; and the matter Ijeing thus adjusted we set forward under the charge of our stipendiary cohort, com- forting ourselves with the thought that after all the robbers had not taken any more than the State of ^ew Jersey would have exacted from us for the privilege of passing through her territory on a railway. We had gone only a few rods from the place of our encounter when the men in charge of us were hailed by another party stationed near the road, and after some consultation of which we knew not the purport, a detachment from the second party was added to our escort. As we proceeded with so many around us, watching us at every step, we could not but feel that we were marching rather like prisoners than like persons guarded for their own protection. 32 LEONARD BACON. The village began to be in sight. Its aspect was decidedly unpromising. In an isolated position, chosen obviously with something of a military eye, stood what might be called a castle — a small, rectangular building of the rudest masonry, with loop holes instead of windows, and at one end of it, a little cir- cular tower. As we drew near the castle, men, women and chil- dren began to show themselves with evident indications of ex- citement. We came to the platform before the door and while we were in the act of dismounting, the rapacious scoundrels Hew upon our two servants, tore from them the arms that were attached to their persons, slashing the straps and belts with their daggers, seized every thing that was in their pockets or girdles, stripped from their heads the caps whicli they wore, bound round with handkercliiefs like turbans — and all in a twinkling. At the same UKjuient another snatched a handker- chief from the pocket of Mr. Marsh's linen coat, tearing (tut in his violence the button hole into which the corner of it was fastened, while still another tore the umbrella from the hand of my son. This was evidently a perilous place to come to, but on the appearance of the lord of the castle the process of strip- ping us was suddenly arrested, and something like order was restored. He was taller and evidently stronger than any of his men, with some marks of superiority in his aspect and bearing. This was the Agha to whom we had come for protection on our journey and behold we were at the mercy of a band of sav- age robbers. With a moti(jn of his hand the chief directed us to a place (me or two lumdred yards distant, where a spreading mulberry tree offered us some shelter from the noonday heat. Some of the savages were constantly near us, keeping guard over us. The thought occurred to some of us that perhaps the object of this movement was to have us in a more convenient place for the execution of their bloody pui-pose. Soon afterwards Kliudr, who was the only one that understood the language of these savages, and who had been anxiously seeking information both by interrogating the muleteers and by listening to the conver- sati(m around the castle, came to us with the information that they intended to kill us. The muleteers they said, and the men with the donkeys, were Koords and would be allowed to go AMOXC TIFE KOOHDS. 33 wliuiv tlu'V i>k';iM'(l; l>ut wc wx'vv I'l'aiiks and if \\r wciv j)er- mittcMl ti) t'scapi' wc should hriiiu- tliciii into trouhle with the •^oveniiiient. This was a new kind of experience to nie — to all (tf us. It was not without a nervous shriidvin"- that I had seen the rilles of murderers pointed at us from behind the rocks; that, however, w'as only a sudden and momentarv Hasli of peril. Ihit here was the announcement of a deliberate purpose in regard to us. We were sentenced, as it were, to immediate and l)loody death. And w^e were to die thus — so far away from home and country and friends. T cast one glance upon the vast amphitheatre of mountains. I felt that I was in the presence and in the hands of Him 'who setteth fast the mountains by His power,"' and without whom not a hair of our head could fall to the grouiul. r will not undertake to account for it — perliaps my mind was stunned and made in some measure iiisensil)le l)y the an- nouncement that our death had l)eeii determined upon. What- ever may have been the cause, I proved myself strangely tran- quil and self-possessed, as if I was sure of being delivered. So it seemed to be with my companions. Not one of us gave any sign of agitation. A moment's consultation was enough to determine what we should do. We had come to the Agha as a man having author- ity ; we had come with a document in our hands which had given us the right to demand protection and an escort ; and we immediately sent our servant to say to him that we wanted to see him either where we w^ere or in his castle. While Khudr was gone on this errand, as nobody was then just near enough to disturb us, the moment seemed favorable for uniting in vocal prayer. Not wishing to attract the atten- tion of our Moslem captors, we made only a slight change of position and our supplications were made in a voice which none of them could hear. With one voice and mind we committed ourselves to the powder, the care, the loving kindness of a re- deeming God, to live or to die as his wisdom should determine. We prayed that if it were consistent with his counsels, we might be delivered out of the hands of these unreasonable and wicked men ; and that He in whose hands are the hearts of 34 LEONARD BACON. men, and who can turn tlieni as the rivers of water are turned, would so inflnence tlieir thoughts, dividing their minds and turning their counsels int(» foolishness as to baitte their pur- poses and procure our deliverance. If we were then and there to die, we would die trusting in C-hrist and saving, Loi'd Jesus receive our spirits ; and we prayed that whatever should befall us might turn out for the furtherance of the gospel. We prayed for the dear ones far away, ])ound to us by the tenderest ties of human affection, whose faces w^e were perhaps never again to see among the living. For all their welfare, temporal and eternal, we committed them to our covenant (iod. We prayed for the dear churches in our native land in which we were especially interested, and for the universal kingdom of Christ. We prayed for those dark mountains, full of the habi- tations of cruelty, that the daysj)ring from on high might visit them, and even the men that were thirsting for our blood might put on the nature of the Lamb and learn to sit at the feet of Jesus. When we had closed this act of worship we found Ivhudr waiting with an answer to our message. The Agha said it was very hot just then, we had better prepare our dinner and eat it in peace ; in the cool of the day he would come and examine our baggage and take from us whatever he should choose. We could not be jDermitted either to pursue our intended journey or to go back to Mosul, but the next day he would send us to some other Agha in the mountains. There was nothing more for us to do. So we told Khudr to bring forth what provision there was for our dimier and prepared ourselves to eat with such appetite as we might have when food should be set before us. Mr. Marsh had l)een for two or three days under the neces- sity of taking a few drops of laudanum before each meal ; accordingly, the traveling-l)ag, in whicli I carried my little assortment of medicines, was brought and oj^tened. The conse- quence was that Melul Agha, alarmed probably with the suspi- cion that we were attempting to conceal our money, found it convenient not to defer to the cool of the day his ])romised visit of inspection and appro})riation. He came striding from tlie castle, and having satisiied himself as to the medicine-box, pro- AM(1X(; TIIK KOORDS. :^5 ceeded to search the l):iii- fnnii wliicli it had \)ven taken, and then re(|uired ns to open all onr haii^aiic In ^Iv. Marsh's writiiiii;-ease was a hai;- containing 1, (>(»(> piastres (ahont s4r>.5(>), all that remained of the money we had taken for onr journey. In my own case were sixty piastres belonging to Khndr. These sums of money, two razors, a very large pocket-knife, a few handkerchiefs, and similar articles, he took into his posses- sion, lie then directed us to ])ack nji our goods again, which we did with all practical expedition, for his light-iingered fol- lowers hung around us in a cloud seizing whate\er they could touch, when his eye was not on them. After this, he and his principal men sat down on the rock just behind, above us, and under the same shade which protected us. Our dinner was brought, and we proceeded with the eating of it, while they were evidently engaged in some grave debate of which we knew that we were the subject. We had concluded our repast l)efore they had concluded their debate, though we were "by no means in a hurry with our eating. After a while clouds suddenly gathered above us ; there was a growl of thunder, and a brief yet heavy shower drove the council into the castle, while we found such shelter as we could under a liuge felt gar- ment l)elonging to one of our muleteers. AVhile the Aglia and the council were in the castle, one inci- dent occurred of which we had no knowledge until the next day. They sunnnoned Khudr into their presence and putting a dagger to his throat required him under pain of instant death to tell what we had done with the rest of our money. He assured them that he knew we had no other money than that which they liad already seized, and that we carried with us only enough for the expenses of the road to Ooroomiah. At last we saw them approaching from the castle, the chief and the throng of his follo\vers. Our l)aggage underwent a new search, and in default of money large appropriations were made of our goods. Why they took so much was not wonderful, it was only strange that they took so little. Our fear was that what they left us was only designed to pay somebody else for murdering us. After this the Agha examined our persons with some formality, in the presence of his leading men, a])]mr- ently appealing to them to bear witness. 36 LEONARD BACON. At last, not far from four o'clock, we received the instruction that we were to ])e sent away innnediately, and the mnles were hrought np to receive their loads. This was a relief, though as yet we knew not whither we were going. Had our removal been postponed until morning there were men enough there who would have murdered us in the night for the sake of strip- ping our dead bodies and settling the dispute what should be done with us. A guard of five armed men, and one old man unarmed, accompanied us. After we had traveled perhaps a mile, we passed a village and there a Christian, of one of the native sects, from Akre, came out to see us and to express his sympathy. From him our servant learned that they were tak- ing us to a certain Mullah, who was a good man and greatly venerated, and who would l)e able to protect us. When we had gone perhaps an hour further a party of Koords hailed our escort from a neighboring mountain-side, and a parley took place which we did not understand. Immediately afterward, one of tlie donkey-men, who had been in our caravan ever since we left Akre, came up by the side of Mr. Marsh, and in a few words of broken Arabic tried to make him understand that he thought we could rely on the fidelity of our guard. Calling Khudr to interpret, we found that the party on the hill had wanted the pri\alege of killing us and that our escort had re- fused to indulge them. After these successive announcements we breathed more freely, though we were still on the look-out for some ambush or sudden assault. It was nearly sunset when we arrived at Yeaubeh, a very small village in a deep, narrow valley, inclosed on all sides w^th an irregular barrier of mountains. Here we were presented to Mullah Mustapha, who came forth to meet our caravan as it approached his dwelling. Our lirst sight of this man prepos- sessed us in his favor. He stood unarmed among his unarmed villagers, and received with graceful dignity the homage of those barbarians as they successively approached and kissed his hand. He accepted courteously our more occidental saluta- tions, and immediately conducted us to his house and showed us the terrace which we might occupy. Having seen our biyuraldeh he remarked that Melul Agha had committed a very great error, that he would read over the document at his AMONG THE KOORDS. 37 leisure ;iii(l in tlu- nioi'iiiiii; would consult Mitli us ;is t*> wliut should \)v doiK' for our safoty. We felt that (tocI had vvroui^ht for us a wonderful deliverance; and we could not resist the belief that he would complete the work which lie had begun. We lay down and slept that night without any apprehension of danger. At the earliest hour in the morning we were hon- ored with a visit from our host, who withdrew us to a corner, and in low, half-whispered tones informed us that two of our mules and one of the donkeys had been stolen in the night, but that he was contident he should l)e able to get them back in the course of the day. He then asked us about oui- i)lans. We told him that we preferred going through to Ooroomiah, which was as near as Mosul ; but if we could not proceed in safety we wanted to return. He said that messages had been sent to the chiefs in every direction to kill us;' that on the road to Ooroo- miah he could go with us for one day's journey, l)ut beyond that would be unable to secure our safety ; that if we chose to return he would go ^vitli us a part of the way, and would send his brother to accompany us until we should be out of danger. Our determination was soon made On Friday, May 30, our stolen animals having been restored, we started before sunrise. Mullah Mustapha accompanied us on one of our mules, his brother, Abd el Rahman, on foot. After four or five hours we came to the village or sunnner en- campment of another Agha, colleague as it were, and ri\al of Melul Agha At last the Agha himself. Khan Al)dul- lali, a villainous-looking old man, with a gray beard dyed red, came and took a seat beside our friend tlie Mullah. As he looked toward me I caught his eye and saluted him. With an ungracious look he returned the salute, and we all rose and paid our respects. After a protracted conversation })etween him and our friend, Khudr was called and through him Khan Ab- dullah informed us that if we had come alone he would have killed us, but that the presence and friendship of Mullah Musta- pha was our protection Now for the explanation of all this. These people were on the lookout for us and were expecting to kill us. When we were seen approaching. Khan Abdullah sent one of his sons, with a sutticient number of men, to execute his purpose. They 38 LEONARD BACON. were hindered l)y their Moslem reverence for the Mnllah, and by his strennously insisting tliat they slionld observe tlie laws of hospitality. Perceiving that the thing was not done, he sent a younger son with another party of men to hurry the busi- ness ; and afterward, quite out of patience, he came himself to see what was the reason they were so long about so trifling a job. The Mullah, in the debate which followed, showed him that this might be made an occasion for putting down Melul Agha ; insisted very much on our consequence and on the ven- geance which the government would be compelled to take if any harm should come upon us, until at last the Khan showed to him and to Khudr a letter from an Agha, residing near Akre, to Melul Agha, giving information of our route and advising him to rob and kill us. This letter was indorsed with a note from Melul Agha to Khan Abdullah informing him that he had robbed us in part and advising him to take what was left and kill us. Messages of the same tenor liad been sent in every direction. HIS retiremp:nt. 39 DR. BACON'S RETIREMENT. Action of the Society. i,Vt the annual meeting of the society hekl in December, 1865, a committee was appointed to consider the Pastor's sug- gestions in his sermon of the previous Marcli, wlio reported to an adjourned meeting. The society met pursuant to adjournnient. at tlie meeting- house of tlie society, on Monchiy, February .5. ISOC), at 1^ o'clock P. M. Charles Kobinson was appointed moderator. The committee appointed, at the meeting of the society held January 10, 1866, to take into consideration the suggestions made by the Pastor, in his anniversary sermon preached in March last, presented the following report : The committee appointed by the first Ecclesiastical Society, to take into consideration the communication made by the Pastor to the church and society, in the month of March last, ^vnth respect to his pastoral relations, respectfully report : That three topics, in particular, seemed to them to require to be considered, namely : tirst, the (juestion of acquiescing, or not, in the wish expressed by the Pastor, in that communica- tion, to be relieved of the responsibilities of his pastoral rela- tions ; secondly, in case that question should be decided aftirm- atively, whetlier or not that particular mode of proceeding, with a view to the relief of the Pastor, suggested in that com- nmnication, should be adopted ; and thirdly, in the event of the retirement of the Pastor from the duties of his office, what pro- vision should be nuide for him l)y the society, as an expression of their respect and affection ; and that, accordingly, after much conference and discussion, the connnittee have agreed, unani- mously, to recommend to the society, for its adoption, the fol- lowing resolutions : 40 LEONARD BACON. First, That, appreciating tlie distinguished abilities of our Pastor, and seeing no symptoms of decline of power which should lead him to wish for relief, we nevertheless deem it proper and expedient that his desire to l)e relieved of all charge and responsibility in the pastoral relation as exercised l)y him, in his communication to the church and society of last March and repeated to our committee, be complied with, as soon as suitable provisions for that end shall have been made. Second, As regards the method of proceeding in this matter, that, in our opinion, for the interests of the church and society, and for preserving that entire harmony of feeling which now exists between our respected Pastor and ourselves, a successor in the pastoral office, over this church and society, in case of a vacancy, is preferable to any sort of colleague ; and yet that, while we would remove thus from the Pastor all weight of responsibility for our future welfare, we shall desire and hope to be aided, in our new relations, l)y liis kind counsel and judg- ment. Third, That, in consideration of our Pastor's long-continued and faithful labors among us, and his eminently useful ministry, not only in immediate connection with ourselves, but also in wider relations, as well to the community in which we live as to our State and country, and with a view to the expression of our affectionate respect, and of our solicitude that his later years should not be burthened with the necessity of work for which he may feel his strength inadequate, a committee be appointed to devise some suitable provision for our Pastor's remaining years after the termination of his ministry among us. Edward E. Salisbury, Henry Trowbridge, E. C. Scranton, Eli Whitney, H. C. Kingsley, Willis Bristol, Alexander C. Twining. New Haveu. January, 18C6. The report of the committee was accepted, the resolutions reported by them were taken up separately, and passed as reported by the committee, with the exception of the third, which was amended by inserting after the word "■ country " the words '' and to the clmrcli at large," and as amended was passed. HIS KKTIRKMENT. 41 Tlie cominittee contemplated by tlic third resolution was then ap25<>inted, consisting of Edward E. Salis])ury, E. C. Scranton, II. C. Kingsley, Henry Trowbridge, Eli Whitney, Willis Bristol and Alexander (\ Twining, who were instructed to furuisli to the Pastor a copy of the resolutions. Attest: EDWARD I. SANEOIU), Soclety''ii Clerk. ADJOURNED MEETING. The society met pursuant to adjourmiieiit, at the meeting- house of the society, on Monday, March 5th, IcSfHi, at 7^ P. M. , IS^athaniel A. Bacon, moderator. The committee appointed at the last meeting to devise some suitable provision for the Pastor, after the termination of his ministry, made report that having given the sul)ject due con- sideration, they reconnnended the passage of the following reso- lutions : First, That in the event of Rev. Dr. Bacon's resignation of the pastoral office over the First Church and Society in New Haven, agreeably to the wish for relief from all pastoral duties and responsibilities expressed by him in his connnunication to the church and society of last March, and to the action of this society thereupon, at an adjourned meeting held on the 5th day of February, 1866, this society will continue to pay to him after said resignation shall have been tendered and accepted, the sum of one tliousand dollars, annually, so long as he shall live, from its accruing income. Second, That this society will proceed to raise by subscrip- tion a fund of ten tliousand dollars at least, as a further j^ro- vision for Kev. Dr. Bacon, in the event of his resignation of the pastoral office, and the acceptance thereof by the church and society, the income of said fund to be paid to him, annu- ally, during his life, after such resignation and acceptance, and the principal to be distril;)uted, at his death, among mend)ers of his family surviving him, in the manner and pi'oportions which may be specified in his last will and testament ; and that the said fund, so long as it shall remain undistributed as aforesaid, shall be under the care o^ the managers of the ministerial fund of 42 LEONARD BACON. tliis society, for the time being, and that, in the opinion of this society, the pastoral office should not be resigned by Rev. Dr. Bacon nntil after said fund shall have been raised. Third, That a committee be appointed to receive subscrip- tions to the fund proposed in the next preceding resolution. The report of the committee was accepted and the resolutions passed. The following persons were then appointed the committee contemplated by the third of said resolutions, viz : Alexander C. Twining, Eli Whitney, Henry Trowbridge, Chester S. Lyman. There being no further business, the meeting then adjourned without day. Attest: EDWARD I. SANFORD, Society's Clerli. SPECIAL MEETING. At a special meeting of the First Ecclesiastical Society in New Haven, held pursuant to legal notice at their new chapel, on Monday, August 20th, 1866, at T^ o'clock P. M. Nathaniel A. Bacon was appointed moderator. Charles B. Whittlesey was appointed clerk ^r6> tern. The call for the meeting was then read as follows : A special meeting of the First Ecclesiastical Society in New Haven will be held at their new chapel, on Monday, August 20th, at 7|- o'clock p. m., to hear the report of the connnittee appointed at the last regular meeting of the society ; also to consider a communication from the Pastor to the society, and to take action thereon, and to do any other business proper to be done at said meeting. New Haven, August 14th, 18G6. The committee appointed at the last meeting then made report as follows : The connnittee appointed by the First Ecclesiastical Society of New Haven, at their adjourned meeting on the 5th day of March last, "to receive subscriptions to the fund proposed," as a further provision for Rev. Dr. Bacon, respectfully report : TTTS KETIREMENT. -^l] That tlie connnittee prepared and extensively circulated a printed circular for the niend)ers and congrcii^ation of the First Ecclesiastical Society of Xcnv Haven relatiny; the action of the society at its several nieetini>s, and especially the resoluti(»ns, in full, at the last named nieetino* ; also a few remarkable points of the society's history under the pastorship of Kev. Dr. P)acon ; a copy of this circular (dated April ITth, ISOO) is herewith reported. lietween that date and the month of July subscrip- tions were raised to the amount of ten thousand and eightv- tliree dollars, " due and payable to the society, in manner as subscribed, whenever the said Pastor (Eev. Dr. Bacon) shall have resigned the pastoral office, and his resignation has l)een accepted''' by the society. The sul)scription books, with the subscriptions stamped with due cancellation in the name of the society, is herewith re])orted. Since July the amount subscribed has been raised to ten thousand one hundred and thirty-three dollars, and there is a prospect of further increase. The cash expenses of the connnittee in raising the subscrip- tion have been as follows : For printed circulars, as by bill presented, $11.00 For subscription books, . . , .75 For envelojDes and stamps by mail, . 2.50 For stamps for subscrij)tions, : . 2.50 Amount, .... $16.75 The present number of subscribers is fifty-one. P'our have subscribed one thousand dollars each ; seven, five hundred dollars each ; three, from two hundred to one hundred and fifty each ; eleven, one hundred each ; nine, twenty -five each ; fifteen, fifty each ; with a few smaller sums from different individuals. New Haven, August 20th, 1866. By order of the committee, Alex. C. Twining, Chairman. The following is the copy of the printed circular referred to in the foregoing report of the committee : 44 LEONARD BACON. Circular, for the Memhers and the Congregation of the First Ecclesiastical Society of New Haven. The undersigned, a eonnnittee of the First Ecclesiastical Society of I^ew Haven, appointed at an adjonmed meeting of that society, on the fifth day of March, 1866, to carry out one essential part of an arrangement concerning the prospective retirement of their Pastor, the Rev. Dr. Bacon, address this circular to yourself, with others, in performing the duty C(mi- initted to them. You are aware that this ai-rangement was originated by a proposal and request of the Pastor himself, made from the pulpit in March of tlie year 1865. He, at that time, having fuimied a ministry of forty years in this church, made known his desire to be relieved while his vigor for labor was yet unimpaired. No innnediate action, however, was urged by him, and the society, on its part, not knowing any other reason for a change than was created by their Pastor's own request, the subject was not acted on till the annual meeting near the beginning of the present year, at which time a decent regard to the Pastor's feelings required that his request should be con- sidered. The result, it is well known, was that the society acceded to the reasonableness of the request, met the same by a brief expression of their own views respecting the manner of the change when it should come, and appointed a committee of seven to consider and report upon the best arrangement for carrying out the purpose thus nmtually agreed upon. This action of the society, when thereupon eonnnunicated to Dr. Bacon, was found to be satisfactory to his feelings and accordant with his views. On the iifth day of March last the committee made their report to the society at its adjourned meeting. The society accepted the report, and adopted in full the following resolutions : Resolved — First, That in the event of Di'. Bacon's resigna- tion of the pastoral office over the First (^liurcli and Society in New Haven, agreeably to the wish for relief from all pastoral duties and responsibilities expressed by him in his communica- tion to the church and society of last March, and to the action of this society thereupon at an adjourned meeting held on the IMS KKTIHKMKXT. 4;") tiftli (lay of l-V'hniarv, ISCid, tliis Sucii'ty will (•oiitimie to ])av to liiiii. aftiT said ivsijrnatioii shall liavr Irhmi tendered and ac'c*ej)tt'd, the sum of one tliousaiid dollai's, aninially. so loiii;- as he shall live, from its aeeruinn' iiieomi'. Second, That the society will })rocet'(l to raise hy suhscription a fund of ten thousand dollars, at least, as a further })rovision for Rev. Dr. IJaeon, in the event of his resignation of the pas- toral ofHee, and the acceptance th(jreof hy the (•hnivh and soci- ety, the income of said fund to he paid to him annually, durino; his life, after such resionation and acceptance, and the pi-incipal to he distributed at his death among mend)ers of his family •surviving him, in the manner and projjortions which may be specilied in his last will and testament ; and that the said fund, so long as it shall remain undistributed as aforesaid, shall be under the care of the managers of the ministerial fund of this society for the time being; and that, in the opinion of this society, the pastoral office should not be resigned by Ilev. IJr. Bacon until after said fund shall have been raised. Third, That a committee be appointed to receive subscrip- tions to the fund proposed, in the next preceding resolution. Finally, The undersigned were appointed a committee to obtain the subscription C(»ntemplated in the above second reso- lution of the society; which measure, it will be seen, is a neces- sary pre-requisite to the validity and effect of the arrangements. It is ascertained that the arrangement itself is satisfactory to the Pastor. Therefore, fellow members of the society and congregation, we ask of you to contribute of your liberality and means to this expression of confidence and affection towards our long tried and faithful Pastor. Forty years — and now full forty-one years of such work as he has performed for our society, is a great and \vorthy record. lie came to us, like his two immediate prede- cessors, a young man wdio had never borne a like burden. He found the w^ork, as they had found it, all that he could do. But lie carried it through, or rather he was, by Divine help, carried through it. The mutual feelings of the committee, of the society, and of the church would hardly l)e satisfied should we fail to recur, although in the briefest possible mannei', to certain prominent particulars of our society's history throuo:h 5 46 LEONARD BACON. the intervening period up to tlie present time. The Center C'hurcli, in that period, besides sustaining its own membership and ministry, has contributed largely to the formation of five other churches in ]S'ew Haven, and two in the suburbs. More than haK the original members of the Third Church in 1826, were from this church. The colored members of what is now the Temple Street Church were, with few exception's, dismissed from this to form that church in 1829. The College Street Church in 1831, was originated by a few young men, most of whom went out from the First Church. The Chapel Street Church, at its beginning in 1838, received a large portion of its membership from the same. The Davenport Church of 1862, was a missionary enterprise sustained by this church prin- cipally. To these may be added the Fair Haven Church, in 1830, and the Westville Church in 1832, a large fraction of whose membership, in both instances, was received from this church ; and in the latter, a majority of its members it is believed. More than thirty members of this church, since 1825, have become ministers of the gospel. Within ourselves we find that of the original membership of about four hundred and fifty, only about forty remain in this church, and al)Out half as many besides with other churches. During the whole forty-one years, twelve hundred and seventy-five persons have been received to communion, of whom six hundred and nine were admitted on profession of their faith, about sixty more than the whole numliei', forty-one years ago. The amount of work which has been done outside for the church at large, and for the country, is incalculal)le, and no small part of it has been by and through the Pastor. Of his sons whom death has spared, we need not tell the number he has supplied to the sacred ministry, and to the defense of the country. Neither need we say that, in what remains of his work, for the church universal, whate^'er it shall l)e that em- ploys the yet unabated vigor of his intellect and heart, the First Church and society will have and will feel a property and possession. The committee desire to present it as the point of immediate interest and importance, that the Pastor — the Rev. Dr. Bacon — should have full opportunity for this work, and not l)e hindered by want or by anxieties respecting liis ])ecun- HIS UKTrKEMKXT. 47 iarv means. It will be seen that the least snni which, in the society's judgment will meet this necessity, is ten thousand dol- lars, contributed and appropriated in the manner described above. We only add, that circumstances, in our opinion, justify and make advisable a yet larger subscription, and that, notwithstanding the obvious fact, that a principal part of the whole must be raised in large subscriptions, we think it appro- priate and important that all should participate in the act. in such sums as their means allow. New Haven, Connecticut, April 17. 1866. Alexander C. Twining, Henry Trowbridge, Eli Whitney, C. S. Lyman. On motion the report of the connnittee M^as accepted. The following communication from the pastor was received and read : To the First Ecclesiastical Society in New Haven: Brethren and Friends — The unexpected but character- istic liberality with which you have met my request to be re- lieved, either partly or entirely from the labors of the pastoral office, before increasing infirmity shall make me unwilling to be so relieved, requires the most grateful acknowledgment on my part. Your kindness permits me to escape from the pain- ful dread of seeing the prosperity of this ancient society declining, in the decline wliicli must soon come upon me. I might find many reasons for postponing my resignation of the responsibilities which I have sustained so long, but I am convinced that your interests as a religious society will be pro- moted by the iiitrttduction of another Pastor in my place with- out any further delay. I see no probability that any measures will be taken in that direction wliile I continue to act as your Pastor. 48 LEONARD BACON. At the same time, I find myself invited to a work which T neither expected or desired, l)ut in which, being associated witli colleagues in the prime and vigor of life, I may hope to serve for a while; but in which, my experience as a minister of the gospel may be made useful to students for the ministry. Therefore, in conformity with your votes at your adjourned meeting held on the 5th of February, 1866, I hereby resign the pastoral office in the First Church and Society in New Haven, from and after the second Sabbath in September next, which will complete forty-one years and a half since my installation. I accept with hearty gratitude the provision you have made for me, according to your votes passed on the 5th day of March last. " Commending you to God and to the word of His grace, which is able to build you up, and to give you an inheritance among all them which are sanctified," I am, with grateful affec- tion, and witli unceasing prayer for you all, your friend and servant in Christ, LEONAKD BACON. New Haven, Connecticut, August, 1866. On motion, the resignation was unanimously accepted, and the foregoing communication ordered to be placed on file, Yoted, That this society ratify the proceedings of the com- mittee in obtaining the subscription for the benefit of Dr. Bacon, and accept said subscription, and will appropriate the same according to the terms of subscription. Yoted, That the subscription-book be lodged with the archives of the society ; also, that the names of the subscril)ers, with the circular accompanying the same, be entered upon the records of the society. Voted, That a collector be appointed to receive the sub- scriptions obtained and to be obtained, to the fund for Tlev. Dr. Bacon, and hand over the same when collected, to the mana- gers of the ministerial fund. Alexander C. Twining was appointed collector, pursuant to the foregoing vote. On motion, Alexander C. Twining was appointed a com- mittee to communicate to Dr. Bacon the action of the society accepting his resignaticjn. The meeting then adjourned. HTS RETIREMENT. 49 The forejroine: record is made from the mimites of 0. B. Wliittlesey, clerk pro tem. Attest, EDWARD I. SANFORD, Clerk. On Suiidav. Aui>-nst 2<), ISHH, the cliurch held a meetiiia", the I'econl of which is as follows: At an assembly of the First (^hurch in New Haven, appointed by the Senior Deacon, with the advice of a majority of the deacons, and held immediately after the morning service to-day, a communication having been made relating to and ex})laining the nnitnal action of the Ecclesiastical Society and their Pastor, the Rev. Dr. Bacon, concerning the pastorship, it was — Resolved, That Deacon Henry White and Henry Trow- bridge are herel)y apiDointed on the part of this church to com- municate to their Pastor, the Bev. Leonard Bacon, the deep feeling with which they have received information of his resig- nati(»n of the pastoral office; also the acquiescence of this church in the transactions between the. Pastor and the Ecclesi- astical Society, and in the issue of the same, although not of our seeking or desiring ; and our request that after the pastoral office shall have become vacant, as now appointed, the Pastor mutually with ourselves will continue in prayer that the Head of the Church will in due time provide f(jr this cliurch an able and faithful minister of his own choosing. The al)ove was approved and passed by vote without dissent. Attest, L. J. SANFOBD, Clerk. At the annual meeting of the society held December 28, 1874, the following vote was unanimously passed : Voted, That we tender the thanks of this society to the Rev. Dr. Leonard Bacon for his continued kindness and atten- tion to the members of the First (Jhurch and congregation, and tender to him the sum of five hundred dollars, and beg him to accept the same as a feeble testimonial of our love and respect. The meeting then adjourned sine die. Attest, ROGER S. WHITE, Society's Clerk. 50 LEONARD BACON. The following letter was received from tlie Rev. Dr. Leon- ard Bacon in response to the vote of the society passed at the annual meeting held Deceml)er 28, 1874: To the First Ecclesiastical Society of New Hafnen : My Beloved Friends — Your vote of December 28, 1874, has been communicated to me, and with it vour generous and most unexpected gift. For such a testimonial of love and respect from those whom it has been my happiness to serve in the gospel, I would render thanks not to them only but to (rod who has given me favor in their siglit far beyond my deserving. While I am permitted to remain among you and have health and strength for any work, I trust that all members of the con- gregation — those to whom I am comparatively a stranger, as well as those with whom I was connected in the days of my more active ministry — will remember that I count it my priv- ileo-e to lie regarded as their servant for ( 'hrist's sake, and to be called upon, especially in the absence of another Pastor, to per- form every pastoral service not inconsistent with my actual engagements in the Divinity College. The provision which you made for the relief and comfort of my old age, when you consented to my retirement from the charge of the parish, binds me to serve you as I may have opportunity ; and this fresh testimony of kindness to your old Pastor renews and increases the obligation. With prayer for (lod's l)lessing upon all your families and upon every soul among vou, I am gratefully yours, LEONAPD BACON. New Haven. Januarv 16, 1875. MTKAl. TABLET. The annual meeting of tlie First Ecclesiastical S(»ciety in New Haven was lield pursuant to legal notice at their cha])el on A\^ednes(hiy, December 28, 1881, at 7^ o'clock P. M. Ml. Charles Thompson was chosen mo(lerat<»r. In conse(pience of the death of Rev. Dr. IJacon, which occurred on Saturday morning, the 24th inst., it was, on motion of Mr. Thomas R. Trowbridge, voted to adjourn for one week to Wednesday, January 4, 1882, at 7^ o'clock v. M. Attest, ROGER S. WHITE, Society^s Clerk. At the adjourned meeting the following votes were passed : Voted, That a mural tablet, either of brass or marble, be placed in the audience-room of (Center Church which will be to ourselves, our children, and our children's children a constant reminder of the noble life, untiring zeal, and faithful nunistra- tion of our late revered Pastor, Rev. Dr. Leonard Bacon. Voted, That a conmiittee of three be appointed to arrange for the tal)let, and also be authorized to confer with the family of the late Pastor in reference to the inscription which will l)e placed upon it. Mr. Thomas R. Trowbridge, Mr. Robert B. Bradley, and Mr. John C. Ritter were then chosen the committee in accord- ance with the above vote. SERMON Preached by Leonard Bacon, March 18, 1825. II. Corinthians, ii. 16. — Who is sufficiext for these thi.vgs? Tc)-dav, my beloved friends, 1 am permitted, in the provi- dence of (xod, to connnenee my public services among you, as the minister of »Jesus Christ, and your Pastor. I am entering into the labors of a long succession of able and faithful minis- ters who have ad(_)rned your Zion from the days of the Pil- grims until now. I am called to preside over a church which God has ever delighted to bless with the outpourings of his spirit. I am called to labor for the salvation of a people who have long been thoroughly instructed in the doctrines of the gospel, and who have often testihed that they value and revere the institutions of religion. T am called to labor for the cause of our Redeemer, in a city, where my efforts should be con- nected in a special degree with the progress of that cause throughout our wude and gntwing country, and throughout the world. I look around me on the duties which I must perform and the responsibilities which I must sustain. I look within on the unworthiness which I feel and the infirmities under which I must struggle. I look forward to the trt)ubles that must perplex my efforts and the trials that must assail my spirit. AYho is sutficient for these things '{ On any ordinary occasion, the words of my text might lead me to discuss, in abstract and general terms, the responsibilities, and the trials and the insufficicTicv of the C^hristian ministrv. 54 LEONARD BACON. But if I should pursue such a course on the present occasion, I should do injustice to my own feelings, and I doubt not to yours. I trust that I shall receive your willing attention while I speak to you freely, plainly, and without reserve, as the rela- tion into which we have entered demands ; and tell you what it is which I am called to do among you, what I am who am called to do it, and what it is which may be expected to dis- courage me in doing it. In other words, I mean to be specific and personal in telling you of what will l)e the duties, the weak- nesses, and the trials of him whom you have chosen, and whom God in his providence has sent among you to be your minister. In looking at the duties which I am to perform among you the first topic which demands our attention is the public preach- ing of the gospel. God — said the Apostle to the Corinthians — " hath given to us the ministry of reconciliation ; to wit : that God was in Christ reconciling the world unto himself, not im- puting their trespasses unto them. Now then we are ambassa- dors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us : we pray you in Christ's stead be ye reconciled to God. For he hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in him." Let these words be understood in all tliut they say and in all that they imply, and you will understand what is the substance of the gospel which I am to preach among you — what is the importance and respon- sibility of my employment as a preacher — what must be the purpose of my preacliing — and what is the great motive which I must urge upon you for the attainment of this purpose. The substance of the gospel which is connnitted to me is the great doctrine of reconciliation ; to wit : God in Christ recon ciling the world unto himself. In the inculcation of this doc- trine, it will be my duty to unfold before you the character of God who created all worlds by his power, who governs all intelli- gent beings by his law, who directs all events by his providence. I must tell you of his power, his presence, his wisdom, his love, his sovereignty and his justice. I must lead you to behold him in the infinite excellence and the incomprehensible glory of his being that you may know who it is that is reconciling the world unto himself. I must array l)efore you the character of the ■world — showing you how fearfully it is at variance with God's IXAICIKAL SKiniON. 56 law and with (Tud\s cliaractei'. I iimst tell yoii of your own guilt — your own entire depravity, that yon may know who they are whom (rod is reconciling unto hiinself. I must tell you of Olu'ist in the infinite dignity of liis person — (lod manifest in the Hesh ; — in the endearing tenderness of his relation to us — the high priest who can l)e touchecl with the feeling of our in- firmities; — and in the mysterious and touching suhliniitv of liis great work when he offered u]) himself for tlie sins of the world — a lamh without s])ot or hiemish — that you may know in wliom (rod is reconciling the world unto himself. I must tell you of that Holy Spirit which (iod, in tlie exercise of his sov- ereignty, gives freely to the unworthy and rebellious, not impu- ting their trespasses unto them, hut dealing with them as though they were worthy, sanctifying their affections hy his grace, and bringing them at last to heaven: — that you may know how it is that God in Christ is reconciling the world unto himself. "Now then we are ambassadors for Christ, as though (-rod did beseech you by us." When I stand before you in this holy place, I stand in the exercise of a high and holy office. 