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MEMORIALS 
 
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 RICHARD H. RICHARDSON, D.D. 
 
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 Copyright, 189S, 
 By.Octavia W. Richardson. 
 
 JojHN , Wilson \>'d Son, Gai^IBRIDge. 
 
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 ail tl)£ Exm ant) JFattljfitl Jrimlis anti Partsfjionets 
 
 OF 
 
 DOCTOR RICHARDSON, 
 
 JVhose Ime and kindness are not forgotten, whether in this world 
 or in the better country, 
 
 THIS BOOK IS AFFFXTIONATELY INSCRIBED 
 BY HIS WIFE, 
 
 OCTAVIA WOODBRIDGE RICHARDSON. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Biographical Sketch 9-33 
 
 By Professor Charles L. Shields, D. D. 
 
 The Chicago Pastorate : 
 
 Extract from Dedication Sermon 37 
 
 Old School Presbyterianism in Chicago 41 
 
 North Presbyterian Church, Old School 42 
 
 Reminiscences of former Chicago Parishioners • • • • 43 
 
 The Newburyport Pastorate : 
 
 Sketch by E. K 51 
 
 From Mr. Goodhue to Dr. Richardson 53 
 
 Extracts from Letters 54 
 
 From a Letter of Dr. Richardson to his Wife .... 56 
 
 From Mr. Goodhue's last Letter to Dr. Richardson . . 58 
 
 The Trenton Pastorate : 
 
 Sketches by Trenton Friends 61 
 
 From the Minutes of the First Presbyterian Church, 
 
 Trenton, N. J ■ 67 
 
 Dr. Richardson's Retirement (1887) 68 
 
 Resolutions on Dr. Richardson's Resignation .... 69 
 Extracts from Letters on his Resignation, Illness, etc. 70-72 
 
Funeral Services and Public Tributes: Page 
 
 Services at Rayhead 75 
 
 Services at Newburyport 77 
 
 Extracts from Newburyport and Trenton Papers . 78-79 
 
 Extracts from Dr. Gosman's Sermon 79 
 
 Resolutions of Churches at Trenton and Newburyport . 84 
 Tribute of the Standard Dictionary Company ... 85 
 
 From the New York " Observer " 86 
 
 From Minutes of New Brunswick Presbytery ... 87 
 From the Synod of New Jersey 89 
 
 Letters of Sympathy 93-98 
 
 Sermons by Dr. Richard H. Richardson: 
 
 I. Family Worship loi 
 
 II. By Way of the Sea 113 
 
 III Till He Come 125 
 
V_yUT of the unforeseen, whence all things flow, 
 Swiftly the future days shall come and go ; 
 And friends who pen these lays of love and truth 
 In sunset hours, high noon, or dawning youth, 
 Shall with them pass away, to come no more, — 
 Some to far distant lands, some to the silent shore. 
 
 But as thine eyes shall on these pages rest, 
 From other far off climes, or East or West, 
 E'en from the land unknown, shall one by one 
 These loved ones come, and as in days long gone, 
 Shall live again, — unchanged and changeless stand, 
 And speak and smile and weep, and clasp thee by the 
 hand. 
 
 R. H. Richardson. 
 
 Note. — Written in 1850 for the first page of an album. 
 
MEMORIALS. 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 
 
 \ FEW flowers are here laid upon the grave of an 
 ^ ^ honored minister of Christ. No attempt has 
 been made to weave them into a conventional garland. 
 It is better that these tributes of affection and friend- 
 ship be left to speak for themselves. 
 
 The story of a Christian life is seldom eventful, and 
 must always lack the brilliancy of more worldly careers. 
 But there is no other style of life so complete, so con- 
 sistent, and so noble. None so complete, because it 
 alone develops the whole man, with all his powers 
 of mind, heart, and conscience ; none so consistent, 
 because it ever keeps those powers in due exercise, the 
 lower as subordinate to the higher ; and none so noble, 
 since its ideal aim is to set forth the glory of God and 
 the good of man. Of such a life this volume is de- 
 signed to preserve some memorials, inadequate though 
 they must be. 
 
 Dr. Richardson was fortunate in his parentage and 
 training. Through a New England father and a Vir- 
 
lO 
 
 ginia mother, he seems to have inherited much that was 
 good in both the Puritan and the CavaHer, with but 
 little that was faulty in either. If he was spirited, sensi- 
 tive, and high-souled before men, he was none the less 
 conscientious, devout, and humble before God. Natural 
 traits, which might else have run wild, were trained by 
 divine grace into the symmetry of a Christian character. 
 He was born in Lexington, Kentucky, Sept. 4, 1823. 
 The following account of his ancestry and parents, fur- 
 nished by a member of the family, will be interesting to 
 the readers of this volume : — 
 
 " The Richardson family is said to be of Norman origin. It 
 was settled in Norfolk, Yorkshire, and Durham, and perhaps 
 in other counties, as early as the eighteenth century, and had 
 already arrived at eminence. In Bloomfield's history of Nor- 
 folk is a copious pedigree of the family of Richardson, barons 
 of Cramond. 
 
 " There was a certain Richard Richardson, Esq., of Bradford, 
 in Yorkshire, afterwards of Bierley, in that county, who paid a 
 fine of forty pounds in 1630 for declining the honor of knight- 
 hood from Charles the First. The receipt, signed ' Wentworth, 
 Earl of Strafford,' the leading minister of Charles, is still in the 
 possession of his descendants. He died in 1656. 
 
 " More than a hundred and thirty years after this, William 
 Richardson was born in Sudbury, Massachusetts, his ancestors 
 having come to this country many years before. Sudbury was 
 a quiet New England town, and as the boy grew to manhood he 
 must have longed to see the world ; for in the month of Febru- 
 ary, 1815, just after the war with England, he left Boston for New 
 Orleans, accomplishing the journey in fifty-three days. He went 
 to Richmond by stage, the rest of the journey through Virginia, 
 Tennessee, etc., on horseback, alone, through the untrodden 
 wilderness, often without food except cold corn bread or 
 
II 
 
 hominy at an occasional Indian hovel, fording and swimming 
 through creeks and swamps, often in the worst of weather, 
 sleeping at one time for three weeks on the bare ground, among 
 the snakes of the swamps and the wolves and panthers of the 
 forest, — his horse sharing with him his hard bed and fare. He 
 reached his destination, April 12, — a journey of eighteen hun- 
 dred and twenty-one miles in fifty-three days. 
 
 " In October of the same year he went to Lexington, Ken- 
 tucky, on business, and remained through the following winter, 
 returning thence to New Orleans in the spring of i8i6. In 
 May, 18 1 8, he was married in Lexington to Miss Synia Hig- 
 gins of that place. In 18 19 he removed to Lexington, which 
 was his home till 1837, when he removed to Louisville, Ken 
 tucky, and there resided till his death. 
 
 " He was a merchant, manufacturer, and banker. For the 
 last twenty-six years of his life he was cashier and president of 
 the Northern Bank of Kentucky, in Louisville. He was for 
 thirty years a ruling elder in the Presbyterian Church, and had 
 the happiness of receiving seven of his children into the same 
 church. He was the originator of the sunrise prayer-meeting, 
 so generally observed throughout the Southwest and elsewhere 
 on New Year's morning. 
 
 " Mr. Richardson was especially known for his deep piety, his 
 high sense of honor, and for the lively interest which he ever 
 felt in the Church of Jesus Christ. He was almost like a pastor, 
 in that he visited the congregation and looked after their spirit- 
 ual wants. He was unusually gifted in prayer, was an elder 
 indeed, faithfully and lovingly fulfilling the duties of his office, 
 and was universally beloved and esteemed. Living in a border 
 State, the Civil War was a great grief to him. He was a stead- 
 fast, loyal Union man. He died before its close, and it was 
 believed by many that his heart was broken on account of it. 
 
 "The father of Mrs. Richardson was a friend of Daniel Boone. 
 The family came from Virginia. There is in the possession of 
 one of her daughters a miniature of the mother at the age of 
 
12 
 
 eighteen. It represents a beautiful girl, with large dark eyes, 
 noble brow, and fine, expressive face. She lived to see her 
 sons and daughters grown to maturity, and died while yet in 
 her prime. Letters to her son Richard, written while he was 
 pastor in Chicago, show a great interest in his success, and 
 earnest desires for the advancement of the Redeemer's king- 
 dom. In December, 1844, appears this paragraph in an article 
 written by Mr. William Richardson for the ' Protestant Herald,' 
 published in Louisville, Kentucky : — 
 
 " ' I am New England born, and there was I educated. In a 
 country churchyard near Boston repose the ashes of my parents, 
 and of my ancestors for several preceding generations. Near 
 their graves stands a beautiful, quiet, happy Christian village, a 
 large proportion of the inhabitants of which are my near kindred. 
 It was my lot to become identified with the West about thirty years 
 ago, and since then it has been and still is my home." ' 
 
 In the Christian home here described young Richard- 
 son grew up under the favoring influences of wealth and 
 culture. We are told that he was a dutiful son and a 
 devoted brother. Among his schoolmates he was truth- 
 ful, courageous, and generous. With the advantage of 
 excellent teachers, he very early showed that aptitude 
 for study, especially for the languages, which always 
 distinguished him. After a visit to Europe, he turned 
 with more serious purpose to the completion of his edu- 
 cation. It was then that I first met him. We left home 
 together for Princeton College ; and from that day 
 began a friendship which lasted nearly fifty years. 
 
 While in college he gained the good esteem of teach-, 
 ers, some of whom were the most distinguished of their 
 day. His linguistic skill attracted the notice of Dr. 
 James W. Alexander, then the accomplished Professor 
 of Latin and Belles Lettres. He was often detained 
 
after a lecture for special instruction by Prof. Joseph 
 Henry, whose magnetic discoveries were soon to knit 
 the world together with the telegraph. Outside the 
 class-room he was admitted to familiar intercourse 
 with Prof. Albert B. Dod, whose subtlety in the higher 
 mathematics and taste in the fine arts were not more 
 inspiring than his brilliant powers of conversation. In 
 close contact with such instructors so eager a student 
 could not fail to make good proficiency. Yet he was 
 no recluse; much less did he study for mere academic 
 honors. While freely participating in the enjoyments 
 of college life, he still made it his chief business to get 
 an education. He was graduated with distinction in the 
 class of 1844. 
 
 In this connection the following letter written to his 
 father from college at the age of nineteen will be of 
 interest : — 
 
 " I suppose you have received ere this my ' Circular.' I was 
 agreeably disappointed when I learned my ' grade.' It was high, 
 — more so than I had feared it would be. There were but eleven 
 above mine, in a class of nearly seventy, and one which is said 
 to be the best perhaps that has ever been in this institution. . . . 
 Had it not been for the mathematics I might have taken ' first 
 honor ; ' not that I care for college honors, for although I con- 
 fess that I have my full share of ambition, yet I wish for a 
 larger field to strive in, and where success will be attended 
 with more lasting benefit. There are some here who study 
 for nothing else under the sun but for the honor of taking the 
 highest grade ; and if this is to be the ' summum bonum ' 
 which a student seeks, I think he studies from wrong motives 
 altogether. ... I hope that I have a higher object in view, and 
 as far as I am concerned I care not for any grade, provided I 
 
14 
 
 secure that object which should be the aim of every student, 
 viz., the improvement and cultivation of the mind. I shall, 
 notwithstanding, make a ' desperate effort ' during the present 
 quarter to obtain a grade above ninety (although it will be much 
 more difficult, as at the close of it we will be examined on many 
 more branches of study than at the last) ; and if I reach that I 
 shall be content, and if I do not I shall likewise be content. . . . 
 What is the state of our church at present in regard to religious 
 interest? One word in relation to my own feelings on the sub- 
 ject of religion. I have not as yet found that there is any very 
 strong temptation to a professor of religion here to be betrayed 
 into out-breaking sin that he will not find everywhere. There 
 is a great deal of dissipation and degrading vice among the 
 students, and I learn more and more of it every day ; yet at 
 the same time there are enough of those who are opposed to 
 everything of the kind, to afford a Christian all the society 
 which he needs. But there is another danger to which he is 
 exposed in a very great degree, and one which is perhaps 
 almost as fatal to true piety as any other, and that is a cold and 
 lifeless state of feeling on religious subjects. ... I, at least, 
 have found this to be the case. God forbid that I should ever 
 lose any of the small degree of interest which I have taken in 
 the subject of religion ! Rather let me pray and strive to grow 
 daily in grace, and to have my heart firmly and constantly fixed 
 on the object which of all others is most important, and to 
 promote which we are all placed an earth, viz., the ' glory of 
 God.' Would that I could feel that ardent, burning desire for 
 the salvation of others which should characterize the Christian ! 
 . . . May I have more of the true spirit of Christ given me, 
 that I may be enabled to devote myself to His service in future, 
 wholly, entirely, and without reserve ! " 
 
 Having devoted himself to the Christian ministry, he 
 passed at once into the Princeton Seminary, and there 
 came under the influence of instructors who are now 
 
revered as fathers of the Church. The Alexanders, 
 Samuel Miller, and Charles Hodge were then in the 
 prime of their powers, and doing their best work for 
 their several departments of sacred learning. There 
 was also much intellectual activity among the students 
 themselves, some of whom had begun to discuss sub- 
 jects now popularly known as the higher criticism and 
 the historic episcopate. Of those who have since risen 
 to distinction in the theological world, I need only name 
 Drs. Green and Paxton, of Princeton ; Bishop Little- 
 john and Drs. William A. Dod and W. W. Lord, of the 
 Episcopal Church; Prof. Basil Manly, of the Baptist 
 Seminary at Louisville ; and Prof. William B. Scott, of 
 the Seminary at Chicago. Amid such associations 
 Mr. Richardson passed four years of study, adding to 
 the prescribed course a fourth year as a resident grad- 
 uate. He made the best of his opportunities. As was 
 then customary, he read the whole of Turretin's Insti- 
 tutes in the Latin, and wrote out a complete system of 
 theology in answer to the written queries propounded 
 in the class-room. He was also specially devoted to 
 the exegetical study of the Hebrew Scriptures, and 
 annotated the Greek text of several of the Epistles. 
 At the same time the graver tasks of the seminary were 
 lightened by the daily recreations of a students' club of 
 so-called " Aristoi," who dined in the evening after the 
 lectures and recitations were over. While still pursuing 
 his studies, on the 3d of June, 1846, he was licensed to 
 preach the gospel by the Presbytery of Louisville. 
 
 So varied a training would seem to have been de- 
 signed to fit him for the varied career which awaited 
 
i6 
 
 him. He was destined to a succession of pastorates in 
 different parts of the country, among people of different 
 stages of culture, with congregations needing different 
 modes of preaching and pastoral service. The narra- 
 tives and letters collected in the following pages will 
 show how well he met the demands of each of these 
 pastorates, how many hearts he knit to him in bonds 
 of Christian fellowship, what a hold he gained in every 
 community where he lived, and what fruits of his labor 
 still remain. 
 
 As if to begin at the foundation, his first work was 
 that of gathering and organizing a new church of his 
 own faith and order by means of his own efforts. He 
 entered the city of Chicago a young evangelist with 
 only a commission of his distant Presbytery, and in the 
 hall of Rush Medical College, hospitably opened for 
 the purpose, proceeded to preach to growing audiences 
 agreeing with him in doctrine, somewhat as St. Paul at 
 Ephesus " separated the disciples, disputing daily in the 
 school of one Tyrannus." In six months the room was 
 found too small for his congregation. The story of the 
 North Presbyterian Church, as thus formed, is told by 
 himself on a subsequent page, in an extract from his 
 dedication sermon ; and the accompanying tributes of 
 his parishioners reveal more fully his own agency in the 
 enterprise, and his striking personality as he appeared 
 at that period of his life. He was ordained and installed 
 pastor of this church, Nov. 19, 1848, and continued in 
 charge seven years, until April 11, 1856. 
 
 An interval of five years was filled with several 
 changes. From Chicago he was called to St. Peter's 
 
17 
 
 Church, in Rochester, N. Y. One of the attractions of 
 this church for him may have been its hturgical ser- 
 vice, in which the order of the Prayer Book was main- 
 tained, but without wholly repressing extemporaneous 
 worship and sacrificing Presbyterian simplicity. After 
 a short ministry he became stated supply of the church 
 of Marengo, 111., where he remained about one year, 
 and then removed to Red Mills, N. Y., serving the 
 church in that place, first as stated supply, and then 
 as pastor, for another period of nearly four years. 
 In 1864 he received an invitation to the First Presby- 
 terian Church in Newburyport, Mass., and was settled 
 over it nearly five years. 
 
 In the Newburyport pastorate he seems to have 
 reached the zenith of his power and influence. He 
 stood in an old historic pulpit, above the tomb of White- 
 field, in a line of pastors whose eloquence had been 
 kindled as in touch with the bones of the prophet. 
 The Civil War was drawing out all his patriotic ardor. 
 When but a boy in his Kentucky home, we are told, 
 he had shown repugnance to that institution which it 
 was the seeming duty of many to palliate. From his 
 Chicago pulpit he had denounced the repeal of the 
 Wilmot proviso, provoking a reply from Stephen A. 
 Douglas on the floor of the United States Senate. And 
 he was now among a people who put him forward as 
 their champion in the contest for the national life. The 
 tributary letters of this period speak especially of the 
 thrilling effect of his sermon on the death of the mar- 
 tyred President Lincoln. They also show how his own 
 sorrows, in the death of two lovely children, brought 
 
 3 
 
him into tender sympathy with his flock in all like 
 afflictions. He remained at Newburyport until No- 
 vember, 1868, when he was unanimously called to the 
 pastoral charge of the Fourth Presbyterian Church of 
 Trenton, N. J. 
 
 The pastorate at Trenton was his last and longest 
 term of service, continuing nearly twenty years. In 
 many respects it was a pleasant and fruitful ministry. 
 He had come back among his early friends, near the 
 scene of his happy student life at Princeton. The two 
 great cities of New York and Philadelphia were at hand, 
 with their rich opportunities for keeping in touch with 
 the times. He had the warm sympathy and support of 
 Chancellor Henry Green and the Rev. Dr. John Hall, 
 of the First Church, as well as the aid and counsel of 
 his friends and co-workers in the congregation. As to 
 his success in the pulpit and parish, and his efficient 
 labors in the schools, missions, and charities of the city, 
 a full narrative may be found in the interesting and 
 beautiful tributes herewith published. 
 
 When Dr. Richardson felt constrained by the state of 
 his health to relinquish the charge of this church, his 
 resignation could only be accepted, as the resolutions 
 of the congregation and session indicate, with the 
 deepest sorrow and reluctance. For a time afterwards 
 he resided in New York City and at Tarrytown on the 
 Hudson, passing the summers in his cottage at Bayhead, 
 on the Jersey coast. But he could not be idle. He 
 found a congenial task as one of the editors of the 
 Standard English Dictionary in preparation by Messrs. 
 Funk and Wagnalls, and brought to it all his enthusiasm 
 
19 
 
 and industry. His colleagues, in their memorial tribute, 
 have testified to his high scholarship and engaging 
 social qualities. While absorbed in this exhausting 
 literary work his health began more seriously to fail, 
 and he was at length obliged to remain in his seaside 
 home, where he had retired with his family in the early 
 spring in hope of benefit from the change. Gradually 
 it became evident that skill and affection could do no 
 more. After lingering in much suffering until Tuesday, 
 June 14, 1892, he died peacefully in the early dawn of 
 that day. The tidings of his death came as a shock 
 to many, who had not even heard of his illness. There 
 was a simple funeral at Bayhead on Thursday, con- 
 ducted by his classmate and cherished friend, the Rev. 
 Dr. Gosman, of Lawrenceville ; and the next day more 
 public solemnities attended the interment at Newbury- 
 port, where, in accordance with his known desire, he 
 was buried beside the graves of two of his children. 
 A memorial service was also held in his former church 
 at Trenton, with a sermon preached by Dr. Gosman. 
 The Presbytery of New Brunswick, to which he be- 
 longed, recorded in fitting terms their high estimate 
 of his ministerial character and usefulness. Obituary 
 notices of his life and work appeared in the religious 
 journals. Cordial resolutions of respect and condolence 
 were tendered to his family by the different sessions and 
 congregations to which he had ministered, and numer- 
 ous letters of sympathy came from "former parishioners 
 and friends throughout the country. 
 
 While death has thus disclosed some true apprecia- 
 tion of Dr. Richardson, it is to be regretted that he left 
 
20 
 
 SO few literary remains to extend his influence. He 
 published but little, only a few occasional discourses, 
 and the small volume termed " The Family Record," 
 designed for the instruction and consolation of his 
 people. The sermons appended to these memorials 
 may serve as specimens of his preaching. But the 
 most enduring record of his services is written in the 
 Book of Life, and graven on the hearts of those 
 who are become his epistles known and read of all 
 men. 
 
 In the year 1865 he received the degree of D. D. 
 from his alma mater, the College of New Jersey. No 
 one could fail to see in him the well-trained scholar. 
 At one time, indeed, before he left Princeton, he had 
 thought of devoting himself to an academic career in 
 the college or seminary. His linguistic gifts and tastes 
 would have fitted him well for almost any chair of lan- 
 guage and literature. They at last found full play in. his 
 labors as a lexicographer. But they were never lost or 
 disused in his ministry. He liked to preach as if from 
 the inspired original tongues, carefully writing his text 
 in the Hebrew or the Greek character, and making his 
 sermon truly exegetical as well as doctrinal and prac- 
 tical. He had a wealth of sentiment and diction which 
 left him at no loss in extemporaneous discourse. His 
 written style was natural, flowing, and graceful, — not 
 without some play of fancy. In the pulpit his voice 
 and manner were commanding, and sometimes he be- 
 came truly eloquent, when having an audience in full 
 sympathy with him, and an occasion to draw forth all 
 his powers. " He was always a hard student, and gave 
 
21 
 
 nothing to his people from the pulpit which was not 
 the result of careful study and thought. He gave them 
 his very best." 
 