1 stand before you as the and)assador of Christ to plead with you in his name. My words should be the expression of his Mall; and if so, they are as though God did beseech you by me. When I stand in this pulpit, I am to speak in the name of the Lord ; and w^hen I come here to do my Master's business, I am not to seek your approbation, or to tremble at the thought of your displeasure, I am to have l)efore my thought no approbation but his, no fear but the fear of his tribunal, no interests but the in- terests of his kingdom and of the souls for whom he died. I am to think of nothing but my Lord and the errand on wdiich he has sent me. And my errand is this. " I beseech you in Christ's stead, he ye reconciled unto God." The purpose of my preaching here nuist be nothing else than to make you completely reconciled to the God with whom you are at variance. I must persuade you to forsake your sins, to renounce your selfishness, to put off all sensual and worldly affections, and to live not for yourselves, but for God, who demands of all his creatures the heart unpol- luted — the affections undivided. All this is implied in a com- 56 LEONARD BACON. plete reconciliation to him, and all this must be included in my purpose. I must not only plead with the impenitent to brine; them to repentance ; but I must also stimulate and lead on the followers of Jesus to a higher and still higher elevation of Chris- tian character, to a purer holiness and a more entire devotedness. No, my brethren, I must ne^'er give over l)eseeehing you in Christ's stead l)e ye reconciled to Ct(x1, till you have all become pure in heart, perfect in example, unwearied in obedience, and zealous in enterprise like the saints in heaven, or like the spirits that minister l)efore the throne. And this is the grand motive which I am to urge on your attention for the attainment of this purpose. God hath made him who knew no sin to l)e a sin offering for us, that we might l)e righteous in the sight of God through him. I am to beseech you by the mercies of God — by his love in Christ — by the ex- hibition which he has made of his character and his authority in that great sacrifice for sin. All my preaching must be de- signed to bring you to Christ. It must l)egin and end with Christ. " Christ, none l)ut Christ." But the public preaching of the word will not be my only duty as your minister. It must indeed be regarded as my great business, an.d the work of preparation for my public efforts must nudnly occupy my studies and my cares. This you will above all things require of your minister ; and this my duty to my Master demands. But at the same time, your feelings and mine, and the business of my office deuiand that I should culti- vate a personal friendship with you all — that I should visit you from house to house — that I should be known in all your fami- lies — that I should l)ecome acquainted, so far as may be", with all your characters and circumstances and wants, and thus be able to adapt my instructions and entreaties, my warnings and reproofs, my counsels and my prayers, to each individual among you. This duty of pastoral intercourse, though it may be less important than some other official duties, and though its' de- mands on my attention may be less imperious, is not to me on that account tbe less oppressive in its responsibility, or the less difficult in its performance, I must converse with all, and excite the interest and gain the attention of all — the old, bowed down with infirinity and hea\y with years — the middle-aged, engrossed IX.Vrci KAL SKimnN. 5 < with hnsiiK'ss and pfi-])le\t'(l with caivs — the youth, exultini;; ill streuiitli and Imoyaut with i'xpL'ctati(tn — tlie cliiUl, artk'ss in its ignorance and thoughtless in its exuheraiice of life. I must adapt myself to every variety of moral charactei". The ohjector must be met wisely, and in tlie s])irit of meekness. The open transgressor must be repr(»\ ed. The careless must be addressed. The trembling sinner must be led to him who is the sinner's friend, and as the sliad(»w of a great rock in a weary land. The wandering Christian must be sought out and l)rought to the fold of Christ. The doul)tiiig Christian must l)e instructed patiently and diligently till all his scruples are removed. The selfish Christian must be excited to deeds of benevolence. The indolent Christian must be roused. The acti\e Christian must be urged on to a more entire devotedness, I must meet you too in every variety of condition as well as in every diversity of character; — in prosperity and in distress — in health and in sick- ness — in the day of bereavement and in the hour of death. All this, you see, retjuires a versatility of talent, and a kindness and patience and firmness of disposition, which God has given only to a few. And therefore I say that this duty is to me appall- ing in prospect, as it must be oppressive in its performance. On this topic I must be permitted to add a few words of cau- tion. People who love their minister often embarrass him and not unfrequently bring him into circumstances of great tempt- ation by their kindness. They wish to see him always among them not only as their pastor but as one of themselves, — enter- ing into all their projects, sharing in all their pleasures, and even, it may be, taking a part in their amusements. Now the minister who does this neglects his duty, and, generally if not always, loses some part of the official sanctity of his character. His duties demand all his time and soul, and his public character demands that his hours of relaxation; — if he has any — should be his own and should be spent in such retirement as his own dis- cretion shall choose. I ask yon therefore to look on me as your pastor, and never to forget the duties of my pastoral relation. In that relation I must visit you. I must be seen in the house of mourning — in the chamber of sickness — by the bed of death ; — but, I pray you, do not ask to see me in the circle of gaity, or at the baiujuet of mirth, I am }our minister. 58 LEONARD BACON. and if yon knew yonr minister as well as I do, yon wonld not seek to lead liim into temptation. Another important part of my dnty as yonr minister will be, to lead in the discipline and all the proceedings of the church. Eyery minister is the pastor of his chnrch, that is, he is placed oyer it as a shepherd, for supply, for guidance, for defence. He is its bishop — that is — he is commissioned as its oyerseer, for watchful superintendence and constant direction. He is in some important sense responsible to God for its purity and pros- perity. But at present there is neither time nor occasion for me to dwell particularly on this part of my official duty — for 1 haye many other things to speak of, and I ti'ust that the simple mention of it will be enough to bring before you distinctly, its perplexing labors, and its fearful responsil)ility. The duties of which I haye now spoken are such as a minis- ter owes directly to the church and people connnitted to his own especial charge. But if I do what you expect of your pas- tor, and what God requires of his ministers, I must do more than this. You wtmld not wish to haye a minister who should be unkno^yn and whose influence should be unfelt beyond the limits of this congregation. And God demands of me, if I am to stand here on the battlements of Zion, that I be ready — eyer ready to lift up my voice in concert with my fellow-watchmen far and near. As each individual church is an integral part of that great comnnmity the kingdom of God on earth, so every pastor has duties to perform not onl}' to the individual church over which he is placed, but also to the great kingdom of God with which his own church is connected. The kingdom of God in all its members, is one ; and it is carrying on a war with the kingdom of darkness — a war which calls for strength, for fore- cast, for conti-ivance, for unity of action — a war which must have no truce but in conquest, no conclusion but in perfect vic- tory. In this war every minister of Jesus is enlisted as a sol- dier ; and to the general interests of the cause he owes all that he can do, according to the talents which God has given him and the circumstances in which God has placed hihi. This warfare is continued from generation to generation, and in our day the battle waxes fierce, and the trumpet call is loud and shrill and of no uncertain sound. The ai-mies of Immamiel are IN'AUGURAL SKKMOX, 59 gatlierinij force; and their i2:reat captain is leading' tlieni on, from con(iiierini;- and to coiKjner. This warfaiv is cai'ried on through the worUl, wherever the banner of the gospel has heen spread ont on the winds (»f heaven. And in oni- connti'v all the circumstances of tlie conflict are sn(ili as hold forth at once the signal for effort and the promise of success. What these circumstances ai-e I need not attempt to say, for witliout going into detail we can all easily see enough to warrant the eonchi- sion, that in sucli an age and in such a ccmntry as tliis, every minister has much to do for the prosperity and the progress of the church universal — for the triumph of religion at home and the extension of the gospel thi'ough the world. And what a weight of resp(msil)ility does this reflection l)ring down on me. It is a great thing to be a minister. But to l>e a minister in the nineteenth centuiy — to be a minister in a country like ours — to be a minister here, wliei'e my efforts ought to lia\e an immediate and a mighty bearing on the triumph of the gospel through our land and through the world — O it is a fearful thing. Who is sufficient ? You see something of the labors wdiich your minister must perform, and something of the responsibilities which he nmst sustain. And yet these responsibilities which might crush the spirit of an angel, and these labors which might exhaust the powers of a seraph, are laid on man, weak, sinful man — on me- And this leads me to speak of myself in my unworthiness and my infirmities, wdiich I would do in all frankness of heart, and with entire confidence in your affection. It would l)e useless for me on this occasion, to descant at length on the frailty of human nature, or the deep depravity of the human heart. Equally vain would it be to tell you that human frailty ever remains till the soul rises from its prison- house of clay ; or that human depravity expires, even in the Christian, only with the last pulsation of expiring mortality. This you know — this inethinks you can never forget ; and you know too that your minister is human, encompassed with all the infirmities incident to man, and stained with all the sinful- ness of our common nature. But sometimes men, in their par- tial judgment of an individual whom they love, while they acknowledge that he is a pai-takei- in the connuon frailty and 60 LEONARD BACON. depravity of Iniiuan nature, seem to forget that liis share in human frailty is something real, consisting in the peculiar infir- mities of his individual character, and that his share in human depravity is ecjually a reality, and consists in the particular mod- itications of his individual corru2iti(m. Of this it is proper that r should remind you on the present occasion. You may be prone to forget it ; but it is nevertheless so true that my lan- guage is not too strong when I say that the numberless diversi- ties of individual character are little else than the diversities of human weakness and guilt. And when Paul said, " we have this treasure in earthen vessels," he meant to imply that the preaching of the gospel is committed to frail and sinful beings, and that every individual minister has his own infirmi- ties and his own corruptions. One minister has too little versa- tility of character for the variety of his functions. Another has too much to accomplish anything either for his own im- provement or for the cause to which he is devoted. One is chained down by an unconquerable indolence ; another feels the fires of an unholy ambition ever kindling and burning within him. One would seem to be incurably tainted with avarice ; another is equally distinguished by a native prodi- gality of temper. One is so entirely professional in his habits that he has no sympathy with men ; another is perpetually beguiled and drawn aside by the fascinations of literature. One is morose in his disposition, and uncommunicative in his man- ners ; another injures the cause of his Redeemer by the ungov- ernable gayety of his spirit, and the unrestrained levity of his conversation. One is phlegmatic, and another is passionate. One is too timid for action, and another too impetuous for de- liberation. You all know this, for it is a thing exposed to your daily observation. I know it too, as well as you do. You know too — and I would not have you forget for a moment — that your minister must be like other ministers, frail and sinful. And the longer you know me, the more distinct will be your con- ceptions, and the more thorough your conviction of this. I have long been convinced of my infirmity and my depravity ; but never was my conviction so impressive as it is now, when I look at myself, and at the commission which I am called to IXAICrHAL SKinioN. (11 execute. II(t\v ti-ue is it tliat we have this treasni-e in eartlien vessels. I speak not of youthful inuuaturity and youthful inexperit'iice ; for it is <;()o(l for ;i man to ]>ear the yoke in his youth — it is oood for a man to a('(|uire ex])enence, and to leai'ii the full eonqiass of ]iis powers, by the greatest and tlie earliest efforts; — and he who would aceoniplisli high purposes of good, in the hrief jjeriod of human life, must begin betimes to do with his might wluitsoevei- his hand tindeth to do. I speak of wliat I feel within me, and (tf what othei-s have observed in my conduct — of constitutional frailties and nnsnbdued corruptions. What they are I need not attempt to say — for if you know them not already, you will soon know them all, and better per- haps than 1 shall e\ei- know them. Of such things as these I speak — of the thonsand teniptations that will beset me in all my i^aths, and against which 1 must sti'uggle — under all tiiis weight of responsibilty — to the end. Who is snfKcient foi- these things :' Who that is thns encomj)assed with infirmity, and burdened with guiU, can endure discouragement in such a work as this? And yet, when T look forward to the years that I must spend among you, it requires no ]iroplietic wisdom to descry the per- plexities and trials that will conspire to hedge up my path and to overwhelm my spirit. Blessed be God that I know but little of the tilings that must befall me here. Blessed be God who ever covei's with clouds and shadows the coming trials of our pilgrim- age. But who, that looks backward with cool reflection, and then forward with serious thoughtfulness, needs anv monitor to tell him that "we spend our years as a tale that is told," or that each successive year will come over him with its own oppressive griefs and withering disappointments i So when I look for- Avard with deliberate thought to the years that I am to spend among you, I can see that they must be " few and evil" ; — 1 can see that they may be very few, and 1 can know that everv one of them will bring with it its own weight of afliiction. It would be inappropriate on this occasion to speak of such ti'ials as are common to all — of personal alilictions, — bereavement, and disappointment, and distress. Equally inappropriate, and alto- gether ungenerous would it be to anticipate the time, which I trust will never come, when the kindness of my people shall 6 &> LEONARD l?AC()K. have passed away, and the coldness of disreijard, or the stern- ness of disHke shall he fonnd instead of the atfection whieli I now read in those looks of ghidness, and liear in those tones of love with which yon bid me welcome. I would desci-ihe to you, if I could, the sorrows, and discouragements, and trials peculiar to my office. I would tell you how the minister must share in all the sorrows of his iiock, till every affiiction and every grief of theirs becomes his own. 1 would tell how dis- couraging it must be, in the midst of all his labors, to feel that imbecility and that unworthiness of which I have just been speaking. I would tell how sore must be the trial of his faith, and how deeply painful to all his tenderest feelings, when he sees the souls for whose salvation he labors and prays,-^going onward and downward to death. But I know not where to begin ; and if I should attempt it now, the time would fail me before I could know where to end. Let me conclude, then, for this morning, with one brief request ; and I make this request in view of all that has l)een said. Brethren, pray for me. Who is sufficient for these things 'i I am not. You know that 1 am not. You may do whatever your affection prompts, to cheer me on in the perform- ance of my duties. Over my infirmities and faults you may spread the mantle of your love. You may seek to give me consolation under the discouragements and sorrows that will conspire to overwhelm me. But all this will be of little avail. Your affection, your forbearancje, your sympathy cannot gird me with almighty power. Who is sufficient for these things '{ — " I can do all things through Christ strengthening me." To all among you, then, I say, brethren, pray for me. In the little circle for social prayer, let your Pastor be remendiered. In the morning and evening worship of every family, let supplication be made for him. In the retirement of every closet let his image mingle with your thoughts ; and when you get nearest to the throne, let his name ascend with youi- most fer\ent as])i- rations. Then my lal)or among you will not be in vain. When " I publish the name of the Lord," "my doctrine shall dro]) as the rain and my speech shall distill as the dew." I shall ap])ear before vou arrayed in the salvation of oui- (^od, and all his saints will shout aloud tor jov. .\'Ar(;i KAI. SKUMON. ('>.''> I'l'lic t'(illu\\iiiu- noti' i> oil till' tlv-lc;it' of the sc'nii(»ii.| N. n. — I wisli it to 1)1' uiKU'i'stood tliat when I j)iv;i(*li a ser- inoii like this — occdxiomil in its suhject aiul desiii-n, I sliall he entirely willino- to lend the nianusei-i])t to nt the incon- veniences and losses, wliich many ministers expei-ienci; fi'oin the practice of lendhuj <(ll tliPir semions, are so many and so ijreat that I hope none will re.\^'f^. ^u hrokeii ; and lie tliono;}!! he inioht live on, and work on, about ten years. Accnstonied as I tlien was to tliink more of the uncertaintv of mortal life than of its certain limit, I was startled hv the deliniteness of the cak-nlation. But now for some time past, I have been learning to calculate my own future with the same detiniteness. The element of nncei-tainty remains, ])ut the element of certainty is constantly beconung more predominant in all such calculations. 1 know not what a day may ])ring forth ; but I know the measure of my days, that the days of our years are threescore years and ten, and 1 know that, of that measure, only seven short years remain to me. 1 know that those seven years will be years of decadence and decay — that every one of them will tell upon my mortal frame, that exevy one of them will press me forward to the front rank of (^Id men Avho have out-lived their generation. Meeting you, my friends, in the house of God to-day, and standing before you to speak and to teach in Christ's name, I propose simply to present to you some of the views which im- press me as I look upon life from my present position. Post- poning the review of my ministry in the pastoral office to a more appropriate occasion, and preferring to say as little as possible about myself, I only intend to show you, if 1 can, how this life which we are now living, seems to one who finds that he has so nearly completed the measure of his days. I. First of all I am impressed with this : The measure of OUR DAYS ON EARTH IS ALTOGETHER INADEQUATE TO THE MEASURE OF OUR CAPABILITY AS INTELLECTUAL AND SPIRIT- UAL BEINGS. When we know most thoroughly how frail we are, and realize most clearly that God has made our days as a hand-l)readth, and that our age is as nothing before hiu] ; then it is that we feel nujst deeply the disproportion between the narrow measure of our days and the boundless development and progress of which our higher nature is capable. How much more might we do — how much higher might we ascend in knowledge and wisdom, and in likeness to God — if life were not so short ( For example, I have been learning from the Scriptures, first as a child, then as a man, and then as a minis- ter of the word, more than fifty years ; and yet it seems to me that now T am only beginning to appreciate the treasures of 68 LEOXARD BACON. wisdom and knowledge, and to H])prehend the evidences of God's love, which are brought to us in that holy book. So through all these years I have been learning — as my busy life has yielded opportunities — something about God's works in nature, and his providence unfolding into history, but I am only beginning to know what I might know. I know more now than 1 knew a year ago. I hope to know more next year than I know now. I hope to go on learning, year after year, till sight shall fade from my eyes, and the worn-out brain shall cease to serve me. But, oh, how much niore might I learn if I could have another term of threescore years and ten I From my childhood I have been learning also, under God's gracious teaching (though, alas I inaptly and slowly), the great life-les- son of confidence in God, of satisfaction in his will, of fellow- ship with his abhorrence of wrong, and of free cooperation with his love. Is all my possibility of progress in this respect shut up within the narrow measure of my mortal days ? I have no hesitation, then, in saying that, in proportion as God makes us to know our end, and the measure of our days what it is, that we may know how frail we are, the conscious- ness of not being created for this life only grows deeper and stronger. The promise, " With long life will I satisfy him," can never be perfectly fulfilled in such a life as this. Xot ''threescore years and ten," nor "fourscore years" are enough for the capabilities of our intelligent, affectionate, and spiritual nature. The machinery of this mortal body may be clogged and broken, may wear out and ])e useless — it may become an incumbrance, a burthen, a prison — the soul, weary of what has become its l)urthen and its prison, may long to be released by death ; but it is only a life l)eyond the reach of these infirmi- ties that can satisfy the soul. It is only such a life that can develop all the caj^alulities of our higher nature. "And now. Lord, what wait I for i My h(jpe is in Thee." The ht>pe that clings to (xod is a hope that cannot die. Such is one view of life as seen from the position at which 1 stand to-day. • This life is not enough foi- us. We are n)ade for more than this. II. Looking at our mortal life in the light, as it were, of life's sunset, 1 am impressed with this view : Xo MAN LiVKS to any THK MKASrWF, OF i)}'K DAYS. 69 Gf)f)i) FiRPosK WHO I.IVES FOR H1MSEJ>F ALONE. My individ- ual life on earth — what is it t Its whole duration is only a few yeai's at tlie ion^-est; and. when it is ended, what will he the difference to me wliether I have heen ricli or poor — whether 1 have lived in one house or another — whetiier I have heen clothed in |)urple and fine linen and have fared sumptuously everv day, or have shivered in rags and been ])inched with hunger — whether the sculptured marble is piled above niy grave, or only the roimded turf shows that there a dead body was buried ( My individual life, by the ordinance of the Crea- tor, is intimately blended witJi otlier lives in relations of duty, of dependence, and of love ; and the ties that bind me to others and make their welfare dear to me, forbid me to live for individual interests of my own. My life in this world is not individual but social, and, as I approach the end of life, it is natnral for me to take less thought for my individual inter- ests here, and more for the welfare of those whom T am so soon to leave behind me. As 'I Und and feel that my work is almost done, the appeal seems more urgent than ever before : '^ What- soever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might, for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave ;" but O, how preposterous does it seem, at this time of life, to be working for individual and selfish interests of my own I When my end is just before me, and I understand so clearly the measure of my days, what it is, my individual inter- ests in this world sink into insignificance ; but the affections which bind me to those with whose life my life is Ijlended, to those who in the course of nature shall survive me, and to those who shall come after me when the places that know me now sliall know me no more, lose none of their strength. It is natural for me to love the dear ones in my home, and all that are nearest to my life, the more and not the less for that I must leave them so soon. For the same reason it is natural for me to care not less but nu>re for the future of the flock among whom I have labored so long in my high vocation, now that my labor is so nearly ended. For the same reason, it is natural for me, in these few last years of life, to cai'e not less but more for those aggi'egated and enduring interests which involve the welfare of millions and of successive genera- 70 LEOXARD BACON. tions. Now that there is, in tliis life, continually less and less that can tempt my selfish hopes, is it not natural that I should do what I can, more freely and earnestly, for the common- wealth, for the nation, for the church of God on earth, for the world of mankind t Think, now, young as well as old, is this view of life an illu- sion t Or is it a sober sense of the reality ( Think, is it wise to make your own individual and selfish interest the end for which y(Ui scheme, and work, and struggle in this world ( Think, is not that great law of religion — that law which is so gloriously illustrated in the life and death of (rod's Incarnate Son — that law, " None of us liveth to himself " — revealed to you even in the measure of your days i In tliis dying yet en- during world, made up of human lives so intimately mingled with each other in all sorts of natural affections and sympathies — where every man is connected with those around him and with others far away, in ten thousand relations of inevitable dependence and of duty — where each individual life, so tran- sient in itself, is inseparably related to the enduring interests of society — hoAv prepostei'ons is a life of mere self-seeking t How truly is that life described by the Psalmist : " Surely every man walketh in a vain show : surely they are disquieted in vain : he heapetli up riches, and knoweth not Mdio shall gather them.'"' Are you willing to live such a life ( III. Looking upon human life from the position in which I stand to-day, T am impressed with this view : Worldly dis- tinctions, HOWEVER GREAT, ARE INSIGNIFICANT WHEN COM- PARED WITH DISTINCTIONS OF PERSONAL CHARACTER BEFORE God. In proportion as we consciously approach the end of our probation, and know, distinctly, the measure of our days, what it is, all those distinctions which worldly minds most value, lose their importance in our view. Wealthy social posi- tion, learning, intellectual eminence, the admiration and applause of men — all such things, as I advance in life, seem less and less to be respected in comparison with goodness, purity of heart, the simple and earnest love of truth and right, and the unself- ish readiness to labor and suffer at the call of duty or of love. These elements of personal character seem more and more beautiful — more iiiid more desirable — to one who surveys life, 'I'lIK MKASIHK C)F OIK T)AVS. 71 ealiiilv, ill tlic iiiellctw and solier li^'lit of life's latest years. What are all worldly distinctions — wealtli, station, lionor, admiration, a])j)laiise — when seen no loniier in the bewildering; j>:lare of this deeeitfnl world t — what ai'e they to one who knows and feels that his reinaininn- days are as a hand-breadth and his life as a vapor f — what are they when seen in the thouglitfiil twiliiiht between this hurried, transitory life and the hereafter f Is this view a mistaken one ( Or am I right in tlie impres- sion which I get in looking njion life as it is now presented to my view ( Js goodness nioi-e wortliy to be honored tlian any sort of greatness — more to he desired as a personal endowment than all riches and honors in this world ( Is it better to be like C^hrist than to be anything within the range of hnman pos- sibility { Is it better to have that dignity and that felicity than to have all that the world can give yon ( Yon acknowledge, then, that this view of life is not a mere hallncinatioii, and that to be like Christ is realh" the best possi- ble attainment. Well, do you know /tovj yon can become like Christ i He calls you to believe on him, and to follow him, that you may be like him. " Come to me," he says, " all ye that labor and are heavy laden " — ye that are walking in a vain show — ye that are discj^uieted in vain — ye that are laboriously and fruitlessly seeking great things for yourselves — ye that are heaping up riches and know not w^ho shall gather them — " come to me, and I will give you rest ; take my yoke upon you and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart." Learn of him, taking his yoke upon you, and giving yourself up, con- fidingly and gratefully, to his guidance, and you shall l)e trans- formed into his likeness by the renewing of your mind, and shall find that if any man be in Christ he is a new creature. You can never form such a character without his intervention reconciling you to (iod, and giving you his Holy Spirit. IV. This brings me to say that, as I now survey the measure of my days, I am more than ever before impressed with THE CON- VICTION THAT KO SORT OF LIFE IS SO REASONABLE OR BLESSED AS A LIFE OF GODLINESS. The nearer I come to the end of my time on earth — the narrower the space between me and my grave — the deeper and clearer is the feeling in my soul, that godliness (as religion is called in the Nev,- Testament), the 72 LEONARD BACOX. heait}^ acknowledgment of (-rod, the habitual worship of God, the free and thankful service of God in all the work he gives US here, the soul's joyful confidence in God's love and wisdom, fellowship with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ, is that without which life is wasted and lost. Godliness — the habitual sense of God's loving presence and unfailing care, and the consciousness of walking with him in all duty and through all the vicissitudes of joy and sorrow — -the habit of referring all things to God's will, and of trusting all things to his wis- dom and his love — is the strength, the vital growth, the high- est beauty, and the sanctity, of all human goodness ; and without it life, as related to our highest capabilities, is a failure. Life without godliness dishonors God by dishonoring the nature which he has given us. ITnless God be with us, all the bloom of life is ever vanishing away, like the withering grass, like the fading Hower ; — the grace of the fashion of it ever per- ishing. But if God be with us, if we see the Lord always before us, if all our aifections and all our thouglits pay homage to him, then, all along the way of our pilgrimage, the earth blooms with unfading beauty, aud life, to its latest hour, is full of light. Let me say farther, in this connection, that, as I grow older, the idea or conception of godliness becomes, to me, more sim- ple as well as more attractive. God is revealed to men in Ghrist — revealed to you — revealed as reconciling the world to himself. If you will learn of (lirist, he will make you acquainted with God — acquainted with him not oidy in his majestic purity, in his adorable and awful abhorrence of evil, and in the gramleur of his law and government, but also in his loving kindness and the unspeakable tenderness of his regard for you in the I'uin into which you have fallen by sinning against him. Let Christ teach you, and you shall see in him the glory of the Father — a glory not far away beyond the stars, but near at hand to love you, to embrace you, and to bless you. Leai'ii of (Christ, and you shall speak to (yod, as a (•hild speaking to a fathei'. "" The docti'ine which is accoi'ding to godliness," and in which godliness has its root and life, is not a system of metaphysics or of philoso])hy ; it is simply the stoi'V of ("hi'ist loving us, living for us, sutVcriug ;ind dying foi- TlIK MKASl UK (»l' <»ru |tA^S. 1 4 uti, and living- forever as oiii- Saviour. It is the siiii])ie but sublime testimony, ''(Tttd so loved the woi'ld that he ^ave his oidy beii;otten Son, that whosoevei' believeth in him should not perish, but have everlastini>- life." It is the " faithful say inu', and woithy of all acceptation, tliat (Jlirist .lesns came into tlie woi-Id to sjive sinners." Accept that faithful saying — take to your heart that sublime and inspiring testimony — grasp it as life from the dead — cling to it as your hope forever. Thus you shall receive the kingdom of (iod as a little child, and in receiving it you are boi-u again. Tlnis old things in your theory and ])lan of living, and in your way of thinking pass away, and all things become new ; and the life wliich you H\e here on earth is a ])ilgrimage to heaven. "Behold, what man- ner of love is this which the Father hath bestowed on us I" TWO SERMONS Preached ox the Foktieph Axniveksahv of his Setj'le MEXT. BY Rev. Leonaei) Bacon, D.I). MORNINO DISCOURSE. REMEMBRANCE OF FORTY YEARS IN THE PARISH. Preached March 12. 1865. Deut. VIII. 2. — Thou shalt remember all the way which the Lord thy (tOd led thee these forty years The words of Moses to the tribes of Israel, after their forty years of wandering in the wilderness, are equally applicable to you and to uie this day. Forty years ago, on the second Lord's-day in March, 1825, I began my public ministry in this- house as the Pastor of this Church and Society. Your kind congratulations offered to me on the anniversarj^ of my instal- lation, relieve me of the necessity of any apology for the use which I jiropose to make of the text, or for the seeming ego- tism of a discourse in which I cannot avoid speaking of myself. The relation between you and me is such — so like a confi- dential friendship cemented by long accjuaintance — that I may speak without any fear of being unkindly interpreted, even though the occasion leads me to speak of " myself as your ser- vant for Jesus' sake." A free use of personal reminiscences 76 LEi^NARD BAC'OK. iiiuy be permitted on this occasion, and may help the serious and religious impression wliich sucli an occasitm in the house of God ouglit to produce on yon and on me. Forty years ago, this congregation had l)een more than two years without a pastor, Dr. Taylor having been dismissed from his charge in December, 1822. The pulpit had been supplied, some of the time, by the late Pastor ; and, while his services could be had in that way, the people were comparatively indif- ferent about obtaining a more permanent ministry. Yet sev- eral persons had been em])loyed wdio nn'ght be regarded as candidates. Of these, one, whose subsequent history Avas not creditable to himself or to religion, was very solicitous to obtain a call, and succeeded so far as to rally a considerable party in his favor. Another was the amiable and gifted Carlos Wilcox, afterwards the first Pastor of the Noi-th Church in Hartford. The gentle simplicity and attractiveness of his character, and the elaborate exquisiteness and evangelical earne'stness and in- structiveness of his discourses, made such an impression, that probably lie would have l)een invited to the pastorate, but fV)r the belief of judicious men that his health would not be ade- quate to so great a charge, and that his life would be — as it proved — a short one. Another candidate was Albert Barnes, then recently from the Princeton Seminary, who supplied the pulpit for six weeks, and who is rememljered to this day h\ some among us, who heard him at that time with a just appre- ciation of his capability. Perhaps the church and society never made a greater mistake than when they threw away the opportunity of placing in the pastoral office here a man who has since been so distinguished for his usefulness as a preacher and a Pastor. I have never known how to account for it but by supposing that his not being a graduate of Yale College was permitted to have too much weight with leading minds in the congregation. Yet no consideration of that kind could hinder the society from uniting quite liarnKmiously in a call to one whose voice they had not heard, but who was m the height of his popularity as Pastor of a Presbyterian church in New York, the Rev. Samuel H. Cox, now surviving in his venerable age. Perhaps it was well foi* his reputation and use- fulness that he declined the call, for mai-velouslv as his shifts FORTY VEAKS IN THE PAKISJI. 77 were adapted to the spliejv in wliicli lie was tlieii sliiiiino-, tliere is rofdii fni- doulit whether tliey wei'i' e(|iially suited to so (|niet a eity as Xew Haven then was. and tt> tlie staid disposition and stui'dy ( 'oUiiTeii-ationalisiii of tins chui-cli. At last the Soeiety's Coininittoe, ])artly (as I suppose), at the i-eeonnneudation of Professor Stuart, sent for a young man who had heen studyini>: theology at Andover. Seven years hefore he had come, a fatherless hoy, to Yale College ; and, in consid- eration of his circnmstances, he had heen admitted to tlie so])ho]nore class, though imperfectly jirepared for that stand- ing, and though the college rule as to the age foi- admission must he somewhat relaxed in liis favor. But though for three years he had walked these streets, and though the college offi- cers were strangely kind in their estimation of him, he was almost as nnicli a stranger in the city of Xew Haven as if he had ])assed those three years of college-life at Camhridge or at Hanover. Perhaps half a dozen memhers of the congregation — hai'dly more — knew him l)y sight, and of them not more than one had ever heard him preach. But the committee knew that he had never sought an opportunity of appearing here as a candidate, and that on one occasion, when incidentally in New Haven, he had refused to preach lest it might he thought that he had put himself in the way of tlie invitation. My introduction here was unexpected to myself. Having passed a fourth year at Andover, as a resident licentiate, ren- dering some little assistance to the Professor of Sacred Rhet- oric, and preaching occasionally in the churches of that region, I had determined to find for myself a Held of service in the west ; and on the 28th of September, 1824, I was ordained to the ministry by the Hartford Xorth Consociation, convened in its annual meeting at Windsor. The next day, on ray return to Hartford, I received a letter from the committee of this society, inviting me to supply their vacant pulpit. In compli- ance with that invitation, I preached here for the first time on the first Sabbath in October, and, with the assistance of President Hay, administered the Lord's Supper. After another Sabbath I insisted on pursuing my journey westward, that, at least, I might confer with my mother l)efore relin- quishing or even suspending the design to which T had com- 78 LEONARD BACON. mitted myself. The result was that I returned ; and after five more weeks of prol)ation, having preaehed, in all, fourteen ser- mons, I withdrew. But I must not proceed in this gaiTulous method. Yet, in order to show you just how things were in relation to my in- troduction to this ministry, I may say that at the annual meet- ing of the society held at the old Orange street lecture-room, December 11th, a vote inviting me to settle in the ministry here was earned by forty-two against twenty-two, and there- upon the meeting was adjourned. At the next meeting (Wednesday, December 15th), the subject was reconsidered, and by sixty-eight against twenty the society voted their appro- bation of my services, and their desire that I should settle with them in the work of the ministry, and requested the church to unite with them in inviting me " to take charge of the society and the church connected with it as their Pastor and gospel minister." In the evening of the next Lord's Day, Decend)er 19tli, a responsive vote was passed by the church, uniting with the society in the call. At an adjourned meeting of the society, live days later, they agreed on the terms and condi- tions of settlement which should be projjosed to the Pastor elect, and appointed a committee to " communicate with him on the subject of his settlement." My answer, accepting the invitation, was dated at Andover, Januar}' 17, 1825 ; and ujjon receiving it the church and society united in the appointment of committees to make arrangements witli the Pastor elect foi' his installation. I have mentioned these j^articulars 2:)artly for the sake of re- minding you liow^ few of all the persons who had any part in the transactions which I have described, are now alive. Let me, therefore, repeat the names that appear upon the record. The moderator of the society-meeting was the Hon. James Hillhouse — at that time more widely known and honored than perhaps any other citizen of Connecticut. He continued to worship here almost eight years longer, but now nobody can remember him without remembering the third part of a cen- tury. He was at that time an old man, whose active life began as long ago as the Declaration of Independence, and whose unbroken force of body and mind was the wonder of his l••()lr^^• vk.\i;s in i'IIK i'aimsii. 79 friends ; yet I am now only al)»»ut seven years yonnii-er tlian lie was then. The nio(lerat(»r of the clinrcli-nieetinii- was the Rev. Di'. N[orse, a \enei'al»le man, I'etired from the ministiT and from all pnhlie enn)loyments, hnt he was oidy eighteen months older than 1 am to-day. The soeietyV clerk was Timothy Dwight Williams, a youni;' mei'ohant greatly lieloved and es- teemed, the etHcient and devoted superintendent of the Sah- l)ath-selM»ol. lie has heen dead thirty-foni' years, hnt I did not think of him as a young man wIumi lie died. The connnittee entrusted hy the society witli the duty of connnunieating their call, were the Hon. Dyer White, Deacon Nathan Whiting, and Deacon Stephen Twining. The call from the church was com- municated l>y its senior ofHcer, Deacon Samuel Darling. The connnittee of ai'rangements were, on the part of the church, Deacons Darling and Whiting ; and, on tlie part of the society, Don. Isaac Mills, ('a])tain Henry Daggett — a revolutionary otiicer — and one young man, AVilliam .1. Forbes. Tlie young- est of all these died beyond the noon of life, more tlian twenty- five years ago; and how few are tliere here to-day who can distinctly remember his face and figure, or even the ])ub]ic grief at his funeral I I go back to the council which was convened for the installa- tion. It consisted of twelve members, clerical and lay, of whom three are still living. And, inasmuch as customs have changed since then, I may be allowed to speak of the proceed- ings more particularly than I should otherwise do. In those days it was thought that the ordination or installation of a Pas- tor was a transaction too serious to be hurried over. A day of fasting and prayer had been kept by the church in preparation for the appointed service. The council was assembled on Tuesday, March 8th, at the old wooden lecture-room in Orange street, and was organized by the choice of President Day as moderator, and Professor Fitch as scribe. There was a respect- able attendance of clergymen and theological students, and also of those who, as members of the church or of the society, had an immediate interest in the proceedings — so that the room was pretty well filled. The examination was protracted ; and many questions were asked, of which I could not then see the bearing, and which I answered without suspecting their re- 80 LEONARD BACON. lation to tlieological parties and controversies tlien soon to break forth. That examination having been completed, and tlie candidate having been approved, tlie pnblic service did not follow in the evening — still less was it postponed to the next Sunday evening, for the sake of getting a large audience, and avoiding the competition Avith places of public anuisement ; bnt, the next morning, at nine o'clock, the council re-assembled at the lecture-room with the committees and officers of the cliurch and society ; and, when the record of the proceedings had been read and corrected, the council moved in procession to this 'house, the officers of the church and society taking the lead. Here a large congregation had already assembled, tilling the seats, above and below, save such as had ])een reserved for the procession. The introductory prayer was offered by the Rev. Carlos Wilcox, of the North ( liurcli in Hartford. The sermon (afterwards published), was preached by the Kev. Joel Hawes, of the First Church in Hartford. The prayer of in- stallation was oifered by the venerable Stephen W. Stebbins, of West Haven, whose memory, even in his own parish, has now become a beautiful tradition, though he lived sixteen years after the time of which I am speaking. The charge was given by Dr. Taylor, as former Pastor of the cliurch ; the fellowship of "the churches was expressed by Mr. Merwin ; and the closing prayer was offered by Professor Fitch. You recognize the names of the three survivors. President Day had then been at the head of the College less than eight years. To-day his successor has been in office more than eighteen years. Professor Fitch liad just completed the seventh year of his ministry. He resigned his charge thirteen years ago, claiming, after a longer term of service than any of his predecessors — and reasonably claiming — •exemption on account of his advancing age. Dr. Hawes is only seven years my senior in the ministry. He, too, in his yet vigorous old age, has laid down all the responsibilities and burthens of his pastoral office, and is now rejoicing in the ministry of his suc- cessor. There is no record by wliich 1 can conveniently and exactly ascertain how many members there wei'e in this church forty years ago. In 1820, (May 1st,) the number was three hun- FORTY YKAKS IN TTIE PAHTSII. 