 To the church of his birth and choice he was ever 
 loyal. He served it faithfully as clerk of one of its 
 presbyteries and editor of one of its journals. In seven 
 of its parishes he labored as a pastor. Liberal to all 
 good enterprises, he gave contributions to the benevo- 
 lent boards, which set a high example to his flock. 
 Although he had been trained in the conservatism of the 
 Old School of Presbyterian churchmanship, he was not 
 without practical sympathy with the more progressive 
 tendencies of the New School. Indeed, fixed as he was 
 in his own theological opinions, there was no sort of 
 denominational belief or religious sentiment for which 
 he could not have charity. As early as 1848, in the 
 sermon defining his doctrinal position at Chicago, he 
 thus declared how fully he could appreciate whatever 
 is good in all forms of faith and worship : — 
 
 " We have no sympathy with that false, ultra form of so-called 
 religious independence, which would free itself from all the 
 power of hallowed associations, and esteem the house of God 
 no more sacred than a house of merchandise or a den of thieves. 
 I would reverence the idol temples of the heathen, I would 
 reverence a mosque of the False Prophet, I would reverence 
 the hoary Cathedral ; and if in times of necessity my Protes- 
 tant Christianity should engage me in pulling down these strong- 
 holds of delusion, I would do it with a gentle hand, and not 
 with the ruthless spirit of the mob. I would have respect for 
 any place, no matter where or what, in which the poor, weak 
 heart of man, impressed with a sense of its relation to some 
 superior unseen Power, and conscious ot the necessity of some 
 
22 
 
 kind of offering to it, should present the best worship to which 
 this consciousness, regulated by the kind and degree of his 
 knowledge, should lead him. The religious element in man's 
 nature, however ignorant or fallen he may be, is still his chief 
 honor, is his most conservative principle, is the best part of his 
 nature, that which most nearly allies him to God. It is still the 
 impress of the divine image, which in his unfallen state consti- 
 tuted his chief glory ; and wherever any trace of that image is 
 discernible, though it may be faint and distorted, it is yet 
 worthy of respect." ^ 
 
 There is the best authority for saying that he was a 
 most faithful and successful pastor. " Even before his 
 own afflictions, his people thought no one more truly 
 sympathized with them ; and many of his dearest and 
 truest friends were those to whom he had ministered 
 in their hour of trial. But when twice he was left 
 childless, then the words spoken to those in bereave- 
 ment were truly from a stricken heart. He often said, 
 ' I knew nothing of others' trials till my own came.' " 
 And he shared their religious doubts as well as their 
 sorrows. It was no wonder that many of them became 
 devotedly attached to him, as their letters in this volume 
 testify. Nor was it strange that he reciprocated such 
 attachments. The following letter, written by him 
 shortly after he left Trenton, may serve as an illus- 
 tration of these sacred friendships: — 
 
 " I am grateful for the little mistake to which you refer, inas- 
 much as it furnished occasion for your very kind and pleasing 
 letter. I thank you for your long and still continued affection, 
 and that you address me by the title of ' pastor.' There is 
 
 ' Extract from the sermon preached at the dedication of the North 
 Presbyterian Church edifice, Chicago, Illinois, December, 1848. 
 
something very precious to me in that name, and when it rep- 
 resents the relation borne to one so patient, generous, and 
 sympathetic towards me as you have ever been, I find it not 
 pleasant to surrender it to another, though officially it is mine 
 no longer. I think that I have always appreciated the peculiar 
 phases of your Christian experience, not as mere matters of 
 observation and study, but as similar so largely to my own. 
 Whether it be true or not, as has been said, that ' he who never 
 doubted never half believed,' it is true that continuance in the 
 faith, in spite of 'fears within and fightings without,' is an evi- 
 dence of the reality of that which is thus held, and also a proof 
 of an ever increasing conviction of it. If otherwise, how could 
 we keep our hold ? 
 
 " I am thankful that I have ever been able to help you in any 
 way. But you have not been only a receiver. I have received 
 as much and more from you. I have always felt while preach- 
 ing, as well as in more private communication, that you could 
 appreciate my feeling, as expressed, even if not in the language 
 of too great personal assurance or too little regard for the 
 trembling faith and the frequent misgivings of others. The 
 older I grow I become more tolerant and compassionate towards 
 all the latter class, while at the same time I think I make less 
 for myself of some of the troubles with which I used to be 
 assailed. Our faith, after all, finds its only solid basis in the 
 personal Jesus, the Christ, and on that rock we may rest, even 
 if tempests do blow and waves beat wildly against it. We are 
 not far away from the land of light ; let us go patiendy and 
 hopefully forward to it through this low valley of cloud and 
 shadow." 
 
 In all the relations of life he was strictly honorable. 
 Advances from another church were never encouraged, 
 if he foresaw that he could not become their pastor. 
 He incurred no debts which he could not pay; and 
 debts of honor were sacred to him, though others should 
 
24 
 
 neglect their obligations and leave him to bear heavy- 
 losses. 
 
 He was a steadfast friend and genial companion. In 
 conversation his individuality often appeared unique, 
 though not eccentric. He had his own original way of 
 putting things. When he chose he would mask a grave 
 truth in some humorous paradox, which could not be 
 parried, or clinch it with some extreme statement that 
 more than proved his point. Examples of his senten- 
 tious sayings may be found in these pages. 
 
 In estimating his character, it should be stated that 
 there was a side of it not shown to the world. His sen- 
 sibilities were very acute. He both suffered and enjoyed 
 intensely, more than most men ; but the suffering quite 
 outweighed the joy. Hard trials and keen disappoint- 
 ments were borne by him with a calm exterior, es- 
 pecially during the later years of his ministry; and to 
 anguish of mind was often added nervous depression 
 caused by an insidious disease, which could have but 
 one termination. Hence there were moods and con- 
 trasts in his high-strung nature. By turns he would be 
 joyous and gloomy, indignant and tender; and when 
 wounded in a sore point his reserve became absolute. 
 At such times, it may be, some of his best friends did 
 not quite understand him ; but beneath all the sunshine 
 and shadow of his temperament, there could beat no 
 truer and kinder heart. 
 
 Dr. Richardson was married on the 7th of September, 
 1853, at Hadley, Mass., to Miss Octavia VVoodbridge, 
 daughter of Rev. John Woodbridge, D.D. To this 
 union he brought all the chivalrous devotion of his un- 
 
25 
 
 selfish nature, and in it he found the chief joy of his 
 Hfe. His affections for his children were absorbing 
 passions. There was a touch of his poetic sentiment 
 and scholarly taste in the very names which he gave to 
 them: " Klyda," the Greek for a wave, to his daughter 
 born at the seashore, and *' Verne," Latin for spring, 
 to his soil who came in the spring-time. Of two of his 
 dead children he said to his Newburyport people at 
 parting, " Whenever a flower is laid upon their graves, 
 wherever I am, I shall feel it." Amid all his sorrows 
 and trials his home was ever a remaining solace ; and 
 under its soothing ministries at last he sank to rest. 
 Of those final scenes of illness and parting it is not 
 for me to speak. The veil has been tenderly drawn 
 aside for us by the hand of filial affection. The sketch 
 which follows will meet a desire of many hearts to 
 know all that it tells them. 
 
 All winter father had been steadily engaged in literary work 
 which required most intense and constant application, and he 
 sometimes said he was so tired that he wondered if he could 
 ever get rested. His determination and courage often led him 
 to undertake his work on a day which he should have spent in 
 bed, and the other gentlemen who were busy in the same room 
 with him little knew the severe strain he was putting upon him- 
 self. It was only in yielding to our most earnest and anxious 
 solicitations that he consented to come to the seashore cottage 
 he loved so much, — "for a few days," as he said. 
 
 Every day the fact became more evident that the time for his 
 going back must be deferred, and litde by little he seemed to 
 lose strength and to suffer increasingly. It troubled him that 
 he did not begin to improve, for he said he had a great deal to 
 do yet, and felt that he could not afford the time to be ill. For 
 
26 
 
 two or three weeks he was able to sit up for a part of the day, 
 and once or twice he took a short walk ; but he had a great 
 deal of pain, and most of the time was spent in fighting it as 
 bravely and cheerfully as might be. 
 
 In the summers that are gone he took great delight in making 
 long excursions into the woods, and he knew every tree and 
 plant by name. As he used to lie on his bed through those 
 x^pril days, he liked to have his curtain drawn to enable him to 
 see the woods in the distance, and often he said, with a sigh, 
 " I shall never walk in those woods and gather magnolias 
 again ; " but we did not think it could be so. We hoped that 
 when the June weather brought back the swamp magnolias, 
 which he particularly loved, he would be able to go and bring 
 them home as he used to do ; but when the flowers were brought 
 home in all their sweetness, they rested on his coffin. 
 
 The spring grew more and more beautiful, and we tried to 
 get dear father out on the piazza, where he had always taken 
 great pleasure in sitting and watching the vessels go by. But 
 it tired him to sit up long, and there was the almost unceasing 
 pain to weary him, and almost imperceptibly the time came 
 when he made no attempt to rise, but said he would try lying 
 still that day, and see if he would not be better to-morrow. 
 After that he seemed contented to stay in his room, and he 
 never came down stairs again. The doctors thought that it was 
 inadvisable to give him opiates, as they retarded the slight 
 chance there remained of arresting his disease ; so there were 
 very few things we could do to relieve the constant suffering 
 which was so very hard to witness, and which he bore with 
 increasing resignation and patience. I used to sit by him and 
 hold his hand, and he would say sadly, " Can't any one do any- 
 thing to relieve this awful agony?" and it was bitterly hard to 
 see all remedies fail. Sometimes he would lie and moan for 
 hours, and then we would hear him talking to himself, as I 
 thought ; but one time when I asked him what he had said, he 
 answered : " I was only saying my prayers. I am always pray- 
 
27 
 
 ing for patience." He often repeated hymns, and sometimes 
 even sung. His voice, which had aUvays been sweet and true, 
 did not fail him up to the last, and he said he believed that 
 singing did him more good than groaning. 
 
 In spite of the pain and the great nervous depression which 
 frequently hung over him, a spirit of fun occasionally manifested 
 itself. One day when I had given him a quieting medicine, he 
 said in a whisper, " Hush ! don't say anything ; for the pain may 
 come back. I think it listens." And as he began to grow easier 
 he kept on saying, " If it hears you, it will come back ; so we 
 must not let it know that I feel a Httle better." 
 
 His unselfishness and gentle courtesy never failed him. 
 Often he would apologize for making so much trouble, and he 
 always tried to do everything for himself that he could. He 
 submitted cheerfully to trying the various remedies advised by 
 his physicians, and did everything in his power to forward his 
 recovery, though I think he had really very little hope that 
 he could get well. 
 
 About the first of June we had a consultation of the doctors, 
 and though on that day our dear invalid seemed freer from 
 pain than for some time, he was getting weaker, and we felt 
 very uneasy about him. The next day the doctor told me that 
 the situation was extremely critical, and explained to me just 
 how slight his chances for recovery were. After that there 
 came a week of alternate hope and fear, until the evening of 
 Saturday, the nth of June. As father was moderately comfort- 
 able, we left him in good hands while we took a ten minutes' 
 walk, and gathered strength for what might be before us. 
 Father had suffered from excessive thirst for several days, and 
 the dreadful restlessness which is such a fatal sign had oppressed 
 him. On Friday night, as I was sitting with him, he complained 
 of being very tired, and said he would be so happy if he could 
 only lie on his side. But he could not be really comfortable 
 in any position, and though he put his arms about my neck, 
 and I lifted him the best I could, he was beyond the point 
 
28 
 
 where his poor weary body could be at ease. As I left him 
 that night, at his earnest entreaty to lie down for a few minutes, 
 he suddenly called me back, and holding my hand he said, " We 
 never know what may happen, and God's blessing can never 
 hurt any one ; " and then he kissed me, and prayed God to bless 
 us all. All through those last days he was so sweet and gentle 
 that it was intensely pathetic to see him so tired, and to hear 
 him say to himself, " I wonder if I shall ever get release from 
 this pain ! " though he seemed perfectly resigned to whatever 
 might come. 
 
 While we were out on Saturday night we met our doctor and 
 had a talk with him, and it was arranged to have still another 
 consultation the next morning at eleven, as the case did not 
 appear very hopeful. We hurried home, and found that the 
 pain and other unfavorable symptoms had come on, and twice 
 through the evening I sent messages to the doctor, who sent 
 down various remedies, hoping to give father relief. But about 
 half-past eleven there seemed to be such a decided change for 
 the worse that the doctor came at once. Dear father said him- 
 self, " I think this is the end," and I gave up hope immediately. 
 After the doctor had done what he could, I went up to father's 
 room, and he was sitting up against his pillows, quite free from 
 pain, and apparently comfortable. He talked very earnestly, as 
 though he were preaching, and although he knew us all per- 
 fectly, his mind was evidently a little bewildered. 
 
 The doctor said that he was certain the end was near, but that 
 it might not be for a day or two ; so I persuaded the rest of the 
 family to go and He down, promising to call them if any change 
 should come. Father had by this time forgotten about the 
 changes in his condition which had worried him, and was very 
 happy. He seemed puzzled that he felt weak, but otherwise he 
 was as comfortable as possible. He said it was absurd for any 
 one to sit up with him, for he was all right. " We have reached 
 the turning-point now," he said cheerfully, " and to-morrow I shall 
 begin to go up hill." Then he took a little milk, and begged 
 
29 
 
 me to goto bed. He said, "To-morrow is Sunday, you know, 
 and you must go to sleep now, and so will I, and we will wake up 
 bright and early for Sunday morning." Knowing so well that 
 this was my last time with him, I could not leave him, though I 
 sometimes went out of the room a few minutes to please him, 
 for he seemed very much afraid I would be too tired. Every 
 time I looked at him he was lying quietly, and sometimes talk- 
 ing to himself. 
 
 " Hand me gently down the steeps of time" 
 
 was a line which he constantly repeated during all those last 
 days, and he gave a long quotation from Schiller with great 
 force on that very night. Most of the time he recited hymns, 
 and seemed to find great pleasure in them. 
 
 The night wore slowly on, but it seemed very short to me. 
 I tried to think of everything I would have asked him, and I 
 said to him everything I wanted to say. Once I said : " Do 
 you think you will forget me, father? Promise me that you 
 never will." And he put his arms around me and answered, 
 " Never, never, dear faithful child ! " and kissed me over and 
 over again. In fact, that night he always kissed me and stroked 
 my hand whenever I did the slightest thing for him. This 
 sweet appreciation and gratitude, for what was my only pleasure 
 to do for him, made it hard to preserve that composure which 
 was necessary for his comfort ; but fortunately my strength held 
 out as long as it was needed. 
 
 When the sun came up out of the sea and the morning grew 
 brighter, dear father began to talk a little confusedly, and I 
 called the family and we arranged to have the doctors come at 
 nine instead of eleven. I brought him a glass of ice-water at 
 breakfast-time, and he said, regretfully, " Sit down, poor perse- 
 cuted child ; you have not slept all night, and it makes me sad 
 to have you do so much for me." So I sat and held his hand, 
 and he talked on, sometimes with perfect understanding, and 
 again his mind wandered. " Who is sick?" he asked. " Some 
 
30 
 
 one was sick here," and when I answered, " It was you, father 
 dear," he assented. "Oh, yes, so I was ! but I am quite well 
 now. I must go back to New York to-morrow." 
 
 A little later he said : " You don't look very cheerful, it seems 
 to me. This is Sunday morning, and we ought to be bright and 
 happy. Pretty soon we will have service, for there ought to 
 be a reverential observance of the day. After a while we will 
 sing." I asked him if he wanted me to sing then, and he said, 
 "Yes; sing! lift up the voice like a trumpet;" but then he 
 added, " We will sing after a while." When the doctors came, 
 although he was not able to speak very clearly, he recognized 
 them both, and greeted them with all his old-time courteous- 
 ness. '•' How kind of you/' he said, " to come and see me ! " 
 and invited them both to stay. 
 
 After they left, father became restless again in spite of the 
 stupor which was creeping over him. One of our neighbors, 
 a young man who was very fond of him, came in and helped us 
 in fanning him and lifting him on his pillows. Father seemed 
 to be in a good deal of pain, and was evidently very uncom- 
 fortable. Once he put his arm about my mother and me and 
 kissed us both, s: ying, "I know I am going now; good-by." 
 For a few minutes that morning I was alone with him, and I 
 heard him say, " I have so much to be forgiven, so many sins ! " 
 and I said, " Dear father, if we all had as few as you, we would 
 be well off." He answered me quickly, in a reproachful way, 
 " You must not say that ; " and then, though I cannot recall his 
 exact language, he said that Jesus Christ could make it all 
 right, and he was satisfied. When I asked him if he wanted 
 to go, he said he did not want to leave us all, but was con- 
 tented either way. 
 
 As he grew more and more uncomfortable I began giving 
 him anodynes, according to the doctor's orders ; and finally as 
 a last resort I prepared to give him the morphine which I had 
 ready for this emergency. Before he took it he said, as though 
 he understood, " Don't give me that until you have to." Then 
 
31 
 
 he continued, " I only want release, release ! " and I told him 
 that he was never going to suffer any more, and that the rest he 
 longed for was coming soon. Then we kissed him again, and 
 he took the morphine. Through the afternoon he talked in- 
 cessantly, but we could not understand much that he said. 
 The neighbors were wonderfully kind, and came all day long 
 with inquiries and offers of help. 
 
 One of the doctors came in at supper-time, and father knew 
 him, and asked him to stay to supper ; but after that, until the 
 end came on Tuesday morning, he was unconscious nearly all 
 the time. Sometimes he roused a little, and spoke our names, 
 and whenever we were able to gain his attention he always said 
 he was " perfectly comfortable, thank you." 
 
 Though he was exceedingly restless, and struggled sometimes 
 for breath, the evidences were very clear that he was not suffer- 
 ing at all, and the end was peace, when, on Tuesday morning 
 at half-past seven, he went home to the rest for which he 
 longed. 
 
 " The morning shall awaken, 
 
 The shadows shall decay, 
 And each true-hearted servant 
 
 Shall shine as doth the day. 
 There God, our king and portion, 
 
 In fulness of His grace. 
 Shall we behold forever, 
 
 And worship face to face." 
 
 I was quite ill during the month of May, and my daughter 
 was her father's and my own most faithful nurse, assisted by 
 one who had served and loved us all, and who would cheerfully 
 do anything for the " dear doctor." From the beginning of my 
 husband's sickness he often appeared to feel that the end was 
 near, and day by day his sufferings increased and his strength 
 failed. Nearly three weeks before his death there came one 
 
32 
 
 day a telegram from New Orleans announcing the death of his 
 beloved brother, Dr. T. G. Richardson.^ 
 
 I hesitated at first about telling him, fearing that the news 
 would greatly agitate him, but finally decided that it would be 
 better to do so. The death of this brother was the first in the 
 family of brothers and sisters for nearly forty years. When I 
 said quietly, " Richard, your brother is dead," he received 
 it calmly, and then, looking up at me with those dark, expres- 
 sive eyes, said : " It often happens, when death comes into a 
 family after a long interval, that another soon follows. I shall 
 probably be the next." The same thought came to us, but we 
 tried to put it away. 
 
 One day he said to me, " I wish you would get the hymn- 
 book and read me the hymn, ' The Hour of iny Departure 's 
 Come.' " 
 
 " But it has not come," I said quickly. 
 
 " No ; but I want to be ready when it does." 
 
 When fearing suffering that he felt coming on, I have seen 
 him fold his hands like a little child, and looking up with touch- 
 ing reverence, he would pray, " O God, give me strength ! " 
 
 Our eldest son was at home for a short time about two weeks 
 before his father left us. It was a happy visit. He had become 
 the father of a little daughter a few days before, and had much 
 to tell about the baby, our first grandchild. He begged his 
 father to get well fast, that be might, at the young mother's 
 desire and his own, be able to baptize the child. 
 
 That evening his father had a severe nervous chill, and seemed 
 
 1 Dr. T. G. Richardson was very ill a long time, and bore with 
 wonderful patience and Christian fortitude distressing suffering. He was 
 a noble man, full of kind deeds and generous impulses, — one in whom his 
 family took much delight ; and now that he has left them they deeply 
 mourn his loss. He led a most useful life, and attained distinction, 
 especially in the South, being connected with the Medical Department 
 of the Tulane University of Louisiana. He served with zeal and en- 
 thusiasm in the Confederate army ; was an elder in the First Presby- 
 terian Church, of which Dr. Palmer is pa.stor. He was known through- 
 out the country as an eminent physician and surgeon. 
 
33 
 
 in a very critical condition. We were all much alarmed. The 
 two boys stood by the bed and did everything they could to 
 relieve him. After the distress and pain had passed away, and 
 the dear sufferer lay quietly, with his sons on either side, he 
 said, " It is pleasant that we are all together once more." Sud- 
 denly he sang, in a strong, clear voice, — 
 
 " All hail the power of Jesus' name ! 
 Let angels prostrate fall ; 
 Bring forth the royal diadem, 
 And crown Him Lord of all." 
 
 Then he gave us his blessing : " The grace of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ be with you all. Amen." 
 
 My son went away the next morning, and his father never 
 saw him again. He arrived, it is true, before the end, but the 
 unconscious form which lay quietly breathing away its life 
 could give him no more loving welcome, nor tender embrace. 
 
THE CHICAGO PASTORATE. 
 
^ 
 
 ^iterarg. 
 
 Memorials of Richard H. Richardson. 
 D.D. This volume is prepared in recherche 
 style. It is composed of memories of Dr. 
 Richardson, who died June 14, 1892. Al- 
 though these are the tributes of apprects- 
 tive friends, respecting the worth of one 
 who is dead, th^re is no semblance of the 
 insignia of mourning, which usually accom- 
 pany such memorials. Not a broad black 
 line is found on any page. The cover is 
 pearly white. It lies before us like a calla 
 lily, and almost has the fragrance of flow- 
 ers of which the departed was so fond. A 
 perusal of the contents confirms what aU 
 Dr. Richardson's friends well knew, that 
 he WHS mo-t honorable as a man, steadfast 
 as a f ciend, deeply sympathetic as a pastor. 
 He possessed rare gifts, which had been as- 
 siduously cultivated. His attainments took 
 a wide range— in theology, music, poetry, 
 rhetoric, and especially in the classics, and 
 languages of Scri pture. But all were strictly 
 tributary to his work as a preacher of 
 the gospel, in which he excelled. He was 
 intimately acquainted with the Scriptures^ 
 often aptly quoting sentences found in nooks 
 of the Bible. We heard him deliver an ad- 
 mirable charge to a pastor at an installation 
 in which was not a word of his own. It was 
 Bible from beginning to end, and most ex- 
 quisitely woven together. He was devoted 
 to his children, and carried the thought of 
 them almost as a burden. On one occasion 
 he said to a mother, at whose house he was 
 a guest, in that quaint way which made his 
 remarks like "nails well fastened:" "Are 
 you one of the anxious mothers? I am." 
 The peculiarities and excellencies of his 
 character are well brought out in the con- 
 tents of this volume, which are a biograph- 
 ical sketch by Professor Shields, of Princeton 
 University, followed by a history of his pas- 
 torates in Chicago, Newburyport and Tren- 
 ton; also tributes, as they came from friends 
 and ecclesiastical bodies. The volume closes 
 with three sermons of Dr. Richardson. This 
 book will be the only keepsake that his 
 friends will have. He did not write for the 
 
 press, nor publish, although well qualified 
 to do fcO. A. D. F. Randolph and Co. 
 
THE CHICAGO PASTORATE. 
 
 From Dedication Sermon. 
 
 ON the nineteenth day of April last, he who now addresses 
 you landed on your shores, a total stranger to the place 
 and people. His coming was neither devised nor determined 
 by the counsel of his own will, but by the church to whose 
 service he had given himself away, and whose wishes thence- 
 forth became to him commands of God ; and thus coming, 
 he trusted that he should come in the fulness of the bless- 
 ing of God and the gospel of peace. 
 
 His commission authorized and instructed him to establish 
 here, if proper and possible, a branch of that household of 
 faith with which he is himself connected. To say that in this 
 work he encountered difficulties and trials, is merely to record 
 the fulfilment of his own expectations, and the expectations of 
 those who sent him. These anticipations were founded upon 
 a knowledge of the nature and relations of the enterprise, and 
 upon an acquaintance with the past history of all similar 
 undertakings. 
 
 It seems to be a very general, if not a universal, appointment 
 of Divine Providence, that the walls of Jerusalem shall be built 
 in troublous times ; and in this God does but display His usual 
 wisdom, — a wisdom which, if not always manifest at the time, 
 never fails to vindicate itself afterwards. The obstacles in the 
 way of success in the present case were, of course, as they 
 always are, modified by peculiarities of time, place, and cir- 
 
38 
 
 cumstance. They did not, however, appear sufficiently formi- 
 dable to justify an abandonment of the enterprise without an 
 experiment. It was therefore deemed advisable by the few 
 who felt a friendly interest in the cause that such an experiment 
 should be made. 
 
 By the kindness of those having control of the Rush Medical 
 College, — a kindness which is here publicly and with gratitude 
 acknowledged, — we were promised the use of their building 
 for our Sabbath services. And in that building, on the 21st 
 of May last, in much trembling, and yet with faith and hope, 
 we gathered together, a little handful, to preach and hear the 
 Word of God, and offer Him our prayers and praises. And 
 from that day and that hour God took the weak and struggling 
 infant in His arms, and has nourished and watched over it, and 
 protected and brought it onward to its present strength and 
 stature. 
 
 About thirty persons were in attendance on the services of 
 the first Sabbath, and the same on those of the second. During 
 the succeeding week new interest and friendship for the effort 
 were developed, and in the afternoon of the third Sabbath the 
 number in attendance was doubled. The tokens of God's 
 favor continued to increase. As the enterprise became more 
 known it was more loved. New friends gathered around it to 
 express their sympathy and cheer it onward by promises of aid 
 and alliance. Its presence in their midst rekindled old and 
 hallowed and dear associations, which prompted them, in spite of 
 inconveniences and discouragements, which always attend the 
 first stages of such an undertaking, to hold out a helping hand 
 and bid it God speed. And other allies too were raised up, 
 into whose hearts God breathed a willingness and determination 
 to take part with His people in endeavoring to advance His 
 cause. And thus the good work went on from week to week, 
 and from strength to strength, and like Him whose name it 
 bore, increased in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God 
 and men. 
 
39 
 
 By the loth of July the success of the enterprise was con- 
 sidered so well assured that at a meeting of the male members 
 of the congregation on that day the incipient steps were taken 
 toward the erection of the house which we this day consecrate. 
 A committee was appointed to make all necessary inquiries 
 and applications, and report to a subsequent meeting. This 
 report was rendered on the 14th of the month following, when 
 the trustees of the church were chosen and final measures 
 adopted to secure a lot and house of worship. On the sixth 
 day of the same month, the eleventh Sabbath after the com- 
 mencement of the services in the medical college, the object 
 for which they had been commenced was accomplished. 
 Twenty-six professing members of the household of God the 
 great Father united themselves together, and by the Rev. Dr. 
 Potts, of St. Louis, were organized into a church of the Lord 
 Jesus Christ. From d liferent parts of the country and different 
 branches of the Church Catholic, they asserted the unity of the 
 body at large by union in a single organization. This organi- 
 zation took the name of the North Presbyterian Church of 
 Chicago. It elected two ruling elders, who were on the same 
 day ordained and installed over the church. At this time the 
 sacrament of the Lord's Supper was administered for the first, 
 and until now the only time, — the disciples of Christ thus 
 sealing their devotion to His cause and their union with each 
 other by remembering their common Lord around the table of 
 His dying love. On the Wednesday evening of the week fol- 
 lowing, the first church prayer meeting was held, which service 
 has been continued regularly until the present, with only such 
 inteimissions as were unavoidable. No new feature marked 
 the history of the church until the i8th of September, when at 
 a meeting of the congregation a unanimous call for the pastoral 
 services of the speaker was prepared. In consequence of the 
 action of the Synod of lUinois, on the 12th of October, by 
 which some changes were made in the territorial boundaries of 
 the Presbyteries composing that body, some delay was ex- 
 
40 
 
 perienced in the prosecution of this call. It was not until the 
 seventeenth day of the month following that it was formally pre- 
 sented by the Presbytery of Peoria, which met in this city on 
 that day. The usual preliminary steps having been taken, the 
 Presbytery did, in the afternoon of the 19th of that month, 
 ordain the pastor elect to the full work of the gospel ministry, 
 and install him over the North Presbyterian Church. 
 
 And now to-day we meet to erect the next memorial of our 
 progress in the dedication of this house to the worship of that 
 God whose kind and guardian hand has led us thus far on 
 our way. 
 
 The biography of an infant is necessarily short, and seldom 
 marked by any startling fact to arrest the attention of its reader 
 or hearer. It is in the days when the child has become a man ; 
 when his arm has grown strong and his footsteps firm ; when 
 he takes his place among his fellows nerved with energy and 
 power of endurance to do and bear his part in the world's 
 drama, — it is then that he becomes the man of history, about 
 whose pathway we linger to watch and learn, and see what is 
 the work that God has given him to do. And so it is to the 
 future manhood and maturity of this infant church that we 
 would look to see it acting well its part on life's stage. We 
 would let the eye range along its pathway down through the dim 
 vista of time to come, and by the vision of faith, as we are borne 
 above it on the pinions of hope, would behold it steadfast and 
 straightforward in its march, strong in the strength of the Lord 
 of Hosts. We would see the little one become a thousand, and 
 the small one a strong nation. We would follow in its train, and 
 find its progress marked by blessings strewn everywhere around 
 and after it. We would see it with the ark of God in trust, 
 and the fire and the cloud to lead and protect it ; we would see 
 it like Israel of old, before whose coming the Amorite and 
 Amalekite shall vanish. We would look upon the seas dried 
 up, and the rivers flowing back at its approach. The rock shall 
 yield it drink and the clouds bring it nourishment. And though 
 
41 
 
 its pathway too may lie through the desert and temptation, yet 
 we would behold it enter upon its promised land, into the mil- 
 lennial Canaan, when the walls of Jericho and the armies of the 
 alien shall alike fall before it. It may be also when its Moses for 
 the weakness of his faith shall be buried this side the flood, and 
 when the drifting sands of the desert shall be playing among 
 the whitened bones of those who commenced the journey with 
 him, when not even a Caleb and a Joshua shall be left to pass 
 the Jordan, — that the Lord will then lead His people — a 
 better host and under a better Captain — to take possession of 
 the promised rest. 
 
 Old School Presbyterianism in Chicago. 
 From a Chicago pape7% May 9, 1855. 
 
 Mr. Richardson commenced preaching in May, 1848, in 
 Rush Medical College, on Dearborn Street. He continued to 
 preach in that place until December of the same year, by which 
 time the room had become too small to hold the steadily in- 
 creasing congregation. The organization of the church took 
 place on the 6th of August, 1848. Dr. Potts, of St. Louis, was 
 present, and assisted Mr. Richardson in the organization. 
 
 During the same summer measures were taken to erect a 
 house of worship, and a lot was purchased for that purpose on 
 the northeast corner of Clark and Michigan Streets, a location 
 which was then considered as very remote from the centre of 
 the city, and around which very few houses had then been 
 built in any direction. It is now one of the most compactly 
 built, busiest, and most noisy spots in the city. . . . The Rev. 
 R. H. Richardson is a native of the State of Kentucky, and a 
 graduate of the College of New Jersey at Princeton, and also 
 of the theological seminary in the same place. He came 
 immediately from the seminary to Chicago, being at that time 
 a licentiate of the Presbytery of Louisville. He is a gentleman 
 of prepossessing appearance, pleasing manners, an eloquent and 
 able preacher and catholic Christian. 
 
 6 
 
42 
 
 North Presbyterian Church, Old School. 
 
 Extract from the " History of Chicago.'''' 
 
 In the month of May, 1848, the initiatory steps were taken 
 toward the organization of the society. The first services were 
 held Sunday, May 28, 1848, in the hall of Rush Medical Col- 
 lege, in accordance with the following notice published in 
 the newspapers of Saturday, May 27: "Divine service accord- 
 ing to the usage of the Presbyterian Church may be expected 
 to-morrow, and every Lord's day until further notice, at 10.30 
 o'clock A.M. and 2.30 o'clock p. m., in the hall of the Medical 
 College, Dearborn Street. Preaching by the Rev. R. H. 
 Richardson." 
 
 Religious services were continued in the college till the fall 
 of the same year, when their first house of worship was erected. 
 The church was organized Sunday, August 6, 1848, with twenty- 
 six members, among whom were Mr. and Mrs. O. M. Dorman, 
 Mr. and Mrs. Clark Runyan, Mrs. Lucy Fitch Williams, Miss 
 Lucy Maria Williams, Mrs. C. S. Wadsworth, Mrs. Jonas Clark, 
 Mrs. Mindwell W. Gibbs, Miss Doggett, Mrs. Dr. Blaney, De- 
 rastus Harper, Mrs. R. J. Hamilton, Cyrus H. McCormick, and 
 others. 
 
 During the fall of 1848 a neat edifice in the Gothic style of 
 architecture was erected at the corner of North Clark and 
 Michigan Streets, at a cost of $2,000. It was a small frame 
 structure, with a "pepper box " steeple, and was sold in 1852, 
 when there was erected a similar but somewhat larger building, 
 at the southwest corner of Illinois and Wolcott (State) Streets, 
 fronting north. This edifice cost originally $3,000 ; it was 
 afterwards enlarged, and finally sold at the time of the com- 
 pletion of the large brick church at the corner of Indiana and 
 Cass Streets, which was dedicated about Feb. 21, 1861. The 
 style of architecture of the church was the Romanesque, and 
 it was furnished with an excellent organ. 
 
43 
 
 Rev. R. H. Richardson was ordained and installed pastor of 
 this church Nov. 19, 1848, by the Presbytery of Peoria. He 
 remained until April 11, 1856, and was succeeded by Rev. R. 
 A. Brown, who was ordained and installed Dec. 14, 1856. Mr. 
 Brown resigned July 21, 1857, after which there was no regular 
 pastor until the installation of Rev. Nathan L. Rice, D.D., Oct. 
 20, 1858. 
 
 The Sunday school in connection with the North Presby- 
 terian Church was largely attended. One of its first super- 
 intendents was Charles A. Spring, a brother of Rev. Gardiner 
 Spring, D.D., of New York. He was succeeded in 1854 by 
 John Woodbridge, who was superintendent continuously for 
 ten years ; and during this time the average attendance of scholars 
 was one hundred and fifty. The library connected with this 
 school was exclusively religious. 
 
 Reminiscences of Former Chicago Parishioners. 
 
 " I first saw Dr. Richardson in the year 1848, when he was 
 about twenty-five years old. He was then preaching in the 
 Rush Medical College, in Chicago, and his audience-room, 
 capable of holding two or three hundred people, was well 
 filled. I was present at his ordination, which took place in 
 the Baptist church, then under the pastorate of the Rev. Dr. 
 Tucker. I can recall his looks at that time ; his face closely 
 shaven, his eyes large, dark, and uncommonly brilliant, and his 
 hair black and curling, falling back from his fine brow. He 
 had a singularly graceful, elegant figure at that time, and his 
 voice was strong, clear, and well modulated. As he knelt to 
 receive the 'laying on of hands,' his appearance was grave 
 and devout. 
 
 " When his enterprise had attained to such proportions that it 
 became necessary to build a church, he sent to Princeton for a 
 plan, and having received one which was satisfactory, the build- 
 ing was soon completed, and the church work went on apace. 
 
44 
 
 " When I went again to Chicago, about five years afterwards, 
 I found Dr. Richardson's church a power in the city. It had 
 a very large and flourishing Sunday school, under the super- 
 intendence of Mr. Charles Spring, a brother of Dr. Gardiner 
 Spring of New York. This school was doing an important 
 missionary work, and the pastor was recognized as an able 
 and eloquent preacher of the 'faith once delivered to the 
 saints.' 
 
 " Here I would not fail to mention that the Assembly's Cate- 
 chism was faithfully taught in the Sunday school. Every pupil 
 who committed it to memory received a Bible, and it was pleas- 
 ant to see the children of foreign as well as those of native birth 
 come forward to recite those noble words. 
 
 '' The plan of systematic giving, by cards for each month, was 
 originated by him in connection with this, his first charge. 
 
 " He assisted in the organization of the first Old School Pres- 
 bytery and Synod in that region, and was largely instrumental 
 in the organization of new churches. But while so much occu- 
 pied with his own work at home, he did not fail to recognize 
 the wants of the world. Some one once made the objection to 
 foreign missions that so many died in the field, and Dr. Rich- 
 ardson answered : ' It is no matter. The work is so needful 
 that no sacrifice is too great.' 
 
 " He was a great lover of fine scenery, and having been born 
 under a southern sky, delighted in gorgeous color. I suppose 
 that passion for beauty affected his style, unconsciously, it may 
 be. Certain it is that after a summer vacation he came back 
 from the woods and hills ' trailing clouds of glory,' and his 
 congregations could readily accept the words of the hymn, 
 ' Nature with Open Volume stands.' 
 
 " As a pastor he was greatly beloved by all classes and condi- 
 tions, and in his congregation the poor and obscure were never 
 neglected, but sought out with especial care, as were also the 
 sick. I remember one man to whom Dr. Richardson paid one 
 hundred and forty visits during a long illness, and who wept if 
 
45 
 
 a day passed that the minister did not come. Another, not of 
 his flock, refused to take even a glass of water without his con- 
 sent, so much had he learned to trust him." 
 
 " Recollections throng upon me of that dear pastor, the object 
 of an enthusiastic love as rare as it was intense. How dis- 
 tinctly I remember that to win his approbation was one of the 
 strongest incentives to noble action. Surely such loyal pride 
 and affection as we felt for him could only have been inspired 
 by a generous and tender heart. This was truly verified by a 
 sentiment expressed by him, when, in answer to an interrogation 
 as to whether undue indulgence or severity was most to be 
 deprecated, he replied with flashing eye, ' Better err in doing 
 too much, even in the way of mistaken kindness, than by warp- 
 ing and stunting the moral nature by harshness that is criminal.' 
 This was the key-note of his life, and the impress that it left on 
 my childish heart was ineffaceable. We as children felt the 
 influence of that sympathy which perceived the good intent 
 with readier instinct than the bad. 
 
 " Another memory, fragrant and beautiful, was his love for a 
 dear brother, snatched away in the budding promise of a rare 
 manhood, and his unaffected grief when he learned that his 
 young friend should have entered the open portal of the great 
 beyond while he was absent. How well I can also remember 
 how that dear brother counted it one of his greatest joys to 
 minister to his beloved Mr. Richardson during a season of 
 physical prostration, when the bond of mutual affection deep- 
 ened into a friendship that only death could sever. In the 
 shadow of bereavement, when my parents' hearts were stricken 
 by the loss of the near and dear, it was to him they turned for 
 strength and comfort in the hour of desolation, and the friend 
 was ever faithful, and his gentle sympathy never failed them. 
 The sunshine was brighter when he shared its brightness with 
 us, and the sorrow more easily borne when he was near to 
 soothe and cheer. Many of our dear ones have gone, and 
 
46 
 
 both the father and mother passed to ' the other side ' before 
 his summons came. But we know * it is well with our beloved.' " 
 
 " Dr. Richardson was from my girlhood an embodiment of all 
 that an able, strong, tender, and true friend should be, and I 
 had a worshipful love and reverence for him. By him I meas- 
 ured other pastors, and always felt that he towered over them 
 all as a preacher, leader, scholar, man, and friend. The old 
 and the young had this personal love for him, and in the days 
 long gone by he was, in his church and among his people, the 
 central figure. 
 
 " To my father and mother he was especially dear ; and once 
 when he was suddenly taken ill, and word was sent to them, all 
 other cares were dropped, and they hastened to him, telling us 
 children we must be very good and let them go to dear Dr. 
 Richardson, for he was very sick. Though they were called at 
 our ' evening hour,' not one of us rebelled, but promised to be 
 doubly obedient while they were away, each of us feeling that 
 in this way we were really helping him to get well." 
 
 " My mind is falling into interesting retrospection of the time 
 when I knew him as a young man who had already entered on 
 his chosen work, with what zeal and devotion those who knew 
 him will readily attest. 
 
 " I recall him in many varying circumstances, always calm, 
 dignified, winning in manner, agreeable in conversation, often 
 entering into the mirthful moods of others, yet always with a 
 self-restraint commanding respectful reserve of even heedless 
 ones ; at all times the Christian gentleman, — never more so 
 than when under very trying circumstances. Sympathetic, kind, 
 and generous, he was ever ready to serve a friend, and too noble 
 to remember that he had done a favor. 
 
 " Dr. Richardson's pastoral and ministerial record was brilliant 
 and successful : yet it was not enough that he had built up a 
 large and influential church in the heart of Chicago, and that as a 
 
47 
 
 pulpit orator and sermonizer he stood easily the first among his 
 compeers ; his energies must reach into outlying regions, where 
 Christians were to be gathered into organized churches, souls 
 to be saved, and children to be brought into the fold. For this 
 he gave his time, strength, and money, sanctified by prayer 
 rejoicing in the opportunities, not thrust upon him, but sought 
 and found. Thus he organized many Presbyterian churches 
 which to-day stand as memorials of his wisdom and zeal. 
 There rises a vivid recollection of the small parlor in our mis- 
 sionary manse, where he and a brother beloved used to discuss 
 these interests and plan for aggressive work, not only on strictly 
 religious lines, but in all that would aid in lifting the banner 
 of morality, public order, and justice. There were no schools 
 in that new country, with its heterogeneous population, and 
 schemes for the uplifting and advancement of the young were 
 prominent in these discussions. 
 
 " Dr. Richardson often said that he was not gifted as a teacher ; 
 had it been so, he would, perhaps, have accepted one of the pro- 
 fessorships offered him by Princeton : but he could use what in- 
 fluence he possessed to aid the work of others. A few years 
 later he gave signal proof of the sincerity of his interest in plant- 
 ing religious educational institutions in the new West by his 
 generous sacrifice of personal interests in response to what 
 seemed to him a call of duty, as well as of devoted friendship. 
 To aid in establishing a first-class collegiate institute in Marengo, 
 Illinois, he left the East to go to the relief of his friend, over- 
 worked and deeply burdened by a great enterprise, with none 
 to help. 
 
 " None but those familiar with the conditions of a sparsely 
 settled new country, where money is scarce and ignorance 
 and indifference in the majority combine to render such 
 efforts discouraging, at times almost hopeless, can understand 
 the strength and nobility of the sacrifices made by the faithful, 
 prayerful, consecrated men who laid the foundations of the 
 moral and religious institutions which have been and ever will 
 
48 
 
 be benefactions of untold good, — often at the cost of health 
 and even life. 
 
 " In the above labor of Dr. Richardson a beautiful and rare 
 trait is illustrated, — tenacious and devoted friendship. Once 
 estabhshed, nothing could change its steadfastness. So marked 
 was this feeling between himself and the friend alluded to, the 
 Rev. Mr. George Goodhue, that they were playfully called 
 ' David and Jonathan,' as fair representatives of that immortal 
 pair." 
 
THE NEWBURYPORT PASTORATE. 
 
THE NEWBURYPORT PASTORATE. 
 
 REV. DR. RICHARDSON'S settlement over the Old 
 South Church in Newburyport was from April, 1864, 
 to October, 1868, — eventful years alike in the history of the 
 country and the church ; eventful also in the lives of some 
 individuals therein, as furnishing those silent influences which 
 mould character and control human destinies. 
 
 Coming to a church rich in historic associations, he was a 
 worthy successor of the eloquent divines who had preceded 
 him ; and this fact both his congregation and the city at large 
 were quick to appreciate. A Southern man by birth and educa- 
 tion, with that fervid intensity of nature which characterizes 
 those born in Southern latitudes ; transplanted to a New Eng- 
 land seaport with its shrewd, cool conservatism on all subjects, 
 — and as some have not hesitated to add, provincialism as 
 well, — it might have been expected that some elements of fel- 
 lowship and complete sympathy would have been lacking. But 
 such was not the case ; never did the New England character 
 find warmer appreciation ; and to the close of his life he always 
 declared : " I love to preach to Newburyport people. I have 
 nowhere found quicker intellects or warmer hearts than in 
 Newburyport." 
 
 During his ministry the old church was filled with such audi- 
 ences as it has rarely seen of late years, and some of his dis- 
 courses were listened to almost breathlessly as the words of 
 burning eloquence fell from his lips. Never, it seems to me, 
 
52 
 
 since the Master moved among men and spake as never man 
 spake, did such scathing condemnation of hypocrisy and deceit, 
 and evil in the garb of righteousness, and all vice and impurity, 
 fall from human lips ; while on the other hand, never was the 
 gospel more graciously presented, the sinner more tenderly 
 entreated, and the love of God in Jesus Christ more clearly 
 manifested. 
 
 The mid-week services were truly times of refreshing to 
 many souls. There were times when, discoursing of the glory 
 that was to be revealed, his face was almost transfigured, as if 
 he saw the heavens opened ; there were other times when the 
 burden of human souls seemed too great for him to bear, and 
 his unfulfilled desires for others were like a crushing weight. 
 With the keenest, tenderest sympathy, he bore the burdens and 
 sorrows of his people. In every sense a shepherd, it was signally 
 true of him that he went before his sheep. A sweeter lesson in 
 resignation could not be given than the pathetic patience and 
 fortitude with which he bore the loss of his beloved children, 
 when, in quickly repeated strokes of affliction, he was written 
 childless. With a heart quivering with anguish he went forth 
 to bind up other wounded hearts, and brought from the depths 
 of his own experience a balm for others. 
 
 Genial and friendly with all ; ever ready with a seasonable 
 word for every age, from the little child to the gray-headed 
 man or woman ; quick at repartee ; with a rich sense of humor, 
 yet never devoid of that quiet dignity which magnified his office 
 and made it honorable, — the tongue of slander was silenced in 
 his presence, and idle gossip found no place. 
 
 In the great national struggle of those days he was thoroughly 
 loyal to the Union ; and who that heard it can forget that mas- 
 terpiece of eloquence called forth by the death of our martyred 
 President in 1865. 
 
 The two sermons, also entitled "The Family Record," awak- 
 ened such responsive echoes in many hearts that the desire for 
 their pubhcation was unanimous ; and thus the circle of hearers 
 
53 
 
 was enlarged who could profit by those true and tender words 
 which set forth the sacred claims of the family relation which 
 prefigures the church above. The removal of a pastor so 
 tenderly loved was an occasion of deep regret both to the 
 church and the community, and his occasional visits in suc- 
 ceeding years have been welcomed with sincere pleasure. Once 
 more he has come back to us ; but the eloquent voice is silent 
 in death, and the eye which could flash fire has closed upon 
 earth. Two little graves, made long years before upon one of 
 the hillsides of our old town, had endeared the place to him as 
 no living associations could have done ; and here, in hope of a 
 joyful resurrection, shall peacefully rest our beloved and honored 
 dead. E. K. 
 
 During the time that Dr. Richardson was supplying the 
 pulpit of the church at Red Mills, N. Y., he enjoyed greatly 
 the society of his friend, the Rev. Mr. Goodhue, who had 
 been obliged to come East for his health, and who was settled 
 near him. The Rev. Dr. Lindsley, since well known for his 
 work on the Western coast, was also a near neighbor, and the 
 three ministers passed many pleasant hours together. Mr. 
 Goodhue died of consumption, after Dr. Richardson had been 
 living in Newburyport for some time, and his loss was most 
 keenly felt by his friend. 
 
 From Mr. Goodhue to Dr. Richardson. 
 
 1864. 
 
 It would do me much good to see you and talk over many 
 things with you. If my health should improve between this and 
 fall, I shall probably go to some other climate ; but I feel that all 
 is uncertain as to myself, and that I am entirely in God's hands. 
 
 Your expressions of love and sympathy have much affected me. 
 I have ever appreciated your love and friendship, but never so 
 much as now. And it has led me to reflect how strong and tender 
 must be the love of God, and what abundant reason I have for 
 trusting myself and all my interests to it, whether it be for life or 
 death. 
 
54 
 
 The children who died during Dr. Richardson's Newburyport 
 pastorate were both victims of the same disease, and died within 
 ten days of each other. The following extracts are from letters 
 received at this time : — 
 
 " You will not think me unmindful of you, or this your great 
 sorrow; but I know that you had all the assistance that you needed, 
 and feared that even a personal inquiry at your door might disturb 
 your darling or increase your care. But you will allow me through 
 this medium to assure you of my heartfelt sympathy in this desolat- 
 ing, but for the grace of God overwhelming, affliction. . . . The 
 hearts of your people are all throbbing in sympathy with you to- 
 day. ... If I can assist you in any way in the care of your darling 
 boy, whether by night or day, I shall be most happy to do so." 
 
 " How I long to sit down and weep with you, for words are noth- 
 ing, — often more than nothing at such a time. We have heard so 
 much of Thera's loveliness that we feel more fully what a loss you 
 have sustained. . . . You spoke of Allie's extreme illness ; but we 
 cannot accept the possibility of such a thing as his death. He will 
 be spared you, I feel confident ; but we shall feel very anxious to 
 hear immediately in regard to his health." 
 