81 flri'd and sixty-tive. The lar<:;e additions of the two following yeai's — far exceeding the removals hy death and hy dismis- sion — must have increased the mimher to about five hundred and fifty, in IS^.'). Dut of the entire body of communicants at that time, there are now connected with tliis churcli, and residing in the city of Xew Haven, only forty, — of whom six are confined by the infirmities of age, and will probably never visit this liouse again. Thirty-four only of the five hundred and fifty (or tliereabout) who were members in full comnmn- ion foi'ty years ago, remain now^ among us to sit down at the table of the Lord. Surely, my friends, though I may say that you are dearer to me than y(»ur fathers and predecessors could be with whom I entered into this pastoral relation, you cannot deMV that it is time for me to count myself among tlie sur- vivors of a genei'ation that will soon have passed away. As T call to mind the circumstances in which I entered on my miiiistry here. I cannot l)ut wonder that 1 am here to-day. The churcli. at that time, was much less homogeneous and united than it is now. Less than twenty years had ])assed since the dismission of Di-. Dana, who had been conspicuous all his days, both here and in his earlier pastorate at Walling- ford, as one of the ''Old Light'' or "Old Divhiity'' party — the "Old Arminians," as they were often called by way of re- proach. Under his ministry there was little sympathy with reminiscences of "the (xreat Awakening" in the time of Edwai-ds. or with any measui'es or efforts tending to a religious excitement in tlie community. In the nineteen years and four months since the termination of his ministry, there had been two })astorates : that of Professor Stuart, which contin- ued tlii'ee years and ten months, and that of Dr. Taylor, which continued ten yeai's and eight months. Those two men though greatly mdike in some respects, were alike in this; — they believed in tlie revival of religion — they believed in the Edwardean or " New Light " views of what religion is as a j)er- sonal experience — they believed in the distinctive New England theology — they were powerful preachers, each in his own way, their sermons beiny: exceedinii;lv unlike the cautiouslv correct and coldly elegant discourses of Di-. Dana. The first of those pastors had commenced, ajid the other had carried on, a revo- 82 LEONARD BACON. lution in the prevalent character and habits of the church. Yet, at the end of twenty years, there were some well pre- served remains of what the old chnrch was before the niinis- ti*y of Mr. Stuart. There were elderly people who had been trained under the ministry of Dr. Dana and of his predecessor Mr. Whittelsey, and who had no great share iji the intense re- ligious activity that had flamed up around them— men of great worth and gi-eat weight in the community, and of un- questionable character as Christians, but who had not been accustomed in their youth to weekly prayer meetings, or to evening-meetings of any kind. On the other hand, there were those who could hardly conceive of religious character as mani- festing itself in any other way than in the activities of a gen- eral awakening. In a church thus constituted, it was hardly to be expected that a young Pastor, unskillful and inexperi- enced, would be acceptable to all parties. Moreover, the place to which I had been introduced was ex- ceedingly difficult in other respects. Professor Stuart, by his earnest and rousing sermons, had taught the people not to be satisfied with any preaching but such as would make them think and feel, and had made the place a difficult one for his successor. Dr. Taylor, in his turn, had made it more difficult. The society was proud of having had two such Pastors in suc- cession, and proudly grieved at having lost them. I think I understand myself ; and I know it is not an affectation of modesty to say that I never had any such power in the pulpit as they had in their best days. For many years after the com- mencement of my pastorate, I was habitually brought into most disadvantageous comparison not only with those dis- tinguished preachers, but with others of like celebrity. How it was that I continued here long enough to become a fixture, cannot be easil}' explained. I only know that the congi-egation was not made up of critical hearei's ; tliat the few who were disposed to be critical and to find fault because my poor dis- courses did not equal those of my predecessors, were not the most capable of forming an intelligent and judicious opinion ; and that those whose unfavorable judgment, had it been freely uttered, would have been fatal to me, were very kind. Nor was this all that made my position Jiere a trying one. FORTY YEARS IN THK PARISH. 83 The pastorate of Professor Stuart had been made memorable by a great rebgious revival, the lirst that had shaken this coin- niuiiity ill more than fifty years. A new era of awakening had opened in New p]ngland and elsewhere. Dr. Taylor's term of service was marked by two such times of spiritual refreshing — the last of which was just about coincident with the close of his ministry. This was in most respects a great advantage to me, for which I hope to be thankful forever. Hut it made the place very difficult for a young and inexpe- rienced Pastor. The revival, considered as a movement in the comnmnity, had spent itself ; and there were those in the con- gregation who naturally expected the young ministei- to repro- duce immediately the excitement which they had enjoyed so much, which bad gathered into the church more than a bun- dred in a single year, and in which Mr. Nettleton, the famous revivalist, had employed all his skill. I have mentioned the fact that a minority in the society voted against my settlement. Though I never desired to know or remember who they were, I had the satisfaction of knowing that most of them were soon numbered among my kindest friends. Others, who were at first among the most enthusiastic of my friends, and whom I regarded as the best and most active members of the Church, were disappointed (as they had good reason to be,) and began to think very seriously that New Haven needed a more efficient ministry. Before one year bad been completed, I began to be depressed with the feeling that those who had hoped so much from me were disappointed in my endeavors to serve them, and with the desponding expectation that my ministry would be a failure. Dear to me are the names of some whose fatherly counsel and comfort, and of others whose friendly intimations and tokens of sympathy, kept me at my post when tempted to seek some other employment. At last, just as the third year was closing, there came a time of revival ; and, in the ensuing year, forty- eight persons, most of them younger than their youthful pastor, were received to communion on the profession of their faith. From that time onward, though I have had much to dishearten me in the consciousness of falling far below my aims and hopes, and though I have not been left without my 84 LEONARD BACON. share of personal and domestic sorrows, my hnrthens have been lightened by the feeling that I was not laboring in vain, as well .as by the ever growing evidence of regard on the part of a people who have not only honored me for my work's sake, but have loved me far beyond my desert. From the time of that iirst distinct and memorable success in my minis- try, I have known better than I knew before how to preach the gospel, and I trust I am still learning. I need not enumerate here the various periods of spiritual prosperity and progress in the congregation, which have cheered and lightened my work, and without which my min- istry would have been a sorrowful failure. (3h that we might see such times of revival again before I shall rest from these labors ! The last six years have left upon our records no traces of great success ; and the thought of continuing to labor thus — the accessions to our communion hardly keej^ing the nuuiber good — is the only painful thought in the prospect of my grow- ing old. An examination of our records — careful but not absolutely exact — shows me that in these forty years twelve hundred and sixty -four members have been added to our conmiunion. The number received by profession, six hundred and -six, is con- siderably greater than the whole number of communicants either now or at the time of my installation. Meanwhile, we have given largely of our members to otlier churches that have grown up around us. T find the results of my ministry not only in the stability and growing usefulness of this Church, but also in many of the younger churches. Half the original members of the Third (,^hurch went from us, with our free consent and with my hearty approl)ation. Our colored mem- bers — a very respectable class in their religious character — were dismissed, with a few exceptions, to unite with others of their race in forming the African (^liurch. What is now the (,'ollege Street Church began in the zeal of a few young men, most of whom went from us. The Chapel Street Church, at its beginning, might almost have been called a daughter of the old First Church. More recently the Davenport Church is the result of a city-mission conducted in our name, and largely aided by oui' contributions. Most of oui' ( 'cdar II ill |t;UMsh FOirr^" ^'KAKS IN TIIK PARISH. 85 ionovs went to the Fair Haven (linrch. Tlie (^Inircli at Westville wa*J formed, mostly, out of this. I must postpone to the afternoon some tliiniis wliich I had intended to say, familiarly, about the changes which have been going on for the last forty years outside of our own congrega- tion or parish — in this city — in our country at large — and in relation to the general interest and progress of Christ's king- dom throughout the world. But before I interrupt these desultory recollections, let me say that the results which have come from this feeble ministry of mine, are not summed up in the statement that the old First Church, through all these years of change, has held its place in the community of sister- churches — is now as numerous and as strong as at any former ])eriod — is firm on the foundation of the ancient faith in Jesus Christ the Saviour of lost men — is training up its children, as diligently and as intelligently as at any fonner time, in the right ways of the Lord. No, the records of this ministry are written (for weal or woe) on individual minds that live forever, and whom it has been my privilege to guide and strengthen, to instruct and to comfort, in life and in death. Those records are written forever on minds that are now in heaven before the throne of God and the Lamb — on minds that have passed beyond the reach of hope and opportunity — on minds still in this world of trial and of conflict ; some, around me here ; others far away in the West, or on the bloody fields of the South, or where our golden States look out on the Pacific, or in lands beyond the sea. Those records are written forever on minds that have believingly received the word, and have learned to love Christ and to serve him — and, alas ! on minds to whom the word of life is becoming a savor of death unto death, and whose condemnation will be that tliey loxed dark- ness rather than light. AFTERNOON DISCOURSE. rp:membkanoe ()F forty years m other RELATIONS. I'KEACiiEi) March 12, 18(35. Deut. VIII. 2. — Thou shai.t kemember all the way which the Lord thy God led thee these forty years. Ill the iiioi'iiiiig discourse, I intimated luy purpose to speak, this aftemoon, in a familiar way, concerning some of the chano-es whicli have been going on around us within the last forty years, and which may be regarded as involving the pro- gress and welfare, and the duty and responsibility, of this ancient church. I. Most naturally, our thoughts turn first to the changes which forty years have brought forth In the <-ity of New Haven. In the changes which our cit}' is continually under- o-oiiiir, whether for ofood or for evil, whether in growth or in decay, this church of our fathers must always have a paro- chial — and I might almost say, a parental, interest. Every church sustains an intimate relation to the local community in which it dwells, and from which its interests and its tirst duties are inseparable; l)Ut tlie relation of this church to Xew Haven is in some respects peculiar. Historically, the town itself, as an orijanized communitv, is a dauiJ::hter of this church. It M'as for the sake of ]>lanting here a church encumbered by no human traditions, and de})endent on no human authority, that the founders of the Xew Haven Colony left their homes in pleasant England, and their trade and alfairs in l)iisy Loudon, 88 LEONARD BACON. and ventured their all in the enterjorise of establishing here a civil connnonwealth of Christian men, "the Lord's free peo- ple ;" and this is the cluirch which they planted here before their settlement had even received an English name. It was far the sake of gaining for their church a place and habitation, that all this beantifnl plain, with the surrounding hills and waters, was purchased of the savages whom they found here. It was for the sake of their church that they planned their city, and reserved this central square for public uses, first of all building here their humble temple, and then making their graves around it. It was not till after they had constituted their church by selecting from among themselves the seven men whom they deemed most "■fit for the foundation-work," that their civil organization was solenmly inaugurated, the same seven men being entrusted with that work also by the free consent of all the planters. Such was the relation of this church, in its l)eginning, to the civil connnunity which was formed around it; and though political theories and arrange- ments, and laws and forms of government, have changed, it has never ceased to care for the welfare of the town. Its posi- tion as a center from which Christian influences are to radiate, becomes more important as the town grows in population and wealth, and in all those industries and institutions that consti- tute its commercial importance and its power. If the future of New Haven is to be worthy of its history, those moral and religious influences which the founders of this church brought with them, and which have given character to so many genera- tions, must operate in time to come as in time past. Forty years ago, the population of tlie city was, by the tlieii latest census, 7,147. We may reckon its actual population in 1825, with Westville and Fair Haven, as not mucli more than 8,00(>. Within the area of the township, there were two (\)n- gregational churches, one Protestant F]piscoi)al, one Methodist Episcopal, and one Baptist; and all the church-ediflces, except the Baptist, then recently built, and only half as large as it now is, were on the Green. Within the same area, n(nv, there are probably 50.000 iidialutants — six times as many as there were then. The two (Congregational cliurches are now ten, with iieai'h' .>,500 coninmnicants ; and connected with tliese KORT^' ^EAUS JN OTIIKH HKl.ATK )XS. 89 (•liiii'clit's there are tliree eitj-mission chapels in which piililic worshi]) is ivi>-uhirlv iiiaiiitaine(h IJesides these there is ;iii independent ehui-ch which was orio-inally Congregational in its government. Thei-e are also seven Pi'otestant Ei)isco])al chnrches with one mission chapel, — six Methodist Ki)iscoj);d chnrches. inclnding their (iernian mission,— and three l)a])tist churches. In addition to all these, we have a (lei'man Moi'a- \ ian church ; a small (xerman Baptist church ; a Univei-salist chni'ch ; three large Roman (^atholic clinrclies, filled to over- Howino' with coni>;rei»:ations of emii>:rants and childi-en of ciiii- grants from Roman (yatholic countries; and iinally, a svna- gogne of German-speaking Jews. If an intelligent person liad fallen asleep in I^ew Haven forty years ago, and had waked np this morning, he Avould hardly have known the place. Sudi a man, waking after forty years of unconsciousness, would he confounded. In the jangle of the sahhath-hells. sounding from so many towers, he would be lost; n(»r would he find himself till he should h)ok upon this Public S()uai-e. Here, in the aspect of these three churches, side by side, he would see the old Xew Haven (jnce so familiar to his view. We need only ctmnt up, by name, these places of worship, — ■ C(3mparing the jH'esent time, in that respect, with forty years ago, — and we realize how great a change has come to pass. It is not merely that what was then little more than a pleasant village, though dignified with the name and charter of a city, has now grown to be larger than any city in Kew England then was ; it is not merely that tlie streets which were then so (juiet are now crowded and noisy with business ; it is not merely that the place has become a great hive of manufac- turing industry; it seems almost as if New Haven liad l)een detached from the old Puritan State of Connecticut, and had been anchored by some foreign shore. The population here, forty years ago, was of purely English descent, and T think I may say that, with the exception of a few colored people, there were not twenty families here whose ancestors did not come over with the first settlers of New England. But where are we now i Strangers of other races, and of other languages and traditions, — the Celt, the German, and the Jew, — attracted by the liberty which our fathers achieved for us, have come in. 90 F.EONARD BACON. l)y thousands, to share our inheritance, and to niin«;le tlieir des- tiny with onrs. Snch changes in the city, and es])eciall_v in tlie chai-acter of its population, cannot liave taken place without inci-easing gi'eatly the resp(»nsibility of the 2sew Haven chui'clies as local institutions. What was tlie local or jiarochial work of our two rVmgregational churches forty years ago, compared with what the Congregational clnirches in T^ew Haven, (not to mention those of other names and forms, but of like precious faith), ought to be doing now ^ The time will not permit me to dwell upon this thought. None who hear me can fail to dis- cern something at least of its signilicance. In this respect, tlie change which the last forty years have made is greater than all that came to pass in the foregoing centui-y. Thus measured, the distance between this day and the beginning of my ministi-y here is greater than the distance between 1825 and 1725. Other changes have taken place here, which have great sig- uiiicance. Forty years ago, IS^ew Haven had really no system of public schf)ols. The Lancasterian school, in the basement of the Methodist church on the Green, was the only comnied and strengthened in those secret apartments, while otliers. warned in vain by what they liave seen, are going on to the same fate. The liistory of the temperance-reformation in its origin and progress, and in its histing snccess, is fnli of encoui-agement, and, on the otlier hand, the history of its reactions and declen- sions is fnll of admonition. II. Let ns n(^w look l)eyond t)ui- immediate neighborhood, and think of onr relations to t/x' country at Im'ge. The New New England Churches have always been characterized by a patriotic spirit. When the English exiles at Leyden passed ovei- to America and ('ommenced their settlement at Ply- month, there was planted, on ''the wild New England shore,'' the seed not only of a (Christian civilization, bnt of a nation- ality distinct from that of the English people. That seed, planted in weakness, might have been ti'odden down and des- troyed : bnt when the Pilgrims were followed across the Atlantic by the great Pnritan migration from old England ; when the towns on Massachnsetts Bay, and the tow^ns on (Jon- necticnt river, and then the confederate towns of the New Haven jurisdiction, came into being as political communities sharing in the life and n^olded by the power of that religious polity which English monarchy and English aristocracy would not tolerate ; it became certain that there was to be here, in the fullness of time, a nation not simply English but Anglo- American, a nation with its own distinctive character and life. Most naturally, therefore, the churches of the New England polity have been characterized, through all their history, by a patriotic sympathy with the growth and welfare of this great Anglo-American nation ; and looking l)ack, as we do, on this occasion, to a date just five days after the inauguration of John Quincy Adams, it is natural for us to ask what changes these forty years have wrought in our country, and in the Christian work which the churches have been doing and are yet to do for the nation. Forty years ago the United States w'ere twenty-four in num- ber ; now they are thirty-six. Then only one State had been established beyond the Mississippi ; now there are three 94 LEONARD BACON. beyond the Roekv Mountains. Then, in the tifth year after the census of 1820, the population of the United States was estimated at eleven millions ; now, in the fifth year after the census of 1860, it cannot well be estimated at much less than thirty-five millions. Such are some of the most obvious changes which our country has undergone since I began my work — changes which mark and measure the steady progress of the nation in material greatness. In this connection we cannot but remember that, forty years ago, there were in the United States about one million and seven hundred and fifty thousand slaves, and that the census of 1860 gave the number at a little less than four millions. When 1 began my work in this place, the country had recently ])een agitated by an unsuccessful attempt to secure the abolition of slavery in JVIissoui'i before the admission of that State into the Union. At that time, the religious feeling of the country was strongly, and, I may say, unanimously pronounced against the institution of slavery. Religious men, even in the slave-hold- ing States, professed to regard that institution as an evil which was to be endured till it could be peacefully and safely abol- ished. Certainly there was, in Connecticut, no party, religioils or political, that dared to speak for slavery as if it were a just or beneficent arrangement, or as if the institution was capable of any defense, either on grounds of natural justice, or in the light of the (Christian religion. Slavery and the internal com- merce in slaves were then regarded as " the peculiar institution " of those States in which they were legalized ; and the idea that the Constitution of the Union had made slavery national, and had given it a right to propagate itself without let or hindrance over all the national territory, had found no acceptance her^. My own mind had been deeply interested in the discussion of slavery as related to the future of our country. The Mis- souri question had been sharply debated in Congress and every- where else, while I was a college-student ; and by religious writers and speakers it had been discussed as a question involv- ing great religious interests. In the j^rogress of my theological studies, T have been led to inquire more carefully concerning the duty of Christian patriots to the l)lack poindation of this country, both ])ond and fi-ee. 1^'roni the beginning of my offi- KOR'I^ ^"KAKS IN (•TirKK' 1{ Kl.ATloXS. 9.> cial iiiiiiistrv. I s|)ukt' without rcscrvi'. tVmii the j)ul])it and elsewhere, against slaxcrv as a wroiit;' and a curse, tlnvatcnin^ disaster and ruin to the nation, ^^any years I did tiiis without heinu' hlanied. except as 1 was hhiined foi' not i^oingfar enough. Not a dog dared to wag his tongue at me for s]K'aking against slavery. I liave ahvays hehl and always asserted the same pi-in- ci])les on that sul)ject wliich 1 held and asserted at the begin- ning. Yet you know how J have been l)lamed and even execrated, in these later years, t'oi- declaring, heiv and else- where, the wickedness of buying and selling human beings, or of violating in any way those human rights which are insepar- al)le from Iniman nature. I make no complaint in making this allusion ; all reproaches, ^1 insults endured in the conflict with so gigantic a wickedness against God and man, are to be received and remembered not as injuries l)nt as honors. Where are we now i The institution of slavery, so powerful only a few years ago, so arrogant and encroaching, so deter- mined either to rule the Union or to destroy it, is perishing nnder the vials of God's wrath poured out upon our country. The end of the great rebellion which was begun for tlie pur- pose of making slavery perpetual, is drawing near, and it is sure to, be the end of slavery. What a change is this I I have expected and predicted that slavery would be abolished in our country, knowing assuredly that there is a divine justice in the providence that rules the world. There was a time when I hoped for a j^eaceful abolition in the progress of civilization and under the influence of Christianity ; but, years ago, the ferocious tyranny that permitted no word of discussion or of inquiry tending to overthrow the system, and that kept the slaves by law in brutish ignorance so that their bondage might be perpetual, forbade that hope. For years, all really thought- ful men have felt the growing probability that slavery would end in l)lood. Yet, till this war began, we never thought that the end wotdd be in our time. That 1 have lived to see slavery already virtually abolished, and its complete extinction drawing nearer every day, tills me with wonder. Somewhat less than twenty years ago, I pul)lished a volume of Essays on Slavery, which T had contributed to various peri- odicals. A copy of the volume fell into the hands of a village 96 LEONARD BACON. lawyer in one of our great western States. He was at that time quite unknown to fame, but his neighbors knew him well as an intelligent, sagacious, honest man, capable of great things and worthy of the highest trusts ; and he had just then been elected, for the first time and the last, to be their representa- tive in C^ongress. Less than four years ago, not knowing that he had ever heard of me, I had the privilege of an interview with him ; and his first word, after our introduction to each other, was a reference to tliat volume, with a frank aj)proval of its principles. Since then I have heard of his mentioning the same book to a friend of mine in terms which showed that it had made an impression on his earnest and thoughtful soul. The man to whom I refer has just been inaugurated, the second time. President of the United States ; and his illus- trious name is forever associated with the proclamation which sealed the doom of slavery. I am not vain enough to think that his great mind, so earnest in the love of justice, so confi- dent in the conviction that right must finally prevail against wrong, so far-seeing in the discernment of princijjles and their bearings, needed any guidance or teaching from me ; but it is something to think of in this review of forty years, that when Abraham Lincoln, nineteen years ago, first found himself, as an elected representative in Congress, face to face with slavery in its relation to questions of practical statesmanshi]), the studies and debates through which I had been conducted were in any way serviceable to liim. As we think of the new aspect which the abolition of slavery, now almost complete, gives to the future of our coun- try, the home-missionary work of the American churches arrests our attention. It was in the year 1825 that consulta- tions were held, and arrangements made, which resulted in the institution of the American Home Missionary Society. That organization was formed with the design of combining in one system of cor)perative efforts the strength of the entire Presby- terian body, and of some other ecclesiastical connections, as well as of the New England churches. At first the design of co(>peration was in some degree realized ; but, gradually, the contributing churches of other denominations and connections have fallen off and entered into sei3arate enterprises, till now FORTY YEARS IX OTHER RELATIONS. 97 the institution can hardly he said to have any siij)j)orters save the Cono-reo-ational chuivhes in New Eno-land, and those that have sprung np in New Yfij'k and the West. How great the home-missionary work in the United States lias l)eeome, and what hokl it lias npon the (Christian patriotism of the country, I need not undertake to show statistically. Aside from all that is done hy the two great bodies of Presbyterians, and by the churches which trace their descent from Holland, and by other excellent and pow^erful confederations of cluirches more remotely related to us, the work of the American Home Mis- sionary Society, in the area which it covers, in the contribu- tions to its treasury, in the number of its missionaries, and in the success which it has achieved and is still achieving, far exceeds all that we thought of forty years ago. Its mission- aries, are, to-day, not only in all the States of what we then called " the West " — not only in all the regions of that " val- ley of the Mississippi " which so filled our imagination thirty years ago — but far beyond, in the Rocky Mountains, by the Great Salt Lake, and amid the strange confluences of popula- tion that are developing the resources of our Paciiic States. But home-missions in the strictest sense are onl}^ a part of the evangelization- work in our home-field. In the larger sense, all the organizations wdiich are at work for the dift'usion of religious knowledge, or for securing in the new States and Territories the institutions of Christian learning and educa- tion, are cooperating in the home-missionary work. Forty years ago, the American Bible Society had not entered on the tenth year of its existence. Forty years ago, the American Tract Society at Boston had been working in a humble way about eleven years ; and just at the time when I was beginning my official ministry here, a few good men of various ecclesias- tical connections were instituting in the city of New York another American Tract Society much more asjjiring in its aims. Forty years ago, the American Sunday School Union was making its earliest appeals to the public. Forty years ago, nobody had dreamed of any such thing as a systematized eiiort on the part of Cliristian patriots in these older States for promoting collegiate and theological education at the West, by aiding in the foundation and early support of colleges and 98 LEONARD BAGOX. theological seminaries like tliose of our own New England. These suggestions may helj^ the jonng to understand, in part, what changes some of us have seen since the time when we were young. You whose years are yet before you, think how great a system of voluntary enterprises, for giving to our country a thoroughly Christian civilization, we have seen grow- ing up in our day. We are soon to leave in your hands the l)eneficent undertakings which we have helped to inaugurate, or in which it has been our privilege to cooperate, and we bid you remember that, with all their efficiency, they are not yet commensurate with the work of making our country what it ought to be. Think of the new era which is to open upon us when this war shall be ended. With slavery overthrown, and the unity of the nation recovered and vindicated, the millions, black and white, whom slavery has kept in a bai'barous or half barbarous ignorance, will have become in reality, and not in name only, our countrymen, to be enlightened and elevated by Christian influences. Thenceforth the necessity of guarding the institu- tion of slavery l)y laws against teaching men to read, and by the violent suppression of dangerous truth, will have no place in any State or Territory of the Union, but our whole country, in its imperial extent, will be open to that free gospel which proclaims that God hath made of one blood all nations of men, and which demands for all men " the Bible without a clasp," and therefore demands and establishes the free schools in which all children alike may learn to read the Bible for them- selves. A great work of evangelization mnst be done for our country within the next twenty years. All that has been done in these forty' years is only, as it were, a preparation and a beginning. God, who has ti-ained us for the work, and has encouraged and strengthened us by gi^'ing success, is now open- ing the way and calling us forward to a glorious consummation. III. Our remembrance of the period which w^e are reviewing will not be comjjlete unless we take a still wider view. Through all the course of these forty years, changes have been steadily and rapidly going on, that have g]*eat importance in relation to the general interest and progress of Chris fs h'ingdom in the world. I do not refer to wars and political revolutions, KOHTV VKAKS fX oTHEH HKLATIOXS. 99 so iiiiR'h as t<» c'liaiij^cs ot another sort. The period has l)een cliaracterized more by tlie peaceful ])rogre88of civilized nations than bv great wars among them ; and, though there have been changes of dynasty and of empire — some of them very signifi- cant — the political map of Europe at least remains, on the whole, very much as it was in 1825. But, all this while, great forces have l)cen Avorking to change the character and condition of the world. We have often marveled at the increase of human knowl- edge, and es])ecially of that knowledge by which man obtains dominion over material nature ; but the general diffusion of knowledge is, in some respects even more significant. The a})paratus and arrangements by which knowledge — and, to a great extent, knowledge really useful — spreads itself abroad, the demand creating the supply, and the supply ever stimula- ting the demand, is among the wonders of modern civilization. Think what the art of printing has become in its relation to the millions. Think of journalism, in its range of subjects, scientific, literary, political, religious, — in the diversity of its periods, quarterly, monthly, weekly, daily, — and with its count- less pages falling everywhere, like autumn-leaves in a forest. Think what popular education has become, not satisfied with teaching children to read and write, but aiming to give sub- stantial knowledge, with something of intellectual and moral discipline. Doubtless such diffusion of knowledge is more general in our country than elsewhere ; but in almost every country of the civilized world, certainly in every Protestant country, there is the same sort of progress. Another significant fact is naturally connected with the in- crease and diffusion of knowledge. The mutual influence of all civilized connuunities is constantly increasing. Forty years ago. the seas and mountains by which nations are separated from each other, and still more the diversities of language and of political and religious institutions, were far more effect- ual as barriers against international influence and international sympathy than they now are, or ever can be again. Every civ- ilized nation is now in contact, as it were, with every othei\ Not (mly do the scientific discoveries and inventions of one country ])ass out at once int(» all countries, and become the com- 100 LEONARD BACON. mon property of civilized mankind ; but the hooks which in one language charm or agitate the poj)iilar mind, are translated into other languages, or without translation extend their influ- ence into other lands. Not popular literature only, but phi- losophy also, learns, more than heretofore, to utter itself in vari- ous languages. The thinking of Germany passes over into Britain and America ; and the thinking of English-speaking nations reacts upon Germany. With the increase of facilities for travel in these years of peace and commerce, every nation comes more and more into contact wath other nations by means of personal communication. Travelers and tourists of all sorts, seekers of knowledge and seekers of pleasure, are going abroad into all lands, sojourning here and there for a season, and then returning home. Great tides of emigration are setting from various nations of the old world to our shores ; and then, by international postage and ocean-steamers, those Americarized myriads keep up a constant interchange of influence between the land of their new hopes and homes and the lands from which they came. Among all the nations of the civilized world, and especially among those of Protestant Christendom, thei'e is a growing consciousness of more intimate relations to each other and of interest in each other's welfare. Perhaps no man who does not personally remember the time when there were no railways and no sea-going steamships to facilitate and stimulate international communication, and when the magnetic telegraph had not yet been invented, can fairly understand how great a change has come to pass in the intercourse of nations, in their knowledge of each otheir's affairs, and in their mutual influence. One marked consequence of all this, is an increased acquaint- ance and a more intimate fellowshi]) among the Protestant Christians of different nations and languages. There is begin- ning to be visible a reformed and evangelical catholicity, ex- tending through all nations, and everywhere conscious of a living unity. Evangelical Christians every where are becoming assimilated in their religious views and teachings, and thus they are obtaining larger and more adecjuate conce])tioiis of what the Christianity is which they hold in common, and which they uphold against superstition and spiritual despotism on the one hand, and against infldelity and destructive rationalism oii' the other. There is indeed no "gift of tongues" like tliat Ff)RTY VKAHS IN OTHER WEI-ATIONS. MM vvhicli attested the first <:;l()ri«»us couiiii*!; of tlie Comforter; but Cliristiiin sN'inpatliies are awakened which utter theiiiselveK, praying and praising (Tod, in all the languages of tlie civilized world, and which j^ass from land tperation which are bringing into conscious fellow- ship the growing multitude of believers in whose conception and experience the Gospel is " the power of God unto salva- tion." Forty years ago such an assembly could not have been ; and yet, so great is the change, that assembly, though the first of its kind, was only first in a series. While these changes have been in progress, l)reaking down so many of the barriers between nations, and bringing evan- gelical Christians of all names and languages and nations nearer to eacli other in thought and sympathy, and in cocipei'- ation, the principle of religious liberty has lieen gradually working itself into the public opinion of the civilized world, and into the laws and government of various nations. Forty years ago, in England itself, conscientious dissenters from the established state-religion, wliether Protestants or Roman Cath- olics, were subjected not indeed to positive persecution on account of their religion, but to many civil disabilities which 102 LEONARD BACON. are now almost forgotten. What ])rog'i-e.ss freedom to worship (4od — freedom to read the Bible — freedom to preach the Gros- pel — has made, within these forty years, in France and other European countries, not excepting Italy, nay, in realms beyond the bounds of Christendom, I -need not now descril)e. The change, in this respect, demonstrates that the nations ai'e already at the threshold, as it w^ere, of a new era, when truth shall everywhere be free in the conflict wnth error, and throughout the world the emancipating and renewing w^ord of God shall run without hindrance. Let us, then, not forget what it is which gives the chief dis- tinction to this nineteenth century, — namely, the great move- ment for the propagation of the (iospel through the world. We who are growing old have seen great things in our day. Looking back over these forty years, with thoughtful view, and recollecting how^ much of all my mortal life has been measured out to me, I cannot but thank God that I have lived in an age so full of zeal and enterprise in the work of preach- ing the Gospel to every creatui-e. The modern era of evan- gelical missions to heathen nations may be marked as begin- ning near the close of the last century, when the religious awakenings of that century — the standard which the Spirit of the Lord set up against the unbelief and atheism that were coming in like a flood — had prepared a people for the w^ork. Forty years ago, the chief evangelizing institutions through which the missionary zeal of Great Britain and America is now putting itself forth in all directions, — the great Bible and Missionaiy societies, — were already established ; but the work w^as only begun. Much had been accomplished of preliminary labor; the field had been widely explored, languages had been mastered, missions had been commenced in many heathen lands, translations of the Bible had been made with various degrees of accuracy, wisdom had been acquired by experience; and there had been just enough of success to forbid discour- ao-ement. But wliat progress have we seen within these forty yeai's ! What do we see to-day ( The isles are j-eceiving (Jod's law. Africa, on the eastetn coast and on the western, is bright- ening with the light of the sun of righteousness. Tlie hoary idolatries of India are losing their power ; and converts to Christ in that land of immemorial darkness, are mnnbered by FOKT^" ^'KARS IX ol'IIKK KKLA'I'K )NS. I ( •,", ti'iis (»f tli"\vei' to make all tliiniis lu'w . In ('liina, the missionaries from liotli sides of tlie Atlantic arc working together, and, in the churches they have gathered and the steady progi'ess of the trntli. they see that their long labor is not in \ain the i.oi'd. The darkness of the entire world of heathenism is f Paul the Apostle are more characteristic of the man, or of the gospel which he preached, than this disconrse of his to the officers of the Ephesian church, when they had come down, at his invitation, to meet him at Miletus, and there to part with him. The discourse, in all that he says to them about their official work and responsibility, in all that he says al)out himself, and in all that he says about approaching conflicts with evil, is a lesson to churches and min- isters through all time. Eeading this discourse, we can hardly fail to observe how freely and naturally he speaks of himself, in the first person, and of his ministry. He was speaking to friends — to old and tried friends — in circumstances which required him to speak in that way. To speak otherwise, on that occasion, would have been affectation, and he would have failed to say the fit and timely words, had he been embarrassed by the fear of exposing 106 LEONARD BACON. hiuiself to the imputation of egotism. If I speak of myself this afternoon, let the occasion 1)e my apolo( it. Ill's woi'k is esseiitiallv piiltlic — lu* is always iiikK-i- inspec- tion and criticism. Otlici's nuiy seek retiiviiiciit. and luxe td dwell in the shade ; Init he has no privilege of that soi-t. what- ever his iiielination may l)e. His gifts, his merits, and not these only, bnt his faults, his mistakes, his infirmities, his pro- fessional hahits, his ])ersonal pecnliai-ities. his infelicities of manner or depoi'tment, helong in some degree to the i)nl»lic. Everybody in the parish knows all about iiim ; and what the whole ])aris]i knows, everybody else knows. Exervbody has a right — more or less clearly recognized — to talk about him, and to give an opinion for or against him, whatever he does, or whatever lie neglects or refuses to do. All this is an inevitable incident of his position. lie nnist bear this yoke in Ids youth ; and if he lives long enough he must bear it till he is old. He cannot look upon his congregated hearers — he cannot meet his neighbors in any relation — w^ithout the thought : They all know after what manner J am with them at all seasons : — if I am faithful, the ineffaceable record of my fidelity is in their consciences ; if I am unfaithful, they are witnesses against me. II. The Apostle, in thus appealing to their jjersonal mem- ory, reminds them more distinctly of what he had done in that churcli, and of Mdiat he had experienced there. " Ye know after what mannei" I have l)een with you — serving the Lord with all humility of mind, and with many tears and tempta- tions which came upon nie by the plottings of the Jews — how I kept back nothing that was profitable unto you, but have showed you and taught you publicly, and from house to house, testifying, both to the Jews and also to the Greeks, repentance toward God, and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ." I dare not say so much as this. Yet, appealing to you who know after what manner I have been with you, I may say that, if I know myself, I have been endeavoring, through all the days of this ministry, to serve the Lord Jesus Christ. Sure I am that, if I have served Clirist at all, I have served him with a constant sense of imperfection and unfitness for so ai'duous a work, f have loved the work of preaching the gospel and showing to men the way of salvation; I love it still; I hope to die in it; but O, how far have I come short of setting forth, as it always seemed to me I might do, and ought to do, the reasonableness, lOS LEONAKD BACON. the attractiveness, the beauty, the glory of that g<^spel I As for tlie "hiiniility of mind " whicli tlie Aj^ostle speaks of, I thhik I know what it is, not only in that consciousness of moral im- perfection in the sight of (lijd whicli attends all the progress of the ('hristian life, but also in the consciousness of personal incompetence to so great a work. 1 love to preach, bnt if any- body has at any time been dissatished with my preaching, and has felt that it did not approach the divine greatness of the theme, let him be assured that I have been more dissatisfied than he. At the same time T may say : You know how I have kept back nothing that was profitable to you — no point of (christian truth or duty that has seemed to be needful, but have announced to you, publicly, and from house to house — in the great congregation, and in the more private teaching and application of the word — testifying to all alike, year after year, in times of revived religious feeling, and in times of comj^ara- tive declension, the one comprehensive doctrine of repentance toward (lod, and faith toward our Lord Jesus (Christ. This, as every hearer knows, has been, in its diversified bearings and relations — in the arguments by which it is enforced, the views of (rod and man, of time and eternity, of sin and salvation, by which it is illustrated, and the applications in which it bears on all the details of human duty — this has been the burthen of my ministry : Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is here — repent, and turn to God — repent, and bring forth fruits meet for repentance — repent, and believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, putting full confidence in his readiness and power to save you, and following him whithersoever his word and spirit will lead you. One phrase in the Apostle's speech refers to what he had ex- perienced at Ephesus. He speaks of his " tears," and of the opposition — the "temptations" or persecutions — which he had encountered from the machinations of the unbelieving Jews. His allusion in the word " tears" may be to some personal sor- row which was of course well known to his hearers on that occasion, but of which no record