 " It is hard to realize that I shall see little Thera no more, — no 
 more here. She had insensibly won upon me to an unusual degree. 
 At Newburyport, — where, owing to the state of my health, I could 
 not compel myself to be interested in anything, notwithstanding 
 your hospitable efforts, — she made sunlight for me ; and her deli- 
 cate beauty, sweet expression, and winning ways fascinated me. All 
 this has passed through my mind many times since I received 
 your letter. I do not forget that she was a little child, nor that 
 God diffuses His idea of loveliness and beauty often through 
 tiny forms." 
 
 " I cannot realize that the dear child who at our house a few 
 weeks ago seemed so well and happy, and flitted about with such 
 a sweet and gentle grace, is gone to return no more." 
 
 " I know not when I have received so severe a shock as this short 
 note gave me, — simply containing the brief notice that that little, 
 bright, beautiful thing of life and joy, that was only three short 
 weeks before with us, is no more of earth. . . . You have often- 
 
55 
 
 times been called to impart comfort and consolation to those in 
 similar condition with yourself. The words of comfort you have 
 so often spoken to others now come to you. ... I feel exceedingly 
 anxious to hear from you again, to know that Allie is out of danger. 
 Do write me at once, if possible." 
 
 " Dear little Thera ! Do you remember taking me in to see her 
 the night we reached Newburyport ? She was fast asleep. We did 
 not think as we stood and looked at her then that those little eyes 
 were so soon to be closed forever here. You speak of my having 
 lately seen her. It is very gratifying to us that we were enabled to 
 be with you even for so short a visit. That little fair face with its 
 golden hair and blue eyes seemed like a picture ; and is it not 
 hard to believe she has gone? Truly it will be one of the little 
 graves that will cast a ' long, long shadow.' And then you say 
 that AUie, too, is dangerously ill. Oh, if it is entirely His will, may 
 he be spared to you ! " 
 
 " How pleasant is my remembrance of Thera ! I remember so 
 well her sitting at the window with me, so full of childish glee, and 
 with such winning ways. Now I think of her spirit as being with 
 her Saviour, and of her fair form resting in that beautiful spot near 
 her earthly home, ' until the day break, and the shadows flee 
 away.' " 
 
 " I cannot tell you how sad we all were in reading your note of 
 yesterday. They could be separated but a short time, because they 
 were needful to each other. Would you have them separated?" 
 
 " I can hardly tell you how deeply I sympathize with you. Your 
 children were very lovely, — and I know how tenderly you loved 
 them. . . . Give my love to Mr. Richardson, and my warmest 
 sympathy. He was a most devoted and tender father to his children, 
 and he made them very happy." 
 
 " I cannot express to you how much we feel for you and your 
 wife in this sad bereavement. I have thought much since the 
 receipt of your letter of the friendship that existed between my 
 Georgie and your Allie, — a friendship that was remarkable for 
 their years. How happy they were together, and how pleasantly 
 they played, without an unkind word to mar their intercourse ! 
 Have we not reason to hope that that intercourse is now renewed. 
 
56 
 
 and that if we could see them now, we should see them both 
 together with their blessed Saviour, in the full fruition of His love? 
 ... I know how much you will feel this loss of Allie, who was 
 your constant companion; but I have confidence that He who has 
 wounded will also heal. 
 
 " It is a great disappointment and grief to me that I cannot 
 again see those dear children. Every one who has seen them 
 speaks so fondly of them. Their grandfather seems to feel their 
 death very much; frequently he alludes to their singing so sweetly, 
 and to their many winning ways. 
 
 ' Around the throne of God in heaven 
 Thousands of children stand.' 
 
 Is it not a delightful thought that they are safe with Jesus there, 
 and that the troubles of this world cannot harm them ? Give much 
 love to Mr. Richardsqn. He loved his children so tenderly ! may 
 the love of Jesus comfort his heart ! " 
 
 From a Letter of Dr. Richardson to his Wife. 
 
 I enclose a letter from S. received this morning. The verses 
 which she sends are very touching, and have made me shed many 
 tears, — not altogether of sorrow, for I think of the joy unspeakable 
 when the little ones shall leap up to welcome us when we get home. 
 It is harder for us to wait outside the gate than for them within ; 
 but it will soon be past, and then we can clasp them in our arms 
 and never let them go again : — 
 
 WAITING AT THE GATE. 
 
 It was a summer morning, long ago, 
 
 When two of my own kindred left their child 
 
 To be my guest till eve. 
 
 I loved the boy ; for none could see his face and love him not. 
 
 His lofty, blue-veined brow the golden locks 
 
 Encircled like a crown ; and from his eyes, 
 
 Blue as the heaven of that midsummer day. 
 
 Shone out a soul like the beloved John's, — 
 
 As he were born to some high destiny. 
 
 The roses were in bloom, the grass was green. 
 
 And from the vine-crowned porch we two went forth — 
 
 The child and I — to pass the day abroad ; 
 
 To wander unconstrained beneath the trees ; 
 
57 
 
 To roam the garden, visit all the flowers, 
 
 Peep into bird's-nests, chase the butterflies, 
 
 Or, wearied, to lie down upon the grass 
 
 And watch the sunshine through the maple boughs. 
 
 And thus the happy day had almost passed. 
 
 When, lying there in pleasant revery, 
 
 The boy was for a little while forgot; 
 
 Waking to consciousness, I found him gone. 
 
 In anxious haste I rose, and roaming round 
 
 Among the shrubs and trees that most he loved. 
 
 At length I found my charge beside the gate. 
 
 Yes, there he waiting lay, I knew for whom, — 
 
 His father and his mother, best beloved. 
 
 The sun declining shed its warm, bright rays 
 
 Full on his angel face and golden hair ; 
 
 And there he lay and stirred not, till at last 
 
 Across the village green their shadows fell, — 
 
 Which quite restored his sunshine. Up he sprang, 
 
 And with a shout of gladness welcomed them. 
 
 I said 't was long ago ; and years have passed 
 
 .Since the dear eyes, that were so lustrous then. 
 
 Were quenched in night. There is a little grave 
 
 Where he and one sweet sister, side by side. 
 
 Near the great ocean with its swells and falls. 
 
 Sleep on, nor waken to each other's kiss ; 
 
 And other children fill their parents' home, — 
 
 Their home no more. But in my dreams of heaven 
 
 Full oft I see the child so much beloved 
 
 Waiting beside " the ever-during gate." 
 
 No light of sun or star falls on him there. 
 
 But the divine effulgence. There he lies. 
 
 In gleam of jasper, amethyst, and pearl. 
 
 As lovely as the seraph nearest Christ, 
 
 With sweet celestial music in his ears. 
 
 Waiting till death, which severed, shall restore. 
 
 We talk of happiness beneath the sun. 
 
 When the long parted clasp each other's hands, 
 
 And sit together by their household fire ; 
 
 But who shall speak or dream of ecstasy. 
 
 Save those who meet inside the gates of pearl, 
 
 Where sin defiles and tears are shed no more ! 
 
58 
 
 From Mr. Goodhue's Last Letter to Dr. Richardson. 
 
 1865. 
 
 My time is undoubtedly short. Of course at this stage of the 
 disease it is hard to say how short ; but there are indications that 
 my life can now be numbered by a few weeks (if not days). I am 
 quite comfortable. I enjoy much peace of mind, especially at times. 
 Heaven seems bright and glorious. The prospect of being freed 
 from all corruption, and of being admitted to the enjoyment of our 
 blessed Saviour, fills me with joy unspeakable. ... I have not 
 much trouble in giving up this world. My dear wife and little 
 ones lie very near to my heart, — especially my wife, — but I do 
 not suffer myself to dwell much upon the sundering of these 
 earthly ties. I rather wish to think of these earthly friendships 
 as only interrupted for a short time, to be renewed forever in 
 heaven. 
 
 It is thus that I desire to think of that love that has existed 
 between us. Your friendship has been a bright ray of sunshine 
 for many j'ears. It has been so kind, unselfish, and constant. May 
 we not indulge the hope that it is a Christian love, that it is to be 
 continued hereafter, purified, intensified, and subordinated to the 
 supreme love to God. Oh, I trust it will be so ! You have passed 
 through severe afflictions, and many more may await you; but how 
 true it is that they are but for a moment, and light in comparison 
 to all of this future glory and felicity. 
 
 I felt like writing to you these few lines, not knowing how long 
 I may be able. I find a strong desire to see your face again in 
 this world, but God knows what is best, and will order all things 
 well. 
 
THE TRENTON PASTORATE. 
 
THE TRENTON PASTORATE. 
 
 SKETCHES BY TRENTON FRIENDS. 
 
 OUR dear Dr. Richardson was so many sided a man that only 
 a full biography could at all unfold his character. Of noble 
 lineage, spirited as a knightly cavalier, a genius by birth, a scholar 
 and writer by culture, a Christian minister by the most resistless 
 convictions, he presented a rare combination of qualities. 
 
 I only venture to speak of him as a preacher and as a lover 
 of the young. It was my privilege to sit under his ministry 
 when a long experience in written discourse had perfected 
 his logical and illustrative methods, chastened his style into its 
 most polished structure, and given to his elocution the force and 
 fitness of natural delivery cultivated into exquisite adaptation to 
 the words he was uttering and the truths he was enforcing. He 
 now for the first time seems to have realized a capacity for 
 extempore speech, — if the product of such training or the 
 untrammelled expression of the general content of such writing 
 can be called extempore at all. His discourse took on new 
 vigor and his rare eloquence new power. Those who had 
 heard him with such pleasure and profit before, now wondered 
 in surprise, not less than those who had become more recently 
 his hearers. Apparently with no ambitions outside of his parish, 
 he was seldom heard except from his own pulpit. I do not 
 hesitate to affirm that there were few pulpits in the land that 
 witnessed such sustained power. From the luxurious vintage 
 
62 
 
 we recall here and there a sermon which will serve as a type. 
 One day he read as his text part of a chapter containing the 
 various names of those to whom Paul sent salutations, and then, 
 in a sermon on Christian fellowship, he made name after name 
 to glow with grace and grandeur. It seemed as if the goodly 
 company of the saints had assembled, and as if Paul, by his 
 lips, declared and manifested the love of love, — the fervent 
 fellowship of Christianity. 
 
 On another occasion, on the oft-chosen theme of the Garden 
 and the Crucifixion, he reproduced the scene, presented the 
 argument, and reached his conclusions with such pervasive elo- 
 quence, that although he spoke for seventy-five minutes, many 
 of his audience were as oblivious as himself to the lapse of time. 
 
 He loved occasionally to preach at the asylum for the insane, 
 and with his calm, impressive manner to unfold and instil the 
 precious truths and consolations of the gospel. Once as he 
 finished, a patient stepped rapidly and politely forward, and 
 said, " Sir, has Jesus Christ secured you as His attorney?" An 
 advocate with the Father was evidently the pressing thought of 
 the hearer. 
 
 As to his interest in the young, all were familiar with it in the 
 Sabbath school. A good woman in humble life, anxious for her 
 growing sons, said to me some time after he left us, " Oh, how 
 I feel the need of him to help me look after my boys ! " 
 
 He cherished a lively interest in the pupils of the State 
 Normal School, and in organizing their several Bible classes 
 that met in the church on Sabbath mornings. His labors in 
 this direction were much blessed, and it was noticeable how 
 many of the scholars from successive classes united with the 
 church during his ministry. 
 
 He parted from us with rare forecast and planning for our 
 future welfare, and with twofold cords of pastoral and personal 
 regard still binding him to our hearts and to our memories. 
 
63 
 
 Dr. Richardson felt his pastorate in Trenton to be especially 
 important because of the large number of young people in his 
 congregation, many of whom were drawn to the city by reason 
 of the State schools. With the teachers of these schools he 
 cordially co-operated in all that would make their work effi- 
 cient, and greatly aided them in stimulating the mental and 
 moral energies of their pupils. Most of these pupils were 
 being trained for teachers, and would in their turn mould other 
 minds. He welcomed them to his church and to his pleasant 
 home, interested himself in their social life, gathered them into 
 his Bible class, and made himself personally acquainted with 
 them all. It is the pleasure of many to look back to days when, 
 for the first time away from home, and surrounded by new faces, 
 all loneliness was dispelled by the pastor's timely visit and kind 
 greeting ; and those who were far from their own kindred will 
 long remember his hospitality at holiday seasons. That hos- 
 pitality was further exercised in times when greatly needed. 
 One can tell of being left lonely in the large boarding-house 
 because a contagious disease had broken out, sending others to 
 their homes for safety. She — an orphan, and fearing the only 
 relatives to whom she could go might hesitate to receive her 
 with risks of infection — was sought out and cordially welcomed 
 to the parsonage. Another, to whom came tidings of the sudden 
 death of her widowed mother in her distant Southern home, 
 found in the same parsonage for years the care and love 
 which helped her to bear her great loss, and which eventually 
 made of a thoughtless child an earnest, efficient Christian 
 woman. 
 
 Numberless instances might be given to show the deep interest 
 Dr. Richardson took in these students. Often as they passed be- 
 fore his study windows, or filled to overflowing his church and 
 Sunday school, he was moved almost to tears at thoughts of 
 the possibilities of their lives ; and that they might be fitted 
 to meet responsibilities well, he labored untiringly. At almost 
 every communion he received some of them into the member- 
 
64 
 
 ship of his church ; and long after they had passed from under 
 his care, he watched their spiritual growth, giving them, as 
 occasion offered, counsel and help. Some of them are now, 
 as teachers, exerting a wide influence. Some in other fields 
 are earnest Christian workers, and some whom he first led to 
 the Lord's table are now with him in the heavenly mansions, 
 among the blessed " which are called unto the marriage supper 
 of the Lamb." 
 
 Dr. Richardson's home life occupied a very large place in his 
 affections and interests, and he was to an unusual degree capa- 
 ble of making the lives of those who were privileged to share 
 the home with him, happier and more useful. If he was obliged 
 to be away from his family at any time, it was a rare thing for 
 a day to pass in which he did not write to them ; and these 
 letters, now so carefully treasured, are full of expressions of his 
 love and tenderness. A few extracts from letters to his wife 
 may not be out of place in this sketch : — 
 
 " But how many pleasant features there are in pastoral life ; and 
 especially how many precious friendships it enables one to form ! 
 I am more obliged to the dear family you speak of, and to others, 
 for their kindness than I can possibly express." 
 
 " Now I must say good-by. I love you dearly, and my eyes fill 
 with tears as I look at your picture as it liangs above the mantel, 
 and think how poorly I have repaid your wifely love and devotion 
 through all these years of our wedded life. I want to be a better 
 husband and father than I have ever been, — more gentle, patient, 
 thoughtful, and sympathizing ; and I pray for divine help that I 
 may so be." 
 
 " I have now been absent from you a whole week, and can say 
 that next week I hope to be at home again. That seems to bring 
 it a little nearer, does it not .'' I am just as anxious to be with you 
 as possible, — think of you, long for you every moment." 
 
 September 7, 1886. 
 My Dearest Wife, — I am not forgetting that thirty-three 
 years ago to-day I had the privilege of addressing you by this title; 
 neither do I forget that through all these intervening years you 
 
65 
 
 have more than fulfilled all that this title implies, and more than 
 myenthusiastic love anticipated. Nor do I forget that, much as that 
 title meant on that day, it means more this day ; and if there were 
 any degree beyond the superlative " dearest," I would use it in the 
 present address. . . . Once more accept my thanks for tiiree and 
 thirty years of love and wifely devotion, and extend your pardon 
 for all that I have been or done to show myself unworthy of it. 
 
 Some fathers are more or less strangers to their children ; but 
 he was never too tired or busy to listen to all their plans, to 
 help them in their studies, or to enter into their amusements. 
 Even when he was writing his sermons the children were allowed 
 to play in a corner of his study, or to sit there and read ; and 
 when their father went about his parish on his frequent visits to 
 his people, one child or the other generally held his hand and 
 trotted along beside him. 
 
 In all the families where these calls led him his welcome was 
 always warm and affectionate. Especially was he received with 
 delight among the poor and unfortunate of his flock ; and how 
 much they appreciated the visit I His manners, elegant and 
 courtly, were equally adapted to adorn the choicest society or 
 to please the most ignorant. Once, when calling on a lady, 
 he omitted to send up his card; and the maid reported to her 
 mistress, "Such a grand gentleman, ma'am, wants to see you." 
 
 He certainly had an uncommon facility for suiting his con- 
 versation to any hearer. A young man, in speaking of him 
 some years after the interview to which he referred, said : " He 
 was awfully interesting." 
 
 Dr. Richardson was an enthusiastic lover of Nature, and very 
 much devoted to the study of trees, birds, and animals. He 
 was extremely fond of gunning and fishing, and for many years 
 always took a trip to the West in the fall, where, with the true 
 sportsman's ardor, he tramped over the prairies in search of game. 
 He said once that Esau was one of his favorite Biblical char- 
 acters, because " he was a mighty hunter ; " and he was fond of 
 telling his friends that he loved preaching and gunning better 
 
 9 
 
66 
 
 than any other occupations. During his last iUness he said 
 longingly, " How I wish I might have one more good hunt 
 before I die ! " 
 
 He greatly enjoyed books that related to these favorite sports 
 of his, and read all of Cooper's " Leatherstocking Tales " two 
 or three times a year. 
 
 He was a cultivated musician, and inherited from his father, 
 who sang with great pathos and power, an unusually correct ear, 
 and a fine, true voice. He was very anxious that his children 
 should be well trained musically ; and he taught them to read 
 notes, even before a printed page contained much meaning for 
 them. He always played the accompaniments for the hymns 
 which he delighted to sing at family prayers ; and often in an 
 evening meeting he led the singing. He knew a great deal 
 about church music, and it was for years a cherished scheme 
 of his to pubhsh a hymn book containing nothing but good 
 music. 
 
 Dr. Richardson also had an extensive collection of quaint 
 old songs and ballads, and enjoyed singing them, especially to 
 his children. In the morning he nearly always seated himself 
 at the piano while he waited for breakfast ; and it is a pleasant 
 picture which his family recall, — that of seeing him bending 
 over the keys, and filling the house with melody, even at the 
 beginning of the day. 
 
 His chief delight in music, however, was in the works of the 
 great composers ; and he held Beethoven in almost reverential 
 love and admiration. Nothing pleased him more than to have 
 some friend play the master's sonatas for him ; and whenever 
 he was able to enjoy the privilege, he listened entranced to a 
 symphony or an oratorio. The changes in musical matters 
 during the past thirty years interested him deeply, and he 
 was fully in sympathy with many things in the works of more 
 recent composers. 
 
 Of beauty in all its manifestations, whether in poetry, paint- 
 ing, music, or in nature, he was a sincere admirer and a thor- 
 
67 
 
 oughly appreciative student. Surely, to a nature thus constituted, 
 the celestial music, the glorious visions, and the " fadeless green 
 of paradise " must bring wonderful peace and happiness. 
 
 No wonder that Dr. Richardson endeared himself to all 
 hearts. The little children in the infant school of his Trenton 
 church used to watch for him to enter their room on Sunday 
 afternoons, and it was a common occurrence for them to bring 
 him flowers, which often they had watched and tended solely 
 for the " Doctor." One Sunday he was greatly touched by this 
 little act of one of them : As he walked up the aisle of the 
 infant schoolroom, a small girl who sat at the end of the pew 
 seized his hand, and holding it a moment, affectionately kissed 
 it, much to his surprise and pleasure. 
 
 From the Miiuctes of the Session of the First Presbyterian 
 Church of Trenton, N.f. 
 
 The Session of the First Presbyterian Church of Trenton de- 
 sire to record their deep and abiding sense of the faithful and effi- 
 cient service rendered to them and to the church by the Rev. Dr. 
 Richardson during the vacant pastorate from the resignation of 
 Dr. Hall to the installation of Mr. Dixon. 
 
 The able and instructive discourse and the touching words of 
 Dr. Richardson on declaring vacant the pulpit oE this church ; his 
 prompt and constant attendance as moderator upon the meetings 
 of the Session; his wise suggestions and prudent counsels in our de- 
 liberations, — entitle him to our warmest gratitude, and have greatly 
 increased and strengthened our esteem and respect, long before 
 so deeply entertained for him. 
 
 This Session heartily recognizes the great obligations Dr. Rich- 
 ardson has laid us under, and in grateful appreciation thereof, for 
 ourselves and in behalf of the church, we extend to him our 
 warmest thanks, the assurances of our most respectful considera- 
 tion, and our most earnest wishes for his health and happiness. 
 
 Resolved, That a copy of these minutes be sent to Dr. Rich- 
 ardson by the clerk of the Session. 
 
 Hugh H. Hamill, 
 
 Clerk of the Session of the First 
 
 Presbyterian Church, Tre titan, N.f. 
 27 October, 1S84. 
 
68 
 
 Rev. Dr. Richardson's Retirement (1887). 
 
 At a meeting of the congregation of the Fourth Presbyterian 
 Church, held on the evening of the 9th instant, the following 
 resolutions were adopted : — 
 
 Whereas, this congregation has heard from Rev. Dr. Richard- 
 son tliis evening a statement of the reasons which in his judgment 
 make it necessary for him to tender his resignation as pastor of 
 this church; therefore, 
 
 Resolved, That we have received the announcement of his pur- 
 pose with the most profound regret. 
 
 Resolved, That it is with no mere customary expression of 
 sorrow that we recognize the fact that the necessity for rest after 
 his long and continuous service in the ministry will not permit him 
 to continue a pastorate which, for almost nineteen years, has been 
 distinguished by an unceasing devotion to the Master's cause, by 
 the most earnest interest in and anxious solicitude for the spiritual 
 welfare of his congregation, by a faithful and unfaltering exposition 
 of Divine truth, by rare eloquence and conspicuous ability in the 
 pulpit, by wisdom and prudence and charity in his daily walk and 
 conversation and in all his intercourse and relations with his peo- 
 ple, and by warm Christian sympathy in the hour of our sorrow 
 and afHiction. 
 
 Resolved, That it is with unfeigned sorrow that we feel con- 
 strained by a sense of duty to our pastor to yield our consent to 
 join with him in his request to Presbytery for a dissolution of his 
 pastoral relation with this church; we do so under the conviction 
 that he has prayerfully considered the step he has taken, and has 
 been guided by Divine wisdom in the resolution he has formed. 
 
 Resolved, That we will cherish him in memory, not only as a 
 faithful and beloved pastor, but also as a personal friend and 
 Christian brother; and that in his separation from us he will bear 
 with him the esteem and love of this entire congregation and 
 people, which he has so worthily won and so firmly retained ; and 
 that we will ever be ready to welcome him to our hearts and homes. 
 
 Resolved, That a copy of these resolutions be furnislied to our 
 pastor, and a copy be also presented to Presbytery. 
 
69 
 
 Resolutions on Dr. Richardson's Resignation in Trenton. 
 
 Whereas, at a called meeting of the Session of the Fourth 
 Presbyterian Church on Wednesday evening, April 27th, 1887, our 
 beloved pastor, Rev. Dr. Richardson, tendered his resignation, to 
 our surprise and regret; and whereas for nearly nineteen years he 
 has so faithfully ministered to us in word and doctrine, going in 
 and out before us, breaking to us the bread of life, never failing to 
 declare the whole counsel of God ; his earnest desire has been 
 to have men accept Christ as the Saviour of sinners ; he has 
 presented the great cardinal doctrines of the Bible with distinctive 
 clearness, as formulated in the Westminster Confession ; as a 
 Session we can testify that no uncertain sound has emanated from 
 this pulpit, but that the great doctrines of the Bible have been pre- 
 sented with a fearlessness that convinces of their importance and 
 his faithfulness as a minister of the gospel. 
 
 And whereas, by his great kindness and gentleness he has 
 endeared himself to us ; more especially have we been turned to 
 him as our pastor, for he has baptized our children, stood at the 
 altar and united them in holy matrimony, ministered to our sick 
 and suffering, buried our dead, comforted and consoled us in our 
 bereavements, commending us all to the spirit of God's grace and 
 mercy ; therefore, 
 
 Resolved, That in severing this connection so long and so peace- 
 ful, we as a Session desire to bear our testimony to his uniform kind- 
 ness and our great love for him who has borne our shortcomings 
 with such great Christian consideration. 
 
 Resolved, That wherever God in His mercy may cast his lot, 
 our prayer shall follow him that his days may be prolonged, that 
 his life and health may be spared, that he may be permitted to tell 
 his dying fellovvmen of the unsearchable riches of Christ and com- 
 mend them to Jesus the mediator of the new covenant. 
 
 Resolved, That we bow in humble submission to this dispensa- 
 tion that separates us from our beloved pastor whom we have 
 known so long and loved so well. 
 
 A. A. Hutchinson. 
 Wm. D. Sinclair. 
 R. L. Hutchinson. 
 C. S. Cook. 
 A. C. Apgar. 
 
70 
 
 Ffom a Member of the T}-e?iton Church at the Tune of his 
 Resignaiioji. 
 
 My very dear Pastor, — I cannot express to you my surprise 
 and grief when I heard last night of your proposition. Can you 
 not reconsider the matter? ... I have most earnestly wished and 
 hoped that we (my husband and I) might never be obliged to 
 transfer the endearing name of pastor to another. Perhaps I am 
 too selfish in this. I know that your labors are arduous, and that 
 your health is not perfect. I suppose my keenest appreciation of 
 the constant cares, anxieties, and sympathies of a faithful pastor do 
 not reach a hundredth part of the reality. I hope we may all be 
 guided aright by a kind and unerring Providence. 
 
 Whatever may be your decision, I shall never cease to be deeply 
 grateful that I have so long enjoyed your ministrations and your 
 friendship. 
 
 Frofji Letters written during the Trenton Pastorate, when 
 Dr. Richardson was dangerously ill. 
 
 My dear Pastor, — I am looking back with pleasure to the 
 days when I could see you and talk with you, and forward with 
 longing to the time when I shall see you in the accustomed 
 places. . . . Wherever I go, the first question from whomever I 
 meet is concerning the health of my dear pastor. So many say they 
 don't " know how to wait ;" they long to see and hear you. So 
 you see that the loneliness and pain and longing for your restora- 
 tion are not all yours. And how earnest and constant are the 
 prayers for you, in the church, and at the family altar, and in the 
 closet ! . . . We owe you more than we can express. You have 
 given us those things which cannot be taken from us, — greater 
 knowledge of and love for the best things, and bright examples. 
 
 I hope we may not be presumptuous or officious ; but we desire 
 to prove our affection by any means in our power. 
 
 With love to the shepherdess, and honor and love for yourself. 
 Yours in sincerity, 
 
 " We miss your kindly, comforting presence so constantly that 
 we find it hard to ' count it all joy, and in everything give thanks.' 
 . . . We oftentimes find it a difficult duty just to leave you in the 
 Lord's hands and patiently wait His time; and yet our only real 
 comfort is the consciousness that you (and we all) are in His faith- 
 
71 
 
 ful keeping, and that He will send us every blessing just at the right 
 time. I wish so much, dear doctor, that I knew how to write some 
 comforting thoughts which might prove ' a word in season to one 
 who is weary.' " 
 
 " I know that the words of sweet comfort and promise which 
 you have so often spoken to others, and which have made you so 
 precious to us all, were not unmeaning words to you, but tried 
 ones, and that the dear Lord will bring all things to your remem- 
 brance, according to your need." 
 
 Dear Pastor, — We desire to express to you our sympathy 
 in your illness, feeling that your trials are ours, even as you have 
 made our trials yours in days past. We appreciate your faithful 
 and loving labors among your people, and we earnestly desire to 
 see you restored to health and strength. Believing that complete 
 rest from pastoral duty will contribute to this end, with your con- 
 sent we will be glad to attend to supplying the pulpit for the next 
 two months. 
 
 Yours truly and affectionately, 
 
 Elias Cook, ^ 
 
 B. Van Syckel, | ^« ^f^^^'f 
 
 Wm. W. L. Phillips, 
 
 Charles Brearley, 
 
 A. A. Hutchinson, 
 
 of the 
 
 Officers of 
 
 the Church. 
 
 A Letter to his Trenton Physician. 
 
 20 East 32D Street, New York, 
 Dec. 21, 1S91. 
 
 My dear Friend, — I send my Christmas greetings in time, so 
 that you will be sure to have them when the Advent morning 
 comes. I wish that I could have some more substantial blessing 
 to greet you with, every morning of the year when you come down 
 from your nightly rest ; but after all, words and wishes are far 
 from valueless. A word spoken in season, how good is it ! We 
 have the wise man's authority for that, and we have the testimony 
 of our own experience. How often have we found richest blessing 
 in a good word spoken to ourselves at the right time, or spoken by 
 ourselves to some other to whom the kindly voice came as balm 
 in sickness, strength in weakness, comfort in sorrow, hope and 
 courage in despondency ! I should like to say such word to you 
 
72 
 
 and yours as would be all this. At least I can wish it, and so 
 I do. 
 
 I have been made very sorry by learning, a few days ago, that 
 you were suffering from what I trust will be only a temporary dis- 
 ablement of one of your hands. Well, that is a great misfortune ; 
 but if that hand could but think and speak, what a host of recollec- 
 tions it could recall, and what a story it would have to tell of the 
 times it has administered relief to the suffering, lifted from the bed 
 of sickness to healthful activity, rescued life from impending death! 
 But you can think for it, and the thinking, I am sure, ought to make 
 you very happy in the remembrance of all it has done. Certainly I 
 have reason for grateful remembrance of what it has done for me. 
 I easily recall the many times I have waited for your coming, and 
 how thankfully I accepted its kindly service. It is given to but 
 few men of any other profession than yours to indulge in such 
 pleasant retrospections. I can but hope that this service may long 
 be continued; but if it should not, be grateful for the past. The 
 time is drawing rapidly near to you and to me — and these anni- 
 versaries remind us very forcibly of it — when all disabilities shall 
 be removed, and when we shall have no more suffering nor sick- 
 ness ourselves, and no need to offer service of help and healing to 
 others. The dear Lord whose birth we celebrate will then have 
 healed all our infirmities and renewed our youth, and from His 
 presence we shall go no more out thenceforth and forever. Much 
 love from all with me to all with you. 
 
 Affectionately yours, 
 
 R. H. Richardson. 
 
FUNERAL SERVICES AND PUBLIC 
 TRIBUTES. 
 
FUNERAL SERVICES AND PUBLIC 
 TRIBUTES. 
 
 Services at Bayhead. 
 
 A SIMPLE funeral service was held at Bayhead at noon, on 
 Thursday, June i6. Father's old friend, the Rev. Dr. Gosman, 
 of Lavvrenceville, N. J., conducted it, assisted by Rev. Mr. 
 Armstrong and Dr. Studdiford, of Trenton. The service was 
 just what father would have liked, I think, — unostentatious, and 
 simple. The day was beautiful, and in the parlor where he lay 
 the air was sweet with the sea breeze which came through the 
 open windows, and with the odor of the magnolias. A large 
 bunch of these flowers was laid on the coffin, and there was 
 one lovely bud in his hand. A great many of his old friends 
 and parishioners came from out of town, and all the kind 
 neighbors at Bayhead came to look their last on the man who 
 was universally respected and loved. Among these were a 
 number of the fishermen and boatmen, in whom father had 
 always taken a great interest, and who felt for him a deep regard 
 and affection. Six of these men carried him out of the home 
 which had been so pleasant, and as tenderly as possible Hfted 
 the coffin which contained all that was mortal of their kind 
 friend. They seemed to feel greatly honored at being able to 
 perform this la^^t service, and I know that father himself would 
 rather have had them than any one else. 
 
 Some of our friends very kindly helped us with the singing, 
 and the two hymns which were sung were two which father 
 particularly liked, and which he often repeated during his ill- 
 
76 
 
 ness, — part of Bernard's beautiful hymn, beginning with the 
 
 verse, 
 
 " Brief life is here our portion," 
 and 
 
 " Forever with the Lord." 
 
 m 
 
 After the singing of the first hymn Mr. Armstrong read selec- 
 tions from the Bible, beginning with the words, " And I heard 
 a voice from heaven saying unto me, Write, Blessed are the dead 
 which die in the Lord from henceforth : Yea, saith the Spirit, 
 that they may rest from their labors ; and their works do follow 
 them." 
 
 Then Dr. Gosman gave a brief sketch of father's life and 
 work, speaking of his ability as a preacher, of his scholarly 
 attainments, and of the amount of good which he had been 
 enabled to accomplish. He told of his great interest in his 
 people, and of the close ties which bound together pastor and 
 people in the various parishes to which he had ministered. He 
 paid a beautiful tribute to his devotion to his home and family, 
 and to his affectionate, unselfish character, manifesting itself in 
 all the relations of life. He gave no elaborate eulogy, for none 
 was needed. To the faithful servant of the Master the reward 
 and the crown of his labor had been given already, when the 
 heavenly gates had opened to let him in. 
 
 Dr. Gosman's loving and appreciative words were appro- 
 priately followed by Dr. Studdiford's beautiful prayer, which 
 contained great comfort and peace for those who heard it ; and 
 after the prayer Dr. Gosman, in accordance with a request of 
 father's made not long before he died, read one of his favorite 
 poems, " The Sleep," by Mrs. Browning. How often we have 
 heard him repeat these two verses : — 
 
 " ' Sleep soft, beloved ! ' we sometimes say, 
 But have no tune to charm away 
 Sad dreams that through the eyelids creep ; 
 But never doleful dream again 
 Shall break the happy slumber when 
 He giveth His beloved sleep. 
 
n 
 
 " And friends, dear friends, when it shall be 
 That this low breath is gone from me, 
 And round my bier ye come to weep. 
 Let one most loving of you all 
 Say, ' Not a tear must o'er him fall ! 
 He giveth His beloved sleep.' " 
 
 Dr. Gosman's benediction brought the short service to a 
 close. Then the quiet face, with its expression of great peace 
 and happiness, was hidden from our sight, and the fishermen 
 reverently and tenderly lifted the coffin which held all that was 
 mortal of the dear master of the house, and sofdy carried him 
 out to complete the last stage of his journey. 
 
 Services at Newburyport, 
 
 In 1876, during a long and suffering illness, Dr. Richardson 
 said one day, " When I die I would like to be carried to New- 
 buryport and laid beside the children." Through the watchful 
 care of the good physician, and by the blessing of God, he was 
 spared nearly sixteen years longer, but the promise was given ; 
 indeed, no other place could have been thought of. The 
 precious plot of ground at the end of the "Evergreen Path" 
 was a dear and sacred place. The little graves with the one 
 headstone tell the story. 
 
 Christ the tender shepherd is standing with one lamb in His 
 arms and another by His side. The inscription reads : — 
 
 " AND he took them UP IN HIS ARMS," 
 " THE PROMISE IS UNTO YOU AND TO YOUR CHILDREN." 
 
 The cemetery is one of the loveliest in New England. Look- 
 ing eastward, one gets a glimpse of the distant sea. In summer 
 it is a garden of flowers, and the birds sing joyfully among the 
 trees. 
 
 On that beautiful day last June a group of mourning friends 
 and former parishioners stood around an empty grave, into 
 which was laid with tender care, and by loving hands, the 
 
7S 
 
 weary pastor who had come home to sleep " until the day 
 break, and the shadows flee away." 
 
 " Rest, weary head ! 
 Lie down to slumber in the peaceful tomb ; 
 Light from above has broken through its gloom. 
 Here in the place where once thy Saviour lay, 
 Where He shall wake thee on a distant day, 
 Like a tired child upon its mother's breast, 
 Rest, sweetly rest! 
 
 " Rest, spirit free ! 
 In the green pastures of the heavenly shore, 
 Where sin and sorrow can approach no more, 
 With all the flock by the Good Shepherd fed, 
 Beside the streams of life eternal led, 
 Forever with thy God and Saviour blest, 
 Rest, sweetly rest." 
 
 Extract from A^e^vburyport Paper. 
 
 Amid the swaying of leaves, surrounded by the beauty of a typical 
 June day, with tried and loving friends gathered and the nearest of 
 kindred assembled around the open grave, was committed to the 
 keeping of the "faithful tomb" in Oak Hill Cemetery on Friday 
 noon all that was mortal of the Rev. Dr. R. H. Richardson. The 
 services were conducted by Rev. IVIr. Sinclair, — a successor of the 
 deceased to the Old South pulpit, — and consisted of an invocation, 
 reading of Scriptural selections, prayer, and the final committal 
 service of " Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust." The 
 pall-bearers consisted of Deacon Eben Rolfe, Elders Eben Smith 
 and C. M. Pritchard, — representing the Old South Courch, — and 
 Hon. A. C. Titcomb, Deacon J. B. Creasey, and Capt. T. H. Board- 
 man, selected from the friends of the deceased clergyman. There 
 was gathered a large circle of the former parishioners and friends of 
 Dr. Richardson, who were very strongly attached to him, and who 
 were deeply impressed with the solemnities of the hour and by the 
 loss sustained in the removal of one who had so strong a hold upon 
 their hearts, — all realizing the void his removal had created. Dur- 
 ing the hour of the solemnities the bell of the Old South Church was 
 striking out its peals, proclaiming to all that another of its honored 
 pastors had laid down the burden of life and closed his earthly 
 career. Beautiful roses lay upon the casket, and at its head was 
 
79 
 
 placed a wreath of ivy and heliotrope, the gift of Hon. A. C. Tit- 
 comb. The earthly farewells are spoken, human sufferings are 
 ended, and to the great beyond kindred and friends look with 
 moistened eyes as the grave closes over their loved husband, 
 father, pastor, and friend. 
 
 Memorial Services. 
 From the Trenton Paper. 
 
 Rev. Dr. Studdiford, of the Third Presbyterian Church, and Rev. 
 Dr. Gosman, of Lawrenceville, were in the pulpit of the Fourth 
 Presbyterian Church last evening, together with the pastor of the 
 church, Rev. Samuel Harlow. The occasion was the holding of a 
 service in remembrance of the late Rev. Dr. Richardson, a former 
 pastor of the church. There were no decorations of mourning. 
 The opening prayer was by the pastor. He prayed that the good 
 work done by Dr. Richardson might ever be cherished for the 
 glory of God. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Harlow announced that Rev. Dr. John Hall was unable 
 to attend the service on account of illness. 
 
 Rev. Dr. Gosman, who knew Dr. Richardson for forty-seven 
 years, preached the sermon. 
 
 Dr. Gosman spoke of Dr. Richardson's sincere piety as a min- 
 ister. As a friend he was true and steadfast, and always generous. 
 His home life was beautiful, and was his delight. 
 
 Dr. Richardson believed that he was called to the ministry, 
 and would not have remained in it a day had he not thought so. 
 He was a man of rare gifts. He was decisive and commanding. 
 He was a theologian of high order. His command of language 
 was remarkable. His reputation does not depend on any one or 
 a few sermons. 
 
 Dr. Gosman concluded by saying the last conversation he had 
 with Dr. Richardson was in reference to the life hereafter. 
 
 Rev. Dr. Studdiford followed with a prayer, in which God was 
 thanked because the departed minister as an ambassador of Christ 
 did good work for the Master. 
 
 Extracts front Dr. Gosman s Sermon. 
 
 Reared in a Christian home, in which the courtesies and culture 
 which grace such homes reigned, he early gave his heart to Christ, 
 and Christ became the centre of his faith and life. This must be 
 true with every genuine Christian ; but it was pre-eminently true with 
 
8o 
 
 Dr. Richardson. Amid all the assaults of unbelief and the general 
 unrest which characterize our day, he planted his feet upon this 
 impregnable rock, and was undisturbed. Whatever else might seem 
 to fail, Christ could not fail, and with Christ the issue was sure. 
 
 Dr. Richardson's piety was deep, sincere, and genuine. He 
 made no protestations as to his faith, his experiences, or his hopes ; 
 his life must be his witness. He was deeply conscious of his own 
 sins and deficiencies. His confidence was not in his own excel- 
 lence or attainments, but in Christ. His peace did not ebb and 
 flow with the tide of his feelings, but was abiding as his faith. He 
 did not measure his Christian life by his experience, but by its 
 fruits. He trusted in Christ, he loved Christ, and he served Christ; 
 and this trust was the fountain of his peace, and this service was 
 his great joy. 
 
 Piety does not always show itself in the same way; but the 
 grace of God will always reveal itself. It can neither be repressed 
 or hidden. It shone in the life of our departed friend. It led him 
 to the life of service; it carried him through years of toil, sometimes 
 under deep depression; it gave him true and tender sympathy with 
 the Lord's tried ones; it made him sensitive and generous ; it sus- 
 tained him in the hours of anguish ; it gave him peace in the pros- 
 pect of his departure ; and when death came to his release it found 
 him sweetly resting in the arms of the Lord Jesus. 
 
 As a friend. Dr. Richardson was wise and generous and true. 
 His judgment was sound and clear. He entered warmly into all 
 the difficulties and trials through which his friends were called to 
 pass. It was this which made him such a sympathizing pastor. No 
 one who came to him failed to meet with a full response ; and any 
 tax upon his feelings, his counsel, or his aid, was cheerfully borne. 
 He could be safely trusted. Confidence reposed in him was in- 
 violably sacred. He was never suspected of a breach of faith. 
 While his friendships were not quickly formed, — and some may 
 have thought him cold, distant, or haughty, — yet when they were 
 formed, when you had found your way through what may have 
 seemed a forbidding exterior to the large and generous heart 
 within, his friendships would bear any strain laid upon them, and 
 were never interrupted or broken; or if sundered for a time, they 
 were sure to be reknit. He had his moods, and who does not have ; 
 he was sensitive to anything like neglect, and still more so to any- 
 thing like patronage; but after the lapse of forty-seven years since 
 we first occupied adjoining seats in those old recitation rooms at 
 Princeton Seminary, I can bear witness that he was a true and 
 generous friend. 
 
This is not the time or the place to speak of his home life. 
 We would not seek to enter those sacred precincts now shadowed 
 with a sorrow which time only can relieve But his home life was 
 not a veiled or hidden life. Blessed in the object of his choice 
 (one who knew so well how to appreciate his worth, and who ever 
 ministered so wisely and tenderly to his usefulness and comfort), 
 his home life, — made more beautiful both by the sorrows and joys 
 which marked its progress, — was his delight. It was obvious to 
 all that its interests were precious to him, and that he cheerfully 
 sacrificed personal ease and pleasure to its welfare. 
 
 But Dr. Richardson's life revealed itself largely in his chosen 
 calling; for he recognized fully that the work to which he had con- 
 secrated his life was one to which he was divinely called. It was 
 no mere profession which he had chosen : I think I may say that 
 he would not have remained in the ministry a single day except for 
 this conviction; and this not because he did not love his work, but 
 because his sense of the responsibility it involved was so vivid 
 and weighty. He was often oppressed by it, and found relief only 
 as he fell back upon the call of God. Other avenues of life were 
 open to him, in which his peculiar gifts might have found exercise, 
 and in which he might have achieved great success ; but the call of 
 God was clear, and he obeyed it. 
 
 In this calling he was a man thoroughly furnished unto every 
 good work. He had rare gifts. He was quick in his apprehen- 
 sions, clear and comprehensive in his views of truth, and decided 
 in his convictions. He acquired with great ease and rapidity, and 
 in widely different lines of study. He was a good linguist and a 
 profound theologian, though his theological attainments did not lie 
 so strictly in any systematic form. His information was wide and 
 thorough, and he had a marvellous facility of expression. I think 
 he had the power to say fully and completely what he wished to say 
 beyond any man I ever knew. He was apparently never at a loss 
 for a single word. And this facility of expression never degener- 
 ated into mere verbiage. It was never used to cover the absence 
 of thought. You always felt, whether you agreed with him or not 
 (and most keenly when you did not agree with him), that he had 
 something to say; and he said it so that it should be as clear as 
 crystal : you were never left in doubt what that something was. 
 
 He was eminent in the pulpit. All his peculiar gifts and faculties 
 were called into service here. He laid them all under tribute freely. 
 From the very beginning of his ministerial Hfe, even when a stripling 
 just out from the seminary and scarcely yet accustomed to the armor 
 he must wear, and in the great moral questions involved in the 
 
82 
 
 heated debates which then agitated the country and culminated at 
 last in the Civil War, he was recognized at once as a man of power. 
 The great political giants who were then discussing these moral 
 questions felt that this lad had something to say, and that he knew 
 how to say it. But his reputation as a preacher does not rest upon 
 special sermons, — however able or timely or impressive, — but 
 upon the breadth of thought, the variety of themes or topics which 
 were treated in his ministry, and so ably treated. 
 
 He loved the doctrines of the cross. These were the central 
 themes of his preaching ; but they were central, not exclusive. 
 He viewed the cross as illuminating all truth and all duty. Its 
 light fell broad and clear upon all that touches human life and 
 welfare. Interests, duties, graces, hopes, and fears were to him as 
 they appeared in this light. He set forth the cross of Christ not 
 only as the sole and exclusive basis of a sinner's salvation, — which 
 it is and which he firmly held it to be, — but as the source of all 
 Christian virtues, and as controlling the man in all his relations. He 
 brought these great truths to bear upon the man in his spiritual 
 life, in his family life, as he moved in society, and as a member of 
 the State. The whole life was brought within the domain and 
 authority of the Christian conscience. The piety which has its 
 source in the cross, and draws its strength from the cross, must 
 reach out to the whole life. The cross was the sun in his preach, 
 ing ; it gave light and warmth and life ; but the planets roll round 
 the sun, and are held in their orbits by his attractive power. His 
 preaching was not hortatory. He rehed more upon the force of 
 the truth clearly presented than upon any appeal. He would reach 
 the will through the conscience, rather than through the emotions. 
 His manner was animated and forcible. It was his own manner, — 
 as every man's should be, with the condition that it should be as 
 effective as he can make it. 
 
 The brilliancy of Dr. Richardson's jDulpit dims to our view his 
 walk and work as a pastor; when the sun shines in his strength 
 the stars are not seen. But when trials came, or there was any 
 deep and real call for sympatliy, counsel, help, there was no one 
 whose heart responded more generously and truly, or who poured 
 out more freely the wealth of his own love and sympathy. There are 
 many witnesses here who can attest that this is all true. There is 
 far more in the pastoral work than lies upon the surface. It is a 
 sacred tie which binds the pastor and the flock together; and the 
 confidences and the sympathies and the deeds of love which pass 
 to and fro are not things to be blown in the face of the public. If 
 you could go into the homes darkened by sorrow, into which he has 
 brought the light of the Saviour's presence and grace ; to the dis- 
 
couraged who have been cheered by the words of hope ; to the per- 
 plexed whom he has counselled ; to the inquirer whom he has pointed 
 to Christ ; to the needy whose wants have been supplied by no stinted 
 hand, — you would have a testimony which would reveal this prince 
 of preachers in the form of a wise and tender and faithful pastor. 
 
 In his ministerial work Dr. Richardson cherished great confi- 
 dence in the agencies which God has ordained, and in the use of 
 the ordinary means of grace, and looked for the results of his min- 
 istry both as a preacher and pastor in the steady growth of the 
 church in grace and numbers. 
 