has come to us. Perhaps the allusion is only to the anxiety and the depression of feeling with which he had pursued his work, watching for souls, and grieved to see men dying in theii- sins. l>ut when he speaks KKTlKlNc; FROM HIS UFFlCiAL WORK. 109 of what l)etVl ' liiin by the plotting^ of advc'i'saries, we know what he means. We have, in the f(»ivi>(»in been eminently a happy life. My home, though often dai'kened by sickness and death, has been, and is, a hap])y home. Yet when T think of this long ministry, and of liow many there have l)een, and are, to whom, in the name of a redeeming God, I have offered a great and free salvation, but of whom it would be presumptuous to say that the gospel which they have heard here w41I not bear witness against them to their condenmation — when I remend^er what thoughts, what hopes, what disappointments, I have had concerning them — when r remend)er what prayers, in the church and in retire ment. have accompanied the invitations, the persuasions, and the warnings wdiich I have addressed to them from this place, and in which I have been Christ's messenger to their souls — I can enfer into the feeling which the Apostle uttered when he spoke of "serving the Lord with all humility of mind, and with many tears.'' [Something, too, I have known of that op])osition whicli the free and earnest application of God's woi-d to the sins of men i-arely fails to excite. ( )f course I have never had any such experience as Paul had at Ephesus and elsewhere — such tilings are not to be expected here. Nor have I ever encountered any hostility on the part of this church, or of the ecclesiastical society. If here and there one has been unaljle to accept the views which have here been exhibited from the word of God, and applied to live (juestitms of duty, such persijns have never 110 LEONAKD BACON. formed a party in opposition to the Pastor. Sometimes such an one has been generously willing to recognize the fact that I must be governed hj my own convictions, and sometimes an- other has quietly withdrawn to seek elsewhere a ministry better suited to the habit of his mind. But, after all, I have never had occasion to take alarm from that saying of Christ : "Woe unto you when all men shall speak well of you." The open enemies of Christian truth and holiness, and those who have had aims or interests adverse to the moral welfare of society, have never been my friends. It is a small thing to have been the song of the drunkard, and the jest of the ribald scoffer. Men who get gain by maldng drunkards, and whose industry helps to increase the aggregate of vice and crime in the com- munity, filling the poor-house and the jail with the victims of their trade, have hated me and cursed me. Men who find their fellow-man " guilty of a skin not colored like their own," and who " for such a rightful cause" desire to tread him down — men whose interests in trade, or whose associations and aspira- tions in political parties, were so involved in the wicked insti- tution of slavery that they must needs pay homage to that hideous idol, and cry in its behalf, from time to time, as De- metrius and his mob cried : " Great is Diana of the Ephesians" — and men who were disloyal or half loyal to their country when rebellion was striking at its life — have charged me with not preaching the gospel, and have cast out my name as evil. But their opposition has never done me personally any harm, (such men's opinions, as to what the gospel is, are of little con- sequence), and, in this closing hour of my service as your Pas- tor, I am thankful to remember that those who want an antinomian gospel, with no denunciation of wickedness, with no light for the conscience, and with no power to quicken the moral sense, have never spoken well of me. Opposition from such sources is a testimony that I have not shunned to declare all the counsel of God. The Apostle could say, in all humility of mind, and without professing that he had never, in any respect, come short of his duty to Christ : " I take you to record this day that I am pure from the blood of all men, for I have not shunned to declare unto you all the counsel of God," Whik^ T know my infirm- RETIRING FROM IMS OFPMCIAL WORK. Ill ity. and confess before (-rod, and before you all, that ,1 have fallen verv far slioit of wliat 1 on^'lit to liave been as a niini.s- tei' of Clirist in sncli a place as this, yon are my witnesses this day that, so far as the seojje and range of my preaeliing of God's word is eoncerned, I have ke])t baek nothing that was profitable, and liave not shumied to declare nnto yon all the counsel of (iod. and that, in that view. I am tree from tlie Wood of all men. III. Anothei' topic in PanTs diseonrse at Miletus is even more personal to himself. He speaks of his own future, and of the uncertainties which were before him. • " I am going," he says, "• to Jerusalem, carried along like a prisoner — l)ound in the spirit — bound in conscience — not knowing the things that shall befall me there." There were many things distinctly in prospect that might have discouraged him ; but his great desire was that he '' might finish his course with joy, and the ministry which he had received, to testify the gospel of the grace of God." In regard to my own future, I have little to say. I am not departing from you. Here, where I have lived so many years, I ex])ect to pass the brief remainder of my life. How it is that my official ministry in this dear congregation has come to its conclusion, I can hardly explain to myself otherwise than by saying that Clod has so ordered it. When I proposed to you, a year and a half ago, to relieve me of my pastoral care and labor, entirely, or in part, at your discretion, I had no plan or prospect for the future, other than that perhaps I might find time in the evening of life to perfoi'm, for the churches of ISTew England, a service to which I had been urged by friends and by l)rethren in the ministry, but which I felt I should not perform with the undivided care of tliis congregation resting on me ; and that, while performing that service, I might also be doing some good by giving instruction to theological stu- dents concerning the New England church-polity and church- history. My thought was that I might go on with my pastoral charge for another year or two, and then perhaps for yet an- other, till you should find a successor for me. But your singu- lar kindness and generosity in meeting, and more than meeting, ■ my wishes, and in making provision for me and those depend- 1 1 !2 l.EONARD . BACON. eiit on iiie in my declining yeuris, became a significant intima- tion to me — an intimation, not of your wish, Imt of yonr gener- ous willingness, that I should lay down my office. And then —just as the arrangement was complete which you have made for me — a most unexpected invitation to a different kind of work was laid before me. In other circumstances, 1 should not have listened t(» such an invitation. There is no promotion in going from this pulpit to a tiieological chair — as pulpits and professorships are to-day. Tbe transfer might have been pre- ferment forty years ago ; l)ut times are changed. For many years I have been devoutly thankful that I was not a professor of theology; and never have I desired a position so exposed to the censures of those good men who feel that their voca- tion is to be jealous for their traditional orthodoxy. But, not- withstanding my reluctance, the circumstances in which I found myself, when the invitation came, seemed like a clear revelation of my duty. I go "bound in the spirit" — reluc- tantly — under a sort of necessity laid upon me in God's providence — not knowing how I may sncceed in my new work. It is a work in which my term of service, at the longest, must be very short, and for which I can now make no preparation other than that which my more than forty years of service and experience in j^reaching have given me. I may fail in it. I have not dared to commit myself to it but for a single year. But if, by the blessing of God, I succeed in it, I shall leave a great legacy of good behind me, having finished my course with joy, and the ministry which I have received of the Lord Jesus to testify the gosjjel of the grace of God. IV. The Apostle speaks anxiously, and in words of warning, as to the future that was before the church at Ephesus. Charging the elders or bishops, who were his hearers, that they should take heed to themselves and to all the flock over which the Holy Ghost had made them overseers, he says : "I know this, that after my departing grievous wolves will enter in among you, not sparing the flock. Also of your own selves will men arise, speaking perverse things to draw away disciples after them." He foresaw dangers coming upon that church from without, and dangers arising within, but he could say in coilfident hope: ''I commend you to G(^d, and to the word of ' HKTIHINC FHOM HIS OFFICIAI, WORK. ' ll-'l his trriice, wliicli is able to l)nil(l you u|) and to ^ive you an in- lieritaiiee ainon»j all tlieui wliicli are sanctified.'" Shall I say anything- to you al)out your future '. I I'eiueui- ber tlie past. The history of this church, foi- two hundred and thirty years, testifies of God's care and favor. He hi'ou is disappearing and passing into history, and another age, in which the most of you will survive me, is be- ginning. Brethren and friends, for your own sake, and your children's sake, and for the sake of all those interests which are involved in the purity and spiritual prosperity of these churches, let prayer be made continually, that in the new age which is opening, these churches, enriched with the ministry of godly Pastors, able and faithful, may stand together, and do all their part in the work of training souls foi- heaven, and of filling the world with the knowledge and the d-]oi-v of the Loi'd. HALF-CENTURY SERMON, Peeached Makch 9, 1875, by Rev. Leonakd Bacon, D.D. Psalm lxsi. IT. God, Tiiod hast taught me from my youth. Kever till this day, in the two hundred and thirty-six years since the gathering of this church, has one of its ministers lived to see the fiftieth anniversary of his induction into office. John Davenport was more than forty years of age when he kept that first Sabbath in tlie wilderness ; and, thirty years afterward, he resigned his charge and removed to end his days in the service of another church. His two associates here, first William Hooker, and then Nicholas Street, were men who had served elsewhere many years, not only in the national Church of England, but in l^ew England, before they came to ISTew Haven. The first, after a brief ministry as teacher of this church, returned to England. The other, succeeding him almost innnediately, and continuing six years after the re- moval of Davenport, died at an advanced age, but had served this church less than sixteen years. James Pierpont, the first of our pastors born and educated in this country, died at the age of fifty-five, after twenty-nine years of service. The pas- torate of Joseph Noyes continued forty-five years, including three years after the ordination of his colleague and successor, C^hauncey Whittelsey, though he had never held office in any other church, was nearly forty years old at the date of his 120 LEONARD BACON. ordination, and the period of liis niinistiy was only thirty years, elanies Dana was more than fifty years old when he came from the church in Wallingf ord to be Pastor of this church ; and in less than twenty years he yielded his place to a young man. Muses Stuart was Pastor not quite four years. Ten years and a half were measured between the ordination and the dismis- sion of my immediate ^predecessor, Nathaniel William Taylor. Yet of the nine whom I have mentioned as having been pastors and teachers in this church, all save one died in old age, while only the first two and the last three were removed otherwise than by death. I have numbered, perhaps, as many years of life as the most aged of my predecessors ; Irat, though I was relieved from the burthen of the pastorate eight years and a half ago, I have never been in form, dismissed from the (jfiice. Therefore I regard myself, and am kindly recognized l)y the church, as pastor eineritus. Some reason, too, I have to believe that "having obtained help from God," I have not been thus far mischievous in that relation. Neither from my gifted and honored successor, nor from the deacons, nor yet from members of the church or of the ecclesiastical society, has there come to me even the least or most indirect manifesta- tion of any jealous or unkind feeling toward the old minister. I have always been in my place here on the Sa1)bath, unless detained by illness or called to scmie occasional ministry else- where. I have not assumed to preside in church meetings, for, though still an elder, I am not presiding elder. 1 am some- times connnissioned to appear for the church as its Pastor in ecclesiastical councils. lam often called to.ofiiciate here in the ]5reaching of the word, in the cele1)ration of the Lord's Sup- per, in the l)aptism of your children, in the admission of mem- l)ers, as well as from house to house in funeral services, and on other occasions of sorrow or of gladness. So, being still in some respects a I^astor of the Fii'st Church of Christ in New Haven, and ackiujwledging the continued respect and kindness (far l)eyond my deserving) shown me in that relation, I have invited you to meet me hei-e to-day for a religious connnemora- tion of what took place in this house fifty years ago. The ninth of March, 1825, was one of those bright days which introduce the sprino'. An ecclesiastical conncil had llALF-CKN'I'lin' SKRMON. TJ 1 heeii convened on the preceding day, und had |)ci't'i»niicd all its (hity preliminary to the public solemnities of the insrallalioii. Meeting again that morning, the council, with the Pastor-elect and the committees of the church and the society, and with clergymen not members of the council, moved in a somewhat formal pi'ocession fi'om thc(»ld lecture-room in Orange street to this house. Of the meml)ers of tliat council there is now not one survi- vor. The chui'ch in the Tiiited Society, the chnrch in YdK' College, the church in West Haven, and the First. South and Xortli churches in Hartford, were present by delegation, all save two of them represented by both Pastor and messenger. The President of Yale C^dlege, and my innnediate pi-edecessor. then ill the third year of liis service as Professor in the Divinity School, were also members of the council by personal invita- tion. President Day was moderator, Professor P'itch was scribe. The public service was begun with prayer by the Rev. Carlos Wilcox, whose ministry in the North C^hurch at Hart- ford had just begun and w^as soon ended. Another Hartford Pastor, the Rev. Joel Hawes, preached one of his Itest sermons. The venerable Father Stebbins, of West Haven, oifered the prayer of installation. Dr. Taylor gave the charge. The Rev. Samuel Merwiii, who had been nineteen years the pastor in the United Society, gave the right hand of fellowship, and then the closing prayer was offered by the scribe, Professor Fitch. This is not exactly like the programme of a modern installation, with its invocation and scripture reading before what was once the introductory prayer, and with its " charge to the people," borrowed from the Presbj^terian theory of church government, and too often made the vehicle of unseemly quips and jokes ; but fifty years ago it was enough. Fifty years ago I What was I then i Where am I now < Then, as I entered this house in the procession, and from the high pulpit looked over the great assend)ly, the thought of the responsibility coming upon me, the thought that within these walls the great work of my life was to be wrought, filled my eyes with tears. Yet how ignorant was I of what things were coming upon me I How inadequate were my anticipations of what niv work would be; and. with all my consciousness of 122 LEONARD BACON. insufficiency, how little did I understand the disproportion between myself and the place into which I was inducted ! To-day, at the end of fifty years, I come into this house, and where am I { The same walls enclose us ; the same vaulted roof is over us ; the same spire catches the slanting beams of sunrise and of sunset, the same old graves are beneath us, but what else remains i Those into whose faces I now look are as far removed in time from those into whose faces I looked that day, as the congregation then assembled was from the congre- gation in the old "middle lu-ick" meeting-house before the declaration of independence, before the battle of Bunker Hill, before the first gun of the revolution was fired at Lexington. Those now before me who remember that installation are not so many as there were in that congregation who rememl)ered the sacking of New Haven by the British — an event which seems to the living generation like a dim tradition from some distant age. We, too, who rememl)er, are conscious of change in our- selves. We are changed in our position and relations, in our views and habits — changed by all the difference Ijetween child- hood or youth and the decline of life. Yet under the con- sciousness of change there is a profounder consciousness of identity. Our thoughts, in our old age, are not the same that they were fifty years ago ; our feelings are not the same ; we look on the world around us as through other eyes than those of our youth ; we look forward with very difl:erent expecta- tions and desires ; but great as are these changes in the opera- tion of our minds, like the changes in our bodily powers and functions, the fact that we remember and are at this moment bringing into one thought the present and the past, implies — nay, is the direct consciousness — that we are, each one of us, the same. That which the word " I " stands for, that which thinks, and feels, and wills, is permanent through all these changes. The earth on which I stood when I was a child, is the same, the sun that shone upon me then is the same, the changeless north star is the same, but the identity of earth or sun or star — the identity even of a material atom in all its com- binations and through all the ages, is not more absolute than mine or yours. Changes sweep around us — changes are ever ilALF-CENTL'llV SKJiMON. \2o going on within ns, hut tlie nieniorv of one's-self is the con- sciousness ()f an identical, permanent, indivisihle personality. That personal identity of which we are conscious, running on through all changes, thirty, fifty, seventy years, and more — must it not continue through the last change and beyond it { Emotion may be transient as the tear or the smile ; but the soul that remembers it is permanent. Thought may follow thought like waves upon the shore, but that which thinks is imperishable. He who holds that there is thought without a thinker, and memory with no mind that rememliers, and heroic purposes and struggle, but no personal will — or, more liriefiy, he who denies his own personal existence — may deny that he is to exist hereafter. But we who remember know that we exist — we know that through all the changes around us or within us, our indivisible existence is identical ; and how can we admit that our consciousness of thought and will and memory is not immortal ? May I not say that He who has brought life and immortality to light has made us conscious of our immortality ? Something of th^t consciousness gleams through the words which I have selected as a theme for this occasion : " O God, Thou hast taught me from my youth." The Psalmist, " old and gray headed," remembered the years of long ago — how when he was a child he thought as a child — how when he became a man he put away childish things ; and, conscious of personal identity through the changes of so many years, he was conscious that God had been teaching him. Taking the hint which these words give me, I make them my own : " O God, Thou hast taught me from my youth." Instead of attempting to sum up the story of the changes which have taken place in this church, in our city, in our country, and in the world, and w^hich have made this last half century one of the most wonderful " in the book of time," I propose to tell only of some changes which have been going on in my own mind ; and, in so doing, I hope to preach not myself, but Christ Jesus the Lord. I. How does God teach '( In what methods, and by what means and processes, has he been teaching me ? When I shall have answered this question, I will mention some of the lessons which I think I have learned — though imperfectly— under His teachino-. 124 LEONARD BACON. 1. There is a divine teaching by means of those physical changes which mark the progress from yonth to matm-ity and to old age. God has l)een teaching me in that way. You may stand in the morning sunlight on one of the hills that overlook our city from the east, and then you may come again and survey the same landscape, from the same point of view, in the light of the setting sun. How obvious the difference between what you saw at sunrise and what you see at sunset ! There was no illusion in that morning light — there is none in the more golden radiance of the later liour. What you saw, when the light was behind you and all the shadows fell west- Avard, was reality ; and what you see now, with the shadows reversed, is equally real. But you know the landscape l)etter by seeing it first in the morning and then in the evening, than if you saw it always in the same light. Somewhat like this is the difference between the outlook of the mind in the early vigor of its powers and its outlook in later years — a difference in the physical conditions of thought and knowdedge. While ■fifty years were passing, what changes have there been in the brain, in the nerves, in the entire fabric of the l)ody which the soul inhabits. By means of such changes (iod is teaching us. Fifty years ago, when my eyes were young, when the blood of young manhood was in my veins, when the fibre of the brain had not attained its maturity, when all the moods and impulses of youth were in full play, it was not jiossible for me to see things as I saw^ them at the noon of life, or as I see them now. Yet what God had then already taught me is incorporated and blended with all that he has been teaching me even to this day. If we think of the soul as born not for this mortal life only but for a great hereafter, we realize in a moment that these successive changes in the physical conditions of mental activity may be as truly essential to the soul's development as were those earlier changes by which the baby on its mother's bosom grew to the stature of a man. When T lay helpless on my mother's bosom, (xod, by physical changes — by growth of brain and nerve and muscle — made it possible for me to s])eak, to walk, to think, to work ; and so he taught me. In like manner, by all the subsequent changes which make up the life of this material organism of ours. Tie has been teaching iiALF-cEXTrm" sKinrox. 125 me even to this day. And it" there are hefore me years of senility and deereintude, tliey too will have their place in the plan of (iod's dealini>- with my soul: and let me say, to the last, '• () (lod. Thou has taught me from my youth.'" 2. (rod teaches every one of us hy means of our association with other minds ; in that method lie lias been teaching me. Fi'om our infancy onward, all our teachers are, or ought to he, (lod's servants, teaching us, by the dii-ect action of their minds on ours, what TTe would have us learn. The direct action of one mind upon another, connnunicating knowledge, guiding and ({uickening thought, training the faculties of observation and reflection, touching the springs of sensihility, of con- science, and of love or hate, and in all these ways moulding the character, is what we ordinarily mean by teaching. So the mother and father teach tlieii- children, and tlie little children of a household teach one another, mind acting upon mind. So, all our lives long. Me are in close association M'ith the minds around us, and, if we are not too unteachable, they are always teaching us. It is fit therefore, as I review God's dealings with me for these fifty years, that I make some thankful mention of how He has been teaching me by means of my association witli other men, older than myself or my coevals, superior to me in the gifts of nature and of learning, or my equals. When I came to this pastoral charge in my inexperience, and with all the rawness of my preparation for the work, my immediate prede- cessor, instead of being numbered M'itli the dead or removed to some distant post of duty, \vas my neighbor and friend. I was never in any formal way his jjupil ; I did not frequent his lecture-room, but in those early years my intercourse with him was constant and intimate. The direct influence of his mind on my thinking supplemented my inadequate studies in theol- ogy. He was then already -far the foremost of the living theo- logians of New England, as he had been one of the foremost and most successful of New England Pastors, and my familiar intercourse with him taught me to think and taught me to preach. It was hardly a less privilege to be associated in the same sort of intimacy with Professors Fitch and Goodrich, and with President Day, who was to me as venerable then as he 10 126 LEONARD BACON. could ever have been to tliose who knew him only in the later years of his presidency, or in that calm, long evening of his life which was so beautiful. IS^o'r will I refrain from mention- ing in this connection the modest and worthy man who was then Pastor of the church in the United Society, Samuel Mer- win. He never thought himself the peer, either in learning or in mental force, of the eminent men whom I have just named ; but he and I were the only Congregational Pastors in the town ; there was no line of demarcation between our parishes, and yet neither of us had the faintest jealousy of the other. Our friendship was intimate, our intercourse constant, our mutual confidence without reserve. His j^ersonal acquaintance with the ways of my two surviving predecessors, and with their predecessor, and his nineteen years of experience before me in the pastoral office, were an advantage to me ; and through him I became acquainted with the place, with tradi- tions and memories then recent, and with the ideas and usages of times that were beginning to be old, and were vanishing away. Outside of New Haven there were other ministers, by whom God taught me in those early days; one was Lyman Beecher; for though he removed from Litchfield to Boston within a year after my installation here, I often saw him and was often present with him in those meetings for fraternal consultation which he loved ; and I rarely saw him without catching from him some electric flash of thought, some pithy saying easily remembered for its wit, and Avortli remembering for its wisdom, some story of his earlier or later experience in preaching, or some inspiring suggestion of work to be done for Christ and for humanity. Another was Nathaniel Hewit, then of Fairfield, afterwards of Bridgeport, whose connection with the Hillhouse family often brought him to this place. His power of fascination over a young minister was like that of the poet's " ancient mariner " over the " wedding guest ;" and though I was not betrayed by that fascination into an accept- ance of his austere and (as I thought), unlnlilical theology, nor into the habit of seeing the present and the near future under the sombre light which his mind threw over them, I learned from him many a lesson which I liave not forgotten. And yet llAl.F-OEK'rrHV SERMON. 127 anotlier, undei" whose intluonce 1 came in those earl v years, and whom I never ceased to love and hoiioi", was Thomas H. Skin- ner, then of I*hiladelpliia, and afterwards of New York. Thron<;'li a series of years theiv was hardly a snmmei' when he did not visit ns. His child-like simplicity of affection and of trust, his power as a preacher, his eagerness to discuss the most ditHcult themes in relation to the divine redemption and i-enovation of sinners — all were helpful to me; and, as I look back to my youth, I bless (lod for my friendship with that saintly man. It was my thought to speak of how God taught me by my friendly association with men who though I revered them, Avere not ministers of the word. But should I venture in that direction the time would fail me. I also intended to speak more at length of some younger than myself, with whom I have been a fellow-worker in this ministry, but 1 must forbear. Yet there are two names — ^nay, three — which I nnist mention. If ever there was a man with mental constitution utterly unlike mine, that man was Henry G. Ludl(»w; always overflowing with demonstrative affection and emotion, always ready to l^reach, and never preaching but with a flame of enthusiasm, at one moment weeping in pity or sympathy and at the next moment laughing with some gush of religious joy. It seemed almost as if nothing in him was commensurate with anything in me. Yet he loved me, and I could not, if I would, help loving him. There was help for both of us in that friendship ; for if men love one another, working side l)y side, they are teachino; one another bv the very diversitv^ of their grifts. The late Dr. Cleaveland became pastor of the Third Church when I was in the ninth year of my ministry here ; and then, for the first time, I found myself associated in this half-colleague rela- tion with a brother younger than myself — for he was five or six years my junior. Even before his ordination we began to be on terms of intimacy, consulting with each other almost daily as partners in the same work. I think that in that inti- macy he learned something from me ; and I am confident that I was taught something by my sympathy with him, and my endeavors to encourage him under the trials of his early minis- try. When he became, at a somewhat later period, an alarmist 12S LEONARD BACON. in tlieology, and, still later, an extreme conservative in politics, <»nr intimacy was sometimes interrnpted ; bnt there was never, to my knowledge, any bitterness between us ; and I trust tliat the mistakes which I thought I saw on his part, taught me something. I always knew that he loved C Jhrist and loved the truth. And when I think of Dr. Dutton, I know that my long intimacy with him, never interrupted by a distrustful word or thought, was a blessing to both of us. If, in our constant intercourse, I as an elder brother was helpful to him, he as a younger brother was surely helpful to me. It was good to pray with him ; good to talk with him ; good to work with him. It was good tt) share his affectionate and ever faithful friendship — to see how he watched foi- souls, and how kindly he visited the suffering oi- the sorrowing — to see his strenuous loyalty to justice and to liberty, bnt generous indignation against wrong done to others, and his more generous forgetful- ness or unconsciousness of wrong or insult offered to himself. Dear Brother Dutton I It seems lonesome, even now, to be living on without him. Let me say why I have been so particular in these state- ments — as much so as I could well be without mentioning the name of any living friend. It is because I desired to give my testimony on this point for the benefit of younger ministers here present, and more especially for the benefit of the still younger men who are hoping to serve in this ministry. God teaches the ministers of his word, and helps them to make the most of what is in them, l)y means of their association with other ministers. No man who enters the ministry can afford to cut himself off from the benefit of constant intercourse, free and fraternal, with his neighboring brethren in the same ministry. When Pastors and other working ministers forsake the assembling of themselves together in brotherly association — when they lose the consciousness of partnership in a common work, and cease to meet for consultation and nmtual help — then you may know that the ministry is losing power ; that, instead of the union of hearts and hands which comes from conferring together about their difficulties, their successes, their studies and their plans of doing good, there will soon be petty estrangements among them, and mean jealousies, and scram- iiALF-cKXTrin' sKiniox. I'2i> hi in o; rivalries — and tliat, instead of nnitual ini])rovement, tliere will 1)0, in too many instances, no improvement at all. The minister, however gifted or privileged, who conlines his views to his own parish as if he had no concern in anyhody who is not or may not become a pewdiolder in his congregation, and who shnts himself n]) to his own separate stndies, as if none of the brethren around him had any interest in liiiii or any right to he benefitted by his attainments, Avill by and by grow stiff and narmw in his w^ays of thiid-cing, and in his isolation his mind will shrivel. When I see a yonna: minister holdinij* back from fraternal intimacy with his l)rethren,. recognizing no obli- gation on him to attend their meetings for consultation and mutual help, taking an attitude and position as of one who is above learning anything from the slow-going old-fashioned men who were so unfortunate as to come into the world a few years before him, and assuming that he has nothing in the world to do but to work his own parish according to his own ^v^sdom, T have not much hope of him. A sacred proverb for- bids us to indulge any large expectations concerning one who is too wise in his own conceit to learn anything from his seniors or from his comjDeers. For my own part, I say again with devout acknowledgment, that God has taught me from ray youtli even to this day, not only in general l)y means of my association Avith other minds in the various walks of learning and of business, but especially by means of my constant association with other minds in the same high and sacred employment with myself. When I was the youngest among all the Pastors of the county or of the State, I was taught by kindly intercourse with elder brethren wdio had known my father l)efore me; and, while I have been growing old in years, T have endeavored to keep myself young in mind and spirit by familiar intercourse with my younger ])rethren. 8. T was going to speak of books as another mode of the action of mind upon mind ; for in that method (lod has taught me from my youth, and is still teaching me, but there is no time for wdiat I would like to say on that point. 1 have nevei- been a great reader, my life l)eing too l)usy for that. Little of my time has been spent in libraries, nor have I aspired to enii 130 LEONARD BACON. nence in any department of scholarship. But yon kpow there is one volume which, above all others, has been the study of my lifetime, and the principles of which, as revealing God to men and reconciling men to God, it has been my life-work to unfold and apply. Other books have been useful to me chiefly as helps to the understanding and exposition of that volume ; and from the beginning I have sought — alas that I have not sought more earnestly — to make my ac(piisitions in whatever direction subservient to the great end of announcing, explain- ing and promoting that kingdom of God among men which is the one comprehensive theme of the Bible. ]^ot commenta- ries only and books of learned exegesis — not theology only in systems and controversies — but books in every department of knowledge have had for me their chief value in their relation to that one volume which has been my text l)Ook, and which is above all others, and in distinction from all others, God's own book. Philosophy — history — tlie physical sciences exploring all the realms of nature — the sciences of man, of government, and of that great complexity oi rights and interests and duties by which men are connected with each other, and which con- stitute society and the State — every science that has to do with concrete realities — must, sooner or later, pay tribute to Christ and become subservient to his kingdom. In that conlidence, T have studied my text-book, and have l)eeu ready to receive whatever light may fall upon its pages. I have never had any fear that, in the progress of knowledge, God may be eliminated from the universe or Christ from history. The rev- elation of God reconciling the world to himself, is what the Bible gives us, and what science can never take away. 4. Omitting, then, all T would gladly say — and perhaps gar- rulously — about some Ijooks other than the Bible, which have been eminently helpful to me, I proceed to speak, brietly, of another method in which God has taught me from my youth. Fifty years ago, when I was younger than most young men are when they enter a theological seminary, He who gives wis- dom to those who ask it of Him began to teach me l)y my experience as a Christian Pastor. I'or the first two or three years, as might have been expected, by some depressing expe- riences — thei-e is uo need of my describing them — they were HAT.IM'KNTUKY SERMON. 181 such as come (luitc iiatiii'allj to one iu the potjitioii in wliicli 1 found myself. I had undertaken a work too great for the immaturity of my ])owers and the inadequateness of my pre])aration for it. liut from the first, I was not without some experience of another sort^the experience of wise and gener- ous frieudsliip among my people, and, better still, the expe- rience Avhich a Pastor gains by personal contact with souls coming to him for guidance in the way of life, and led by his counsel to lay hold on the hope set before them. And when, ere the third year of my pastorate was completed, there came a religious awakening in the congregation, that larger experi- ence of the joy of " gathering fruit unto life eternal," taught me many a lesson which I could not have learned from years of converse with books and of earnest meditation. Then, and thenceforward, a new light was thrown over my work in the pulpit, in the study and in the parish. There was courage in the thought that my labor had not been in vain in the Lord ; and that there were among my people so many who loved me because, under my teaching and guidance, in part, they had been introduced to the new life in Christ. If I do not deceive myself in these reminiscences, the people saw, and my brethren in the ministry saw, that I had learned something. Still I fell short, far short, of my own ideal, and of the better and more exjierienced minister;- with whom I compared myself and was compared by others, but every new reviving in the more than forty years of my active pastorate Avas a fresh experience of God's teaching. Not only my public work in preaching and lecture-room talking, but my work from house to house (such as it was), my conference with individuals in various stages of religious thoughtfulness, my intercourse with the sick or other- wise afflicted, my funeral ministrations, my words of counsel and of prayer by the l)edside of the dying, poor as at the best they must have been, were the better and the more valuable for all God's teaching of me by such experience. 5. I hasten to recognize one more of the methods in which (xod has taught me from my youth, namely, by His providence over me and mine. The events of every man's individual life, the burthens laid upon him, his successes and his disaj)point- ments, the relations of love and duty in his home, the joys and 132 LEONARD BACON. griefs that alternately brighten and darken his dwelling — these and the like are what we call God's special providence over him; and they are, from beginning to end, a discipline by which God is teaching him, I think to-day of what God's providence over me has been for three and seventy years. I recall the first dawning of memory and the days of my early childhood in the grand old woods of New Clonnecticut, the saintly and self-sacriheing father, the gentle yet heroic mother^ the log cal)in, from whose window we sometimes saw the wild deer bounding through the forest glades, the four dear sisters whom I helped to tend, and whom it was my joy to lead in their tottering infancy — yes, God's providence over me was even then teaching me. Our home life, the snow^y winter, the blos- soming spring, the earth never jjloughed before and yielding its first crop to human labor, the giant trees, the wild flowers, the wild birds, the blithesome squirrels, the wolves which we heard howling through the woods at night, the bears which we children heard of and feared, but never saw, the redskin savage sometimes coming to the door, by these things (iod was making impressions on my soul that must remain forever, and without which I should not have been what I am. I remember my later boyhood in another home and amid other surroundings — the petty mortiflcations and occasional hardships incidental to my position — the moral dangers which might have been my ruin but out of which I was strangely delivered — the circum- stances that awakened, from time to time, something of reli- gious sensil)ilitv — the opportunities and means of learning which were given me, inadequate, yet inestimalile. God's care was over me then, and by His providence He was teaching me. I remember how, when my father had found rest in his grave, and my mother was a helpless though not friendless widow, God answered their prayer for their iirst-born, and brought me to Yale College. And here God taught me not only by the ministry of tutors and professors, with their text-books and their lectures, but also by His special providence over lue. The penury and dependence, the ])rivations and, I may say, hardships, as well as the opportunities of those years, were comprehended in the discipline by \vlii<'li (iod was training me. l')Ut wliy do I sjxnik of tliesc tliing>^ It is iii(H\' ai)pi-o- HALF-CENTIRY SERMON. 1 1^8 priate for lue to say, on this occasion, tliat through these last fifty years (tocI's providence over nie and mine lias l)een a con- stantly instructive discipline. He gave nie a wife whose dear memory is tenderly cherished, even now, hy all who knew her and continue to this day. A¥e set up our home in humble fashion, and He hallowed it and made it happy. He gave us children to love with that exquisite affection which parents know. He kept us poor, hut we had food and raiment, and somehow they were paid for. We had no certain dwelling- place ; but wherever our hired house was for the time, no house in the town was more gladsome with the voices of chil- dren. For more than fifteen years the shadow of death never fell upon our home. 1 had known sorrow, but there were some sorrows which I had never tasted. At last it came, and when my youngest born — just old enough to wonder why his father could not help him — was dying in my arms, after a short, sharp illness, ending with the agony of suffocation, ah ! that was a new experience, and (4od was teaching me by it. Then, after two more children had been born, and we had lived a little while in the house which we could call our own, the wife and mother died, and the pleasant house was desolate. Well did I know in that dark day, that (rod's providence was teaching me. The children He had left me were dearer than ever for her sake as well as for their o\vn sake, and closely did they cling to me. By my struggles for them, and by the ear- nest endeavors of the older ones to lighten their father's bur- then, (Tod was teaching me. By that entire experience God taught me — opening to my soul the treasures of His Avord, giv- ing me some new (jualifications for the ministry, by which those treasures are dispensed. Three years had been almost completed when a new mother, bringing with her all a true mother's love and patience, was given t(t my children ; and what she has been to them and to me, through nmch infirmity and suffering — what reason they have and I have to bless God in her behalf — need not be told to any who know what my home has been for the last eight and twenty years. But I must refrain. I have said enough to show what, a conviction I have that all my life long, and especially through the last fifty years. God's providence over me has l>een a disci- 134 LEONARD BACOX. pline, teaching me, training ine, making all changes subser- vient to the progress of my intellectual and spiritual being. Our life itself in this world is one continued course of educa- tion and teaching by the providence of Ilim who created us for immortality. II. I promised to mention some of the lessons which I think I have learned within these fifty years under God's teaching. But in attempting to redeem that promise I will not weary you. Suggestions merely nmst suffice instead of details. "O God, Thou hast taught me from my youth." What has God taught mie ? What have I gained from His teaching ? (1.) I have gained, from one stage of progress to aiiother, clearer and more just conceptions of Christian truth. My progress in that sort of knowledge was not ended when I came from Andover; it is not ended yet. I know more to-day — more adequately and exactly — what God reveals to us by the Bible, than I knew fifty years ago — more than I knew ten years ago ; and I am still a learner, and hope to be a learner to the end. (2.) It is partly by those clearer and more just con- ceptions of ( Uiristian truth, that I have gained a broader liber- ality of judgment in regard to theological and ecclesiastical difEerences among (Christians, and a corresponding enlargement of sympathy with all who follow Christ. I trust I am as far as ever from the liberality of indifferentism, but God has taught me, afe He is teaching His churches everywhere, that they who believe on the Lord .Jesus Christ and folloM' Him are agreed in the main thing and may agree to difler in other things. (3.) By the same teaching I have gained better views of what C^hristian experience is, and of how the Christian life begins and is sustained and manifested. Long ago I learned and began to teach — what I did not adequately know at the beginning of my ministry — that experience, however con- formed to any tradition of what conversion and regeneration ought to be — must be tested by the character and not the char- acter by the experience, and that wherever the ( 'hristian chai-- acter appears in the authentic '' fruits of the Spirit '^ — there is no need of inquiring for the story of the psychological process in which the character began ; and thus I am learning, more and more, to recognize as belonging to ('hrist all who profess and IIALF-CKNTrHY SERMON. 185 seem to love Iliiii. (4.) I luivo also i>;aiiK'(l, mid am ' in the house of Ood to-day. we feel that it is oidy a few days since we met here to l)ear oui- part in the funei'al solemnity so far away and yet so near. How can we keep a national thanksgiving under so dark a cloud ( — Hoiof Have we never learned that Christian song which tells us that and that " God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform," '■ Behind a frowning providence He hides a sniiHns: face '"? Do we not know that what we see is the dark side of the cloud, and that, beyond it there is the splendor of the sky ''. Nay, do we not already catch some glimpses of the "• silver lining '' { Do we not see the cloud breaking and its edges tinged with gold and crimson ? A devout man, l^elieving in God's father-care over him, learns to say, in ^'iew of remembered disappointments and Ijereave- ments, " It was good for me to be afflicted,'" and so he can be thankful even for the discipline of sorrow. May not God's care for the welfare of a favored nation — not less than his lov- ing providence over his individual children, manifest itself, sometimes, in visitations of calamity I In the light of this con- sideration let us think of how God has been dealing with us as a nation while the cloud was hanging over us. First, then, we have this to be thankful for in connection with that great national sorrow — the call to prayer was not unheeded by the people. On the thii'd day of July last, that apostolic direction concerning pul)lic worship : " I exhort that, first of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions, and giving of thanks, be made for all men ; for kings and for all that are in authorit}', that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and honesty," — was observed, and it has been observed ever since that day, as I think it had not been observed for a long time previous. I have had occasion, at intervals within the last 140 LEONARD BACOK. Hfteen years, to take notice of the fact (as others have taken notice of it) tliat when onr worshiji in this house on the Lord's day has been led by occasional })reachers, instead of being led by a Pastor in charge of the flock, the prayers have not always made mention of the men. entrusted with authority in the State and in the Union. Indeed, if T mistake not, prayer for the government and the men who administer it — prayer for the sovereign people, and for governors and others commissioned by the people to administer oui- public affairs and to provide for the common welfare — has been the exception rather than the rule in our Lord's day assemblies. I cannot but think that it has been so elsewhere, and too generally throughout our country. Tn Protestant Episcopal congregations, prayer for the President and for others in authoi'ity is offered every Lord's day through the year ; prayer especially for Congress whenever Congress is in session. The same sort of prayei- is t>ffered in churches of other names, if it so happens that the minister who conducts the worship is one whose ideas and w^ays are in some degree old fashioned. But there seem to be some ministers, and I fear there ai*e many,, who are hardly aware that the assem- bly (jn the Lord's day in the Loi-d's house is, first of all, an assembly for prayer, and still less aware that, of all prayer-meet- ings, that meeting of the church and of all who join with it in public worship ought to be the most solemn and most effective. Too often the thought seems to be that prayer and hymns (and sometimes perhaps prayer and music) are appropriate and help- ful as accessories to the sermon, and that the people come to- gether as hearers only rather than as worshipers. But on that third day of July last, all over the breadth of the continent, the feeling in every congregation was that they had come together "first of all" for ''supplications, prayers, inter- cessions ;" and that they must pray for the President of the United States. The assassin's shot startled the nation as if the apostolic direction about public worship in Christian assemblies had been repeated in thunder. Thenceforward, week after week, while the President lingered between life and death — Sabbath after Sabbath whether it was the Christian Sabbath or the Jewish — prayer went up in his behalf from all assemblies. Whethei- the meeting-place was a cathedral or a cabin, it was HIS LAST SKUMON. 141 felt to he a place for |)i-ayer, and tlie hui'tlien of ])i-aver was eveiywhere tliat one hni-tlien of anxiety and sorrow wliieli was on the heart of the |)eo])le. Tlie slioek, then, which went thfony-h tlie nation with the rt'j)ort of tliat nnii'(k'rinu- pistol, was a call to j)rayer. aiid the call was not unlieeded. If it is a fact, as 1 trnst it is. that, in onr w<)i-8hi])iug assend>Hes, hoth ministers and })eople have heen learninij; a lesson ahont what heloni>'s to pnhlic worslii]), and that henceforward the Sahhath prayer for the President of the United States and all otliers in authority shall he as inse])aral)le from the connnon j)rayei- of all the chni'ches as it is from the common ])i'ayei' of Protestant K])iscopal congregations, shall we not he thankful for the lesson g'reat as is the cost of it ( I know there are those who silently or openly are asking, What is the nse of sucli prayei- ^ The thought is in some hearts. All that ])rayer hroiight hack no answer; we prayed, and the whole nation i)rayed that the wounded President might live, bnt he is dead, and what was the use of all that prayer'^ What the use of prayer I That is an old question, — older than the book of Job. T.ong before any prayer-guage or 23rayer-test was thought of, a certain sort of men could say, " What is the Almighty that we should serve him, and what -proHi should w^e have if we pray to him V I have known believing souls who, though they could not leave off praying, were perplexed by what seemed to them the inefficacy of their prayers. They had prayed, and our Father who is in heaven had not given them what they desired and hoped for. Some such, |)erhaps, are here to-day, — perplexed and l)eclouded w^ith speculations about the efficacy of prayer. We pi-ayed, they are saying in their hearts — we prayed, and tens of thousands joined w^ith us in the prayer that the illustrious sufferei' might live ; but all that prayer remains unanswered, — he is dead ; what profit had we i But think, O doubting soul, think! What is prayer^ Is it dictation i or supplication ( Does it command God wdiat to do and what to refrain from doing ; or does it bow down before him in the spirit of submission to his will ^ What is prayer but the cry of dependent and short-sighted creatures appealing to the infinite love and the iniinite wisdom of God i Is it your theoi'v that your pi-ayei- is unanswered and lost unless your 11 142 LEONARD BACON. desire and youi- wisdom can be permitted to overrule the counsels of God 'i Have you a right to say that your prayer is not heard or not answered, if it does not suspend the operation of those physical laws and forces which God established in his work of creation, and by which he rules the world in his provi- dence '( I know there is a cui'rent theoi'v which implies all this — a theory by which religious souls are often darkened and distressed, and which unljelievers hold when they would en- courage themselves and otliers in an atheist life. It will be a great thing for the health of the churches and for the growth of pure and true religion in our country, if this great instance of what such believers and such unbelievers call unanswered prayer shall open tlie eyes as well as hearts of all (Christian worshipers to that other and true theory which makes absolute deference to God's wisdom, with childlike submission to his will, an essential element in prayei". Thus it was that Paul ])rayed so earnestly and persistently foi* relief from his thorn in his flesh, and was answered by the promise " My grace is suffi- cient for thee." Thus our Lord Jesus prayed, " O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me ; nevertheless, not as I will but as thou wilt."" Often the God of our salvation answers prayer '"by terrible things in righteousness.''' It is mere unbelief to say, or to think, that the prayer of this nation for its wounded and dying President was all in vain. Let us then hold fast our faith not only that God is, but that lie is a rewarder of them wdio diligently seek him. We pray, " Give us tliis day our daily bread," and it is our privilege to see by faith the hand that feeds us. If we thus pray, our daily bread is God's answer to our daily prayer. True, he feeds the ravens also that have not sense enough to pray, and he feeds myriads of men that never pray. But those men, senseless of God as the ravens are, live on a lower level of existence than that on which men walk with God. Here is the ti'ue idea of prayer. If we pray in spirit and in trutli, prayer brings us into communion with God and into a familiar friendshi]) with liim. It is a mistake to think tliat an outburst of religious feeling or any glow and rapture of meditation is prayer. The man who prays has something to ask for — business, as it were, to be transacted at the tlii-one of giace. He has need of God's Ills LAST SKRMON. 14.". lit'lj) ill ivlatidii to this life and in relation to the life hereafter; he has work to do; lie has duties, cares, affections, hoi)es and fears; and he liriiius them to his Father. That Fathei' knows him. cares f(»r him, listens to him. and answers him with hless- injis. (iod is his friend, is with him in his daily life, is taking- care that all thin^-s shall work toi;-ether for ii;ood to him. (fod's friendshi]i is worth more to him than the ntmost prosperity of those who are without (rod in the world can he to them. The friendshi]) of (iot' Mdliaiiiiiicdaii aii- on this side of the Atlantic; when, on the day of our President's funeral, the symhols of numrning were hung out in London as if Lon(h)n itself wei'e one of our cities ; when that widowed (^ueen (at the nienti(»n of whose name American hearts reply "(lod hless her" more fervently, perhaps, than if there had never heen a Declaration of Inde])endence) sent her loving words of condolence to the widow of our President and to his venerable mother, the back- woods farmer's widow ; what was the meaning, to us, of all this international sympathy ? The circle of a hundred years has just been completed since that surrender which ensured and virtually certified to the woi'ld the independence of the Fnited States. Between that U)th of October, 1781, which saw the surrender at Yorktown, and that 19th of October, 1881, whicli saw our national salute to the imperial iiag of Great Britain on the spot where it had been struck in acknowledgment of defeat, thei-e had been a century of pi-ogress. International animosities are losing their old bitterness. International sympathies are growing stnmger. We see this — and it is much to l)e thankful for — in the expres- sions of regard and sympath}' which have come to us in our national affliction. But we cannot fail to see that they signify to us more than this. The feeble TTnion of thirteen States, as they were in 1781, with their population of less than three mil- lions scattered along the Atlantic coast, has become the hrmly compacted Union of thirty-nine States with a population of fifty millir>ns. We have become — let us not say the foremost, but- one of the foremost powers of the world. All nations are looking towards us, not in feai- (God forl)id that they should have reason to fear us I) but in wonder at our advancement in pojjulation, in wealth, in all the elements of civilization, and as they look they are learning how great a blessing fi-om God a government like ours — self-government — may be to a i)eople capable of self-government. 146 LEONARD BACON. Remember, then, our national responsilnlitj. That is the thought which ends my service here to-day. A national thanks- giving ought t' him onci- more hefoiv m_v mind, lie appeal's as a man (tf wonderful mem«>i-j ; of clear peree])tion of truth; of that loi>ical ])ower which belongs, not indeed to the authors of systems of philosophy, })ut to the ablest advocates in the con- flicts of thouglit ; of wide and comprehensive mental gi-asp ; oi a rhetorical skill and culture characteristic of the l)est writers of our lano-uage ; of an uncommon poetic sense and feeling; of such extraoi'diiuii-y suggestiveness and feitilitv' in ideas, that his mind could nevei' l)e inactive or at rest; of so exquisite humor that it was a continual charm to listen to his conversation; of a native dignity of expression which everywhere compelled respect ; of a beautiful combination of intellectual vigor and tender feeling. How often have we found him, when (piestions of tlie past were before us, ready to l)ring forth fi-oni the store- house of his recollections those minute details and that fresh- ness of living fact which contain within them the reality of history. He seems, from his earliest years, to have seized upon all that he heard from persons who were older than himself, and to have laid it aside in his mind for use at any moment. His remembrance was in this "way prolonged, if we may so express it, over a period of half a century or more before the time of his l)irth. It was thus enabled to realize for himself and foi' us the earlier life of New England, and in a high degree that of the city where he and we have found our home. His reading, also, cari-ied him l)ack into the nioi-e distant j)ast. Here, again, the accuracy of memory brought everything into his lasting possession. He was an authority with regard to his- torical facts and dates. He had a most lively interest in all that was interesting in every period and in every land. He com- prehended and entered sympatlietically into the struggles of other ages, and, while he lived with an enthusiasm for the pres- ent beyond that of most men who know little of what is be- hind it, he fired the energies of his spirit l)y the example of the heroes and martyrs of lilierty and of faith. I am sure that the men who fought for their rights against tyi-anny and op- pression in England two centuries ago and more would have recognized him as a kindred spirit, and would haxe seen in him, as he carried on the conflict in this later day, the influence of their own lives. Trulv, we have lost in his dving Luuch of 152 LEONARD BACON. the past; iniicli wliieli had l>een witliiii his own experience mnch more which was so made a reah'ty thi'(:)no;h his memory of what he had hqard and vead, that it seemed as if he must have exj)erienced it. T feel that the world has, in a certain sense, grown younger to ns all than it was a few days ago, from the passing away of what was in his I'ecollection. How qnickly, also, his mind" moved. He had more new and fresh thoughts in a day, we may almost say, than most men, even men of culture, have in a week. I never knew a mind more rich in ideas, more constantly active, more awake in every direction, more ready to effervesce and scintillate with bright thoughts, when aroused by the excitement of intelligent con- versation. As St. Paul's ideas seem to have pressed for utterance, oftentimes, more rapidly than the pen of his amanu- ensis could record them, so in the case of our friend I ha^e sometimes felt that the mind was unable to contain all that was in it, and that, as he poured forth his thought in its abundance, he was, as it were, only thinking aloud. He was not, however, like some nien, a constant talker. He could l)e silent in the contentment of his own meditation as easily as he could speak. But he needed only to be stinmlated by the presence and dis- cussion of cultivated friends, and his mind opened at once in every beautiful way. The rich resources of memory, the pre- cision of his thinking, the play of keen wit, the love of truth, the purity of sentiment, the facility of language, which were characteristic of him, all combined to make the expression of his thoughts delightful to the hearer. There are few persons within the circle of our knowledge I am confident, who exhil)it in their style so much of rhetorical- finish and of the purest English expression. Every sentence, whethej" written or spoken, appeai'ed to fall, as by a natural law, into the proper order and to assume a rich musical charac- ter, kindred even to that which has given to the English version of the Scriptures such power over inultitudes of minds. It was this, in a large measure, together with his appreciative sense of what was fitting, which made us all trust him in any emergency to say the right words in the right way. What a sweet and solemn strain, as if coming down the ages fi-om the times even of the old prophets, there was in liis pi'ayers. What a FUNKKAL SEK.MON. 1 .>;; measui-ed I'loiiiU'iict' in liis best (liscoiirses from tlic pulpit, :iinl in liis oi-ations on tlu' nuMnorial and festive days of the coiii- iiioiiwealtli. NVliat a cliaiMiiini:' pi('tnres(|Ueiiess when he told of tlie simple lift- of oni' *i-i'andfathers or of the tryinulse, \vlieiie\-er the spirit of pati'iotism was to be lii'ed, or the ij;i'atitn(]e of tbe peo])le to (irod for our national blessings was to find its I)est expi-ussion, because we knew that his w-ords would be fitly spoken — would be, in the language of the Old Testament writei-, like apples of gold in pictures of silver. The grand march of the ages appears also in sotne of his hymns, as in tliat which opens with the words, •' O God, beneatli Ihv guiding hand. Our exiled fathers crossed the sea : And when tlioy trod tlie wintry strand. Witli j)ray(>r and psahn they worshipped thee." and the true poetic and tender emotion, which were so marked in his nature, manifests itself in others, such as that whose beginning is, "Weep not for the saint that ascends To partake of the joys of the sky." or the liynm for the evening twilight, "Hail tranquil hour of closing day." This last-mentioned characteristic of his mind was most beau- tifully exhibited — as so many here present know better than any one can tell them — in those seasons of sorrow when he was called, in the households of his people, to do for the dead what w^e are now doing for him. I shall never forget the pathos, and Cliristian tenderness, and sweet utterance of hope and confidence with which he guided our thoughts along the uncertain future of life, and to the Kingdom of God in heaven, as we were cele- brating the Lord's Supper in the Divinity School at the close of the last college year. It was at al)0ut that time that the first warnino's were o;iven to his mind that he mio;ht ere lonj; be called away to another life, and he may have been thinking then of what has now been realized. With what brilliancy of intelligence, what strength of clear reasoning, what effectiveness of wit, what manliness of free debate, he contended for righteousness and truth, when the bat- 154 LEONARD BACON. tie was rai^iiio; around him. There have been few statesmen in the country who have sounded the cUu'ion notes so often as he has done. There are many in this house who recall the old days of the contest between the slave power and the f i"ee in our nation, especially in the latei- stages of it ; and where in all the land is there a more conspicuous hgure, rising before our mem- ory of that warfare, than this honored man whom we bury to-day ( He would have accomplished the end by peaceful measures, if he could. But when he saw that there was no peace — that there was to be and must be a war of ideas, he threw himself with energy and with eloquence into the strife. And when the conflict of argument was followed by the war of arms, his voice and his heart were wholly and constantly for the country until the hour when victory was secured for the right. He was a true patriot. It has been said that his writ- ings established Abraham Lincoln in his opposition to the slave-system ; and thus we may gain some estimate of what he accomplished for the good cause. We speak in his pi-aise, at this hour, for what he did in those days now happily gone into the past. But, when we are thinking of him as a man, we rejoice that among the grounds of our admiration and our friendship are the powers of heart and mind which made him, then and always, what he was in the warfare for the trutli. In his stormiest conflict with the enemies of right and the common weal, however, I do not believe that our venerated friend had any personal bitterness. He had a deep sense of righteousness, a strong conviction of the truth. But his oppo- sition was to what was false and wrong. It was not a private hostility. He was a genuine lover of freedom. He had the courage of a soldier when he had once connnitted himself to the battle. He even gloried in being present in the tliickest of the fight, with all its excitement and its danger. Yet it was tlie cause that he fought for, not liis own reputation. He was as little inspired by selfishness or ignoble feeling as any man whom I luive ever met. In the conflicts on less vital subjects than the one just men- tioned, it has often l)een the play and force of his intellect alone which have been engaged. He was always, no doubt, a formidable controversialist. He ivjoiced in dcl)at(> :ind discus- Kl NKKAI. SKinioN. l.>,) sioii, and was i-eadv for it at any moment, lint lie was l»y no means a ])assionate, or a jealons. or in any way a Itad-lieafted opponent. IK' iie\i'r (U'sired to do e\il to anotlier. He never eherisheil the remendn'ance of evil inflicted l>y anotliei' upon himself. He nevei- waited and watched for an hour of I'eipii- tal or reveug'e. l''»»r sixteen years my associate- professors in the Divinity School and myself have had the most constant opportunities for the closest intercoui'se with him ; and it is our united and joyfrd testimony, as it is that of his two colleagues in the pastorate, that we have never had the acquaintance of a man of nobler temper, of more kindly nature, of a more beautiful spirit as related to fellow-workers, of more freedom fi-om sus- piciousness or jealousy of other men, of larger-heartedness — a man, in a word, to whom we could give our affection and esteem more willingly than to him. And though he does not need our testimony where he is revei-ed l)y every one, as he is in Xew ITaven, it is a satisfaction to us to give it, as we iind ourselves bereft of his presence for all the future of our lives. The Apostle John is called a Son of Thundei- in the gospel by St. Mark. To some it has appeared strange that such a man could afterwards become the gentle, loving disciple who leaned upon the i)reast of Jesus, and who, in his latest days, made it the burden of his exhortation to his (christian brethren, that they should love one anotlier. In the case of the friend whose loss we mourn to-day, it was the heat of the conflict and the zeal for the truth (as it may have l)een in the apostle's early days), which made him to the view of many, a man of bitter hostility. But it was only the armor and the smoke of the bat- tle, which were concealing the man. How clearly, in these six- teen years of which I have spoken, the reality of the nature has shone forth, and has proved that the cond)atant, who was full of the soldier's spirit as he fought for the cause, was at the same moment abounding in kindliness and love towards all men. How plainly, also, those years of intercourse with him have manifested to us who looked upon his daily life the loving character of his personal relation to the Master. He was like Peter and Paul in his labors, his energy, his earnestness, his ability and readiness to sound the notes of battle ; but in his own soul's life he had nmch of the simplicity nnd beauty of the Johannean love to Christ, 156 LEONAHI) HACON. Oui" lionored friend was inagiianiiiioiis ; lie was generous ; he was always disposed to aid in any work in which he was engaged .with associates ; he liad no desire to take away from tlie honor or reward of others in order to inci-ease his own ; lie was a hearty believer in the powers and capabilities of yonng men, and was hopefnl for them ; lie was ever a promoter and advocate of the highest well-being of the community. He had the kindly instincts of a true gentleman. He had the trnstfiil, serious, self-sacrificing, devoted, manly, godly spirit of a sincere ( ■hristian. How much he did for Xew Haven can l)e measured and esti- mated best by (»bserving what a place he holds in the regard of his fellow citizens, and what weight has, for these many years, been given by them to his opinions and his words. He has been identified with the life of the city for half a century. Its interests have been near to his thoughts and to his heart. His energies and his wisdom have responded to its call whenever they were needed. It has been an interesting sight to see him, in his later life, as he walked about the streets. Others have spoken to me of it, and I have often thought of it myself, as a noble element in our life here, that a man like him who has C(jntended for more than a generation against evil, and in the name of God has warned and rebuked evil-doers, — a man who has had no favors to ask or to give, but who has simply tried to do the Great Master's work and to speak for him, no matter who opposed or threatened, — should have been able to gather around himself at the end the veneration of men of every party in Church and State, of the poor and the rich alike, of the for- eign citizen as well as the one born upon the soil, and should pass the ])riglit and lovely evening of his lifetime without an enemy. I am glad that our eyes have been permitted to witness this sight, and that the city of our abode has this honor for itself. The name of Leonard Bacon will surely be always enrolled among the number of tliose to which tlie highest place is as- signed in the history of New Haven. Our friend's career had a remarkalde completeness. He had lived beyond the ordinary limits of human life, and in two months more would have seen his eightieth birthday. And all the veai-s from childhood (»nward were full of work. From his KINKKAL SKRMOX. l.")! oai'ly iiiaturity. cvoii from liis colleov days, lie won the esteem of all who knew liim hest, hoth foi- his mental ])ower and his moral excellence. At the ai-'e of twenty-three, when most yonnii" '"*-'•! ^H"*^' •"'till in the woi'k of j)repai'ation, he was called to the ])astorate of this Church of Christ. Thono-h scarcely moi'e than a hoy in years, he |)i'o\ed himself to ho no nnworthy snc- cessor of the ahlest men who had preceded him. He took a hig-h rank as a ])reachei', and as a man he was among those whose power was felt thronghont the community and the com- monwealth. F(»i' foi-ty years, a period as important as any in the conntry's history, he lahoi'ed in this office, giving his daily service to his people, hut striving foi' the good canse, also, in the i-egions heyond. lie woi-ked steadily onward until he had survived the older generati(»n to whom he ministered at first, and then he handed on the message of the Gospel to their cliil- driMi, and even their grandchildren. But he lost none of his strength and ardor as time ])assed away. For a great many years hefore he laid aside his active work here, he was the most conspicuous leader in the Congregational ministry, while none in any hranch of the Clnirch held a more prominent place, lie made this Church to he known and honored everywhere. At the end of this extended period lie said to his people that he had served them long enongli for their highest well-l)eing, and asked them to give the work and the responsibility of his office to anothei-. Then he devoted himself with all the enthu- siasm of yonth to a new employment. He became a teacher of Doctrinal Theology, — a successor in the Divinity School of onr University of the distinguished divine whom he had also fol- lowed in the pastorate. In this new position he found delight- ful occupation. He gave to his pupils the fruits of "his long years of thought and of learning, and he ever kept his mind open to the truth. When this position was subsequently filled, in accordance with his own views, by the gentleman who now holds it, he took, at the urgent request of his colleagues, another chair of instruction. To ten successive classes of students he has lectured upon Church Polity and American Church His- tory, subjects respecting which he was as well qualified to com- municate valuable knowledge as any man in the country. His work in this lectui-eship continued to the latest moment. I 12 1,")S LEONARD BACON. found liiiii on Thursday afternoon of last week t" lieavt'ii sliiiiinu' iiluiiM his pathway, as the end of liis earthly ;)ili;rimar,--\vli() could have wished it t(» he otherwise in its progress o]' in its closinii'^ The closinu- was at the honr of eai'liest dawn on Satnrday last. It was a fallintj; aslee}), as we eall it. Ihit the sleep was only of till' l)odily ])owei"s. The active spii-it passed at tliat moment beyond onr earthly \isioii to its home. xVs the tidin^-s came to us so suddenly, I could not hut ask myself in the hours that immediately followed. What is the new experience tlirough which he is now going ^ We often think of the great account and the st)lemn judgment when life is ended ; and every serious mind must feel the intluence of this coming scene as giving to all that we do here a dee}) signilicance. But, as T tried to pic- ture to myself the beginning of the new state of existence for our venerated friend, in those tii-st houi's, T could not help thinking that the judgment was found in his case to he all com- prehended in a Fathei-'s welcome to the heavenly house. May we not believe that dying was to him ]>ut the closing of his eyes to the familiar surroundings of the home in which he had lived so long and so happily, and the opening them a single moment afterward to the other home beyond our sight; and, thus, that there was no interval or waiting. Every sudden death brings the unseen world very close to oui' thought, and seems to show us that it is only a thin, though im- penetrable, veil that separates life here from life there. But when we tind a num like him whose departure from us we now mourn dying so suddenly, we are almost forced to think that any break or interruption in the mental and spiritual work is im- possible. Our friend, on the last evening, was engaged in the preparation of a paper upon one of the vital questions of our national life. He left it lying on his table untinished, as he retired to rest for the night. It was, like so many that he had written before, a discussion of an evil which has long disgraced the nation, and was designed to inspire the jniblic mind with right ideas, and to hel}), in some measure, towards a good result. 160 LEONARD BACON, In the morning, instead of retnrning to liis study table and re- suming liis work, as he had expected to do, he saw the veil part- ing asunder, and, in answer to a call from the Divine Master, he entered within it. And then it closed l)ehind him. That was all. Sui'ely we must believe that in that other room, or other home, he found another work all ready for him to begin, and that he at once turned to it ; employing now his unwearied aud widely-ranging powers, not indeed in the removing of evil, for this no longer uianifests its i)resence, but in some line of joy and blessing, in some service of love and good- will. Yesterday, at home in the body, and therefore absent from the Lord. To- day, absent from the body and at home with the Lord. What a wonderful — what a wonderfully blessed experience I Who of us would not wish for the same experience for himself, when the end comes 'i The dying of our friend seems little like death. It seems, rather, like what St. Paul speaks of when he says in such expressive language, " That which is mortal is swallowed up of life.'' I think of our honored friend, once niore, as he comes into the society of kindred souls in that other life. What does the heavenly vision reveal to us ^ A mind like his. which has so realized the life of other tnnes within itself, must, as it would seem, now tind itself associated with the perfected spirits of the early Christian fathers of our own city and Kew England — with men like Hooker and Davenport and Pierpont and Brews- ter. It must be brought into union with the heroes of civil and rehgious liberty who struggled for the good cause in foi-mei- ages and generations in this or other lands, some of wlioui died in the dark days of the conflict, and some with the first sight of the victory. It must ally itself with those who have from the beginning l)een honored by (xod with a summons to a peculiar and illustrious work for Him on earth and with the thankful remembrance of succeeding generations. It nnist draw very near to the glorious company of the Apostles, and the goodly fellowship of the Prophets, and the noble army of the Martyrs. The asseml)lage of the great and good must gladly open their ranks to welcome such a man, as he enters on his new life, ran- somed like themselves from the powei- of sin, and received by their Lord and his with a divine benediction. KLNERAL SERMON. Hi 1 I think of him, also, as joyfullv iiiecting with tlie hi-etl»ren in the ministrv of the (rospel witli whom lie lal)ore(l here before old age had come iijxdi him. and to whom he bade farewell long since as thev went to heaven; with the l)rethren and fathers elsewhere, also, whom he knew^ and honored as thev e(jnally knew and honored him; with that little com])any of faithfnl men, whose presence among us the older portion of this audience well remember, the men who made up so large a part of the life of Yale College for half a century, Day and Silliman and Ivingsley and (Toodrich, and the rest. As tliey recognized him in the days gone by as their associate and helper, it must be with an especial joy that they see him again, now that, after so long a time, he is admitted once more into their society, his work on earth so happily completed. We think of him even more tenderly, as we try to realize his reunion with the great nunil)er of believers who have listened to his teachings and his prayers in this ancient chui'ch, but have finished their earthly course bef(jre him. For more than fifty years they have been entering, one by one, into the w^orld to which he has now been called, and in their happy thanksgi\'ings for theii- own blessed life in heaven we may not doubt that they have often borne his name upon theii- hearts. As he has fol- lowed them to the same glorious home and is beginning his new life there, what nmst be their feeling and the holy greeting which they give. lie stands among them a loving and beloved fi-iend, — to find, for all the future, the happiness of his soul manifolded by the liappiness of theirs ; the satisfaction in his life's work deepened and heightened continually as he is aide to appreciate more fully the measure of its good results. And, if we may draw still nearer to the inmost circle of his jiast life, we think (jf him, still again, as seeing once moi'e the members of his family wIkjui God has taken to Himself in other years ; among them that one who cared for him with an eldest daughter's affection for so long a period, and at whose grave we saw him standing, it seems as if but a few months since ; and that gentle, loving son, whose death in the prime of his age was so great a loss to the church and the ministry, the l)eauty of whose Christian living and whose generous spirit, which had shone S(» clearly all the way through life, seemed to 162 LEONARD BACON. beam forth with an ahiiost unearthly l)rightnes8 when, in the later hours of the day before his death he said, " It may be that to-morrow I shall be allowed to touch the hem of the Saviour's garment." We may not trust ourselves with the thought of such a meeting. But it must be one which passes in its joy the power of our present understanding, and one which shall be followed by a happy, hopeful waiting for those who are left on earth. And then, above and beyond all else, there is revealed to us the vision with which the New Testament prophet was blessed. " They serve Him day and night in His temple. He that sit- teth on the throne shall spread his tabernacle over them. They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more ; neither shall the sun strike upon them, nor any heat ; for the LamI) which is in the midst of the throne shall be their shepherd, and shall guide them unto fountains of waters of life ; and God shall wipe away every tear from their eyes." Such was the past, and such, we may believe, will be the future for this noble ( -hristian preacher and teacher, this pui-e- minded lover of his country and of mankind, this friend of ours who labored and prayed for the kingdom of (lod unceas- ingly until he had almost reached the age of eighty years, and then in a moment, and in answer to a sudden call, went to his reward. "A mortal arrow pierced his frame, He fell — but felt no fear. Tranquil amidst alarms, It found him on the field, A veteran slumbering on his arms, Beneath his red-cross shield. His spirit, with a bound. Left its encumbering cla_v ; His tent, at sunrise, on the ground, A darkened ruin lay. The pains of death are past. Labor and sorrow cease ; And, life's long warfare closed at last, His soul is found in peace. Soldier of Christ, well done ! Praise be thy new employ ; And while eternal ages run. Rest in thv Saviour's iov." FrXEKAL SKHMOX. 1(18 It i> now f(irty-ft)ur yt'ar.< sinct', (Hi my lirst c'(»niin<; to Aew Ilavt'ii as a l>oy just nine years old, tlie friend respecting whom 1 have spoken these words received me kindly to his house, almost every day, as the playmate of one of his children. He had at that time only reached the middle point of the allotted three score and ten of human life, and yet how old he seemed to my childhood's thought. I know of nothing more strange or beyond l)elief which the open vision of the fntui-e, had it been given to me then, could have revealed, than that for so many years I should be liis associate and colleague in the work of his later life. But so it has been oi-dered in the progress and changes of time, and the one to whom I looked in the eai-ly days as my father's friend, T now most gi-atefully remem- ber as my own — of an older generation, indeed, but so full of confidence in those younger than himself, and sympathy for them, that we almost forgot the diiference of tlie years and felt that he was one with us in our labors and our thoughts. As I recall to mind, to-day, the period in which we who have been working together in the Di^nnity School have known his presence with us, I rejoice that we may bear into the coming time the assurance which he gave, at one of our last meetings, of his deep satisfaction in the perfect and uninterrupted harmony of our association. With tender feeling he expressed the thought which we all were thinking — but we thought, also, how much of it was due to his own unselfish and friendly spirit. That I have l)een i-equested l)y his family to say the words of affection and regard which all hearts here wish to be sj)oken before we bear him to his burial, I feel to be a great kindness to myself. The words might have been said by others in a more fitting way, but I am sure that tliere is no one beyond the limits of his own household who could bear more willing wit- ness to what he has done and especially to what he has been. Our last farewell to him is spoken at this hour with sorrow that we are to meet him here no longer, but, as we think upon his life, it is spoken with the pleasantest memories of the past and the most joyful hopes for the future. The sermon preached by Rev. (i. T.. Walker, D.I)., is given to the Committee foi- ])nl>licati<)ii in i-esponse to tlie following request. New Haven, January 15, 1882. Dear Sir — The Deacons of the First Church in New Haven, and the committee of the Ecclesiastical Sociecy connected with it, have appointed us to convey to you their thanks for the discourse delivered by you this morning at their request, in which you portrayed so faithfully, and in sucli loving and eloquent words, the character of our former Pastor, Ilev. Leonard Bacon, D.D., in his relations to this church. We are also instructed to ask for a copy of your discourse for publication. We remain, with sincere respect and esteem, H. C. KiNGSLEY, L. .J. Sanford, T. R. Trowbridge, Jr. Rev. Geo. L. Walker, D.D. A SERMON The Pastor of the First Church of New Haven, BY George Leon Walker. Preached January 15, 1882. Numbers xx, 29. — And when all the Congregation saw that Aaron was DEAD. THEY MOURNED FOR AaRON THIRTY DAYS, EVEN ALL THE HOUSE OF ISRAEL. The nature of the service I am to attempt to-day is, as I con- ceive of it, a very definite one. The termination of a pastoral connection, subsisting in more less com^^leteness of meaning for nearly fifty-seven years, and the recjnest of the officers of the bereaved church that some words should be spoken of the hon- ored man who sustained that relationship, by one whose oidy fitness foi" this undertaking is his succession for a while to the title and duties of the office when the elder pastor laid them down, indicate very plainly the quality of the action proper to this occasion. It is not a general and complete survey of the life and character of Leonard Bacon that this hour calls for ; but some little retrospect and consideration of him, in connec- tion with this church he loved so well, and which so truly loved and honored him. Other voices and other occasions may more fittingly deal with the broader aspects of his large and many- sided personality and with the variety of his public W(u-k. Suggestions of these things have already found expression, not only in that tender and discrimiuating address spoken in this house at the funeral service, but in the pages of the secular 168 LEONARD BACON. aijd religious press, whose manifold utterances are bearing testi- mony to the importance of the place he tilled in the general eye, and the value set on the many great obligations under which he has laid his fellow-men. Indeed it is within the scope only of the chapters of an ample volume adequately to tell the whole of what Doctor Bacon was and did. A writer of rare fertility and on numy a theme, a historian of penetrative insight and patient research, a leader of men's minds in matters of public welfare, a commander on every field of ecclesiastical struggle, a strong pillar of support to every philan- thropic enterprise, a conversationalist of unsurpassed richness of resource and raciness of utterance, a poet whose sweet strains, find frequent voice in our worship, a complex and various minded man, combining elements any one of which were dis- tinction enough for most, — it is only the leisurely pages of biog- raphy which can set properly forth the portraiture of his char- acter and the i-ecord of his work. Fortunately our duty is a narrower one. We meet to-day in this church, which, though it by no means confined, was never- theless the center of his most distinctive labors, to speak of what he has l)een to this tiock of liis early and only pastoral charge. Such outlooks and glimpses into other and wider spheres of his activity as his characteristic work in his own peo- ple's behalf will hurriedly allow, we may not (piite shut, out ; but Leonard Bacon, the Pastor of the First Clmrch of New Haven, is to-day our theme. This house of worship where we are gathered was about eleven years old when its echoes were wakened for the hrst time by the voice which was to be familiar here so many years. That was on the earliest October Sunday in 1824. It was the first Sunday after Mr. Bacon's ordination to the ministry, which had been conferred on the Tuesday pi-evious through the hands of the Hartford ISTorth Consociation, met at Windsoi-, Septem- ber twenty-eighth. Tradition tells that the youthful ai)i)earance of the preacher, who was in fact only twenty-two and a half years old, excited at once the interest and the criticism of the congregation accustomed to the commanding presence of his predecessor, Nathaniel W. Taylor, and many of whom recalled still the ''stifP and anti(|ue dignity" of Dr. Dana, wlu> had dis- MKM<)in.\i> sKinioN. H>9 appearod from his place in tlic jMilpit by tlic side of Moses Stuart only twelve years befoi'e. 'Phis (li\ision of ()|)iiii(>ii i-i'specting the competence of the yoHiiii' man to occupy a j)osition so conspicuous as this, and ren- dei'ed doubly e\actin<>' by the ability of his two immediate pivd- ecessors, expressed itself in the hesitation with which, after havini*- listened to '"fourteen sermons" fi-(»m him. the Society still del)ated the (piestion of his '"'call." At length at a "second meeting" on the subject, on Decem- ber twenty-eighth, by a vote of sixty-eight against twenty, the Society expressed their desire that he should settle with them, and the church joined in the invitation. The call thus half- cordially given was however listened to; and on the seven- teenth of Jannary, 1825, afRrraatively answered. ^Vnd on the ninth of March following the formal exercises of the Pastor's induction into his ofKce here to(»k ])lace. The seruKtii on the occasion was preached by Mr. If awes the Pastor of the Fii-st Church in Hartford — himself in the seventh year of his minis- try — in the exercise of those fraternal courtesies which have marked the relationship of these two ancient churches of f\)n- necticut both before and afterw^ards. Of course it hardly needs to say that all the members of the council who took part in the services of that occasion — President Day who w^as the Modera- tor, C/arlos Wilcox who offered the introductory prayer, Joel Hawes who preached, Stephen "W. Stebbins who offered the prayer of installation, Nathaniel "W. Taylor who gave the charge, Samuel Merwin who ex]3ressed the fellowship of the churches, and Eleazar T. Fitch who led in the closing prayei-, have gone — and most of them have for manv vears l)een mme — from human sight. The young man thus put in charge of this intluential congre- gation was not utterly a stranger to the town. Born February 19, 1802, at the far Western outpost of Detroit, and coming to liis first memories of life as he tells us "■ in the grand old woods " of Ohio, on ground " never ploughed before," and in a cabin to whose door the " red-skin savage sonletimes came," and around which the " wolves howled at night," he was never- theless of Connecticut ancestry, and at the age of ten years was sent to be edncated under the care of an uncle at Hartford. 