 This occasion brings to my mind a recent conversation with our 
 departed friend. We were talking of these words of our Lord : 
 " Whosoever liveth, and believeth in me, shall never die." We 
 agreed that we must take the words in the fullest sense, as teaching 
 that the believer shall not die ; that he is no longer under death ; 
 death hath no more dominion over him. To limit the promise to 
 this, — that the believer shall not die forever, — though he may die 
 a natural death, he shall be delivered from eternal death, — would 
 be to empty the words of a large part of their meaning. The 
 Scriptures surely teach that physical death does not necessarily 
 involve moral or spiritual death. " Because I live, ye shall live 
 also." " Knowing that Christ, being raised from the dead, dieth 
 no more ; death hath no more dominion over Him." The be- 
 liever, sharing that resurrection and deathless life, passes now, and 
 in the very act of believing, from under death forever. It is impos- 
 sible, therefore, that the believer should die. 
 
 And even the transition is made easy. We expect that a life of 
 faith and toil and suffering here shall be crowned at the end with 
 peace. Days and weeks of anguish, — through which the needful 
 process of refinement is completed, and through which the strong 
 arm of the Lord gives support and the faith of the believer 
 triumphs, — fit the believer for his departure. So, the work of 
 suffering finished, our departed friend came to his rest. With 
 blessed utterances of his faith, with the foreshadowing of that 
 divine peace into which the believer enters resting upon his brow, 
 with hands pressed together as commending himself to the Lord, 
 he has gone from us, — our unbelief says "dead; " but faith says, 
 " with the Lord forever." 
 
 " No, no ; it is not dying 
 To go unto our God, — 
 This gloomy earth forsaking, 
 Our journey homeward taking, 
 Along the starry road. 
 
84 
 
 No, no; it is not dying 
 To hear this gracious word, 
 ' Receive a Father's blessing, 
 Forevermore possessing 
 The favor of thy Lord.' " 
 
 Resolutions of the Fourth Presbyterian Church, 
 Trenton, N. J. 
 
 Whereas we, the Session of the Fourth Presbyterian Church 
 of Trenton, N. J., have learned with profound sorrow of the death 
 of Rev. R. H. Richardson, D.D., our former pastor, therefore, 
 
 Resolved, That we hereby bear testimony to the fact that Dr. 
 Richardson ministered for nineteen years to the church of which 
 we are the presbyters, with great faithfulness and distinguished 
 ability. As a preacher, his faith and courage were strong, his dic- 
 tion elegant, his language ornate, and his sermons marvels of 
 beauty, clearness, and power. He was a grand preacher of right- 
 eousness ; and the supreme object of his labors among us was, as 
 God's minister, to glorify Him by extending His kingdom. We 
 loved him, too, as a man and pastor ; for in him we found sympathy 
 when we needed sympathy, and help when we needed help. A 
 good man has gone ; but his work remains to bless us and to 
 attest his faithfulness to the Master. 
 
 Resolved, That we hereby express our deep sympathy with the 
 sorrowing family of our late pastor, and pray that the God of all 
 comfort will manifest His gracious presence unto them in this dark 
 hour of their affliction. 
 
 Resolved, That a copy of these resolutions be entered upon our 
 minutes, and that a copy be also sent to the afflicted family. 
 
 Wm. D. Sinclair, 
 
 Clerk of Session of Fourth 
 Presbyterian Church, Trenton, N.J. 
 
 Resolutions of the Old South Church at Nevv'buryport. 
 
 Whereas, it has pleased God to call to his heavenly rest Rev. 
 Richard H. Richardson, D. D., of New York, N.Y. ; 
 
 And whereas he was for four years one of the pastors of our 
 beloved church ; the Session of the First Presbyterian Church of 
 Newburyport, Mass., expressing the constant and unvarying affec- 
 tion and respect which have ever characterized its memory of the 
 
85 
 
 pastors, living and dead, who have ministered to them in spiritual 
 things, and have preached the Word of life from our pulpit, 
 hereby Resolve — 
 
 (i) That this Session records its esteem for the memory of the 
 Rev. R. H. Richardson, D. D., among the elder members of this 
 church, as an able preacher, a kind friend, and an attractive man, 
 to a circle which extended beyond the bounds of our parish. 
 
 (2) That we deeply sympathize with his widow and children in 
 this trying hour of their afifliction, and commend them to the multi- 
 tude of the tender mercies of a covenant-keeping God, and pray 
 that the Saviour, whose love the departed so ably proclaimed, may 
 comfort them in their sorrow, and finally, through the blessed 
 Spirit, bring them into unending association with the glorified dead. 
 
 (3) That the death of another of the long line of pastors which 
 have broken the bread of life to our people reminds us of our 
 own mortality, and that our dependence is not in an arm of flesh, 
 but in the arm of the Omnipotent God, who is able to carry on His 
 work ; and hence our duty is to pray to Him that, as one by one of 
 the church on earth is called away. He may graciously fill their 
 places by His regnant love in His church and in our hearts. 
 
 (4) This minute to be entered upon the records of Session, read 
 to the church from the pulpit, and a copy be sent to the family and 
 the press. 
 
 By order of Session. 
 
 Brevard D. Sinclair, Moderator, 
 
 William Binley, Clerk. 
 June 16, 1892. 
 
 Tribute of the Standard Dictionary Company. 
 
 New York, June 23, 1892. 
 To THE Bereaved Family of our late Associate and Friend, 
 Rev. R. H. Richardson, D. D. : — 
 
 In your loss, which is ours as well, we have no adequate words 
 to express the deep sympathy with which our hearts turn to you in 
 this the time of your sore bereavement. Dr. Richardson came to 
 us a few months since, a total stranger to most of us, to be an as- 
 sociate and co-laborer. Quiet in deportment, courteous in social 
 intercourse, dignified in bearing, diligent in his work, his keen 
 intellect, discriminating logic, finished rhetoric, fine culture, and 
 varied and accurate information soon made him seem indispensable 
 to us in the task in which we were mutually engaged and interested, 
 and at the same time commanded our sincere admiration ; while 
 
86 
 
 the manifestations of high character and genuine warmth of na- 
 ture won the affectionate regard of all those who came into more 
 immediate contact with him. 
 
 In our mutual loss, — which we feel assured is his inconceivable 
 gain, we beg the privilege of bringing our wreath of friendship 
 and affection, and of mingling our tears with yours over the new- 
 made grave. Thrice within the past few months we have been 
 called to part with cherished members of our corps, to whom we 
 have bidden adieu until the great day of resurrection and reunion. 
 With each added parting we have come to feel more deeply than 
 before that the ties which were at first those of co-laborers have 
 become transformed successively into ties, first of fellowship, then 
 of friendship, and finally of brotherhood. In the spirit of Christian 
 brotherhood we send this fraternal greeting of sympathetic affec- 
 tion to the best beloved of our departed brother. It is our earnest 
 wish and prayer that He who is the Father of the fatherless and 
 the God of the widow may abide with you in ever-increasing ten- 
 derness, fulness, and intimacy ; that the Spirit of all grace and 
 consolation may minister to you abundantly out of his inexhaust- 
 ible supply of comfort and helpfulness ; and that the blessed 
 Jesus, who to His troubled disciples said, " My peace I leave with 
 you," and who by the grave of buried love said, " I am the resur- 
 rection and the life," may bring you so to walk with Him by faith, 
 that, " seeing Him who is invisible," you may daily have His 
 divine cheer by the way, and, passing with quickened footsteps out 
 of the valley of Baca into God's highway of peace and blessing, 
 at the end of that way may find glad entrance to the gates of the 
 New Jerusalem, and a blessed and eternal reunion in that celestial 
 city whose everlasting light and joy is the Lamb of God. 
 In love, sorrow, and sympathy, 
 
 I. K. Funk. 
 
 I. J. Allen. 
 
 Edward J. Hamilton. 
 
 J. W. Palmer. 
 
 Daniel S. Gregory. ^ 
 
 From the New York Observer. 
 
 The Christian church has sustained another loss in the death 
 of Rev. Dr. Richard H. Richardson, who, after several months of 
 
 1 Committee appointed to prepare and communicate to the family 
 of Dr. Richardson an expression of the sorrow and sympathy of the 
 Standard Dictionary Corps. 
 
87 
 
 severest suffering, entered into his rest, Tuesday, June 14, 1892, at 
 his summer home at Bayhead, N. J. He had been engaged for 
 some time in most trying literary labors in New York City, which 
 had greatly undermined his health, but anticipated from the bracing 
 air of the New Jersey coast an early renewal of his accustomed 
 strength and a return to his work; but God had ordered otherwise, 
 and a stricken family and numerous circles of friends are mourning 
 his departure from us. He enjoyed a succession of happy pastor- 
 ates, in all of which his eminent scholarship, his rare command of 
 language, his clear and forcible presentation of the truth, and his 
 method of winning souls for Christ and building them up in the faith, 
 were fully appreciated. While ever ready to listen to the real 
 heart needs of all those who approached him, and minister thereto, 
 he had no sympathy with means or measures which God had not 
 commended in his Word. Probably no other of his pastorates, 
 extending over a period of forty years, had sucii a widespread 
 influence, and was more fully appreciated, than his closing one, 
 connected with Trenton Fourth Church, which continued nearly 
 nineteeen years. Besides a large and appreciative audience from 
 the city proper, he was brought in contact with hundreds of young 
 men and women from the State normal and model schools near 
 his church, who in that formative period of their lives could not 
 but be impressed by his reverence for God's Word, and his stores 
 of treasures gathered weekly from it, and those prayers to which 
 it was their privilege to listen. Few men were so gifted in prayer; 
 few so sang " with the spirit and with the understanding also," — 
 for hymn and tune must be in unison to satisfy his heart. Brief 
 funeral services were held by loved ones at his home at Bayhead, 
 and his body was taken to Newburyport, Mass., to rest by the side 
 of his children buried there, till the Master's coming. 
 
 From the Mimttes of the New Brunswick Presbytery. 
 
 Richard Higgins Richardson, D.D., was born at Lexington, 
 Ky., on the 4th of September, 1823. Born in a Christian home 
 and reared under Christian nurture, he early gave his heart to 
 Christ ; and after a full course, both at the college and seminary at 
 Princeton, N.J., he was ordained to the gospel ministry by the 
 Presbytery of Peoria, Illinois, November 19, 1848. He was pastor 
 of the North Presbyterian Church. Chicago; at St. Peter's Church, 
 Rochester, N. Y. ; at Marengo, Illinois ; at Red Mills, N. Y. ; at 
 First Presbyterian Church, Newburyport, Mass., and at the Fourth 
 
88 
 
 Presbyterian Church, Trenton, — which latter church he served witii 
 great acceptance and success for nearly twenty years, and until 
 impaired health demanded his release. After a wasting and pro- 
 tracted sickness, attended with great suffering, death came to his 
 release, June 14, 1892. He received his degree of D. D. from the 
 College of New Jersey in 1865. 
 
 Dr. Richardson's piety was deep, sincere, and genuine. He was 
 true and loyal and generous as a friend. He was charitable in 
 his judgment of others, but exacting in his judgment of himself. 
 There was no pretence in his piety or in his friendships. He was 
 richly gifted. His acquisitions were large and varied and accurate 
 and were made with great apparent ease and rapidity. He had a 
 marvellous power of expression ; he saw things clearly, and was 
 never at a loss for words to express fully what he saw. He was 
 eminent in the pulpit, both for his clear presentation of the truth, 
 and for the variety of the themes he treated. He loved the truths 
 of the cross, and dwelt upon them ; but he brought those truths to 
 bear upon his hearers in all their relations in life, — in their spiritual, 
 family, social, and civil life ; hence his preaching was fresh, un- 
 hackneyed, and timely. " The cross was the sun in his preaching ; 
 it gave light and warmth and life to all : but the planets roll round 
 the sun, and are held in their orbits by his attractive power. His 
 preaching was not hortatory. He relied upon the truth more than 
 upon appeals, and sought to reach the will through the conscience, 
 rather than through the emotions." 
 
 He was a wise, tender, and faithful pastor. He walked among 
 his people as their friend and helper. He was with them in their 
 sorrows and in their joys, in their perplexities and fears, — walking 
 with them under the cross, and bearing their cross with them as 
 God gave him grace and strength. Ur. Richardson relied largely 
 upon the use of the stated means of grace. He placed his confi- 
 dence on these more than in any special means or agencies, and 
 his confidence was not misplaced. The blessing of God rested 
 upon his ministry. He may have carried his views to an extreme, 
 but experience shows that they were essentially correct. After a 
 life of forty-four years in the ministry, and for a large part of the 
 time working cheerfully under pain and depression, he has gone 
 to his reward. Seeking strength to bear meekly and patiently 
 the suffering laid upon him, with blessed utterances of his 
 faith, the foreshadowing of that divine peace into which the 
 believer enters resting upon his brow, he went from us, and is 
 ever with the Lord. 
 
89 
 
 From the Synod of jYew Jersey. 
 
 The Rev. Richard Higgins Richardson, D. D., was born in 
 Lexington, Ky., September 4, 1823. He graduated at the col- 
 lege and seminary at Princeton, and was ordained by the Presbytery 
 of Peoria in 1848, to take charge of a new enterprise in Chicago, 
 called the North Church (now the Fourth). After seven years in 
 that field he was pastor of St. Peter's, in Rochester, N. Y., and of 
 Marengo, Illinois. In i860 he took charge of the church in Red 
 Mills, N.Y., whence he was called to Newburyport, Mass., in 1864, 
 where his four years' pastorate will be long remembered, and where 
 his body now lies beside the remains of two lovely children who 
 died there. In 1868 he became pastor of the Fourth Church of 
 Trenton, N. J. This relation continued for nineteen years, and 
 brought him into contact, not only with a highly intelligent con- 
 gregation, but also with many of the teachers and pupils of the 
 State Normal School near by, to whom his ministry was one of 
 profit and delight. Resigning on account of ill health, he was 
 without charge until his death, which occurred at Bayhead, June 14, 
 1892, — he being sixty-eight years old. An accurate scholar, of pecu- 
 liarly aesthetic habit, Dr. Richardson was a gifted and choice ex- 
 pounder of God's Word. A marked sense of propriety and spirit 
 of reverence pervaded his public ministrations and impressed the 
 worshippers, while his prayers, graced with most fitting language, 
 lifted their hearts to the mercy seat. His declining days were spent 
 in literary labor, until, within sound of the surging billows which 
 ever so stirred his soul, the cable parted, and his spirit was wafted 
 to the farther shore. A beloved wife, Octavia, the daughter of the 
 Rev. Dr. John Woodbridge, so long of Hadley, Mass., and three 
 children, survive him. He was made Doctor of Divinity by the 
 College of New Jersey in 1865. 
 
LETTERS OF SYMPATHY. 
 
LETTERS OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 Extracts from Letiers of Sympathy. 
 
 From C. H. R., New Orkans, La. 
 
 IF I could stretch out my arms over the great distance that sepa- 
 rates us, and take you to my heart in this hour of deep sorrow, 
 I would not have to give words to the tender sympathy I feel for 
 you and the dear children now so bereaved. This is a grief in 
 which I am such a sharer that I feel as though I ought to be with 
 you ; and my first impulse was to go at once. ... I suppose the 
 dear form will be put by the children he loved and mourned so 
 long. I try to think of the joy it has been to him to be welcomed 
 by them to the home that has been theirs so many years. But, oh, 
 I did so want to see him again ! I wanted to tell him, — I wanted to 
 talk with him of our dear brother who has gone just before, — to tell 
 him of how often he spoke of him with sympathy and affection. 
 They were not long divided, and I hope are now holding sweet 
 communion in a better land. 
 
 Oh, what a vision is before me now of that little cottage at 
 Bayhead, with its mourning household ! but one calm form and 
 peaceful face, — that of the dear servant of God who has passed 
 beyond the veil and is at rest! 
 
 From M. R. B., Louisville, Ky. 
 
 I have been trying to recall incidents of . Richard's childhood 
 to tell you. I only know as a whole how perfectly noble and true 
 he was, and generous in every way. He would never " tell " of any 
 one, at home or at school; and I have known of his accepting un- 
 deserved punishment because he would not. He had a wonderfully 
 bright mind, and Colonel Dunham, — to whose school we went to- 
 gether, — determined he should know something of three languages 
 at seven years of age ; he had been reading English for some time 
 
94 
 
 before, and he learned Latin so readily that he gave him lessons 
 in Greek, and brought him forward so rapidly that he claimed for 
 him the reading of three languages at an age when children now 
 (and wisely too) are only beginning the alphabet of their native 
 tongue. I was very proud of him, and loved him above every 
 one ; for he was ever my champion and defender. 
 
 From /lis Sister, just before his Death. 
 
 Just having lost one beloved brother, I cannot bear the idea of 
 another following so soon. It cannot in the nature of things be 
 long before "one home shall take us all in;" but how we cling to 
 the earthly tabernacle, and try to keep it out of heaven.^ 
 
 From M. R. B., Loiiisville, Ky. 
 
 Give Richard my warmest love and loving remembrance. How 
 the years of my childhood, when we went to school together, come 
 up before me! He was so loyal, and so unselfish and noble, even 
 as a little boy ; and I was so proud of his wonderful quickness and 
 mental prowess ! 
 
 From C. H. R., Louisville, Ky. 
 
 I hope that your summer by the sea will bring its usual in- 
 vigoration, notwithstanding the sad experience that will ever be 
 associated with it. To me it seems all so unreal; and I know 
 I shall never feel that the dear brother who always welcomed me 
 with such loving warmth to j'our home, wherever it was, has gone 
 from us, until I come to be with you, and miss him from his accus- 
 tomed place. Oh, how plainly I can see him, even now ! how many 
 pleasant thoughts come back as I see him sitting on the little 
 porch by the lake, or as we go on one of our strolls into the woods, 
 where he had always so much to talk of! His was a noble nature, 
 truly ; and what faults he may have had were mainly the outcome 
 of a too generous and loving heart. 
 
 FrojH A. S., N'c'w York. 
 
 Your beloved husband was one of my most valued and the 
 dearest of my seminary friends. You cannot conceive the shock 
 it gave me to learn of his decease. I loved him as a brother ; we 
 
 1 As this book goes to press, the word comes of the death of the oldest 
 member of the family, — Mr. William Allen Richardson, of Louisville, Ky. 
 This makes three deaths in the family circle in less than six months. 
 
95 
 
 spent many profitable and happy hours together. In the seminary 
 I regarded him as one of the first of his class in mental and spirit- 
 ual endowments. His generous heart, his gentlemanly conduct and 
 noble impulses, endeared him to all who knew him. I have felt a 
 strong attachment for Dr. Richardson ever since I first knew him ; 
 he was to me a firm friend, a brother beloved. 
 
 When my dear wife and daughter were taken from me a little 
 over a year ago, Dr. Richardson wrote me a letter of tenderest 
 sympathy. Little did I think that he himself would so soon follow 
 my loved ones to the better land, — to the heavenly home. 
 
 Front F. H. C, Trenton, N. J. 
 
 My admiration for Dr. Richardson was so great, and my rever- 
 ence so deep, that I think I might tell you how I share with you 
 all your loss. I was proud to know such a scholar, and still 
 prouder to regard him as my friend. I know of no one whom 
 I esteemed so highly for his splendid intellect or sterling qualities 
 as a man. It was with the deepest regret that I heard the sad 
 news, and a regret which I am sure is shared by all ; for all who 
 knew him must have loved him. 
 
 Front A. B., Trenfon. 
 
 Our thoughts are with you and yours almost constantly for the 
 last three days, and our hearts are full of sorrow because we shall 
 see that dear face no more. 
 
 We are very sorry that we could not come to Bayhead; for it 
 would have been such a comfort to us to have seen that dear form 
 and look on that magnificent brow once more. What sweet and 
 precious memories we have of his call on us last summer, and those 
 two Sundays in our pulpit! What sermons they were ! . . . Mother 
 has a letter he wrote her while you were at Tarry town, and I as- 
 sure you it is one of her greatest treasures to-day. . . . 
 
 As I write, how many, many pleasant memories come up! — so 
 many things I should like to talk with you of, — his favorite hymns, 
 — fragments of his sermons. How clearly I can recall the reading 
 of those hymns, — his tone and expression ! oh, no one ever read 
 them as Dr. Richardson did ! But his work is done; that dear form 
 is at rest, all pain and anguish over ; he has gone to the darlings 
 passed on before, and just waits on the other side for those left 
 behind. 
 
96 
 
 Frovt C. W. S., A'ewport. R. I. 
 
 Only last evening I received the tidings of this great sorrow. 
 As yet I know no particulars ; but I must write at once, at least a 
 word of sympathy, — and of grief, for the earliest and dearest friend- 
 ship of my life is severed by the blow which makes me a sharer in 
 your bereavement. 
 
 We left home together for college ; and from that day until this 
 our affection has known no break or shadow. I think I never 
 spoke a harsh word to him in my life ; I am certain he never 
 spoke one to me, though his advice was often needed to save me 
 from mistake and failure. I used to go into his room when a shy 
 homesick boy, to have him comfort me and help me in my studies. 
 Being a little older, with more knowledge of the world and better 
 judgment, he influenced and moulded me for a long time as no 
 other friend that I ever have had. Though our paths in life sepa- 
 rated afterwards, we were never divided at heart. 
 
 I do not selfishly forget your greater sorrow in my own. I know 
 that I could say nothing better than those words of divine consola- 
 tion which so often you have heard hi:n offer to the stricken heart 
 in the hour of bereavement ; nor do you need any praises of the 
 dead, the beloved dead, to soothe your grief. I can only pray 
 God to continue to you your faith and courage under this heavy 
 trial. 
 
 From G. S. IV., Cambridge, Mass. 
 
 I have rarely known a husband and a father so bound up in 
 those he most loved as was he ; and when I think of what life would 
 have been to him without you, I trust you will not think me cruel in 
 the feeling that it was well for him to be first taken. 
 
 Do you appreciate what it is to have been so near to two such 
 ornaments of the noblest professions as were your husband and 
 his brother ? 
 
 From B. A. R., N'ew York. 
 
 I always enjoyed his repartee, life, and strong words of help- 
 fulness. For his sake I am glad he was the first to go ; he said 
 he could not outlive you, and hoped to be put in the same grave if 
 he did. 
 
 Frotn L. A., A^eiv York. 
 
 I wish I might have heard Dr. Richardson preach again. It is 
 a lovely memory I have of the Sabbath morning in 1887, — looking 
 
97 
 
 on the ocean after a storm, — in the old Pavihon, listening to his 
 sermon, of which the subject was Christ in the boat with His 
 disciples. Now for the preacher of that morning the storms of 
 this life have all passed. How blessed ! 
 
 May the peace of God be in all your hearts ! 
 
 Fr-om A. M. H., Trenton, N.J. 
 
 We know that " He who hath kept, will keep," even to the very 
 end, bringing us at His own appointed time, in His own appointed 
 way, " unto the desired haven," where our beloved ones now rest, 
 secure from all life's storms and perils. 
 
 " God doth His own in safety keep, 
 He giveth His beloved sleep," 
 
 was sung so sweetly the evening of the solemn memorial service ! 
 Many tears of tender, loving remembrance were shed there. The 
 church was well filled with those who loved and honored our 
 dearest pastor. . . . 
 
 I think of you all so much, dear friend, and of the one who has 
 gone ; I feel that heaven is pleasanter for father and mother since 
 he went thither. How their faces lighted with joy always when he 
 came into our earthly home ! How lovely they will all be when we 
 meet them again in a little while ! 
 
 Fro?n F. B. IV., Trenton, N.J. 
 