17<» I.EOXAHI) l^ACON. From tlienee after about five years lie had come, a now father- less boy, to New Haven, and entered the sophomore class in Yale (\jllege; the I'ules of the institution being as- he says " somewhat relaxed in his favor" on account of his youth. Here, from iifteen to eighteen, during the three years of his residence in the place he had walked these streets, and he had doubtless at least occasionally entei"ed the doors of this sanctu- ary, and heard from some gallery corner the impassioned utter- ances of Dr. Taylor, one of the princeliest preachers of New England's history. Little did the youth imagine, or the fathers of the congregation dream, how much wider a place in this church's history the unnoticed listener in the gallery was to till, than even that eloquent man. But though the young Pastor a little knew New Haven, New Haven knew scarcely anything of him. He had his way to make without other advantages than the resources of liis own powers. And the obstacles to be overcome were peculiarly dif- ficult. Not only had his formal call been a divided oile, but he had that kind of disadvantage to sui-mount which, whatever l)e the unanimity of invitation extended to a new pastor, always arises from the remembrance by a congregation of preceding- pastorates of any very special attractiveness and power. And the two previous pastorates had been very eminently such as make a successor's difficult. They had been marked by great i-eligious awakenings, and they were those of men leaving a dis- tinct and abiding impress on the people of their charge. I have myself, after the lapse of the whole duration of Dr. Bacon's active pastorate of forty-one and a half years in this place, heard old men and women recall and sometimes rehearse the eloquent utterances of Taylor and even of Stuart fourteen years previous, which had stamped themselves on their memory with ineffaceable clearness. The new Pastor felt the difficulties of his situation keenly. He has told us about it himself in his retrospective discourses preached on the fortieth and fiftieth anniversaries of his set- tlement. In those addresses he desci-ibes the situation of matters, in various aspects, on his coming here — the yet nn- welded fragments and remainders of old controversies in the congregation; the oppositions of ''Old Light" and "New M KMolilA L SKinioN. 1 t 1 Light" ])rineiples and pcivoiialities still remainiiiji- after the two revivalistic pastorates which had just jxissed, and other ditferences. But in especial, speaking of the difficulty of fol- lowing two such preachers as Stuait and Tayloi', he says with characteristic simplicity — and I may add with the characteristic nuxlesty also by which, with all his gifts, Dr. Bacon was emi- nently marked — " 1 kncnv it is not an affectation to say, tliat T never had any such power in the pulpit as they had in their hest days. For many years after the commencement of my pastorate I was habitually brought into most disadvantageous comparison, not only with those distinguished preachers, but with others of like celebrity. How it was that I continued here long enough to become a fixture cannot easily be ex- plained." The explanation is however not so dithcult as the modesty of the speaker indicated it to be. The new Pastor was not then or afterward the peer perhaps in the power of eloquent and moving pulpit utterance of his two predecessors, certaiidy of the latter of them. But he had pulpit j^owers of a high order, and he combined with them such a variety of gifts beside, as more than supplied the com23arative lack in the single point in which the contrast was likely to be at once so easy and so misleading. He gave indications of being, if not a great j^treacher, what was more a great man and minister. The congregation soon began to find it out. And yet his preaching suffered only by comparison with what was absolutely the best possible. It was itself always eminently good. It was marked, as were all his writings or - utterances, by an almost matchless felicity of expression and clearness of style. And it had that best test of excellence, it was always best and most moving in dealing with the weight- iest themes and on the most important occasions. I have heard it said that a kind of turning point in the appreciation of the pastor was a sermon on the government of God, from the text, '' Thy commandment is exceeding broad." It might very well be the case. The subject was one especially fitted to the preacher's habit of thought. He needed a broad subject to give scope and play to his large mind. And a theme which enabled him to lay hold on and to state great moral principles 17:^ ■ lf:oxaht) bacon. in their application to tlie duties and welfare of men, always was a theme 1)V which he easily rose to a grave and commanding- eloquence. Not long after, too, in this early period of his ministry here, he had the satisfaction — more precious than any other to a Pastor — of seeing saving results from his lahor. In 1828, forty- eight persons united with this church by confession of Christ. In 1831, in connection with protracted services held here whose solemn power has not yet died out of the vivid memoi'y of many in this congregation, one Imndred and eight. In 1 832, thirty-three. In 1833, twenty-one. In 1837, thirty-four. The witness of the Spirit could not be mistaken. The suggestions which had occasionally been dropped during the tirst three years of the Pastors labors, by some of the congregation who remembered with longing the revival times of Stuart and Tay- lor. " that New Haven needed a more efficient ministry,"" were heard no more. Henceforth his position was estal)lished as a minister honored of (irod and approved of man for his conspic- uous tidelity and ]50wer in the (lospel. But the mental activity and prodigious industry of the young Pastor could not limit his labor to the routine, arduous as most men find that routine to be, of the regular requirements of the pidpit and the parish. He flowed over in all directions, even in that early day, with frequent contributions to the jiress and addresses on topics of public interest at the time. More scholarly in its (juality, and distinctly pastoral in its aim, was his republication, in these days of this earlier minis- try, of selected writings of Richard Baxter with editorial com- ments thereon. But the chief work, collateral to that which he was ordained to in this pastoral, charge, belonging to wdiat may be called the first period of the Pastor's ministry, and a work which he ful- filled as a ])art of that ministry, was the preparation and preach- ing his thirteen Historical Discuurses. He had l>een set as a light in an ancient candlestick. The old church (tf whicli lie was Pastor had had a long and nolde history. It was a line of eminent men into whose succession he had been brought. And the history of the First Church of New Haven was essentially the history of New Haven Colony. Nay, it widened out to MKMoin.M, sKinioN. 1 (:; still hroiuU'i- ivlatioiis, ('(iimcetiiiii- itself with the story of tlie plaiitiiiic New Kiiiilaiurs clinrches and a-ovenmit'iits, and (»f tlie Puritan iikin (.Miiciits in tlu* nii>tliei' land from wjiicli the found- ers of New Haven had come. The two hundi'edth anin\ersai'y of the ehureh was api)i*oachiuu;, and as a htvin*; ti'ilmte to her l)raise the Pastor pre])ared the Discour\ses which mark the arri- val of that annivei'sary, and which mark also the comidetion of thirteen years of his own service in hei* helialf. Never had a church a more graceful and valuable offering. Among many undertakings siniilai- in aim I know^ of none which can for a moment challenge comparis(»n with that which put this church in the ])ossession of so accurate and so attractive a chronicle of lier history. This volume gained for its author at once a secure ])lace among the best writers of New England. Marked hy the truest historic instinct, and written in a style of charming vi- vacity and elegance, it constitutes one of the richest possessions of the church in whose service it was undertaken, as well as one of the most significant tokens of the industry and pastoral loyalty of its author. The Pastor was proud of his church. Hencefoi'th the church was proud of him. The Pastor with filial iidelity had sought to do honor to his predecessors, and to the church whose representatives they were. The church now saw that among that line of honored men there was none wortliier of love and admiration than the man who stood now at thirty-six years of age her representative, borrowing con- spicuity no more from the place he occupied, but conferring conspicuity on the place. Mr. Bacon of New Haven, or Doc- tor liacon as he just about this time began to be called by virtue of a degree from Hamilton College, was as well recog- nized a reality as New Haven town. At this point, then, we may set the mark of the second great division of the story of Dr. Bacon's relationship to this church. Accounting the thirteen years up to the publication of the Historical Discourses as the first epoch, and the sixteen years after he resigned the pastoral care as the third, there lies be- tween the two a period of about twenty-seven years of immense and varied activity. He was, at the beginning of this second period, according to his own judgment of the terms into which the life of man is naturally divided — as expressed in his beau- 13 174 LEONARD BACON, tiful sermon on the MHtswre of our Days — " in tlie full vigoi' of Ills powers." Henceforth liis life was that of a public man as well as that of a parish minister ; a man of national reputa- tion and influence. It is impossible in a discourse like the present to touch even scantily on the diverse and manifold aspects of the work Dr. Bacon did during this period. Nor for my design is it needful. I keep singly to my j)urpose of setting those things before you to-day wherein the Pastor of this church f nihil ed his duty to this charge. But the main things which interested him were those in which his people had also a concern. And the clash of the weapons he wielded on other llelds found a frecpient echo within these walls. The cause of Temperance had in Dr. Bacon an earnest adN^o- cate. At his installation here, at the public dinner provided by the society, there was as he tells us " an ample supply not only of wine but also of more perilous stuff." But among the zealous promoters of a reform in the practices of society in this matter, and of the legislation of the State concerning it, he was one of the earliest and most strenuous. I mention it however, mainly, at this time, as being one of the first instances in which in his people's behalf he threw himself distinctly across the prejudices of a very considerable number in his congregation, and very many in the ccjmmunity about him, in the advocacy of what he believed to be right. A pamphlet published by him at about the beginning of what I have called by way of convenience the second period of Dr. Bacon's ministry, shows at once the vigor of his utterances on this matter of temperance legislation and practice, and indicates plainly that his utterances had subjected him, in certain quarters called highly resj^ectable in this town, to not a little obloquy and reproach. But there is reason to believe that here, as on some other flelds of effort where he likewise crossed the prejudices of some of his congi-e- gation, he partly won and partly compelled an ultimate coinci- dence of opinion upon the matter. As an earnest laborer in the great Benevolent enterprises of the day — among others of Missions, Foreign and Home — Dr. Bacon had few if any su]iei-iors among the pastors of New MKMOHIAL SERMON. 175 Eiiii-land. Of iiiaiiy of the societies, having these interests in chariie. he \vas anionf freedom ; and to make these walls, dedicated to the gosjjcl of peace, to reverberate with that utterance of it which prochiinis " deliv- erance to the captives" and the setting '' at liberty them that are bruised." It was a straight-forward, consistent course. But it cost him many friends. In other cities and other fellowships dear to him, many ; some here. Darkened faces looked uy) at him fi'om these pews. But he triumphed, because the right which he represented triumphed. And without a tinge of bitterness in the retrospect, lie says of these alienations — let us be thank- ful for the most part oidy temporary alienations — " I make no complaint. . . . All reproaches, all insults endured in the con- flict with so gigantic a wickedness, are to be received and remembered, not as injuries but as honors." Less frequent in flnding reverl)erating notes in this place, though occasionally finding them, were Dr. Bacon's activities as a representative Congregationalist. The Pastor was a Con- gregationalist on principle. Into the history and theory of tlie polity he had studied deeply. Upon it he w^rote largely. Of its superiority to other forms of Church government he had no doubt. The pathetic and heroic story of its struggles in England and its planting in America always inspired him. He loved to speak and preach upon it, and often levelled a lance in debate with defenders of other systems. The arrogance of Episcopal claims in especial always amused him and often kindled his sarcasm or his ridicule ; while among Episcopalians were many of his best-loved friends. Presbyterianism was a system he could and did heartily oppose, yet among Presby- terians he chose many dearest to him. At all great Congregational assemblies he was a foremost, generally the foremost figure. At the difficult councils his was a guiding voice. The last extended j^latform of polity exj)ressive of the generally accepted principles of our churches, and presented at the (.\)uncil of 1865, was drafted mainly by his hand. Beyond all comparison he was looked to as the typical Congregationalist of America. Leaning a little in his later days, undoubtedly, more to that side of Congregational- ism which makes for independency than that whicli makes for 1Y8 LEONARD BACON. nmtual responsibility, and a little out of sympathy witli the more recent movement of our churches toward combination and unity of action, he was nevertheless Congregationalism's most venerated representative. And few can estimate the vahie, in the Ecclesiastical assem- blies of this Commonwealth and the land — whether on occa- sions of stated and routine assembly or of exigent and occasional gathering — of the influence exerted by the Pastor of this Church. No consideration of Dr. Bacon's pastoral character could be other than incomplete which did not lay emphatic stress upon the work he did in our denominational Councils and Conventions through so many years. Through him this Church has had a voice in the guidance of the religious concerns of our own State, and the wider domain of Congregational Christianity, superior perhaps to that of any other. Unmatched in debate, unequaled in wit, unparalleled in fertility of resources, without a peer in his capability of sway- ing the deliberations of an assembly, his power was with almost complete uniformity employed for the uses of benefit and not of strife. On many an agitated debate he poured the oil of a composing and reconciling wisdom. Into any quarrel of an ecclesiastical character among the brotherhood it was diflicult to force him to go. While himself sturdily evangelical in his interpretation of Christian doctrine, and showing a certain leonine contempt for small assertors of independence and '' liberality," he had large allowance for those who differed mainly in their philosophic statement of truth. In more than one theological controversy among leading ministers of this State, his influence was that of a mediator of separations, if it could not fully be that of a reconciler of oppositions. This observation prompts to the remark that Dr. Bacon, spite of all his capacities for conflict, was a peace-loving man. During the agitating periods of the Anti-slavery struggle previous to the war, he was often called the Fighting Parson, The title had a certain superficial jjertinence, but it was super- ficial only. He himself said of it when spoken to on one occasion concerning it, and said with profound earnestness, " I nevei- had a controversy on merely personal gi-ounds in my MKMOL'I Al, SKKMON. 17'.' life." Tlie declaration wa.s nearly oi- wholly true. And an- f>thei* tliino; he" said was also true in its a])i)li('ation to himself (|nite as ninch as in its application to him of whom he was speaking'. In his sermon at the fnneral of Dr. Taylor he re- marked : "■ Those who knew Dr. Taylor hest, know how painful controversy as distinguished from discussion was to him. lie loved discussion ; but controversy with its personal alienations, its exasi)erating imputations, and its too frequent appeals to prejudice and ])assion, was what his soul abhoi-red." True as those words may have been concerning Nathaniel Taylor they could not have better told the truth concerning Leonard Kacon. A sweet and tender heart was united with his formi- dable powers of debate and, if need be, of contlict. His arrow-ti])s were not poisoned. A gentle, almost deferential manner toward younger and more humbly gifted men, dis- armed envy and conciliated fear. The foremost man for prowess lie was also well nigh the best-beloved. l>ut how noAV, the question arises, how about the distinc- tively home work of this Pastor, whose time was so largely employed in matters which had a confessedly important l)ut only partial reference to this vineyard of the First Church ( Well, the question is a fair one. And it deserves to be con- sidered, especially in a survey of Dr. Bacon's life not so much as a whole as in the pastoral aspect of it. And I sujDpose it may be fairly said it is a (piestion admit- ting of a divided answer. These public services which so largely engrossed the time and thought of the Pastoj" of this Church, to a certain extent and in some directions diminished the effectiveness, at least the immediate local effectiveness, of his ministry. To some degree they gave excuse to an impres- sion that the Pastor was more interested in things abroad than at home. They curtailed the number of fresh discourses from his pen, and necessitated the more frequent repetition of old ones. They made impossible the pei'sonal familiarity of the Pastor with all the members of his congregation which is, or M'as, one of the traditions of the New England ministry. That they did these things no more, is itself a striking testimony to the tremendous capacity for work lodged in the Pastor's com- paratively slight frame. But that to some extent they did 180 LEONAED BACON. them, was uiKjuestionably in the later days of Dr. Bacon's responsible pastorate, to a degree recognized. Bnt over against whatever possible deductions may properly be made from the local and immediate effectiveness of the Pastor's min- istry on the grounds spoken of, there were great offsets. The Pastor brought into this place the sense of power wielded on other arenas of effort, and the people recognized it. He brought with him the light and inspiration of large endeavors and wide outlooks and contacts with great interests and men. His lesser performings caught some subtle touch of vigor and intelligence from his greater ones. He borrowed strength in his own consciousness, and in his congregation's eyes also, from his acknowledged supremacy elsewhere. A certain wise and rational allowance, creditable to both, sprang up and main- tained itself between minister and people. They knew the pastor was doing a great work and in many ways. And he on his part knew that if he gave his people less than under some conceivable circumstances he might have done, he gave them enough. He gave them a full return. He loved his people and trusted them. They trusted and honored him. And they had reason to. For after all which the alertest criti- cism may suggest, what a pastorate his was ! Forty-one and a half years of the' fully responsible portion of it. And marked by what excellencies, in well nigh all that goes to make a pas- toral success ! His Sermons. How simple in construction, how clear in expression, how direct in aim, how evangelic in sentiment, how solid in thought ! They dealt always with impoi'tant matters. No bursts of inexplicable passion, no rhetorical dis- plays, no mystical musings, no aspirations for the rare, the un- expected, the sensational. They were grave, strong, manly sermons ; not without exquisite passages of unsought beauty, and sometimes of noble elo(]uence, taking hold on the main question of (Christian truth and conduct. They had the great value of a power of setting familiar things in clear and fresh aspects and relations. They M^ere powerful with the strength of a firm hold on the great ])rinciples of the gospel, and they were rich with the results of a deep experience. They handled a wide range of matter ; sometimes the highest of theology, MEMORIAL SERMOX. ISI but then with reverence and skill; sometimes the most delicate in moral behavior, but then with consummate j)roprietj and taste. Thev swept the field of faitli and |)i-aetice as tlioroughly as any pastor's anvwliere. 'Plicy were such sermons as are an education to a congreijation. And they found the center of their inspiration and the end of tlieir aim in loyaltv to Christ the Saviour and the Kin"-. Clirist tlie redeemer for sin; Christ the contiueror of death ; (^hrist the ruler of the world; Christ the head of the kiniJ::dom wliich is to come— these were the mighty truths out of a j)rofound conviction and love of which those sermons came. And his Prayei-s. The beauty and propriety and sober fervor of his ])i-ayers were something wonderful. In these un- premeditated but marvelously simple and appropriate outpour- ings of his mind and heart he came closer to his people than in his sermons, even at their best. He had the instinct to take up and upbear the connnon want or the special necessity of the hour, in an utterance of sweetness and majesty which it is given to few ever to attain. The listening and corworshiping congre- gation were never jarred by inharmonious suggestions, never put in doubt as to the full propriety of the utterance ; they rested upon and went along with his prayers in entire respon- siveness to their devout and gracious supplication and thanks- giving. No liturgical utterances of prayer one can anywhere find, are more jierfect types of what prayer should be, than the petitions which rose from his lips in this pulpit and in the family and by the side of the open grave, often were. And his pastoral ministrations in his people's homes. The sincerity of his sympathy, the tenderness of his instruction, the wisdom of his counsel, the fervency with which he implored restoration to the sick, or asked comfort for the bereaved, these things are all known to you. And he had been taught thus effectively to minister to others, by the discipline of personal grief. Death had come into his circle many times. Infant days and manly and womanly years had alike been broken off in his household. The variety and the l)itterness of bereavement was fully known to him. And from the school of that personal knowledge of tribulation he borrowed the experience which made his words and liis silent presence, so often a consolation in 182 LEONARD BACON. yonr abodes. Into too many of the homes in this city lias he borne the Pastoi"'s offices of help in honrs of joy and honrs of sorrow, to make it needfnl to say more. Ah yes, take it all in all, it was about an ideal pastorate ! But the time at last came when in the Pastor's judgment it seemed best that he should be relieved of the responsible duties of his office. He announced this conviction in a sermon preached on the twelfth of March, 1865, the fortieth anniversary of his settlement. He was then sixty-three years of age. His eye was not dinnned nor his force abated. But he was the oldest pastor in Connecticut in active service, and he had done an amount of work no other pastor had done. AVith characteristic happiness of expression, and characteristic forecast of what would be wise in the case of most men he said : " I am old enough now, to ask for relief ; and at the same time I am not too old to receive it without feeling that I am slighted by the offer of it." In acceding to this suggestion on tlie Pastor's part, the Society recorded its inability to " see any symptoms of decline of power which should lead liim to wish relief," but expressed a willingness to yield to his detinitely declared desire, having lirst made " some suitable provision for our Pastor's remaining years, after the termination of his ministry among us." Such suitable and honoral)le provision having been made, the Pastor resigned his office, and on the ninth of September, 18H5 — to a day just forty-one and a half years fi'om the March ninth, 1825, of his installation — he preached a sermon entitled, The Pastor retiring from his official work. But how little of a "retire- ment!" How little Pastoi" and people foresaw what was before them, or how long still a nniltitude of the ])ractical services of the pastorate were to be fultilled by the same beloved man. The event however serves detinitely to mark a new ])eriod in Dr. Bacon's life and his relationship to this church, and one which presents him to us in an aspect certainly as admii-able and lovable as any beside. C^oincident in point of time with the Pastor's resignation of his office, an invitation which he calls a ""most unexpected invitation" to a Professorship in the Theological Seminary l.iere was laid hefoiv him. He accepted it ''•reluctantly" and MKMOIUAL SERMOX. 188 went as lie artiniifd. "IkhiikI in Hie spirit, under a sort of necessity" laid upon liim. And lie added eorreetly : "There is no promotion in going from this pulpit to a theological chair.'" Certainly there was not for such a Pastor. lie can-icd more with him than in any such transfer he could receive. I)Ut having entered upon it, he identitied himself with the Institution with liis usual enthusiasm. lie contemplated, as he said, a " term of service at the longest very short,^' hut he remained an active worker there for sixteen years. And in many ways his connection with the seminary marks a new epoch in its history. Tlis association witli it was emi- nently intiuential in securing the needful funds for its welfare. ITe took pleasure in its stones. How well I remember tlie sat- isfaction which was in his face on one gray day in July, 1869, when he came to my room to invite me to see the first ground broken for the erection of the beautiful edifice which stands on the corner of Elm and College streets ; whose unoccupied niche underneath the window of his room could not be more appro- priately tilled than by his sculptured iigure. And at every step of the Institution's history and development since — not a little of which has been owing to the connection with it of the ex-Pastor of this C^hurch — his interest in it has been like that of a man whose whole life, instead of what he called his years of " deca- dence and decay," had been given to it. And one effect of that connection with the Seminary was, I think, personally favorable. It l)rought him into constant contact with young men and it helped to keep him young. It was a matter of frequent remark and possibly may have been true, that Dr. Bacon's preaching in this pulpit was younger and more alert in the years succeeding his resignation than it had l)een for several years before. But anyway his youthfulness was surprising. However the body aged the spirit never grew old. The restless mind was hungry to the end. In his fortieth-year sermon he had said : " I know more now than I knew a year ago. I hope to know more next year than I kno\v now." In his tiftieth-year sermon he said : "• I know more than I knew ten years ago, and I am still a learner, and hope to be a learner to the end." And so he was, the freshest and alertest man there was in Connecti- cut's ministry to the last. 184 LEONARD BACON, To this period belongs that other witness to the industry of the only half-retired Pastor's hand and brain, the volume on the Genesis of the New Emjland Ohurches; a volume, however, which being not distinctly pastoral in motive I leave with only this mention. But another aspect of Dr. Bacon's last period of life has a still closer connection with the history of this church, and exhil)its in a yet more striking way this ({uality of tlie man. The old Pastor was to sustain the experience — it may be the trial — ^of a successor, nay of two of them. It is an experience proverbially difficult for a minister gracefully to bear. Two very eminent pastors in Connecticut had been put to the trial of it only a little while before, and had rather conspicuously failed. But this pastor did not fail. Did Dr. Bacon ever fail anywhere ? In a long and most kindly letter which he wrote to me in Septend)er, 1868, while my acceptance of the call of this church given me some months before was still pending, he says — and I quote it with personal reluctance, and only to set his position toward a successor in its true light — " I have no fear that my relations with you will be other than pleasant. With- out assuming to be anything niore than a jpastor emeritus^ having no official charge or duty in the congregation, I trust I shall always be ready to lighten your burthen if in any way I shall be able to do so. While it will be in some sort a trial for me to see the peojjle thinking more of you and less of me ; and loving you more than they have ever loved me, I hope to see it with humble thankfulness, and not with jealousy." And every word of that utterance was more than fulfilled. He was the most magnanimous man I ever knew. Had I been his son after the flesh he could not have been more co(')perative or kind. Ahvays ready to help when asked, he never volunteered even advice ; he never in any instance or the slightest ])articu- lar gave me reason to wish he had said or done anything other- wise. Ap])arently incapable of jealousy — even had there been vastly more opj)()rtunity for it than thei-e was — he was to the pastor who followed him a supporter and comfoil always. So was he to his immediate successor; so was he I doubt not to mine. ♦ MEMORIAL SKKMUN. 1^5 The ttM-miiiatioii of tliese two brief ])iist<>rates and tlie iiiter- reghnin between tlieni devolved upon tlie elder i*astor, in tliese sixteen years aftei- liis otiieial resitijiiation, a ' down of his oifiee he had said : " Till the time comes when you ai-e without another Pastor, call for lue as freely as heretofore, when any is sick among- you, and wliere the \nndows are darkened by death." And while that pastor was yet coming ; and in the more than two years interregnum after his departure before the ari'i\al of a second ; and in the more than two and a half years again, which have ehipsed since that second's removal, the old Pastor has been the shepherd of this flock. Speaking from time to time from this pulpit with in- creasing pathos and earnestness; sitting nearly every sabbath on this platform where his presence was a perpetual benedic- tion, he has come at your call, as he did aforetime from the first, to comfort your suffering ones, to baptize your children, to bury your dead. He has fulfilled up to the end — far beyond any duration contemplated when the words were spoken — the promise implied in his tender exhortation when he laid his office down : " Let no member of this congregation think that the tie between you and me is broken, or that it is weakened, so long as you are without another Pastor." And so he has left you a second time bereaved. So he has twice laid down his trust respecting you, this time forever. This place is lonesome without him. This flock is unsliepherded. Many times more than when his successor oi- his successor's successor went are you without a guide and comforter. But for him what a change ! and for you what a retrospect ! For him the entrance on that larger life of activity and bless- edness for which he yearned and of which he spoke in one of those Gommemorative Discourses to which I have had occa- sion so many times to refer : " Not ' three score years and ten,' nor ' four score years' are enough for the capabilities of our intelligent, affectionate and spiritual nature. The machinery of this mortal body may be clogged and broken, may wear out and be useless, but it is only a life beyond the reach of these infirmities that can satisfy the soul. ' And now Lord what wait I for ? My hope is in thee.' " ISH LEONARD BACON. And for you what a retrospect ! The retrospect of a luiuis- terial life in your service of nearly fifty-seven years duration. The retrospect of as large powers as have in oui* generation been bestowed upon any man, devoted here to the salvation of souls and the welfare of the kingdom of Christ.. The retro- spect of a history which is built into the fabric of this old first church of JSTew Haven, and is henceforth an inseparable part of its renown. For in the long catalogue of M^orthies in the pas- torate of this church, from the l)road minded and saintly Da- venport whom your Pastor so reverenced and eulogized, to him whose loss we to-day deplore, no name shines with brighter luster, if indeed any beams with so various and eifulgent i-ay, as the name of Leonard Bacon. [FiioM THE independent: •MARKABI-E SUCCESSION OF PASTORS. Reminiscences of a former Parishioner. By Prop. Lyman H. Atwater, D.D., LL.D. The recent death of Dr. Leonard Bacon reviAes some recol- lections of him and of the antecedents and surroundings of his early pastorate in the church of my nativity and nurture, which could not readily occur to those eminent men, not members of his flock, who have drawn such admirable sketches of him in Tlie Independent. In that ancient church of my childhood and youth I trace back an unbroken lineage, natural and ecclesiastical, to one of its first founders, in 1638. He was driven by the persecutions of Laud to these then inhosjoitable shores, and joined in the attempt to found a '' church without a bishop and a state without a king." While yet a mere boy, I witnessed the installation of young Mr. Bacon, then barely twenty-three years old and of a some- what diminutive stature, which, aside of a certain marked intellectuality in his look, gave him the appearance of a stripling daring to follow the giants who had, within the fresh memory of the congregation, preceded him. The assembly crowded the seats and aisles, according to the custom of the time, when ordinations and installations were great occasions. The Rev. Joel Hawes, Pastor of the First Church in Hartford, then coming to the zenith- of what I once heard Dr. Bacon call his " great ministry," preached the sermon. It is indicative of the 188 LEONARD BACON. eliang;e that has been effected, and Avas then just ahout to coni- inenee, that a considerable item in the bill against the ecclesias- tical society for the expenses of entertaining the installing council was for the liquors furnished it. A short time after, the Kev. Kathaniel Ilewit, of Fairfield, to whom, in my judg- ment, more than any other, belongs the credit of doing the first effective pioneer work in breaking up the old drinking usages of society, exchanged on a Sabbath with the new Pastor. With overpowering eloquence he denounced the "use of distilled liquors as a beverage." He so astonished and startled the con- gregation that not a few came away saying that a madman had l)een preaching. It was not long, however, before they conclu- ded that the madness, if anywhere was in themselves. The great l)ody of the people soon adopted Dr. Hewit's view in their practice. I advert to these things as signs of the opening of a new era of religious development and field of ministerial work at the threshold of his pastoral career. Meanwhile, let us look for a little at the antecedents of his ministry, as found in the persons, characteristics, and influence of his two immediate predecessors, l^athaniel W. Taylor and Moses Stuart, whose pastorates, along with Dr. Bacon's, in the Central church of New Haven, have filled out the past of this century, save half a dozen years at its beginning. Mr. Stuart followed a Pastor not wanting in intellect and learning, but who, being trained at Harvard, had much of the tone and spirit which dominated those pulpits of Eastern Massachusetts that afterwards sunk into ITnitarianism. This, with other causes, had fostered an orderly (piietude in the congregation, already tending to stagnation and deadness. Dr. Bacon observes in his "Historical Discourses" (p. 279) that "hardly any two things, both worthy to be called preaching, could be more unlike than that of the old Pastor and that of the young candidate" (Mr. Stuart). That of the latter was bold, pointed, evangelical, fervid, electric. It was replete with the magnetic persoiuility of the man and overmastered his hearers with the powers of the world to come. The same qualities in his professor's chair afterward made him a marvelous inspiration to his pupils and the great pioneer in giving Hebrew and Greek exegesis its due prominence in ministerial education. The four years of his LKONAin) BACON. 189 pastorate in the First Cluirch were marked l)y a powerful revi- val, M'liich oreatly eiilai'i^ed and (piickeiied it and put vital reli- gion in new aseendeney anionii; the people. He left in ISIO, to take the professorslii]) which he so long adorned in the oldest theolotrical seminary of the oonntrv. This was before my day ; l)nt I well i-enieml)er that my parents and others who felt the power of his ministry never wearied of repeating his praises as pi'eaeher and Pastor to the generation following. I once heard his successor, Dr. Taylor, say that the most powerful .preachers to whom he had listened were Moses Stuart and Asahel Nettleton. Not, he took pains to say, in the sense of being elaborate and magnificent pulpit orators, like Robert TIall, but in the sense of accomplishing the true end of preach- ing. Tie proceeded to illustrate his statement by sketching a serinon of each, as he heard it, and showing what in them respectively overpowered the audience with a sense of G-od and now. I )r. Taylor followed Professor Stuart, after an interval ex- ceeding two years, as Pastor of the church, continuing such from April, 1812, to December, 1822. Although myself 1)orn sometime after his ordination, my recollections of him as preacher and Pastor dui'ingthe latter years of his pastorate are vivid and distinct. It is not to his subsequent career, the bril- liant teacher and defender of the theological system which bore his name, some peculiarities of which I was unable to accept, notwithstanding great admiration of him personally, that I now refer. I touch only recollections or traditions of his pas- torate. In person he was a rare specimen of manly beauty. His frame was at once robust and symmetrical. Plis countenance in all its jiarts and proportions was not only of rare strength and beauty, but, with lustrous black eyes and overhanging brows, surmounted l)y a massive forehead, once called by Dr. Bacon the " dome of thought," had a singular majesty, com- bined M'ith equal geniality of expression. As compared with average men, there was something imperial in the nuin, within and without. This, of itself, especially as expressed in a cor- respondent voice, in prayers and sermons, which fully articu- lated them, made a profound impression upon the congrega- 14 I DO LEONARD BACON. tion — even upon youth and cliildren, who, like myself, could understand little of the deep reasonings which formed so much of the web and woof of many of his great sermons. The terms " moral agency," '' moral and natural ability," '' moral and natural evil," ringing out from his closely-reasoned dis- courses, still linger in my memory, as do some of his solemn and stirring appeals to the impenitent, in such sermons as the '• Harvest Past," while I do not forget his scathing exposures and rebukes of immorality in preaching from " A false balance is abomination to the Lord." In his personal and pastoral rela- tions Dr. Taylor was all that might be inferred from these special traits and endowments, at once so winning and com- manding. He was both loved and revered ; enthroned in the liearts of his people. Four revivals of gi-eat power signalized his ministry of less than twelve years, still further continuing the advance in numbers and piety begun under the ministr}^ of his predecessor. During his incumbency the church edifice, which has long held its place as a model one, was built. To fill the vacancy arising from his removal to the chair of didactic theology in Yale Divinity School was, of course, no easy task. Among the candidates either thought of or actually invited to it, I well remember the names of Edward Beecher, (Jarlos Wilcox, Samuel H. Cox and Albert Barnes ; but young Mr. Bacon was finally called, after more than two years' trial of candidates, with much hesitation and a considerable minor- ity ill opposition, not so much from any positive dislike as a not unnatural fear that one so young, whatever his gifts, might prove unecpial to the demands of a congregation so large, influential, and with tastes and standards formed by such predecessors. And well might any successor of them ask: " Who is sufficient for these things ?" Aside from this training, the material of the congregation was such as might well appal not only Shallow Splurges and novices, but strong and mature preachers. In the middle aisle I well remember the stately forms of Noah Webster, the great lexicographer ; James liillhouse, a mighty man in the Senate of the United States, and in the legislature of his own State, whose public spirit made New Haven a city of elms and opened its thoroughfares of transportation and travel to the I.KONAKI) MACON. I'.H interior; Eli Wliituev, the inventor of tlie c'(>tton-i>in. Tn pews of one of the side aisles I saw around me Seth i*. Staples, Samuel »I. iritchcock, and Dennis Kimberly, anions- the foremost of the Comiecticut l>ar; Jonatlian Kni<»;ht, the peer of the hig'hest as a medical practitioner and lecturer; Henry Trowbrid^^e, the founder of the great mercantile house of II. Trowbridge's Sons; Ste])hen Twining, assistant treasure!' of Yale College; with many others, not only in this but other ])arts of the house, scarcely less ennneut in higli walks of life. It is not surprising that the young minister's capacity was at once sevei'ely tested ; that, as with so many others, his tirst three years proved the "teething-time of his ministry"; or that those were not wanting who were keener to detect points of inferiority to his predecessors than signs of promise in the rapid development of rarest gifts peculiar to him.self. These, however, soon gradually made themselves conspicuous to all and unquestioned by any, while they were peculiarly iitted to the era of his consummate strength in the ministry. I have already intimated that the " new de])arture" of the church, whose beginning was almost synchronous with that of his ministry, was in the way of moral reform and reformatory agencies and organizations, among which those for the j)ronio- tion of temperance, in the form of entire abstinence from in- toxicating liquors as a beverage, was foremost. But in the wake of this came radical movements against slavery, which more and more leavened the churches, and thence politics, till its overthrow by the Civil War. Among the eddies in this current were various fanaticisms on these and other subjects — such as perfectionism, vegetarianism, manual labor schools, together with eccentric socialisms, some of which perished, while others developed into such warts and wens of the body politic as the Oneida Community and other monstrosities. About this time, too, Home and Foreign Missions, with all the agencies of gospel propagandism among the unevangelized in this and other lands, received an unexampled expansion. With due limitations, it might safely be said that the revival era of the first third of the century was culminating and the reformatory and missionary era of the next third of it was developing. Not that revivals ceased in the latter period or 192 LEONARD BACON. tliat missions and moral reform enterprises were before un known ; but that each received its most conspicuous develop- ment in the respective periods named. American revivals reached their zenith, especially in New Haven and Yale Col- lege, in tlie great awakening of 1831. In its full noon-tide Dr. Sereno Dwiglit said, in an ecstasy of jubilation : " I do not see why we may not consider tlie Millennium as now com- mencing." We have had many good things since which then were not ; but religious awakenings, not entirely, indeed, but so extended, pervasive and transforming as tlien prevailed, have for long, unless in exceptional cases, been things of the past. The con- ditions leading to them have changed. The Sunday schools and Young Men's Christian Associations have had a large development. Quiet ingatherings into the church through and from these have largely taken the place of those mighty visitations of God which then seized great numbers grown up to manhood in Christian congregations, but without hope and without (lod in the world. During this era, too, the power of the press, especially in the form of religious journalism, has had a vast development. The people have ac(|uired a distaste for the old-style sermon, too often a skeleton of theological abstractions, dead, dry, and dull, except when alive and hot with polemic fire. They craved something of the freshness and beauty which came from literary culture, as well as the glow of impassioned evan- gelical fervor in the pulpit. To meet the demands of such a period, Dr. Bacon was remarkably furnished. During his educational career, he had not, indeed, sought eminent scholarship. To original genius, including the poetic gift, evinced in hymns that live and will live, he added an acquaintance with English literature, then rare, especially among the clergy. He was thus master of the purest English style and gained a breadth of view and versa- tility of mind which not only gave great chasten ess, vivacity, and force to his pulpit exercises, but fitted him to shine with peculiar brilliancy in all miscellaneous sermons and addresses on special subjects and occasions. For many years he was foremost among those sought to adorn and enliven great days KKOXAlil) IIACON. 198 with great discourses, as one who in tliis line had no peer. IFc also ra}>idly i2,ained a i>;reat ri'pivtatioii as a contributor to (juar- terly, monthly, and weekly journals. I'Or years his articles in the ChristiiOi Sjxctdtor were, if not the nu»st ponderous, the most readable, the nu)st (piickly and widely read of any. They were seldom distinctively theological. They struck out nu)re into the practical and refornuitory, the evangelistic and niis- sionarv departments of (Hiristian work. They were spiced with wit aiul satire at the expense of those he deemed exti-eme in their radicalism or conservatism. He used these weapons with increasing caution and gentleness as advancing years mel- lowed his s])irit, without enfeebling his pen. He wrote more u])on theology, as the drift of theological discussion, which set in after the Bushnell controversy, was more suited to his gifts and his tastes. He pronounced the previous iNTew England theology " provincial." In this, if not in some other estimates of Dr. Bushnell's theology, as related to wdiat preceded it, I (juite agree. He was more an ecclesiastic than a theologian. I could say much more ; but space forbids, and it is superfluous to repeat what has l)een so w^ell said by others. Such a trio of pastors immediately succeeding each other in the same church and together presiding over it so long, is worth noting. The like is rarely, if ever, to be found in church annals. {FROM THE INDEPENDENT.] UR. STORKS' TRIBUTE TO DR. BACON. [Only one of the original four members of the editorial staff of The Independent now lives to speak of the sudden death of their gifted and beloved senior associate, the Rev. Leonard Bacon, D.D. We know our readers will be glad to see the following from the Rev. R. S. Storrs, D.D., in relation to this sad event, and it is htting that he should appear in his old posi- tion in our editorial columns.] Bkooklyn, December 26, 1881. To the Editor of the Independent : It would be wholly impossible, in the fragments of time which are all that I can command to-day, to present any tit and sufficient description of the character and the powers of our beloved and honored friend. Dr. Bacim. I cannot even wor- thily express my personal sense of affectionate and admiring honor for him, and my grief that I shall not see again his face on earth. Indeed, it can hardly seem strange to any, that, iind- ing myself the last survivor of those who had eai'ly editorial control of the paper which yon are now conducting, I would rather sit in silence for a time, recalling the past and e.vpecting the future, instead of writing of either of those with whom my associations were (mce so close, who have passed before me into LEOXAWO M.VrOX. lOf) the land of the '* Kiiiu' in Hi-^ l)t'aiitv.'" Yet, you have a right to ask tVom nie some iniinediate, if iiiadecjuate words ah(nit liiiii. and my (»nly regret is that I cannot hiy a more fitting wn-ath on tiie eoffin wliich so soon will contain all that was earthlv and moi'tal in him. One cannot help hut wish, for the moment, that he had a pen as raj)id. vivid, as graceful in touch, as melodions in mo\ ement, as that which has dr<)j)|)ed fi'oni the stilled hand. My special personal ac(|naintance with Dr. Uacon hegan with my installati<»n in Ih-ooklyn in 1S4(». lie kindly consented, at my invitation, to i)reach the sermon on that occasion, to me so eventful, though at some personal inconvenience ; and his Christian interest in the church and in myself, drew me at once and strongly toward him. It was not, however, till two years afterward, that I hecame associated with him in the editor's room of TJie Independent j and in the interval I had seen him hut hrieliy, and not often, I rememher still the shade of timidity witli which I entered on this more intimate connec- tion with him, in view of his impressive and versatile powers, his large reflection and ohservation of men, his keen and some- times caustic wit, his peculiar decisiveness of conviction and character ; hut a brief experience of his thorough faithfulness and kindness of spirit, of the readiness with which he received suggestions from those who hesitated to accept his opinions, of his almost deferential courtesy toward his younger associates, sufficed to put me wholly at my ease in the new and closer rela- tions to him ; and there was never afterward a moment, while those editorial relations continued, in which I did not know that he would judge the work of his colleagues more leniently than his own, and that his words of affectionate recognition of whatever they did, that seemed to him effectively to aid the great cause of goodness and trutli, would he hearty and prompt. His mind was not only fertile in suggestions; it was cer- tainly the (piickest mind, in the grasp and measurement of any thought expressed hv anothei', which I liave met. Before, indeed, this was fully uttered, he had often seized and adjudged it. If he accepted it, as he oftentimes did, he put it into a '^'orm of words more definite, nervous, and energetic than it 196 LEONARD BACON. first had had. If lie rejected or dissented from it, his answer was as instant, yet often as comj^lete and snbtly exact, as if he had been considering cliiefly that sjjecial proposition for an hour beforehand. Yet whether it was assent or dissent which he uttered, his mind, when at leisui'e, simply took that as a starting-point, and swept along various and diversified tracks, running backward, outward, forward, in the swdft and exhilarat- ing processes of his thought, till both he and his hearer had to come back at last with a hearty laugh to the now imperceptibly distant point from which together they had started. In this respect he presented a singular and picturesque con- trast to Dr. Leavitt — " Brother Leavitt," as he always affection- ately called him, with whom his relations were of absolute mutual cordiality and respect. Dr. Leavitt's mind moved steadily and strongly along well-defined and very important paths of thought, like a powerful piece of artillery, or, better, like a richlj^-loaded and stately treasure-wagon, heaped with assorted knowledges, matured judgments, the gathered products of study, observation and careful reflection. Dr. Bacon's mind, in the swift interchanges of editorial conference, moved around the other like a brilliant and dashing troop of cavalry, taking from it, adding to it, always pursuing the same general course, but careering away in gallant and graceful curves out to the horizon, though never too remote for prompt assistance, for needed direction, for animating impulse, or for splendid defense. I know that Dr. Thompson felt, as I did, that hardly any mental stir or moral stimulation could be keener or more delightful than that which came to us in those Beekman-Street rooms, when some large topic had to be considered, and the course of the paper concerning it to be settled. I was the youngest in the group, and the least important ; but I went home often feeling as if electric currents had secretly mingled with my l)lood. In the directions in which, for our i)urpose8, we then espe- cially needed knowledge. Dr. Bacon's resources were of a value (luite inexpressible. I do not think that he impressed me as one widely and sympathetically familiar with the greater phil- osophical writers, though his mind was always keenly alert for metaphysical or for ethical discussion; nor did I, perhaps, LKoXARD HACOX. 11>T uiuliTstaiHl ;it tliat tiinc, as well as afrei'ward, how wide a readei" he had been, as, indeed, he always coiitinued to he, in tlie best Enrother, Teacher, lledeemei', King, man- ifesting (tocI, making atonement, and at last to conquer the world. Dr. P)acoirs inmost s])iritual exjjerience had root and life. Ilis best discourses were on this theme; his conversation took always a tenderer and a statelier tone when he approached it; and the sweet and solemn sublimity of his prayers caught its mighty and delicate harmony from his unfailing adoration of God revealed in his Son. The law of his spirit and the life of his tliought was in this sovereign conception of the Lord. He drew^ to men, everywhere, who showed in their minds the counterpart of it. The early life of the New England churches was precious to his memory, the present forms of administra- tion in the churches which have followed them were dear to his heart, because, apart from a living Christ, central and su- j)reme, there could have been no glory in the past, there could be now no power, progress, or even coherence in such societies. With an emphasis than which that of the apostle was hardly profounder, he could say anywhere : " I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ ; for it is the power of God, unto salva- tion, to every one that believeth." Out of this came his life-long interest in the missionary work, in his own land and in others ; and out of this his con- stant effort to get Christianity practically realized, so far as liis intiuence might extend, in the habits and institutions of society around him. Ilis interest in temperance, in anti-slavery, in the l)est methods of either the lower or the higher education, in social progress, and in even ])olitical reform, had always its source in his wish to make society itself a temple of the Lord, illumined 200 • LEONARD BACON. by his presence, as well as erected and molded for his praise. It was not at all because he had taken philosophical ethics at a j)articiilar vivid angle, and had seen' the necessary collision of that with social customs or traditional politics, that he was a reformer when it cost much to l)e such ; but it was because he could not be satisfied — his conscience and heart forbade him to be satislied — till the law of Christ was regnant among men, and civilization had become " only a secular name for Chris- tianity." He was in this essentially akin with the English reformers ; and with those who faced the w^inds and the wil- derness on our stormy shores, that here they might found a church with no lordship save that of God's Son, and a state interpenetrated in all its parts by his benign authority and rule. He was like them in their aim, though by no means wholly so in their methods ; and he had, like them, the courage of his convictions, and was never afraid of what man could do to him. The trancpiillity of his courage was not merely tested among the Koords, in 1851, when his life hung by a tln-ead, and when his tender and lofty prayer ascended for his captors, as well as for himself and his companions. It met, not unfrequently, sharp tests at home. There were times in the early history of The Independent when the intensity of feeling against it, in important and prominent circles, was like the very blast of a furnace ; when men who took it, who even casually read it, were regarded as hopeless and intractable radicals ; and when to be its senior editor was to be a target, in the press and on the platform, for many missiles angrily hurled. I have no doubt that nature was very largely helpful to grace in the quiet com- posure with which T)r. Bacon bore such assaults. He knew his resources, and expected his opportunity ; and when the oppor- tunity came there was no donbt whatever in his mind that the " whip of small cords " was still a useful Christian instrument, and the scourging sarcasms with which he smote and stung his assailants had often a most salutary, if not an immediately soothing effect. But, aside altogether from his personal con- sciousness of his singular powers for self-defense, he had an assured tranquillity of spirit amid all commotions, because he was working, according to his conception of things, for what was agreeable to the doctrine, the law, and the spirit of the LKONAIU) RArOX. 20 1 Master ; and lie had no fear that God Mould go down in any struggle, or that the fiercest passions of men could countervail His niighty plans, against whom the heathen have raged from the outset, and the peo])Ie have imagined a thousand \ain things. He meant to he useful, and so fai" as he could, to serve his generation, hefoi'e he, like the fatliers. should •'fall on sleep,"' and no d(»uht he desired and proju'rly vahied ])ositions of emi- nence, which might serve to make his usefulness wider; hut I never saM" the least desire or sensibility in him to popular fame, the least care whether his name woidd he repeated or not when he himself should have gone hence. If the Master was hon- ored, that was enough. If his influence might live, he cared little for repntation. If his own conscience approved his course, I do not imagine that he was in fhe least solicitons whether or how long the hreath of men should continue to syllable his name. He has his reward in an influence that may not con- tinue apparent, Init that can hardly cease to be felt while the Christian life of the continent is unfolded. By this sincerity and genuineness of spirit, by the constant impulse to l)e abreast with the times, as well as by his reverent piety and his unfailing ('hristian faith, he kept, to even a mar- velous degree, the undecaying youth of his spirit, and was as fresh in his enthusiasm, as vital and eager in his interest in subjects, as keenly observant of the tendencies of thought, as tender and strong in personal affections, at eighty years of age, as he had been at flfty or at thirty ; yet he felt all the time the nearer approach of the great Immortality, and not unfrequently made reference to it. The last sermon which he preached in my pulpit, now some years since, was on th€ text, " For now is our salvation nearer than when we believed." Those who have been more familiar than I, in later years, ^\^th his public servi- ces of instruction and prayer, have told me that more than ever before have his thoughts been full of the pathos of dependence, and the sweetness of hope ; that more tender than e\'er have been his ministrations to the sick, the dying, and the bereaved ; that more than ever, without hindrance or weight, lias his spirit soared upward in that office (jf prayer, in which the lofty rhythm of his words, caught largely from the Scriptures, has ^02 LEONARD EACON. always seemed the only appropriate and adequate vehicle for his reverential ascriptions aeetweeii liiniself and Ralph Ino-ersoll on the occasion of the fanions ti-ial is still remembered at New Haven. The etliical (piestion whicli lay at the bottom of the slavery agita- tion was settled in his mind from the llrst ; but he was not clear as to the policy to be pursued. Pie went to hear Mr. Garrison, with liow nmcli liope of finding the required leader in liim we do not know; but, if he did not go with an open and candid mind, it was the first and last time in his life he approached a great question in that blinded way. At all events, he saw neither a leader nor a policy in Mr. (larrison. For years he gave himself to the colonization scheme, and we have within these few days seen it stated, in a leading and responsi- ble print, that he did not abandon this movement until about 1850, and that why he abandoned it he never explained; a very curious assertion, in view of the fact that The Inde- pendent M^as founded in 1848, with Leonard Bacon as the lead- ing editor, associated with Drs. Thompson, Storrs, and Leavitt, and that those editors said in their address to the jjublic " We take our stand for free soil," and kept the address with those words and more to the same eifect in it standing printed through the eleven first numbers. Moreover, Dr. Bacon had taken this ground long before, had been attacked and maligned for doing so and charged with inconsistency. He avowed the change of opinion in an open, manly fashion, which, surely, cannot have passed out of the memory of men so soon, declar- ing tliat the only consistency which was worth the name was that in which a man reserved the right to change his opinions when required by the evidence or the discovery of truth to do so. As long ago as 1827 an article in the Christian Spectator^ from the pen of the la|e Joshua Leavitt, had struck a S2)ark in Dr. Bacon's mind which kindled to a flame, and became ulti- mately not only the principle he adopted, but that on which emancipation was ultimately effected. Dr. Leavitt contended that the Constitution was not the covenant w'ith evil the Garrisonians held it to be ; but that it was for freedom, and that wdierever the Constitution was the sole source of political institutions it planted freedom. It was 208 T.EONARD BACON. his helief that the ring of free States drawn arcmnd the others would strangle slavery. That was the Free Soil doctrine. It was also the view of the matter taken by the disunion leaders and was the fate which they opposed with secession. This view of the matter was carried into The Independent^ and advocated there, with what ability and with what command- ing influence, the whole country knows. It is the glory of The Independent that it opened fire in its first number on the line of battle which, sixteen years later, was crowned with success. In 1848 Dr. Leonard Bacon, Dr. Joseph P. Thompson and Dr. Richard S. Storrs became the responsible editors of The Independent. The considerations which led to the founding of this journal are set forth l)y them in an address to the public, the like of which was never penned before, and certainly has not been since. The Congregational churches were on the move West. Important enterprises were in progress elsewhere. More than all, there were certain very perturbative, fecundating, organific, and, also, as the event proved, re\'olutionary thoughts in the minds of a pretty large group of large men, which had to be uttered. The three responsible editors of The Inde- pendent undertook to utter them. "We are Congregational- ists," they say, in their address; "but we do not undertake to be the representatives of Congregationalism. We have oui- own opinions on questions in theology, but we ai-e not the champions of any man's 'scheme' or metaphysical system, or of the views set forth from any chair of theology. The Inde- pendent^ then, is not to be held resj^onsible for any opinion but its own. The doctors . . . may agree or disagree, as they please. We are responsible for none of them, nor is any one of them responsible for us." So, too, politically "we take our stand io\ free .yfyV," l)ut will not l)e responsil)le for any party in the land. We have our opinions, they said, and we mean to utter them. Nowhere in all the wide field of his fruitful influence will he be more missed than in The Independent. As we review his crowded life and think of his eighty years, we ask ourselves what manner of man was this that led us still to count him among the active soldiers in the world's great warfare and to expect so much more fi'oiii him in the great (';nn])aigii. LKONAHI) HACOX. 20{) That 1k' \vas soint'timc's l)ristlinii- and })Uiiiiaci(ms, or even wrong-headed, that <»n some rare occasions lie lost his ])oise may well enouiih he ti-ne; hut his heart was gentle and his character was impersonal. The spirit of yonth and the love of youth were in him. lie was richer in hum(»r than in satire. A good story coming ainiounced itself witli a characteristic chuckle, and was told with inimitable manner and action. Tlis mind was stored with anecdote, and it is doubtful if there has been, in his day or anywhere in the wide cii-clc he lived in, such a master of the monologue in all hues aiul of every variety. I lis table-talk, ce-uld we have it, would live long. As a diristian. Dr. I>acon had much of the sim])licity of the Puritan type. Tie was warm and spiritual, without being de- monstrative ; but he had no antagonisms that untitted him to combine with any worker w'ho had good jjower of any kind in him. His gift in prayer was of the highest order, and he knew well how to read the hymn. At funerals and on all public occasions no man could be relied on as he could. In the churches he was the bishop, l)y right divine the TtoujiYjv laxov, while among men his personal and connnanding qualities marked him out as tit to wear the Homeric title avaz av&pa)v. We know that Dr. Storrs's eloquent and noble tribute to the memory of Dr. Bacon in these colunms will l)e read with deep interest. IFROM THE INDEPENDENT^ LEONARD BACON. By Professor George P. Fisher, D.D. New Haven is not the same place witliout Dr. Bacon. He has been the Pastor of the oklest church for ahnost threescore years. To all who in this period have lived in that city, to all who have resorted to its College and schools his person and voice are familiar. In every pnblic movement he has been a recognized leader. Whenever a good canse needed the advo- cacv of a powerful pen or an eloquent voice, all eyes turned to him. He was the historiographer of the town. He had explored its beginnings ; he knew more of its past than any other living man. He is identified with New Haven, like the permanent features of the landscape, like the massive twin rocks that stand on its border, the elms that shade its streets, and the waters of the adjacent Sound. Yet Dr. Bacon did not seem old. His intellectual ])owers were not reduced. His vivacity flamed to the last as bril- liantly as of yore. He had lost none of his interest in the important questions of the hour. He had never stopped on his path to turn his face backward, and to turn his back on the future. To all who approached him his enthusiastic, hope- ful, courageous spirit was an inspiration to the end. Months ago he read Robertson Smith's lectures on the Old Testa- ment, talked of them with animation, evidently feeling that the problems wliicli they ])resented must be freely and fairly LEOXAIJH l{A("<>X. 211 discussed. TTe left <>ii lii's table an iintiiiislK'd Essay on Ftali and " tlu' Mormon (^nestion " in its })()liti('al relations. lie was (,'in])liati('ally a man of liis time and for his time. lie wonld have fonnd it impossible to seelnde himself fi'om the stir and contlict of the jn-esent to forget the struggles in whicli the eonntry and the cliureh are now engaged, or to stand as an idle s|)ectat(H', musing on tlie course of human events. Fie felt at home on the public arena, where matters affecting the common weal were submitted to the arbitrament of debate, lie has made innumerable speeches in public meetings, lie has been a most prolific contributor to the journals. The articles which he has written for newspapers and reviews, in all these years, generally with reference to current topics, are numberless. Yet, it need not be said that Dr. Bacon was a man of the time in no narrow sense. He was never superficial. He was not of those who are incapable of being interested in anything which is not of to-day. His horizon was not so limited. He loved to trace the present back to its roots in the ])ast. He had not only the tact and accuracy of a historical student ; he had, also, the historical imagination which could reproduce by- gone times in a glowing picture. His volume of Discourses on the History of j^J^ew Haven is a contribution to knowledge which has stimulated the production of other works of a like character. His last article in the New Englander is a beautiful sketch of society in Connecticut near the end of the last cen- tur}'. There was in him such a never-failing spring of mental vitality that whatever he read inspired him with thoughts that carried him far beyond his author. His understanding was so strong and so keen that he quickly grasped what was of chief moment in a l)ook or periodical. His intellect was not at all enfeel)led by his habit of discursive reading, as may be the case with inferior men ; and, with all his sympathy with his own generation, he was not in the least a radical in his temperament. His tone of feeling was conservative. He revered the virtues of men and of states of society that have passed away. He had nothing of an iconoclast in his natural temper. As a reformer, he was quite as anxious to build up as to pull down. In the slavery controversy he was long the ally of the great body who hoped that African colonization would ]irove an 212 LEONABI) BACOX. ffective means of emancipation. lie cordiallv detested the disnnion principles and the tlieological and "woman's rights" tenets of the Garrison School ; but when he saw that the Slave Power w-as advancing, and tliat sla\erv was defended hy the Southern chnrcli as a Cliristian institution, he threw lumself witli fearless ardor into the propagation of anti-shivery doctrine and was inflnential in hnilding up the repnhHcan party. Mr. Lincoln assured him (as Di-. Bacon himself informed me) tliat it was the reading of liis l)ook of Essays on Slavery that made him an Abolitionist. Dr. Bacon's rhetorical talents were of a very high order ; and yet the word "rhetorical" in this connection may be mislead- ing. It was nature, more tlian art that gave him the remarka- ble power to which I refer. To be sure, without wide reading and familiarity with good literature lie could not have l)ecome such a master of English expression ; Init with him language was a spontaneous product ; it was vitalized by thought and feeling. He had no need to go in (|uest of apt phrases. The fires that were burning within shot forth light and heat with- out any artificial blowing of the l)ellows. 1 have never known his superior in the power of strictly extemporaneous thought. It was a delight to him, when he was at his ease with friends whom he knew well, to improvise, if I may use the w^ord, on the subjects that happened to come up. In an ecclesiastical assembly, when roused by a topic that interested him, he always manifested this extraordinary power of " thinking on his feet." Sometimes, especially in conversation, a suggestion from an- other that struck his mind he would take up and unfold and illustrate with his own peculiar felicity ; not, perhaps l)ecause it embodied liis own matured opinion, ])ut as if by a kind of rhetorical instinct, prompting him to present the case as it ought to be presented. There were occasions when Dr. Bacon was very eloquent. When a monument was placed near the Center Church, over the grave of Col. Dixwell, one of the judges of King Charles I., he delivered a discourse on " The Opening of an Ancient Grave " ; and, years later, from a platfoi-m raised over the same monument, he delivered an address of welcome to Governor Robinson, of Kansas. In the last instance, notably, sympathy with the liistoric glory of Puritanism, suggested by LKON A i;i) UACOX. iM.') tlic iislii's of tlu- exiled ju(li;v (t\X'i' wliicli he stood, blended witli a hurniiiii- indionatioii at tlie inicpiiHes i)ei'|)eti'ated in Kansas, and cansed liini to speak with an ('lo<|uenee wliicli I have never lieard s\irj)assed. These are <»iil_v two instanees amono- many which those who ha\e lon<;' known Dr, Bacon \vill easily recall. In his own pnlpit it is hai-dly requisite to observe that his dis- conrses were nnifoi'ndy s(»lid and instructive. Xot unfre- (|ueiitly they were spirited as well ; and sometimes — in partic- ular, on commemorative occasions — tliey were full of fire. But he told me once that it was harder for him to speak without notes in his own pul})it than anywhere else. IFe lacked there the stimulus of opposition. The topics, although they took a deep hold of his convictions, might be not more apjjosite for one time than for anotlier, and a sense of the propriety and decorum that belong to the house of worship, nn'ngled with that respect for his congregation wliich grew u]) in the early years of his ministry, when he stood in the ])]ace of Stuart and Taylor, tlirew over him in some degree an insensible con- straint. In truth, there were various characteristics of Dr. Bacon which it is probable that many of his parishioners knew little of 01', at any rate, never adequately appreciated. I refer to the many who saw little of him, except in tlie pulpit. His attractiveness as a speaker in places w^here he was at liberty to ])our out his thoughts at will, and illuminate them with Hashes of wit, they miglit not fully understand. The charm of his conversation w^hen he was with congenial minds, the stream of wisdom and wit, the stores of apposite anecdote always at his command, the humorous illustrations from favorite authors, as Scott or Dickens, which came up unbidden, as the talk pur- sued its winding \vay — to all this many Mdio only knew him. as a preacher were strangers. Nevertheless he was remarkably open and frank. He was never otherwise than serious and earnest. Had any one who knew him but imperfectly, seen him in his most unguarded hours, he would have observed nothing to detract in the least from the profound respect for his character which his pulpit addresses, his solemn and rever- ent prayers, and the sympathetic and melodious tones in which he read the hymns of the church were adapted to inspire. Dr. Bacon is distinguished as a polemical writer and speaker. 214 LEONARD BACON. He inherited in a lar«;e measure the old Puritan zeal for making things straight in this crooked world, for compelling magis- trates to rule justly, and for beating down the upholders of demoralizing institutions and customs. He was naturally fond of controversy in the sense that his mental faculties were (juickened by debate, and he experienced all the delight — the gatcdia certaminis — which belongs to a combatant who has no occasion to distrust his powers ; but Dr. Bacon embarked in no warfare which he did not feel to be just. The severity of his sarcasm was oMang to the keenness of his perception. The blade which nature fashioned for him had a sharp edge. But he was a magnanimous disputant. lie was above petty tricks. He disdained sophistry. He brought away from his battles no feelinff of rancor toward his adversaries. He cherished no grudges. After a tilt was over, it was no fault of his if he did not shake hands with his opponent. He had a large-minded, catholic spirit toward all bodies of Christian people. While clinging with au unfaltering faith to the essential facts and principles of the gospel, he believed in free inquiry and dis- cussion, despised pettiness and narrowness in religon, and was able to recognize the same essential truth under diverse forms of statement. One who saM' Dr. Bacon in an assembly where aij excited del)ate was in progress, wearing the stern look of a warrior, with his sword-arm uplifted and launching his invec- tives against an obnoxious measure, might imagine that austerity and indignation were his prevailing traits. In reality, he was one of the kindest and most genial of men. His indignation was fervid, but there was a deeper well of generous and benev- olent feeling beneath it. " How Dr. Bacon has mellowed in the last twenty years!" is a remark occasionally heard. It would certainly be a reproach to a good man if the change denoted by this phraseology did not occur with the advance of age. No doubt there was an increasing carefulness to avoid expressions that might wound sensitive minds. After all, how- ever, this apparent growth of tenderness aiul forbearance was, in the main, a manifestation of qualities of heart which had ever belonged to him. Old age does not soften the naturally unfeeling. Bipe and mellow fruit s])rings only from good seed. The most cons])icuous moral ti'iiit of Dr. l>acon Wiis manli- LEOXARD RACON, 215 Tiess. ^lanliiR'ss ('(mstitiitcMl his iileal of clianictt'r. It was (^liristiaii inaiiliiu'ss. Uecause Cliristiaiiity in liis view was essen- tial to the perfeeti<»n of manhood. A devout man, he was utterly free from all the sentimentalities of piet\ . To eiitlni- siasts lie mio;]it seem too re.«erved, perliaps fri^-id, in liis reliii:ions manifestations. N(»t so did he seem to tlie tlionsands of invalids at whose l)edsi(le he liad oft'eivd up prayer to God, or to the multitude of households wliieli he entered to bury their dead. 15ut he helieved tliat Christianity is for daily use. It is to make men uprii>;ht, faithful, fearless in the performanee of duty. Jt is not only for the spiritual health and peace of the individual ; it is for the remolding of society. It is the part of a Christian to take the aggressive and carry the Gospel oyer the earth. In the distant continents of Asia, in far-off islands of the sea, wherever an American missionary is at work in planting Christiaiuty, the name of Dr. Bacon is familiar. In the only extended jonrney which he ever took he visited our missions in the East. He had the New England feeling that religion and education are inseparable. Whatever tends to advance the intelligence of the connuunity had his energetic support. Ife Avas never idle. AVork always seemed a pastime for him. Some years ago I heard him say that the weeks of his sunmier vacation were harder for him to dispose of than any other jjart of the year. He went on with his labors to the end. The expectation that his remaining time was short, and that death might occur at any moment, did not lead him to lay doAvn his wonted employments. He wrote and ])reached and lectured as usual, doing everything cheerfully, making no complaint <»f physical weakness. He quietly gave up meetings wdiich he was not aide to attend, was taken in a carriage to the Divinity School when he could not walk, but evinced in conference \vith his colleagues and in his instructions in the class-room just the same vigor of mind and the same liveliness of feeling as of old. He communicated to us, last spring, in a very sim- ple way the nature of his iiuilady and the uncertainty of the continuance of his life. Then his work with us went on with no perceptible change in him, except a tinge, pathetic, though slio-ht, of added tenderness in his manner. 210 LEOXAKD BACON. When Dr. Bacon became one of the coqjs of theological teachers in Yale Divinity School, his younger associates, much as they honored him and desired his appointment, were not without a degree of apprehension that there might be some want of freedom in the presence of his positive character and emphatically outspoken opinions on all questions which he was called to consider. All apprehensions of this sort were so*»n dissipated. We found him uniformly gentle and considerate, not in the least disposed to press unduly his own ideas upon our acceptance, and helpful and obliging in the highest degree. Fertile in new plans, he was, fortunately, at the furthest re- move iroin obstinacy in insisting on measnres which were not acceptable to his colleagues. No instructor could exhibit toward his fellows a more unsellish spirit. At the same time he equaled, if he did not outstrip us all in enthusiasm mtli regard to our common work. In our conferences, he brought out of his full mind treasures new and old ; treasures both of fact and of suggestion. As to the students, he was lenient in his judgments, kindly and yet searching, and eminently wise and stimulating, in his criticisms. He never manifested to either professors or pupils any of the faults which have com- monly been thought to be characteristic of old men. At the l)eginning we felt toward him a high respect and esteem. More and more, without any effort on his part, merely by showing himself as he was, he won our cordial love. The observation has often been made that Dr. Bacon might have l)een and, perhaps, ought to have been, a senator in Con- gress, or a great advocate at the bar. It is true that his for- ensic talents were of a high order. It is true that he had a statesmanlike habit of thought. Had he entered on the career of a lawyer or of a politician, he would have achieved eminent distinction. F)nt I do not concur in the opinion that the path which he chose was the less desirable one. The moral element was supreme in his mental constitution. He has discussed the gravest public (piestions in a way to instruct and impress a vast number of educated minds, and he has done this (juite as effectively in his character as a citizen, holding no office and aspiring to none, as if he had been clad in the robes of office. He has been, at the same time, a heroic, untiring servant of the LKONAHD HACOX. l! 1 i clnircli. Tie has re]) resented the interests of reli<;i(>n and nio- ralitv before tlie AnieiMcan eoninmnity witli an ahihty which has coniuianded the res])e{-t <>f the ablest men in every \v;dk of life. ( )tticial station niiiiht not have increased his inflnenee. It niight have fnrnished occasion for attacks on the pni-ity of his motives and the independence of liis judgment, which he escaj)ed. The place tilled by Dr. IJacon was in some respects unicpie. In his own province lie had no superior. None are left to bend " The might}' bow that once Ulysses bore." The great eifect of his life remains. Those who knew him best will never cease to cherish toward him the deepest honor and affection. New Haven, Oouu. [FBOM THE independent:] THE LATE DR. BACON. By President Noah Porter, D.D., LL.D. T am asked to give a few of my recollections of the late Dr. Bacon. It is not easy to select a few out of the throng which r cannot but recall. Nevertheless, I will make the attempt. The iirst was in my childhood, when I heard of a student of divinity at Andover of remarkable gifts, especially in litera- ture, whose torn window-curtain had occasioned some sharp remarks from a pert young miss, which, when reported to him, had called forth a lively poetic response, which was pul^lished in The Boston Recorder. The Boston Recorder then was almost the only religious newspaper in New England and the United States. "• No Fiction " was almost the only religious novel, and this was not approved in all religious circles. Scott's novels and Lord Byron's poems were the cliief attrac- tions of current literature, and how far either were either edi- fying or even worthy of toleration in Christian families was a matter of grave discussion. But the rising wave of missionary enterprise, which had appeared a few years before, had now gathered force and was moving powerfull)' through New Eng- land. The recent revivals of religion, in which I)rs, I)eecher and Taylor and Nettleton were so prominent, had led many to raise their hopes of the sj)eedy coming of the Millennium; the newly-inspired spirit of benevolence was j)rompting to what at that time seemed wonders of self-sacriiice and liberality; LEONARD BACON, 2 U» Siniday-scliools wcM-e almost in tlieir infancv ; tlic iniMlcni iiiovenieiits foi" moral and social reform were hardly in their bud when Leonard l>aeon beij^an his public life, a stri])lin<>; of twenty-three, a wide-minded and self-reliant student, who had found stuff to kindle his romantic fancy in the niissionai'v ro\- in^s of his fervid father amouij the western frontiei's and alon^Jj the western lakes, and had fed his intellect hy the enthu- siastic study of the masters of Eniilish literature. His eai'ly writings exhibited m(»re than usual powei- of debate, mai'ked self-reliance in uttci-ini!,- his o])inions, keen wit, daring invec- tive, and soaring ehxjuence, all of which he could not but express in clear, strong, and felicitous language. When I entered college, he had been two years Pastoi- of the Center C'hurch. As he preached now and then from the tall ])ulpit of the old chapel, and the still taller pulpit in his own church, he was chieliy distinguished for the positiveness and self-reliance with which he spoke and the freedom from a pul- pit dialect ; but, as no^v and then some occasional discourse was called for on some missionary or benevolent theme, or some demand of public morals, or when excited by some i)olit- ical or commercial crisis, he was inspired with special energy and seemed quite another man than in his ordinary ministra- tions. New Haven was then a city of some eight oi- nine thousand inhabitants. Two Congregational churches, one Episcopal, one Baptist, and one Methodist, and the College chapel were all. One Roman Catholic family only was known in the town. On a great religious occasion at the Center (Church the city was moved by a common sympathy. During the great revival of 1881 the whole city kept a Sabbath of four days of solemn and excited stillness, in which the pastor, then of five years' standing was prominent. Before this event, however, he had passed a serious crisis in his ministry and his life, which he has appropi'iately (commemorated. Before this time the so-called New Haven theoloffv had attracted public attention, and had begun to agitate the churches in and out of New England. The Quarterly Chris- tian Spectator in 1829 was establislied as the organ of the New Haven School. Dr. Bacon was led most naturally, from his early associatittns and the])ractical and progressive character 220 LEONARD BACON. of his mind, to sympathize with maii>', if not all of its posi- tions and became a frequent contributor to the jjages of the new review. His contributions were chiefly literary and ethi- cal and reformatory, rather than theological. His sympathy with the new theological direction was most signiflcantly and characteristically shown in the edition of the select works of Richard Baxter, which he published in 1831. With his studies for this labor of love began those researches which were the joy of his life, which brought him into close communion with the heroes of freedom, of civil, religious, and ecclesiastical reform, and the champions of a national C^hristian theok>gy. From this time Dr. Bacon's life-long mission began to be dis- tinctively detined to himself and to others. The cause of public morals in his own city was espoused with characteristic boldness and enforced by his lively wit and bold invective. The great benevolent enterprises were all eloquently cham- pioned and liberally responded to l)y his people. It was not long before his latent individuality asserted itself most posi- tively in certain lines of ecclesiastical leadership. In 1835 he led the General Association of Connecticut to pass a set of crit- ical resolutions against the inroads and ])retensions of itinerant evangelists, the aim of which was well enough understood. In 183f) the Presbyterian cliurch was violently disrupted, chiefly on theological grounds. This event was attended and followed by a series of agitations in (A>nnecticut which, in the view of many, threatened a division of the Congregational ministers and churches. In these discussions Di". Bacon was conspicuous. A newspaper was established in New Haven in which he was greatly interested, and in an occasional periodical, called Yiews and Reviews^ he published two or three series of vigor- ous letters, protesting with all the energy at his command against the necessity and the ( 'hristianity of any movement toward a division. The meetings of the General Association of the State were for several years the arena on which liis varied rescnirces were brilliantly and efficiently displayed. This controversy had scarcely begun to abate Mdien his energies were aroused in a ncAv direction. Tlie yeai- 183S was observed in commemora- tion of the end of the second centurv since tlie settlement of l-KONAKD liACON. '2'2\ Xew TlaviMi. Into the ;iiT!iiii>;enK'nt for thv .siiital)le obserx- ance of this event Di-. IJaeoii threw all the ardor and energy of his nature. The first result was the preparation of his histoi'- ieal discourses of the I'irst ("liui-ch in New llaveu, a woi-k whicli was not only a model of its kind, hut has a still greater interest from its relation to the sul)se(juent histoi'v of Di'. Bacon's own ^tudies. It eonlii-med and steadied the ai-dent enthusiasm whieh lie inlieritcd from his father for the heroes who settled Xew England. It determined his favorite re- searches in the direction of the history and polity of the New England churches. Ills snbsequent elaborate tracing of the origination and o])eration of the Saybrook Platform ; the quaint and archaic codification of the usages of the New England churches, which he prepared foi- the Boston Council ; his learned woi'k on the '^ Genesis of the New England Churches ;" his growing tenacity of the old usages ; his continued jirotests for the freedom and independence of the local church ; his tenacious and what seemed to some his needless protests against Congregationalism as a sect will be readily recognized as the legitimate fruits of his memorable work in 1S38. This work had another good effect. It brought him nearer to the hearts of his fellow-citizens of all classes. In teaching them to be ])roud of their own history, he taught them to be proud of the man who had shown that their city had a histoi'v. The medal which commemorated this celebration in 1888 and the marble tablets over the entrance of the church with the construction of the crypt beneath its floor — the last two the loving work of his old age — are fi-uits and evidences of this historic enthu- siasm. This historical work was scarcely finished when a new labor was prepared for his hands. He had been originally, with very many, not to say most philanthropists, an advocate of African colonization, as the only practical remedy for slavery. His antagonism to slavery itself was greatly intensified by a subsequent personal knowledge of plantation life. The radical and anti-Christian abolitionism of many of the innnediate emancipationists aroused an equally positive opposition, in which satire and invective had free play. Foi' several years he protested against both parties with a nearly eijual hostility, which he found abundant occasion to express. But events 16 •2-2-2 LEONAEl) BACON", moved rapidly toward a crisis. In the meantime the JVfit^ Enghvnder was started, in 1843, chiefl}' under Dr. Bacon's inspiration, with the avowed design of discussing political, social, religions, and literary topics of present interest in a ])opular style. This jjeriodical engrossed Dr. Bacon's atten- tion for sevei'al years and was for a season after the death of the first editor under his immediate control. In 1848 The Independent was started, and in its weekly demands upon his pen and his counsels it furnished him with full occupation, while the clouds were gathering foi- the impending storm. Meanwhile, the controversy over the various phases of Dr. Bushnell's theology interested him intensely. The (ieneral Association of (Connecticut became again the scene of earnest discussion, and ominous preparation for a division of ecclesias- tical fellowship were again threatening; and Dr. Bacon was again at his post, using all his powers of ])en and speech to avert so serious a calamity. As a conse(|uence, he ])ecame more and more distinctly catholic in his own views of theology and more and more comprehensive in his Christian sympathies. In 1866 he withdrew from the active duties and responsibilities of his pastorate, and for five years taught revealed or biblical theology in the Theological Department of Yale College, and from 1871 till his death he gave instruction in church jiolity and the ecclesiastical history of New England. In everv one of these manifold spheres of activity there was special discipline for his quick and vigorous mind. To each he brought keen discernment, comprehensive judgment, a tena- cious memory, and a waivm and even ardent personal sympathy. From each he emerged a stronger and a ripei- man, till in the last ten years of useful and ha])py life, lie seemed to have attained the ideal consummation of experiences so varied by toil and so stirring in combat. He had not lost a whit of his idiosyncrasy. He M^as as headlong in assertion and as accpiies- cent under reply or explanation, as violent in invective, and as o-enerous in personal feeling; but there gathered around him insensibly a pervading serenity of spirit, which made him seem the more human in proportion as he became more heavenly. iris prayers had always been remarkable for touching ])athos and seraphic elevation. At the bedside of tlic sick and dying, LKONAKD r.AC'ON. 228 in the huslicnl cii-cli' of the hereaved, in tlie woisliij) of the ijreat eoni!:rei>-uti()ii, and liefore tlic faniilv altar liis (knotioiial nttoraiices had been niodols of their kind; but as lie pi-avcd in hi> ohl aut I must return fi'om this dio-i-ession to the chih, from whieli I digressed, and ask tt> be allowed to refer to its individ- ual members. Stoddai'd was tlie autlu)r, together with Prof. Andrews, of the well-known l^atin grammar whicli long stood at the head of its rivals in that branch of instruction in tliis conntry. He was professor at Middlebury, Vermont, and a man of fei'vent piety. He died in 1847. His room-mate, l>rockway, became a country lawyer in ('onnecticnt and served one tei-m in Congress. He was the most frolicksome and joyous of us all. He died in 1870. C'liester Isham, one of our very best scliolars, was held to be somewhat plodding in col- lege ; but a noticeable change took place in him when he gave himself to the study of theology. x\j)parently, it was the result of (juickened religious feelings. He preached with such energy and power that he was invited, very early after leaving Andover, to fill an important pulpit in Eastern Massachusetts. He married, and in less than two years after his settlement died, in 1825. He was Bacon's nearest friend, from the begin- ning of theii" college life until his death. These are all gone, and of the living, besides myself, there is but one of the six remaining, my dear friend. Prof. Twining. The senior year passed happily away, and we were soon dis- pei'sed, not to meet again except as individual friends. The day after our graduation, two of those who had been among his best friends walked with Bacon as far as Whitneyville, on the road lie was intending to take to Hartford, on foot. They told him plainly that he had not made the most of himself in col- lege ; that he had not studied enough and was in danger of hurting himself by superficial habits of reading. The friends bade farewell, and ere long he was established at Andover, with Isham for his room-mate. T^ow, as it afterward appeared, the responsil)ilities of life pressed upon him, and he 228 LEOXAED BACON. did faithful work in liis theological eihication. At the end of the course Bacon M^as chosen to make the principal address on the day when tlie class left the Seminary. I went to Andover to hear my friend's address, and rejoiced in the proofs that he gave of his progress. During the next year and the first part of 1825 he preached in several places, and, at length, received a call to the First CJhnrch in New Haven, which Dr. Taylor had left, at the close of 1822, in order to assume the professor- ship of theology in the new theological department of Yale College. lie was ordained a year and a half after he left Andover, in March, 1825, just after completing his twenty - third year. Things were not then as they are now. A min- ister, according to the old prevailing usage, was married for life to his people or parish in the early times. Separations were as rare from the hrst ministry as divorces from the wife of one's youth. The people well knew tliat a minister could not know everything or do everything, and yet everything was laid upon him. The lawyer and the physician at the start had little practice, and were not worn down l)y responsibility ; but the minister a,t twenty-four had everything to do that he would have to do at fifty. Unless, therefore, a people were reasonably indulgent, they would add to the burden which must be borne by him and perhaps shorten his life. Mr. Bacon was, if anything, in a worse position than most young men of his age. There had been in the same pulpit a wdiile l)efore a great master of theology, who tired off heavy guns every Sunday and was the pride of the Center Church in New Haven. The people were not re(piiring, they were kind ; but who is sufficient for these things ? But he was natively a hopeful man and a l)rave man, and moreover was kindly sup- ported by Drs. Taylor and Goodrich. That these first years of his pastorate and their struggles w^ere l)lest to him mentally and spiritually cannot be doubted. He made his reading service- able to the good of others as early as 1831, by publishing " Select Practical Writings of "Richard Baxter," which was pi-e- faced by the editor's account of Baxter's life. In the year 1835 there was a commemoration of the founding of New Haven, two centuries before, and Mr. Bacon was naturally expected to make api)ro])riate mention of it. as being the era LKOXAKD RACOX. 