 I cannot but think of the throng of friends who would welcome 
 dear Dr. Richardson, —the children he mourned so long, and the 
 many to whom he was such a kind, faithful pastor. No one can 
 take his place with me, — a lifelong friend, so sympathetic in joy or 
 sorrow ! His tender kindness when my mother died I can never 
 forget ; and I feel truly that, after her, I owe more of my training in 
 spiritual things to Dr. Richardson than to any one else. His voice 
 and look are indelibly associated with many a Scripture passage 
 and hymn that he read with such wonderful emphasis. 
 
 From a Member oj the Old South Church in Newbitryport. 
 
 We hold your husband in most grateful and affectionate remem- 
 brance for what he was to us as pastor and friend during all those 
 anxious years when his interest and sympathy were unfailing ; and 
 we can never forget how he came to us through the heavy March 
 
 13 
 
98 
 
 storm, —on the evening when we felt ourselves left alone, — how 
 truly he felt with and for us, and how ready he was with words of 
 help and comfort. 
 
 Nor can any who heard them ever lose the memory of his 
 eloquent words in the pulpit ; his wonderful mastery of expression, 
 which clothed the truths he uttered in such forcible, sanctified, 
 always fitting language ; the clearness with which he expounded 
 the doctrines of our faith ; and the deep and abiding loyalty which 
 made us realize that he was a messenger from the King. That 
 impassioned eloquence which drew so many into the dear Old 
 South Church, — till scarcely a si ngle sitting was left unoccupied, — 
 was only equalled by the tenderness and sincerity which kept the 
 hearts of his people in close allegiance to their minister, drawing him 
 nearer and nearer, till, when the day of parting came, "the three- 
 fold cord" could not be broken without intense pain for both pastor 
 and people. And now that he rests from his labors, it comforts us 
 to think that he is sleeping by the side of the dear children whose 
 resting-place he commended to our care on that day when he bade 
 us and his work "good-by." I have often recalled those touching 
 words, " When any of you shall lay a flower on those little graves, 
 my heart will feel it, wherever I may be." ... I have frequently 
 wished that I might read Dr. Richardson's sermon upon the death 
 of Lincoln. I am sure that of the many called forth by that occa- 
 sion, none were more powerful, more touching, more truly brilliant, 
 — if I may use that word in connection with such a theme. 
 
 From O. S. F., Trenton, N. J. 
 
 I doubt whether any pulpit holds a man of as large intellectual 
 power, combined with as modest an appreciation of himself. . . . 
 Within the second year of his pastorate I was struck with the 
 originality and force of his ideas ; and this increased to the close of 
 his work here. At first, and for some years perhaps, he dwelt 
 much upon the dark and depressing mysteries, and tried to make 
 them clear ; but he gradually abandoned that, and preached more 
 practically and with an equal amount of acute, deep, and striking 
 thought, and living, quickening power. ... I shall ever remember 
 the evening of his last day as pastor; the sermon had been deeply 
 interesting and eminently practical : he had offered his last prayer 
 and pronounced the benediction, and we were leaving; I looked 
 back and he was watching us, leaning on the Bible-rest on folded 
 arms; I looked as long as my lingering steps permitted, and left 
 him still watching. 
 
SERMONS 
 
 DR. RICHARD H. RICHARDSON. 
 
 I. Family Worship. 
 
 Newburyport, Mass., July 8, 1865. 
 
 II. By Way of the Sea. 
 
 Trenton, N. J., August 29, 1879. 
 
 III. Till He Come. 
 
 Trenton, N. J., September 5, 1879. 
 
SERMONS 
 
 BY 
 
 DR. RICHARD H. RICHARDSON. 
 
 FAMILY WORSHIP. 
 
 :nin'-nx iai'J 'noi 'PJXI — Joshua xxiv. 15. 
 
 THIS is Joshua's declaration of his determined loyalty to 
 God, however faithless and forgetful others might be. 
 That loyalty he would keep, though all the nation should go 
 astray. But it is a declaration not for himself alone, but for his 
 household, asserting his purpose by precept, example, and au- 
 thority, to guide them in the paths of a true and loving obedi- 
 ence to the living and true God. So would he prove himself a 
 worthy descendant of the father of the faithful, whose high praise 
 God himself had spoken when he said concerning him, " For I 
 know him, that he will command his children and his household 
 after him, and they shall keep the way of the Lord." So every- 
 where throughout the Scriptures it is asserted or assumed that 
 when God makes a family like a flock, that family also like a 
 flock shall have a shepherd, whose pleasure and whose duty it 
 should be to guide, to govern, and to defend them ; to lead them 
 into green pastures and beside still waters ; to order all their 
 ways aright, — himself to go before them to the places in which 
 they may find peace and safety. This family, therefore, is not a 
 mere collection of individuals, but an organized society, — its 
 members bound together by their relation to a common head. 
 To that headship God has delegated a divine authority, and so 
 
I02 
 
 has attached to it an almost infinite obligation ; while at the same 
 time He has infused into it his own fatherly patience, tender- 
 ness, and love, by uniting with it, in ordinary cases, the parental 
 bond. The head of every family, therefore, occupies the posi- 
 tion of a double representative of God to the family, and of the 
 family to God ; and so it is impossible to overstate the sacred- 
 ness and the responsibility which belong to his office. He 
 cannot, then, acquit himself of his solemn duties to either with- 
 out fidelity to both. He must carry up his household to dwell 
 with God ; he must bring God down to dwell amid his house- 
 hold. And how shall he do this but by the constant recogni- 
 tion of God in the daily domestic life? and how shall this 
 recognition be made without, or made so well as by, the daily 
 gatherings around the altar of domestic worship ? It needs no 
 argument, therefore, to establish the duty of family worship. 
 It is a constitutional obligation, and carries its own proof with 
 it in the very nature of the family organization. A prayerless 
 household, then, is a disorganized household ; and whatever else 
 there may be or may not be in it, it lacks the one grand element 
 of order, harmony, and security. It lacks the offices of a priest, 
 to offer up its daily sacrifice to God, and to call down divine 
 benedictions upon it; and so it is disordered in its very highest 
 relation, dissevered from the vital sources of all peace and bless- 
 edness. It is a duty, therefore, the neglect of which entails a 
 special, immediate, and constant forfeiture, extending through 
 the whole circle of our dearest interests, and multiplying itself 
 in its ever-expanding influence upon the conduct and experi- 
 ence of coming generations. It is the sin of a representative ; 
 and so its consequences are not individual and temporary, but 
 social and permanent and self- reproductive. It is a disregard 
 of a covenant obligation, and so carries with it hereditary evils, 
 according to the word of God Himself, who declares that He 
 will visit the iniquity of the fathers upon the children, unto the 
 third and fourth generation of them that hate Him ; while on 
 the other hand we are assured that the mercy of the Lord is from 
 
I03 
 
 everlasting to everlasting upon them that fear Him, and His 
 righteousness to children's children, to such as keep His cove- 
 nant, and to those that remember His commandments to do 
 them. 
 
 But even if there were no such federal relationship as this, 
 the consequence would be scarcely less certain upon natural 
 principles. As we grow up and assume the responsibilities of 
 men and women in the world, and establish homes of our own, 
 we know how instinctively and almost unconsciously we frame 
 our family arrangements upon the model which was constantly 
 before us in our earlier years. That model has so impressed 
 itself upon us that we fall almost as naturally into its imitation as 
 we inherit our resemblance to those who gave us birth. The 
 sunny days of childhood come back to us across the lapse of 
 years ; its hallowed, peaceful scenes renew themselves before us ; 
 we live over in our memories the routine of its daily life ; and 
 as all this comes up to us, softened and sanctified by the tender 
 associations of filial love, the recollections of the life, the word, 
 the example of those who called us children, and on whom we 
 looked as the types of all that is perfect in the world, — all this 
 combines, I say, to form in our minds the ideal of the home, 
 which must of course be realized in that new home which we 
 are making for ourselves. And so it comes to pass that family 
 customs are perpetuated and parental examples repeated from 
 generation to generation, and the households of to-day are in 
 many of their essential features the pictures of the households 
 of a hundred years ago. So great is the force of early impres- 
 sions that they almost assert themselves with the authority of 
 a law ; and we feel at first as though we had been guilty of filial 
 ingratitude and sin if we depart from its requirements. Even 
 in little things this influence is all powerful : we wish to see 
 upon our tables the very dishes which tempted our youthful 
 appetite ; and often, as we sit down to eat, we are reminded of 
 some lost relish of our childhood, and feel that nothing can ever 
 taste so sweet again as that which a mother's hand once pre- 
 
I04 
 
 pared, and on which a father's voice once invoked a blessing. 
 How much more powerful, then, the recollections of more im- 
 portant things, especially of those solemn acts and scenes which 
 took hold upon the heart and conscience, and spoke to us — 
 and speak to us still — of God and our responsibilities to Him, 
 and of our souls' great interest in Christ and His salvation, with 
 its issues of eternal life or death. I am sure that I speak for 
 many of you, as well as for myself, when I say that, among all the 
 recollections of my early life, none come back to me with more 
 of mingled tenderness and force than those of the morning and 
 evening assemblings for worship around the table when the 
 bodily hunger had been satisfied, and the food upon which 
 was thus sanctified by the Word of God and by prayer. I can 
 recall the very attitude of every member of the household, and 
 the look upon their faces, — especially the grave and reverend 
 aspect of him who took the Holy Bible from its place and read 
 to us from its sacred pages, and of her who sat opposite to him, 
 and on whose countenance we could read the expression of a 
 kindly pride in her children, not without some marks of maternal 
 anxiety and care for them. No music has ever sounded sweeter 
 to my ear than when our voices joined in singing some hymn of 
 praise and prayer, the meaning of which we were, some of us, 
 too young to fully understand, but of which we aU felt the power, 
 — sometimes, " Come, Holy Spirit, Heavenly Dove," and some- 
 times, "While Thee I seek, Protecting Power," or " Come, thou 
 Fount of every Blessing ; " or further on in life, when years and 
 care and toil had thinned and whitened the hair of him whom 
 we all loved and honored so much, and a fuller experience of 
 life, with many a disappointment and sorrow, was ripening for 
 the better life to come, — when one by one the bright faces dis- 
 appeared from around the table and the voices joining in the 
 song grew fewer (some of them gone out to sing around other 
 altars, but more of them among the angels and the thousands 
 of other children around the throne of God in heaven), — then, 
 as his days drew nearer to their close and his hopes and wishes 
 
I05 
 
 took a stronger hold upon the future, the hymns selected became 
 changed in their character, and we sang together, " Oh for a 
 Closer Walk with God ! " and '' 'Tis Sweet to say Thy Will be 
 Done," and oftener than all, that one which he loved the 
 most, — 
 
 "Give me the wings of faith to rise 
 Within the veil and see 
 The saints above, howf bright their joys, 
 How great their glories be." 
 
 And I can hear as plainly now as then the earnest and pathetic 
 tones of his prayer when the song was ended and we had all 
 knelt down in our places, and can repeat the very words of his 
 adoration and his petition when he prayed for his children and 
 his neighbors and for all who were afflicted, and always for the 
 world which lieth in wickedness, and for the full triumphs of 
 the cross and kingdom of Emmanuel. All this is now a thing 
 of the past. That oft-repeated wish has been more than grati- 
 fied ; and within the veil, with the wife of his youth gone thither 
 before him, he knows how great their joys, how bright their 
 glories be. That childhood home is occupied by strangers ; and 
 those of us who dwelt there, and remain until the present, have 
 other homes, from which our own children have gone up to 
 heaven, as his went once ; but that family altar remains fixed 
 among our most sacred and precious associations, built in our 
 very hearts, — and though there were no other influence or prin- 
 ciple to govern ine, I should feel that I had done dishonor to 
 the memory of my beloved father and mother if I failed 
 to recognize my father's and my mother's God morning and 
 evening in my family. Happy is the man around whose child- 
 hood cluster recollections such as these ! He has received a 
 richer legacy than lands or gold, — richer in its own intrinsic 
 worth, and infinitely more enduring and beneficent in its results ; 
 and therefore, for the sake of these results, — this power which 
 it has to mould and govern the domestic life of coming genera- 
 tions, to preserve and to perpetuate the worship of God in the 
 
io6 
 
 future, — let us never permit the fire of devotion to be extin- 
 guished on our hearthstones. 
 
 And now is there not something in this service itself so be- 
 coming and so beautiful that it pleads for its own observance 
 in every household ? Is it not in the family that almost all the 
 hopes and happiness of life centre ? Whence comes the magic 
 influence of the word " home," — an influence so great that the 
 very sound of it and the very thought of it will quicken the 
 pulse and thrill the nerves as though some new spirit had taken 
 possession of the frame? Why do we turn so longingly and 
 lovingly to this one spot, as though there were no other in the 
 world in which we could be at rest? What hastens the step and 
 brightens the countenance as you draw near one dwelling only 
 of the thousands which you enter? It is because there is home ; 
 and that one word expresses all. It is because there the heart 
 abides, and there the heart finds its noblest, fullest, happiest ex- 
 ercises ; all that is touching, tender, and true — all that gives ani- 
 mation, impulse, charm to life — is there. It is a sacred spot ; 
 there is a sanctity in its associations, in the love which has 
 lived and grown there, in the fellowship enjoyed there, in the 
 long and intimate communion of its cares and sorrows as well as 
 of its joys, in all that makes up the home life. I say there is 
 even a sacredness in it all which would make you guard your 
 dwelling against any profane intrusion, as you would protect the 
 very house of God against any desecration. It is in a certain 
 sense a temple ; and in this temple shall there be no altar raised, 
 no worship paid? Why, even the old Roman heathen, whose 
 homes had almost nothing about them of what belongs to ours, 
 — even they would have thought themselves guilty of a sin 
 against their gods and their ancestry if the altars and the wor- 
 ship of the Lares and Penates were absent from their dwellings. 
 These household gods were an essential institution of the family, 
 and the services rendered them in the daily household life as 
 binding, and in some respects more important, than that which 
 was paid in the public temples to the higher gods of the nation. 
 
I07 
 
 And shall we, who know the living and true God, and who owe 
 to His grace and revelation all that is attractive in domestic life 
 and all that consecrates it in our affections and regard, — shall we 
 build no home altars and offer no home worship ? Is it not the 
 plainest call of reverence and gratitude ? and would you not blush 
 to refuse such a call if it came to you from any fellow-creature ? 
 It is of all things, therefore, in itself the most appropriate, and 
 nothing can be more pleasing in the eye of God, — more beau- 
 tiful in its own intrinsic beauty, — than when in the early morn- 
 ing or the evening twilight a united house presents its vows and 
 offerings to the Lord. It is a scene so impressive even to a 
 casual beholder that its influence will hang around him for many 
 days. You have doubtless read the story of the eminent and 
 accomplished infidel brought providentially to the house of the 
 late Mr. Bethune about the time of evening worship. He was 
 invited by his host to remain and unite with them, but was told 
 that if it was not agreeable to him he could retire until the ser- 
 vice was ended. He could not do this without a breach of 
 courtesy, and so remained. Years afterward that stranger came 
 again to the same dwelling, no longer as the infidel, but as 
 the earnest, humble man of piety and prayer. It was then he 
 told them that when he had knelt with them before it was the 
 first time for many years that he had bowed the knee to any 
 God ; that as he knelt there such a crowd of recollections came 
 upon him, such emotions filled his heart, that he had not heard 
 a syllable of the prayer that was offered, from its beginning to 
 its close. But its influence followed him forth in all his wander- 
 ings, so that he could find no rest until his dreary infidelity had 
 been abandoned for the love and service of his God and Saviour. 
 You have read a hundred times that exquisite poem of Burns, 
 " The Cotter's Saturday Night," and no man ever read it who 
 did not feel that there is the picture of a scene in itself so 
 comely, so beautiful, so appropriate in all its features as to com- 
 mend itself to the admiration of God and man. The fact that 
 it could have been portrayed by such a man as Burns, and that, 
 
io8 
 
 too, not as a fiction, but as a picture of what his own eyes had 
 seen in his father's house, and what many of us have seen too, 
 is the highest testimony to its divine excellence and beauty. 
 I am tempted to read the whole of it, but will not. Listen to 
 a few lines : — 
 
 " The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face, 
 
 They round the ingle form a circle wide ; 
 The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, 
 
 The big ha' Bible, ance his father's pride ; 
 
 His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside. 
 His lyart haffets wearing thin and bare ; 
 
 Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide. 
 He wales a portion with judicious care ; 
 And ' Let us worship God ! ' he says, with solemn air. 
 
 "They chant their artless notes in simple guise ; 
 
 They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim : 
 Perhaps " Dundee's " wild-warbling measures rise, 
 
 Or plaintive " Martyrs," worthy of the name. 
 
 Or noble " Elgin " beets the heavenward flame, 
 The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays : 
 
 Compared with these, Italian trills are tame ; 
 The tickled ear no heartfelt raptures raise ; 
 Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise. 
 
 " Then kneeling down, to heaven's eternal King, 
 
 The saint, the father, and the husband prays : 
 Hope ' springs exulting on triumphant wing,' 
 
 That thus they all shall meet in future days : 
 
 There ever bask in uncreated rays. 
 No more to sigh or shed the bitter tear. 
 
 Together hymning their Creator's praise, 
 In such society, yet still more dear; 
 While circling Time moves round in an eternal sphere." 
 
 Let us notice now one main excellence of this service in giving 
 a religious character to all the life of the week. The public 
 worship of the Sabbath and the sanctuary is not enough. God 
 cannot be satisfied with the (formal) service of these set times 
 and places ; we ought not to be satisfied with it. The family 
 is before the church. The earliest sacrifices were offered, and 
 must have been offered, not in public assemblies, but upon the 
 
I09 
 
 altars where the father officiated as the priest. It was in the 
 family of Abraham that God organized His church. It was in 
 the families of the olden time that the knowledge and the 
 worship of the true God was kept alive. The church is but 
 the outgrowth of the family. The family is the bud of the 
 church. And there is a world of meaning in that phrase which 
 sometimes occurs in the New Testament, — " The church in the 
 house." There is the full description of what a house, and 
 every house, should be, — a church, a place of worship ; and all 
 its inmates the worshippers : and the obligation which brings 
 us here to-day, as one great family made up of many, is the same 
 which should bring us in our own dwellings daily to pay our 
 vows unto the Most High. He claims — He has a right to 
 claim — a living sacrifice from us, — the love, the homage, the 
 obedience of a life. Surely such a claim as this cannot find its 
 full and proper recognition in our public occasional or Sabbath 
 day observances. It is just into this place that family worship 
 comes, carrying the odor of the church, with all its ordinances, 
 instructions, obligations, and influences, into all our times ; mak- 
 ing of every day a Sabbath ; interweaving the remembrances 
 of our divine relationships into the whole web of our life and 
 experience. Again, the religious practices of the heathen may 
 make us blush for our neglects. They are not satisfied with 
 occasional and public sacrifices and festivals. Their religion is 
 not a thing of certain sacred times and places ; it asserts itself 
 every day and almost every hour in constant offerings and cease- 
 less devotions. The followers of the False Prophet may shame 
 us with their fidelity ; for five times every day, wherever they 
 may be and however employed, the call of the muezzin from 
 the mosque summons them to prayer, and that summons never 
 is unheeded. At dawn, at noon, at four o'clock, at sunset, and 
 at nightfall, every head is bare, and every voice mutters its praise 
 of Allah and its supplication for his blessing. Well may we 
 blush and be ashamed if we will not give to our God what the 
 heathen and Mohammedan would not withhold from theirs ! 
 
no 
 
 Let me speak to you now of the influence of this service 
 upon the peace and harmony of the household. It is as the 
 dew of Hermon, and as the dew that descended upon the 
 mountains ofZion; for there the Lord commanded the bless- 
 ing, even life forevermore. I cannot think of anything in the 
 whole range of the possible which could exert such a unifying 
 power, such a cementing power, such a controlling and regu- 
 lating power, as this constant coming of the family before the 
 throne of the one great Ruler and Father, God. Not to men- 
 tion the direct answers to the prayers thus offered, — answers 
 which are assured to us by special promises and covenants, — 
 there is that in the very service itself which will shed a hal- 
 lowed influence upon the whole domestic circle. Even the 
 little child who kneels beside his mother, scarcely knowing 
 what it all means, yet feels that it means something sacred, 
 something solemn, something without the range and beyond 
 the range of his other interests. He feels that there is in it a 
 fellowship with a something which his eye sees not and his ear 
 hears not, but a something real, mighty, holy, supreme, good, 
 and true. It is the consciousness of this higher relation and 
 this higher fellowship, thus kept alive in every breast of young 
 and old, that cannot fail to assert itself more or less in all the 
 household life and intercourse. It infuses a new spirit into 
 every relation, and raises every service of natural love and duty 
 into the higher atmosphere of divine responsibility. It conse- 
 crates family affection by pouring, as it were, holy oil upon it, 
 and investing it with the sacredness of a spiritual sentiment. 
 It promotes unity of interests by its recognition of common wants 
 and its expression of common sympathies. It gives a divine 
 sanction to every family relationship ; and whether as husband 
 or wife, or parent or child, or brother or sister, or master or 
 servant, each one feels the impress of a divine obligation. It 
 banishes selfishness, and subdues evil passions, and checks the 
 flow of angry words, and gives emphasis to discipline, and se- 
 cures order and obedience, — all by the constant remembrance 
 
Ill 
 
 which it brings of the divine authority and the abiding pres- 
 ence which it secures of a divine spirit. It looks to God as 
 the great father in heaven ; to Jesus Christ as husband, brother, 
 friend, and master ; and in the higher finds the rule and sanction 
 of the lower, — in the divine the model and the authority of the 
 human. It is evident enough that in a household governed by 
 such influences there can be but Httle friction ; that all its parts 
 must move smoothly and quietly in their places ; that the inter- 
 course of all shall be like the harmony of different instruments 
 attuned to the same key. And then when affliction comes, — as 
 come it will sooner or later to every house, — how does the family 
 altar become not only the place where all can find relief, but 
 the place where sorrow finds its saddest but its sweetest expres- 
 sion, and the missing link in that household chain becomes the 
 bond of a new and stronger union. And so in all the scenes of 
 life, — painful or pleasing, joyous or sad, — it is when bowed 
 before the Father in heaven in all their common wants and 
 trials, as wefl as their common rejoicings, that they find the 
 highest realization of the family tie, the fullest blessedness of 
 family communion. 
 
 And now if you will follow out the members of that family 
 into the world, you will find that these benign and sacred in- 
 fluences do not cease to operate when they have passed the 
 home threshold. Go where they may, they walk in a hallowed 
 light ; there is a certain restraint upon them, and it will be 
 strange indeed if sooner or later the covenant blessing shall not 
 come upon them, and the benedictions of parental love be 
 realized. It may be years afterward, when the feet have trav- 
 elled far away from the home of childhood ; when the voice 
 which once invoked this benediction has long been hushed in 
 death ; when the father's toils and cares have long ceased, and 
 the mother's gentle hand forgotten its cunning ; when brother 
 and sister are parted far asunder, and the dwelling of the early 
 years has long been desolate ; when all the scenes and associa- 
 tions of other days have no place left but in the memory. — 
 
I 12 
 
 even then, from out the grave of their long buried and almost 
 forgotten past, God may command His blessing, even life for- 
 evermore. Many a young man has been saved in the hour of 
 temptation — saved even from fatal and final ruin — by the 
 echoes of that voice which, when a little child, he heard as he 
 knelt beside his father, or perhaps his widowed mother. All 
 the clamors of passion, selfishness, and sin in all its forms, all 
 the alluring voices of the tempter cannot hush these echoes in his 
 soul ; all the forces of the evil one will oftentimes fail to break 
 the sweet influences of that family altar, or rob them of their 
 power. If you would send your children out into life attended 
 by guardian angels ; if you would save your sons from the wiles 
 of the adversary ; if you would keep your daughters from a fatal 
 devotion to the follies and frivolities of an ungodly world ; if 
 you would have them both live honorable, happy, useful lives ; 
 if you would meet them again to worship with them before the 
 throne of Him of whom the whole family in heaven and in earth 
 is named, — I pray you send them forth from the altar of 
 daily domestic prayer. And if, perchance, you have not yet 
 built such an altar beneath your roof, I pray you let not this 
 holy Sabbath close before you gather your family all around 
 you, and say with them, and to them, and for them, " As for 
 me and my house, we will serve the Lord." 
 