220 wluMi tlio clnircli and tlic State were t'ounded t<), which has continued until the })resent time and from which a number of the earlier members have passed away — Dutton, Larned, Gibbs, Ludlow, Henry White, among others — was a place where T)r. Bacon shone. Its general agreement on great pul)lic questions, the confidence and nearness of feeling of its mend^ers to one another, together with their minor differences of opinion, made it a most pleasant circle ; and here the very uncommon powers in conversation and argument of our friend shone preeminently. There was no superior in age or in acknowledged public standing among the members. They bat- tled in a friendly way for the truth. Temperance, anti-slavery, the schools, the sects of Christendom, the special political and religious questions of the day, whatever at the time excited interest, was chosen for discussion, and every one was aided in forming his opinions by every other. iJr. Bacon's wit, his rep- artee, keenness of perception, and, when he had carefully con- sidered a subject, his soundness of judgment, together with the l)rightness and originalitj^ of his way of stating his points made him the life of the company. In 183U he was chosen into the corjjoration of Yale C^ollege, and continued to hold his seat until 1840, when, on the I'esig- nation of President Day and in order to make a place for that venerable man, he resigned his own seat. He was re-elected in 230 LEONARD BACON. 1864 and continued in that body until liis death. Tu the course of his twenty-four years of service, he contributed his full share to tiie solution of those important questions which are ever arising in a living and grown seat of learning. Not long after this he projected The New E'nglan BACON. 1^:5:^ was invitt'd to take for tliv tiiuc the instruction of theoloiiv in tlie the()loii;ical dopartnicnt of Yale College. For live years lie performed tliis duty, until the election of Rev, Dr. Harris as a pcnnanent professor, in 1S71. Then he received the a])])oint- nient of a lectureship on churcii polity and American church history, which he filled until his death, last week, Saturday, December 24tlu 1S81. A number of attacks during the six or eight preceding nu»nths had given him warning that he might be called a\vay at any time. Tie was writing on Friday even- ing, on the (juestion how to deal with the Mormons, and at live the next morning a new attack, lasting half an hour, but not so severe as some earlier ones were, called him home. Thus ended this last and most happy era of his life, in which, asslace his yonth, with all its germs of power and its sparkle and brilliancy, by the side of his acme and his old age, he grew to be a better, a wiser, a more useful man than I had ex- pected. Hopeful and admiring as his friends of early days were, and much as they then saw in him of genius and ability, so large an influence, so much softness and mellowness of feel- ing, such growth in goodness and godliness they hardly looked for. '' Like the sun, he gre^v larger at the setting," New Haven, Couti. [FROM THE CONOREGATTONALlsr: LEONARD BACON. A prince and a great man is suddenly fallen in Israel. A Xew-Englander by blood and synipathv and life, though not in tlie accident of l)irth, an always able and sometimes eloquent preacher, an influential Pastor, an energetically self-consistent theologian, a learned and lucid teacher, a skilled editor, a pro- found and philosojihic historian, a gifted poet, a pungent rea- soner, a fearless sympathizer with every struggle against wrong, a i-eady and eft'ective debater, a much-sought counselloi', a clear-headed ( "hristian pul>licist, a thinker singulai-ly ]3rompt, ill fact, to fuse and forge and fit the abstract of all great prin- ciples to the exigencies of whatever concrete duty, an indefati- gal^le worker, holding his pen to the last, a divine the ermine of whose piety has l)een kept unspotted from the world to well-nigh four score, a many-sided scholar who might have been great anywhere and who would have been good everv- where, a man the totality of whose Christian manhood always overtopped each separate feature of his excellence, has been called to his eternal reward, leaving no peer behind him. We liave summarized elsewhere the main facts of his career : it remains here, in that poor and hasty way possible to the cir- cumstances, to attempt two or three brief hints of some aspects of what, hy original endowment and superintending provi- dence, God made him to become. 23f) LEOKAHl) BA(;()K. As a Pastor he largely shaped one of the most important as well as oldest churches of Xew England. Entering its pulpit when a stripling of scarcely three and twenty, lV)r more than forty years he l)ore the great hurden of its ever-growing re8ponsil)ilities alone, not only snccessfnlly, but in a manner whicli made his subsequent e7rie7nttis relation, to the last hour, fruitful of influence. And this in spite of the fact that, while he nev^er preached weak or foolish sermons, he did sometimes preach dull ones. His was a great soul taking most kindly to great subjects, and thus it sometimes came about that on ordi- nary occasions the fire which required a vigorous draught to l)ring it up to its fullest glow, smoldered a little. But we never heard that he proved une(]ual to an emergency, however portentous or unanticipated. And we know that those men — and many of them were men of mai-ked ability — who sat habit- ually under his ministry, were conscious of, and responsive to, the same, as a wise and perpetual stimulus to every good word and w^ork. Had he died having lived to fill only the place which he would have had in Connecticut, and in the land, as the Pastor of the First C^hurch in x^ew Haven, his place must have been assigned high upon the list of our ministerial worthies. Put some sixty of his almost eighty years were lived in the face and eyes of Yale College, and in closer connection with it as student, fi'iend, fellow, professor ; and it would be a ven- turesome imagination w^liich should take u])on itself to conjec- ture the contribution of various benign infiuences rendered by him to its general welfare. Thousands and thousands of its students have listened to his calm, clear logic, responded to his fervid appeals, laughed at his fun, respected his solid sense, and gone all over the world with a kind memory in some cor- ner of the heart for his honored and unforgetable ])ersonality. While those who, since 1866, have been in one way and another under his direct instniction there, must liave felt that if the years were in anything dimming the lustre of his talents, they were also so ripening and enriching him. as on the whole to make increase of his power. Dr. Bacon began to write for tlie old Christian /Spectator while he was yet in bis minoi-ity. a student at Andover. He I.KONAKl) BACOX. '2lM has coiitrihuted iiioi'c than oiu- huiuh'ed ossavs to the JVew Krkcjlandcr — hiri>v pait nf which (Hiarterly, in fact, in the he»i,iiiiiiiiu\ he was. As one of the tliree original editors of the New York IiiiU'pcndeiit he hugely helped to make its earliest ten (»r fifteen years its hest — so far. lie has been one of oui- own most freipient and valued contributoi's. lie has also wi'itten, aiul written with conclusive foi'ce, volumes on a variety (»f subjects. IHs XA/^v /v/ ///.s'r?/.s'.svW, etc. (lS4f)), was declared to ha\e had large influence in hringing the mind of Abraham Lincoln into that state which enabled him to do his great work. His Life of Ikh'hid'd Bddier (1881), his Manual for YotHKj Church MemJ>erH (1888), his Thirteeri Historical Dixcourxrx (1889), and notably the so-called Boston Platform^ largely from his ])eu (1872), and his Genesis of the JVeic Eng- land Chiirches (1874), have greatly assisted to clarify the con- ee])tions of ( "ongregationalists with I'egard to the true nature of the honorable facts of their past history, the exact principles of their i)olity, and the precise (piality of the duties imposed by that polity upon them. As a (Vmgregational student and author, if Di'. Bacon did not go so far in oi-iginal research as some others may have done, he was unsurpassed in that subtle skill which evolves philosophy safely from fact, and conversely settles securely what ought to be in consideration of what has been. And this suggests one of the usefulest aspects of liis char- acter as l)rought out in his wholesome, instructive, persuasive and delightful relation to most of the great occasions of Con- gregationalism during the last generation. There are many who must still remend)er the thrill, which, almost thirty years ago, went through the Alljany (Convention when he presented the munificent offer of Messrs. Bowen S LEONAKD BACON. indeed over otliers wliose name is legion. And what will the annual meeting of the American Board be without liis spicy, sagacious and benignant presence ! When called upon sud- denly at Plymouth Rock, in 1865, to till a narrow gap of time, he wittily said, " What is the use of a man w/uj is essentially long-winded, undertaking to make a speech in three minutes." He knew himself essentially as to that. He did not always turn about and around upon his feet so readily as if he had been a smaller and a swifter person. But his speeches were so full of pith and sense, so shrewd and original often, and always so grand in their intent, that if now and then a shallow hearer got full before the speaker had emptied himself, there were yet always listeners w^ho wanted more. We have room but to suggest another thought. It was one of the lo\ ely traits of this great and good man that age soft- ened and sweetened and enlarged his nature. He seemed to grow young in charitable feeling year by year. His thoughts ever fresher, his sympathies ever broader and more benignant. Nobody could suspect a tinge of octogenarism in his vivacious and sparkling essays, or in the shrewd sense w^hich fell from his lips. He was afraid of nothing simply because it was new, and he clung to few things simply l)ecause they were old. Fi'om the days of John Cotton and flohn Davenport, and Increase and C^otton Mather, and John AVise and Jonathan Edwards and Ezra Stiles, and Timothy Dwight and Lyman Beecher, and their illustrious compeers, until now, there have been many mighty names written in the annals of the ( 'ongre- gational churches of New England. In our judgment it admits of doubt whether the future, far enough to discriminate fairly, will read therein any in all aspects, and for all which it sug- gests, more honored and more beloved, than that of him whom now we moui'ii. [Fh'oM THE CIIRLSTIAy UNION.] LEONARD BACON, D.D. The (leatli of Dr. Bacon, in tlie eightieth year of his age, occurred at New Haven, his home for fifty-seven years, on Saturday, December 24tli. It was apparently not altogether a surprise to his friends; but it was wholly unexpected by the public. Dr. Bacon was a born soldier. He loved a l)attle : not as a Duke of Alva but as a Chevalier Bayard ; not for its carnage but foi' its courage. Controversy brings out truth clearly ; it brushes away the c(jl)webs which spiders spin over the fine glass in an undisturbed room. Dr. Bacon loved truth, and c(jn- troversy because it clarifies ti'uth. He was born into a stormy time and was fitted for it. He was a natural captain, not be- cause of his executive ability, to organize and wield men in solid l)attalions, but because of that contagious courage which always inspires followers though they know not whither they are being led. Wherever, during the last half century, a bat- tle has raged for human I'ight and welfare, there the white ])lume of this Henry of Navarre of theology has ])een seen, and there followers have streamed after him. But they have always been volunteers ; with them he never held council (»f war beforehand, to them he never issued congratulatory bulle- tins afterward. Never Avas man more courageous ; he counted neither the host that opposed nor the recruits that followed. He was e(|ually ready to sally against the enemy with tliree 24<» l-K()NAR]) KACOK. hiiiidred unarmed volunteers, or to ij;o up against them with only an armor bearer, or to try their champion alone, with but a shepherd's sling. And he knew how to take the champion's sword to slay him with. Never was man more absolutely truthful ; more supremely indifferent whether the truth hurt or helped his cause or his party. Indeed, his cause was always the cause of truth, and party he had none. He was always prompt to turn his trench- ant satire upon the friend and follower of yesterday, if to-day the friend and follower seemed to him to be false to the truth of God. He was quite as fearless an anti-slavery man as William Lloyd (larrison ; but was as (piick to criticise the spirit and methods of the anti-slavery reformers as to assault the conservatism that praised or palliated or pardoned slavery. He was the relentless foe of the liquor traffic, and e(|ually of the false philosophy that hopes to eradicate it by a statute. He was a leader among C^ongregationalists ; but (-ongrega- tionalists were always afraid of him lest he should out with some unpalatable truth of history or Biblical interpretation, or philosophical principle that the enemy could quote against their ism. No truth could he ever l)e counted on to conceal for party ends or personal triumph. Neither personal friend- ship nor party interest ever muddled the clearness of his vision or deflected the simplicity of his purpose. In the hour of Mi-. Beecher's adversity he was at once his warmest friend and his sharpest critic. He never deserted and lie never flattered a friend ; he never surrendered to and he never maltreated an enemy. To him no end was sacred that foul means need serve. If he took a pleasurable pride in his stalwart independence, this was a pardonable weakness, if it were a weakness ; would that more ministers had it ! He belonged to the best type of Puritan stock. The Puri- tan, like the Hebrew, regarded practical righteousness as the consummation of religion. For a piety that produced nothing but prayers and penances the Hebrew prophet and the New England preacher had a common and a healthy contempt. Dr. Bacon was essentially a Puritan ])reacher ; a Hebrew prophet. In the pulpit, on the themes too commonly dis- cussed in tlie desk, lie was not more interesting than a thoiisniid r,K()NARI) l5.\(OX. 241 iiaiiH'le>s and uiikiiuwii r(.'acli('r> nf rlu'()l(»iiv. lie had no arts (»f rhetoric or elocution with which to divss uj) a scholastic lecture; lie was no skillful shopman, to make a wire skeleton l(»ok like a woniau, \)\ the aid of cloak and bonnet; hut when linmanitv was concerned, wlien truth was desecrated in its sacred temple, when the slave power attempted to gag the American pidpit, and did for a time gag the great representa- tive religious bodies, every fibre of his heroic soul was aroused, and he thundered out his denunciation of the double wrong that enslaved a Northern ministry tliat it might enslave a Southern black, with an elo<|uence that needed no rhetoric or elocution to com})el a hearing. It was a significant fact tliat his last act Mas the composition (^f an unfinished pa]>er on the Ftah problem. He worked to the last for man. Wif/> God, for man : in these four words are to l)e found the secret of hit^ courage and his pt»wer. We make no attempt to tell the story of his life. To do this it would be necessary to write the history of his country. His first parish was his last one ; he was ordained, lived, and died in New Haven. But America was his pulpit, and her people his congregation ; and there was not a theme which concerned her prosperity which his incessantly active mind did not study, and upon which his ever vigorous voice and pen did not do some effective teaching. He made some mistakes ; most men do. But there was no theme on which he did not court free thought, and none on which he ever proved recreant to his own eonvicti(ms of the truth. [FROM THE RELI6I0V8 HERALD:\ DR. BACON AND DR. BUSHNELL. By Rev. N. H. Bgleston. More and more as time passes, we shall feel that in the death ( >f Dr. Bacon a great man has gone from among us. If great natnral and acquired powers devoted to great and worthy ends constitnte greatness, he was a great man. And now as we look ])ack upon his life as a whole, we can hardly help coupling him in our thoughts with another great man, his contemporary, who has preceded him only a little while to the other world. Born in the same year as T)r. Bushnell, and for some time also a resi- dent of Hartford, to which city he was also l)Ound hy the tie of his father's grave which is there, and l)y a happy marriage, there are many points of resemblance between the two, while yet they were so diiferently constituted that they were led into fields of labor and usefulness quite unlike. They were so akin in spirit and character that they cherished a profound respect and a warnj attachment to each otlier through life. In the days of his persecution, Vi\\ Bushnell could count upon T)r. Bacon as one of his steadfast friends, and whenever he pub- lished a new book, Dr. Bacon was one of the few whose opin- ion in regard to it he cared to know. And what a tril)ute, coming from such a man, was that which Dr. Bacon paid to Dr. Bushnell at New Haven, soon after the death of the latter, when he declared that his extraordinary achievements made him and others like him ashamed because in comparison they had done so little. l,K(»N.\KMi llAiOX, 24.") l!(irli wvvv i;ivat i)rcaclicrs. yet very unlike as [n-eaclierH. In I)r. IJusliiiell the iniaijinative faculty was niucli nioiv larj^ely developed than in Dr. r>acon, tli(>iii«;h in the hitter it was by no means laekin^', hut in Dr. Hnshnell it was tlie leading, dom- inant faenltv, while in Dr. Baeon it held a snhordinate ])lace. As a preacher. Dr. IJacon while nevei" weak or coninion-place and always instrnctixe. seldom rose to heights of great impres- si\eness except as great occasions came to him. T)r. Bushnell made his own occasions, and they came with almost every Sab- batli that he met his eager and e.\])ectant congregation. Dr. Bushnell's mind was original and creative, Dr. Bacon's fed and grew in the fields of fact. The mind of Dr. Bushnell was speculative, intuitional, al)Slract. That of Dr. Bacon was analytical and nicely discriminative, and dealt largely with the concrete. Dr. liacon was a student of men. Dr. Bushnell was a student of man. Tlie former was a large reader in many fields of knowledge. Dr. T>ushnell was more a thinker than a reader. Bather, perhaps it should be said that the one read, and on the basis of his reading thought wisely and well, while the other thought out his conclusions first, and then read to some extent to see how far he agreed or disagreed with those who had gone before him. Both were independent in their think- ing. They called no man master. They brought every opinion fearlessly to. the bar of their own individual judgment. But the mind of Dr. Bacon was historic. It was a rich storehouse of facts out of which, as all know, he continually brought treasures new and old, to illustrate any subject that might be under discussion. While both were eqnally of large mold and kept themselves acquainted witli the work of the world around them in all its departments of activity, Dr. Bacon lived much in the past. He was at home with the worthies of other times, and ever ready to compare the past with the present and to draw^ lessons from the one for the guidance of the other. Dr. Bushnell, while living in the present and intensely engaged in its work, had an eye ever looking towards the future and was always linking the two together. Dr. Bushnell was a leader of thought, Dr. Bacon of action. The one affected nien in their inward convictions and feelings, the other in their practical determinations. The one was the 244 LEONARD BACON. uiau of ideas, the other the man of alfairs. The fonner was little seen beyond the limits of his own parish. His face was not familiar to the world. He was seldom seen on platforms or in conventions. He touched the world from his pulpit and with his pen. Dr. Bacon, it may almost be said, was known as well outside of his parish as within it. If the pulpit w^as the throne of Dr. Bushnell, the platfoi-m was Dr. Bacon's. There he reigned supreme. If as a preacher Dr. Bushnell had few equals, on the rostrum Dr. Bacon had no superior. As a leader of assemblies he was unsurpassed. As a debater on occasions of interest he never met the antagonist by wdiom he was van- quished. At ordinary times and in other places one of the most quiet and inconspicuous of men, in conventions and coun- cils, and when important (juestions were pressing for decision, then the grand qualities and characteristics of tlie man ap- peared. He came into the field of debate like the line-of -battle ship of some great admiral, ports all open and heavy guns pouring forth their thundering broadsides, uow on the right and now on the left, while from the main-top and cross-trees muskets and grenades wei'e aiding by their lighter but co(')pera- tive work. Then all the treasures of his historic reading came forth at his bidding to make his arguments massive and weighty with illustrative fact or warning example, while an exhaustless memory and a kindled fancy illumined and enli- vened the whole with apt (piotation and pithiest anecdote. Dr. Bacon was eminently a leader of men. And this he was not simply or mainly because of his peculiar native or accpiired powers, but because he was devoted to truth and led by it. In this again the two of whom we have been speaking were alike. They both sought truth for themselves as their chief treasure, and as the chief treasure for man. And so while both were great leaders of men, though in different ways and by different methods, they were not partisans. They were too broad minded and too loyal to the truth to be mere leaders of a sect or a party. Acting with j)arties and lending theii- aid to ])arties so long as they advocate truth, whenever they failed to do so they were ready to denounce and forsake them. In this they never took counsel of Hesh and blood. What would harm or benefit them ))ersonally, they never seem to ha\e con- I.KOXAin) BACON. 24r) sidered. NcitluT of tlieiii looktMl ai'diiiid t(t sec wIki were ready to follow oi support tliein, nor after a eoiiHiet did tliey put oil airs of ti-iuiiipli. Their \ictorv was (-iod's, not their own, and triunii)h rather Iniinhled than elated them. They walked in (iod's ii'reat ])resence as little children. They were alike, again, in that greatness of character whicli is above the manifestation of condescension to others. In their interconrse with them they never left the impression upon others that they regarded themselves as their snperiors. They ne\er tied their white cravats with self-complacent admiration, nor were careful of their "semi-lunar fardels," The young preacher, timid and self -distrustful, could take them freely by the hand. Rather would they anticipate his advances, and put him at once at ease and on terms of equality with them, (xentle and forbearing, yet faithful in their criti- .cisms of their younger brethren, they were too many in their novitiate fellow-helpers indeed. The writer, for o7ie, can never cease to feel his obligations to both for their companionship and counsel in the days of youth and inexperience. He learned too, in assuming the charge of the Center C^hurch dur- ing Dr, Bacon's absence in Europe and the farther East, what he could not have done otherwise, how he had bound that church to himself by cords of esteem and affection which only death could sever, nay, by such as reach within the veil. (Treat men ! Great blessings to the world ! We miss them, and shall miss them. We shall feel the need of them at times, and perhaps forget that God never creates a vacancy that he does not also Ull. But their work remains, both in their pnb- lished words on our shelves and in what they have wrought into our personal life and institutions. Our theology, our ( 'hristology, are the better, the more consonant with both reason and Scripture, for the thought that Dr. Bushnell has given them. Our ecclesiastical life is less bigoted, broader, less sectarian and more truly Christian for what T)r. Ikcon has written and spoken. The great foreign and home missionary operations of our denomination, if not more, have been quick- ened in their activity and augmented in their ])ower by his zealous acti^^ty in their ])ehalf. Our social life, our morals and our ])olitics throughout the land have felt the beneficial 246 LEONARD BACON. touch of his wakeful interest in every thing good. Only two days before his death, as the anniversary of the landing of the Pilgrims came round again, for how many patriotic and Chris- tion hearts did his Pilgrim hymn beginning, '' O God, beneath thy guiding hand," voice theii' feelings anew and help to (piicken their appreciation of that great event. And his last work, on the following day, was an endeavor to aid in removing that great blot upon onr national character, that cancer in our social life, the Moniion inicjuity. So he died with his harness on. Soldier of Christ, well done ! Praise be thy new employ ; And while eternal ages run. Rest in thy Saviour's joy. Willianif^town. Mass. IFUoM Till-: advance:] DR. LEONARD BACON By Prof. Jamks T. Hyde. His siuldeii death moves the whole comiiiuiiity at New fla- veii profoTiudly. The patriarcli of tlie ("onnecticiit ministry, the living enihodiment of the history of Yale College and of the Xew England churches, the keen critic and brilliant debater of public affairs for more than fifty years, the ardent agitator and vigorc shrouded with soleiuuity, grief and glouin. But with an excellent sermon from Prof. Barbour on the sympathy of Clirist in his incarnation, with exquisite singing of "I would not live away," and of an "In Memoriam" reqniem, with many precious and tearful memories of the serene and joyous faith and lively companionship of the venerable num who had gone up into his heavenly rest and eternal ministry at God's right hand, we were able to preserve some little spark even of spirit- ual hilarity on the bright and festive day, in spite of its oppres- sive sadness. How thankful we ought to be that such good men, after outliving all their asperities and ripening in all their Christian graces, — the heroes of so many bitter, earnest, hard- fought and victorious conliicts — can die, escape from sin, infirmity, error, and 1)e in perfect peace, and rise into the connnunion of elect saints, sages and scholars, who are forever with the Lord ! On Tuesday afternoon he was buried. The day was sadly dark and wet. The church was lighted almost at noonday. By special request there were no iloral tributes. A heavy sheaf of wheat stood on the large comnnmion table. The severely simple tastes of this honored champion of Puritan principles were strictly observed. TTis face looked somewhat fuller than in former years, but wore a striking and rigid luit- uralness. lie smiled with a stern ehxjuence that seemed ready to break from mute lips. The wonder was that his brain rested, his heart was quiet, his hands kept still. l)Ut he had only been stopped by that angina pectoris which caught him at daybreak on Saturday with its secret and sudden grip. The revered and beloved ex-President Woolsey, now an octo- genarian. Dr. Bacon's college class-mate and very long neighljor as well as friend, felt unable to officiate in the public l)urial service, but prayed Math the bereaved family at the house. The father of fourteen children, four of whom becauie (/hris- tian ministers, was borne by the hands of six sons to the sanct- uary where he had ])reached siuce iS^f), and his j)astor;d rela- tion could be dissolved only by death. As his Congregatioualisiii was sinq)ly Christianity, his very silence called a multitude of e\ery Chi-istiiUi name to ])ay him their last offices of res])ect, ;idmir:ition and attection. They l.K()NAI{l) MACON 24il giitluMvd from every quarter fov liours. hy i-aij and wheel, and foot, under the droo]Mno- skies. \\\- went in loviiiii- nieiuory uf liis departed sons, and of his manifold associatiitn witli oui' own de])arted davs. We ivpresented, too, with otliei's, his native West. PU'vel's Ilvmnand othei" familial" aii's were playe1 good a listener. His writing was ready, keen and influential, and liis litenu-v productivity was o-reat. On no point of re- ligions or political interest did he fail to express himself, in ]>ani]>hlet, oi- generally in contribntions to magazines and news- pa})ers, for he had a predilection for jowrnalism, and indeed was the founder of the Weio Emilanclei\ a very characteristic periodical still in thiMfty condition. Dr. Bacoji had the qual- ities of a statesman, and was only hindered from being active and distinguished in that line by his professional limitations. He was a. molding power over many beneficent institutions. The American Board of Foreign Missions and kindred societies sought his counsel. Yale College in all its departments felt his ]ilastic force for half a century, from the pulpit and the pro- fessor's chair, in the corporation, through his ready and pi-oduc- tive pen, and not the least in his personal and commanding presence. He was an acknowledged power in Congregational councils, having presided over the two most famous in recent times at Brooklyn, with Henry Ward Beecher and Plynumth Church for their C(isus helli^ — each a neutralizing force. AVliether or not Dr. Bacon was (piite willing to have it so, whether he was anxious to have the truth appear or content Mith the issue of disagreement, remain open questions as much as his inward convictions concerning the main })oint of Mr. J^eecher's guilt or innocence which lay at the bottom of the ecclesiastical proceedings. Diplomatic in his nature, he was never hindered by any pride of consistency from changing his opinion. He was at first conservative on the slavery question, l)ut afterward, and not too late, progressive, and powerfully so. Impulsive and aggi"essive though his temperament was, he had a singular mental mastery that poised the' coldest reasoning with tlie warmest feeling, and often made his attitude perplexing and his opinion provokingly double-edged. Leonard Bacon has largely transmitted of his best qualities to his children, diffusing them much as Lyman Beecher's were among his notal)le family. Six sons and two grandsons are recorded in the triennial catalogues of Yale, and several of these have taken leading positions in the ministry and other pi'ofessioiis : perha])s T^'oiiard Woolsey Haeon. minister of Xor- '2b-2 LEONARD BACON. wicli, is tlie most prominent and temperamentally the most like liim. His (laug-liter, Tiebecea, was an ardent pliilanthi-opist, and devoted some of her best rears to the education of the freedmen. Dr. Bacon's personal mien and port were strikingly expres- sive of his inner man. Slight l)nt agile, a little stooping, his massive head well set npon shoulders proportionately broad ; a noble, projecting brow, keen, searching eyes of bluish gray, l)ut kindling in his best moods into a fiery luster, his lips oftener compressed with iii'mness than mobile with gentleness, the bushy masses of gray hair giving a leonine setting to his thoughtful and eager face ; always the dress-coat and white neck-cloth, inseparable from his clerically neat but never stiff apparel ; there was in his tout ensemhle the bearing of a gentle- man, the self-possession of a native leader, the alertness of one always ready for his opportunity, and the cultured presence that marks the man both of letters and affairs. Tie had the " Abraham Davenport" loyalty to present duty and his daily task, which would not have faltered though the last trump had begun to sound. Full well he knew that his days were numbered, and that the end was nigh. Many a time had he heard the footfall of the messenger at the door, when his heart beat with the keen distress of angina pectoris, — and . sometimes as he sat in his professorial chair. But he still went to and fro about his work, calmly and. steadily to the last, in the sweet and full assurance of his Christian faith and his strong and manly nature. He had lectured twice during the week he died, and left upon his study table an unfinished work of the previous day, — a paper relating to the Mormon (piestion. He was the normal growth of the very best New England training, sturdily Puritan, and yet not narrow^ed by his niarked proclivities into a provincial thinker, woy enduttered by his many controversies toward any of his opponents. As a (Vm- gregationalist, in all matters of form, polity, and executive develo]mient, he was broad and flexible, always keeping the future open. None knew better than he " the former days," and none more strenuously denied their claim to be better than these. Old measures that had outlived their usefulness i.KONAin) HAcoN. 25:^ he tossed aside. I'lvcedeiits, like councils, in his view hud no more autlioritv than proceeds from the reason that is in them. Like the war horse described by Job, he smelt the battle afar off, and whenever in any Avortliy cause there was a good chance for a free tight, waited not for an invitation to be "counted in." Always a man to listen to, lie was never a man t(» "tie to" without ivconsideration. ^ et never a tii-e that he lielped to kindle, but enough light proceeded from it to warrant the couHagratiou. There are but few such men for hunum welfai'e in any century as Leonard IJacon, and thei'e- fore it becomes our privilege to give due honor to liis veuej'a- ble name. 18 IFBOM THE NEW IIA VEJV REGISTER.^ ABOUT LEONARD BACON. ( )ne of the few surviving classmates of Rev. Dr. Bacon says lie was an excellent scholar while in college, bnt that he did not give the promise of the high position he afterward attained. Such a man as ex-President Woolsey rose way above him in intellect. The appointment secured l)y Dr. Bacon, was a dis- pute. He made no special effort in the way of English com- position, nor did he indulge much in iield sport, although he always managed to maintain a healthy physical organization. He was always a (Christian. His object in going to college was to fit himself for the ministry. Constantly in his mind was the image of his mother, then still living, but revered as though a saint in heaven. One of the earliest recollections concerning him is the wonderful manner in which he extem- porized in prayer. This was as marked a characteristic as in after life. The goodness and tenderness of his petitions sank deeply into the hearts of his hearers. The employment of wit and sarcasm was first noticeal)le in his speech M'hen a collegian, but there was no evil in them. He used these elements of power afterward very etfectually in his colonization and anti- slavery speeches. Immediately after his graduation here he went to Andover to pursue a theological training. There he stood the hiirhest amono; the students and first broua'ht himself 1,K()NAI{I» HACoN. ^^55 into notice. When in his second or third veai" lie startled tlie seniinai'v l)v I'eading a paper npon tlie scheme of coh)ni/,ation. Tlien was manifested tor tlie tirst time liis acon possessed the rhyming faculty, as well as the art of writing didactic prose. {FROM THE BOSTON AD VERTISEE.'] TWO LEADERS IN TWO ENGLANDS. Out of the many leaders on both sides of the Atlantic who have passed away during the last six months tliere are two who had nnich in common, — Leonard Bacon and Arthur Stanley. In many things they were wide apart and manifestly unlike. The one was a representative Puritan ; the other the broadest of cliurchmen. The one had the gifts of an ecclesiastical leadei-, and was never more himself than when antagonizing an un- righteous cause; the leadership of the other grew^ chieliy out of his literary studies and ecclesiastical principles. The one had been bred in the traditions of New England Pui-itanism, and was to the manner born ; the other had grown up in the best of English homes, and had been under the direction of one of the most stimulating minds in England. Each had lived into what was most characteristic of the nationality under which he grew u]). The one was a son of thunder, and like Webster, never knew an occasion which was too great for him. The other had no less the courage of his convictions, and dared to go against the wdiole bench of bishops when lie had a cause to maintain. Each had developed under the shadow of a great literary institution and ind>ibed its s])irit, the one at Yale and the other at Oxford ; and each had that mastery of vigorous English 1)V wliich he could iui])ress his glowing conce])tioiis I-KOXAHD UACON. 25!) ujxni the iiiinds of liis t'cllow-iiu'ii. 'I'lii'ir .s|)lic'ivs of lal)oi' were decidedly uidike. Tlic one led the liosts of the (N>iigiv(>-atioiial churches in New Eiighiiid as -loslma h'd the hosts of Isi-ael to the promised hind; tlie other siin[)ly (h;\eh>i)ed a sehool of tlioiight in the most inchisive national chnrch of nitxk'rn times. The American had the more native vio-or, and could rake hohl of thino-s with a strouiici' irrasj) ; the otlier had tJie lariiei" vision, tile wider sym])athy. These were essentially their points of difference. In other res])ects they were closely allied. They had the same historical instincts, the same relish for ultimate facts. They had the same conviction that religion aiul politics are indissolubly united in a nation's growth. They had the same idea of the breadth of the modern pulpit. Dr. Bacon in the last ten years of his life grew generous and sympathetic even toward those against whom he had waged l)attle in other days, roaching up to that breadth and range of sympathy which Minister Lowell spoke of the other day in England, as the most pronounced feature in the life of the late Westminster dean. The two men had no patience with a (Christianity which is shut up from the freest contact with ^^I't^^^ent life. They both be- lieved in the largest freedom of discussion, and in the use of the pi'ess as the best vehicle for formulating opinion. Wliat Dr. Bacon did through the New EiKjlaivler^ which he was mainly instrumental in founding in 1843, and late on through the editorial columns of The Indejyendenty Arthui" Stanley did from 1860 and onward to the end of his life, in i\iQ Edinhurgh Review and through the columns of the London Times. Each in his appropriate place was the mouthpiece of the thought w^hich at the moment most needed to be spoken. Dr. Bacon has represented the Puritan mind of l^ew England in the general religious spirit of the century, as Prof. Park has shaped its changing dogmatic convictions. Both men had the wonder- ful capacity of growing in theii- mental force, in their percep- tion of the needs of the time, in a quick insight into lai-gei* and fi-eei- conditions of living, and carried the inspiring sunshine of their ripening beliefs into the numerous circles in which they moved. Both men, if liberal each in his own way, had that free spii-it of liberty which lives cm the strength of the past in L^tiO LEONARD BACON. the larger life of to-daj. No man in America ever brought ({iiite the same distinct personality into tlie pnlpit which Leon- ard Bacon brought. To hear him speak On a great occasion was like listening to the roar of the Atlantic when driven upon the coast by a northeaster; he swept everything before hiin. Arthur Stanley, defending Bishop Colenso against the censure of the (Canterbury convocation, or standing by Mr. Voysey, with whom he never agreed, simply because he believed in the great pi-inciple of freedom of o])inion where men honestly dif- fered, is a figure that will live forever in English religious history. These men differed \'ery widely ; perhaps they never met ; but at heart they had the same spirit, and their university train- ing turned their minds into the same distinctive channels. Dr. Bacon will stand forth in the religious history of this century as the most pronounced ecclesiastical leader in I^ew England, bolder than Channing, as positive as Parker. Dean Stanley will be remembered as the comprehensive churchman wdio saw in different men chiefly those things in which they were agreed, and who taught his generation to draw nearer together in the spirit of C'hristian unity. The life-work of the two men, in its general direction, was the same; the means used to accomplish it, with points of great unlikeness, had also many points of agreement. The one should be as distinctly remembered as the other. The Stanley memorial in Westminster Abbey will be the expression of the feelings of those whose hearts Arthur Stanley touched on both sides of the Atlantic. It is to be hoped that Leonard Bacon's great services in maintaining a national position for the foremost principles of Christianity, a service which at critical periods went far beyond the limitations of sect, may be recognized in some emphatic, historical foi'ni in the university of which he was a part, and in the large com- munity to which he was a burning and a shining light for sixty years. 938,3 L554 w BRnTLEDpNOt PHOTOCOPY. m 2 ? 1955