 Newburyport, Mass., July 8, 1865. 
 
113 
 
 BY WAY OF THE SEA. 
 
 . . . DnrxSi D;'n-nx r\};^D nhm 'nn — Exoousxiii. 17. is. 
 
 The promise made to Abraham that his seed should possess 
 the land of Canaan was about to be fulfilled. Ages had passed 
 away since that promise was made, and the patriarch's posterity 
 were bondsmen in Egypt. Theirs had been a very strange and 
 eventful history ; but through it all they had been preserved a 
 separate people, waiting for the fulness of time when the pur- 
 pose of God should be executed : and now that the crisis had 
 come, and the high hand and outstretched arm of Jehovah had 
 led them out of the land of Egypt, human wisdom and human 
 will would have anticipated for them a short and easy march to 
 their promised inheritance. It was but a few days' journey from 
 the one to the other, and in less than a week from the night of 
 their hasty departure they might have pitched their tents in 
 Palestine, on the other side of Jordan. It is true that, taking 
 that northeasterly course, they would have encountered the hos- 
 tile forces of Philistia, who would not quietly submit to see their 
 land invaded and possessed by strangers, — and for such oppo- 
 sition Israel was poorly prepared ; but how easily God could 
 have given them the victory, as afterwards He often did ! With 
 sudden panic He could have smitten all their enemies, or with 
 sudden destruction have overwhelmed them and the banners 
 of the invading tribes ; He could have planted them on every 
 hill-top of the goodly country, and not a dog should have dared 
 to move his tongue against them. There must have been other 
 reasons than that given in the text why this course was not 
 taken, and they were turned instead in a southeasterly direc- 
 tion, not only aside from the straight, short way they might have 
 taken, but also into a place where death or recapture seemed 
 inevitable should Pharaoh pursue them, — as they knew that he 
 
 •5 
 
114 
 
 would. It must have been a marvellous and mysterious disap- 
 pointment to the people — and not less so to Moses and Aaron 
 their leaders — when the order was issued that they should take 
 their march toward Migdol and the sea, and there encamp with 
 the wilderness behind them and the mountains beside them, 
 and an impassable sea before them. I gather, therefore, 
 
 First, from this narrative, a lesson in regard to God's treat- 
 ment of His people, — that He often leads them toward the sea. 
 His ways are not our ways ; His will is not our will. It is very 
 natural that we should desire an easy, if not a short journey to 
 the promised inheritance of His people ; and reason seems 
 at first sight on the side of this desire. What motive can He 
 have in hindering the fulfilment of His own purpose ? What 
 have we to gain by delay? Surely He can have no pleasure in 
 the perils and affrights into which we may come ! We naturally 
 wish to shield those whom we love from trouble, — it is indeed 
 the great effort of our life \ every day we are seeking, not only 
 to escape difficulties ourselves, but to protect them, and to lead 
 them into safe and pleasant places. Parental foresight is ever 
 anticipating the dangers possible to the young, — parental skill is 
 ever taxed to avert them, and parental toil continually employs 
 itself in providing for them or against them ; and why should 
 not the Heavenly Father, who surely loves His children not 
 less than we love ours, exercise the same care and loving-kind- 
 ness toward them ? He has too (what we have not) a perfect 
 knowledge of all that may befall them (foreseeing every possible 
 danger and difficulty), and infinite power to prevent or to remove 
 every obstacle from our path ; we fail in our effort for want of 
 both. We are so ignorant and so weak. We neither know 
 what is before us, nor have we the needful resources to prevail 
 against it ; and so we are compelled to see all our life long 
 our best beloved brought into perils and distresses from which 
 we would have given all we had to save them, — would sometimes 
 cheerfully have given life itself, if thereby we could have pur- 
 chased exemption for them. And so I say it is all the more a 
 
115 
 
 wonder that the infinitely loving, wise, and mighty Father should 
 deal so differently with His children. 
 
 And the wonder grows the greater when we remember that 
 into these scenes of trial we are often brought by no infirmity 
 or fault of our own ; we might understand that then He might 
 permit the trial to teach us some lessons which we could not 
 learn so well in any other way. But it was by His own direct 
 command that Israel was led toward the sea. It was not the 
 choice of the people ; it was not by their becoming lost in the 
 wilderness ; it was not through any ignorance . or mistake of 
 Moses their leader. It was God himself who said to Moses, 
 " Speak unto the children of Israel that they turn and encamp 
 before Pi-hahiroth, between Migdol and the sea." It was the 
 Lord himself who went before them by day in a pillar of cloud 
 to lead them that way, and by night in a pillar of fire to give 
 them light. It is the Lord Himself who, not less manifestly, 
 leads us many a time into like places of peril ; compels us 
 against our will, — and oftentimes against our best judgment 
 too, — into the greatest straits. For it is not in man that 
 walketh to direct his steps. A man's heart deviseth his way, 
 but the Lord directeth his steps. Above all our purposes 
 presides the great purpose of our God ; above all our thoughts 
 the higher thought of an infinite mind ; and if need be, aside 
 from all the ways of our choosing, the way which He has 
 chosen. To that purpose we must yield, whether we will or 
 no ; in that way we must walk, whether it lead us into green 
 pastures and beside waters of repose, or into narrow gorges of 
 the mountain and right up to the waves of the rolling sea. 
 
 And so we sometimes do ourselves a great injustice, and in- 
 flict much needless sorrow on our own souls, by finding occasion 
 in these troubles that we meet to accuse ourselves of sin and 
 foolishness, as though these were necessarily the causes of the 
 trouble. Very often it is true that we may thus account for 
 them, and very justly blame ourselves for them. It is folly to 
 be finding fault with the providence of God as mysterious and 
 
ii6 
 
 unkind to us, when we have brought ourselves into the danger 
 by a disregard of His law. 
 
 But to speak thus of all the disasters and difficulties we en- 
 counter is to offend against the generation of God's children. 
 There are innumerable perils of our pilgrimage for which we 
 are in no way accountable. It is the voice of the Lord that 
 calls us to meet them ; it is the hand of the Lord that leads us 
 toward them, and not all our wisdom, skill, or might could 
 alter or avert them. Let us pass by for the present all at- 
 tempted explanation of them. The way of the Lord is toward 
 the sea. 
 
 Is not that true ? Is this march of the emancipated Hebrews 
 the only instance on record of the guidance of His people into 
 a place of greatest peril ? Is it not rather the type of all their 
 progress from this Egypt where they dwelt to the land of 
 promise which they seek ? Has it not been the history of His 
 Church in all ages ? Has she not many a time fled into the 
 wilderness, escaping imprisonment and persecution only to find 
 herself face to face with dangers and difficulties as great as those 
 she left behind her? Has it not often happened thus in our 
 own experience? Even when we listened to the call of God, 
 even when we followed the plainest guidance of His providence. 
 He has led us to the mountain and the sea, — led us directly 
 toward such obstacles and oppositions as seemed immovable 
 and invincible, — hedged in our way as we sometimes term it ; 
 but more and more mysterious than that, between these hedges 
 on either side brought us to barriers which appeared impass- 
 able, and which to all skill and might of our own were as impass- 
 able as a sea which we could neither bridge nor ford nor sail 
 over, — as a mountain whose rugged heights we could not climb, 
 and around which we could find no way. In the frequent 
 defeat of our plans and disappointment of our hopes ; in the 
 obligations we have been forced to assume ; in the perplexities 
 we are compelled to meet almost every day that we live ; in the 
 various troubles, misfortunes, and calamities we encounter ; in 
 
117 
 
 the losses which are more or less the lot of us all, — what are all 
 these but the direct issues of the road along which the hand 
 of God has led us ? Where lives the man who has not thus 
 sometimes been brought to the borders of the sea ? 
 
 Then let us accept it as in some sense a necessity of our 
 experience, and let us be content only to feel assured that, 
 whithersoever God's way may lead us, it is His way, and not 
 that of our own folly. Then we may without distrust or fear 
 await the issue. 
 
 Thus stands the Hebrew host, shut in on every hand. They 
 could not turn back, for the chariots and horsemen of Pharaoh 
 were in swift and angry pursuit. They could not go to the 
 right nor the left, for the frowning precipices of the mountain 
 stood as a wall on either side. They could not go forward 
 without being drowned in the depths of the sea. Was it strange 
 that a great fear fell upon the hearts of the people ? Was it 
 strange that they began a bitter complaint against Moses and 
 against Jehovah Himself for bringing them out to die in the 
 wilderness? Was it strange that they looked back with longing 
 regret even to their hard lot in Egypt, and thought it better that 
 they should have remained there than to meet the certain death 
 which awaited them here? Ungrateful and rebellious as we 
 deem them, and as they were, let us not be too severe in our 
 condemnation. Have we not, many a time, been guilty of the 
 same sin ? When following the leadings of God's providence, 
 obeying what seemed plainly to us the call of duty, we have 
 been brought iyto great peril and perplexity, have we not in- 
 dulged hard thoughts of God, accused Him of unkindness, and 
 repented that we had listened to His voice? Have we not 
 been sore afraid and cried aloud to God in mingled petition 
 and reproach. 
 
 Thus cried Israel, and thus provoked the Lord with their un- 
 belief. And then it was that He answered them in words which 
 might have stricken them with new terrors, — for He said unto 
 Moses : " Wherefore criest thou unto me ? Speak unto the chil- 
 
ii8 
 
 dren of Israel that they go forward." No backward flight, no 
 surrender to their foes, no determined stand against them nor 
 battle with them, but " forward," even though it seemed to be 
 into a watery grave. I gather, therefore, — 
 
 Secondly, from this narrative, a lesson in regard to God's treat- 
 ment of His people, — that he often leads them into the sea. His 
 ways are not our ways. Israel might well have looked for some 
 other method of deliverance. AVhy did He not drive back the 
 Egyptian host ? or why did He not show them some pass through 
 the mountains by which they might yet escape ? or why did He 
 not suffer them to remain encamped where they were until 
 some way might be discovered by which they might go around 
 the Red Sea, or build them vessels by which they might be 
 carried over it. Very marvellous indeed it must have sounded 
 to them when the command was issued that they should march 
 right into the sea ; and if some of them shrank back as they drew 
 near the brink, it was no unnatural fear that arrested them. 
 Have we not stayed our steps too, full oftentimes, when God has 
 ordered us forward into the midst of dangers. Brought face to 
 face with trouble, is it not the instinctive desire of every one 
 to find some way of escape from it, some way around it, some 
 way of sailing over it, — any way rather than to plunge right into 
 it ? Is not this, too, in large degree the business of our daily Hfe, 
 — • just to avoid the perils to the brink of which our progress has 
 brought us? No man enjoys the direct encounter with them ; 
 he may well be afraid of them ; he cannot tell what the issue 
 may be ; it often seems like rushing upon certain disaster or 
 death to go forward. And so we stand like Israel, trembling 
 on the shore, unable to go back and unwilling to go on ; and 
 so hkewise it often happens that we can hear no response to 
 our cry save that which bids us go forward. We 7}tust encounter 
 dangers ; we must get into trouble ; that is the only way by 
 which we can make any advance ; it is the only way, indeed, 
 by which we can escape worse evils. We cannot stay where 
 we are : we are so compassed with dangers, such infuriate 
 
119 
 
 foes are pressing on behind us, such sure destruction awaits 
 us if we stand still ! That is life, — more or less the life of all 
 of us. To some it comes sooner and to some later ; to some in 
 one form and to some in another; but sooner or later, and 
 in some form or other, it is the experience of almost all who are 
 journeying to the better country. Perhaps God might have 
 ordered otherwise, -r- we do not know ; He might have carried 
 the Hebrews to the farther shore of the sea in some other way, — 
 we have nothing to do with that. Occasionally it would seem 
 that one is thus transported to the heavenly Canaan without 
 the trial of the many ; but the law of progress is into the sea, 
 and we have no good reason to expect the suspension of the 
 law in our behalf Two of our race have been taken to heaven 
 without having seen death, — only to show what God could do 
 with all if so He should choose, and what perhaps He would 
 have done with all had no sin brought death into the world. 
 But we shall not be Enochs and Elijahs ; through the low- 
 arched portal of the grave we must pass to the celestial city, 
 and not in chariots of fire nor borne on angels' wings. And so 
 too we must meet the common lot of mortals ; and when trouble 
 comes it is vain for us to think of any devices of our own or any 
 divine interposition by which we may escape the threatening 
 evil. Have you not found that out from past experience ? Have 
 you not stood affrighted in the presence of some impending 
 peril, and prayed, even as Jesus prayed, with bleeding heart 
 and beaded brow, " O God, if it be possible, let this cup pass 
 from me ! " — but it passed not, as it passed not from Him ; and 
 Heaven's only reply to that wail of prayer was the command to 
 take that cup and drink it, — yea, drain it to its last and bitterest 
 drop. 
 
 Do you remember that day of darkness, — that hour when 
 you stood appalled at the prospect before you, when the 
 shadow of death was at the door and you begged of God that 
 He would not let him cross the threshold? And that prayer 
 God did not think it best to hear, because He had another pur- 
 
I20 
 
 pose and a better way for you, — though you could not see it, 
 and could not then have understood it if you had seen. Accept 
 this, then, as something which must needs be. Brought to the 
 borders of any sea, only be sure that it is the hand of God that 
 has led you thither. Pray for exemption from the threatening 
 waves if you please, but do not be disappointed if there comes 
 back only this word, — " Go forward." Forward then to the 
 margin, and forward into the waves, if it is the Lord who bids 
 you go on. 
 
 Thus Israel obeyed. Encouraged or compelled, there was 
 no choice for them, and forward they must go. And now the 
 marvel of the divine word is explained ; the mystery of the 
 divine purpose is revealed ; for those perilous waves are parted 
 at their approach, and ere the first foot has touched the waters, 
 they have receded before it, and the bed of the sea is as dry as 
 the sands of the desert. Along that wondrous way the mighty 
 host marches on as safely and as peacefully as over the best- 
 built highways of the land. " The waters saw Thee, O God ; the 
 waters saw Thee, and were afraid. At Thy rebuke they fled ; 
 at the voice of Thy thunder they hasted away. He divided 
 the sea and caused them to pass through, and He made the 
 waters to stand as a heap." I gather, therefore, — 
 
 Thirdly, from this narrative, a lesson in regard to God's 
 treatment of His people, — that He often leads them through the 
 sea. We read the story of this miracle with great astonish- 
 ment ; but what must have been the feelings of the Hebrews 
 as they marched dry-shod along the very bed of the sea in 
 whose waves they had thought themselves about to be swal- 
 lowed up ! Did they tremble still as they saw that great wall 
 of waters piled up beside them ? If so, how foolish and how 
 ungrateful their fears ! Would the Lord bring them into the 
 depths to drown them with the returning waves? That is 
 not God's way with His people ; that is not His purpose in 
 bringing them out of Egypt ; not thus can His word be ful- 
 filled which insures them the possession of the land beyond 
 the flood as their inheritance. 
 
121 
 
 Ah, how often that miracle is repeated in the history of His 
 people ! How often His church has passed through seas of 
 tribulation and danger ; aye, even through seas of blood, — the 
 blood of her own martyred children ! How often the waters 
 in which it seemed she must perish have parted as she drew 
 near them, and through them she has travelled as safely as in 
 the days of her mightiest triumph and prosperity ! And surely, 
 therefore, it were a sin to doubt the purpose or the power of 
 God to give her the possession promised from the earliest ages 
 of the world. Her fall or her failure would be no less a re- 
 proach and a dishonor done to her God than would have been 
 the overwhelming and destruction of the Hebrew host by the 
 returning waves of the sea. There are other interests than ours 
 at stake on the issue : it is God's own name, — that name she 
 bears as the Church of the living God, — that is to be crowned 
 with glory or with shame as she shall prosper or shall fail of her 
 reward. Among the nations of that Eastern country who looked 
 with astonishment and awe on the rescue of Israel from Egypt, 
 God would have covered Himself with disgrace if He had per- 
 mitted the proud waters to roll over His ransomed people ; 
 and among all the nations of the earth, and of all times, a like 
 disgrace will be His if by any perils of sea or of land He should 
 suffer His blood-purchased Church to perish. And all our 
 doubts and fears, therefore, are without any reason or excuse, — 
 until we lose all faith in the purpose, the truth, and the power 
 of God, — all faith in the covenant with His well-beloved Son. 
 And if thus with His Church, how can it be otherwise with any 
 of His people? Is there any danger that one of them shall 
 perish whom He designs to save ? Is there any desert where 
 one of them shall die of drought ? any sea in which one of them 
 shall be drowned? Then is He false to His word, or fickle in 
 His purpose, or too feeble to achieve what He has undertaken. 
 
 Away with all such foolish, sinful fears ! Follow that hurrying 
 multitude as they press through the sea, and you are following 
 the track of every ransomed soul that ever the Lord led out of 
 
 i6 
 
122 
 
 its house of bondage. It matters not along what way it is trav- 
 elling ; what dangers beset it behind and before ; what walls of 
 water or of fire are beside it, — its face is toward the promised 
 land, and a pillar of cloud or of light will guide it to the end. 
 Who has not learned what Israel learned by that passage through 
 the sea? Who that has had any experience of life has not 
 found, — not the dehverance from trouble for which he prayed, 
 but a safe and easy passage through it, which is far better? 
 Thus the prayer was more than answered. Peace in the midst 
 of tribulation is better than peace in freedom from tribulation. 
 Safety in the midst of dangers is better than to be safe away 
 from all danger. Thus many a time the Lord has led us through 
 the sea. Do you remember the time when it seemed as though 
 you must surely die amid the dangers and distresses into which 
 you were brought? and yet you lived, and lived it may be a 
 happier and holier life than if the Lord had granted you the 
 freedom which you sought. How often the very waters which 
 you feared to approach have fled before . you, and what seemed 
 impassable you have safely gone through ; and what seemed im- 
 possible you have easily accomplished ; and what seemed in- 
 tolerable you have easily borne ! How many a burden you 
 have carried which you thought would have crushed you to the 
 earth ! How many disappointments you have met which you 
 had thought would have killed you with despair ! How many 
 cares and anxieties you have sustained, the thought of which 
 would have filled you with dismay ! How many treasures you 
 have lost, without which you thought you could not (and wished 
 not to) live one hour ! And what was all this but God's leading 
 through the sea ; and more than this, leading you in triumph, 
 and rejoicing as you saw that none of these things which you 
 feared so much had any power to kill or to hurt ? That is the 
 crowning marvel of the way, — that all these dangers and dis- 
 tresses stand aside, as the waters of the sea stood while Israel 
 passed over ; and that even through the midst of them we move 
 on unharmed, — aye, that even the heartiest songs of our praise 
 
r23 
 
 and rejoicing are sung as we jtnirncy through the midst of the 
 heaviest adversities and alarms. 
 
 But the perilous passage is ended at last ; and dry-shod up 
 from the depths of the sea comes that rescued people and stands 
 in safety on the farther shore. No more of fear and alarm ; no 
 lingering dread of sea or mountain ; no pursuing host of foes 
 pressing on. The divided waters have rolled together again, 
 and the dangerous sea slumbers peacefully in its summer calm. 
 And more than this : beneath that reunited flood is buried the 
 army of Egypt. " Sing unto the Lord, for He hath triumphed 
 gloriously ; the horse and his rider hath He thrown into the 
 sea. Pharaoh's chariots and his host hath He cast into the sea ; 
 his chosen captains also are drowned in the Red Sea. The 
 depths have covered them ; they sank into the bottom as a 
 stone ; they sank like lead in the mighty waters." I gather, 
 therefore, — 
 
 FourtJtly, from this narrative, a lesson in regard to God's 
 treatment of His people, — that he often leads them out of the sea. 
 Often, did I say ? aye, always ; for out of every trouble and 
 distress, and out of every danger, the Lord will save. The 
 angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear Him, 
 and delivereth. It was the angel of His presence that rescued, 
 guided, guarded, the chosen people ; and that angel guardianship 
 and guidance will carry them safely and surely to the promised 
 rest. By a journey of forty or of fourscore years, or by a few 
 days more of travel, it matters not, — the goodly land shall be 
 won. Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith ? Has He not 
 verified the promise, " When thou passest through the waters I 
 will be with thee, and through the rivers they shall not overflow 
 thee?" Then what if the desert still lies beyond? Is not His 
 past mercy a pledge of future safety? He hath delivered ; He 
 doth deliver ; and we trust that He will yet deliver. Is any- 
 thing too hard for the Lord? Is there any mountain over 
 which He cannot lead us ; any sea through which He cannot 
 find a way ; any desert where He cannot furnish us with food 
 
124 
 
 and drink? Aye, even though we see the lightnings and hear 
 the thunderings of Sinai ; though His righteous and holy law 
 should detain us by the way, — not even that shall stay us in our 
 course. Along the base of that threatening mountain, through 
 the desert of Sin, through all the perils and conflicts of our 
 wandering, we shall come at last to the land of peace and plenty. 
 Look back and see how out of every sea Jehovah hath brought 
 us ; look forward, then, and be assured that whatever may be 
 before you, the same right hand, so glorious in power, will bring 
 deliverance. And then when your feet shall stand on the bank 
 of that river which flows between the desert and the promised 
 land, oh, doubt not the goodness and the might of Him who has 
 led you thither through the sea and through all the wilderness 
 and solitary places of the world ! 
 
 Again the waters shall be parted as your feet draw nigh, and, 
 Jordan past, you stand secure on Canaan's heavenly shore. 
 Toward the sea, into the sea, through the sea, out of the sea, 
 — and then the land where is no more sea ! 
 
 Trenton, N. J., Aug. 29, 1879. 
 
125 
 
 TILL HE COME. 
 
 'OaciKts yap hv i<rdir]T€ rhv &pTov tovtov, Kal t6 irori)piov tovto TrivTjTe, 
 Thv QavaTov rov Kvpiov KaTuyyeWeTe, &xp^s oii eK6r]. — I CoK. xi. 26. 
 
 The great office of the Church is to bear witness to the truth, 
 — the truth of God's being, character, and will ; and especially 
 the truth in relation to Christ, — His nature, history, and office, — 
 the truth as it is in Jesus. Into that service everything is 
 to be impressed, and to it everything else is to be made sub- 
 servient. She is not responsible for anything further. Let the 
 issues be what they may, she has acquitted herself in the sight 
 of her God if she has faithfully borne her testimony to the 
 truth. It may be an offence to the Jew and foohshness to the 
 Greek ; it may encounter indifference or unbelief or positive 
 hostility ; men may hear or may forbear, be saved or perish with 
 it, — it matters not. A witness has nothing to do with the conse- 
 quences of the truth which he has sworn to tell ; judge and 
 jury must settle these. It would relieve our minds of some diffi- 
 culties and disappointments if we should remember this. It 
 would give us higher ideas of the dignity of the Church and 
 all her ordinances, — regarding them thus in their relations to her 
 Lord, as accomplishing for Him the work He has assigned them, 
 irrespective of all human conduct or experience as affected by 
 them. 
 
 And so, if we would understand the meaning of this sacra- 
 ment of the Lord's Supper, and give it its true place in the 
 ministry of the Church, we must look upon it in this light, — must 
 listen to it as it bears witness to what it has seen and heard and 
 handled of the Word of life. And that witness it bears not to 
 any theories or speculations or creeds, but to one single fact, — 
 the death of Jesus Christ, and to other things growing out of 
 this or connected with it. But the essential meaning and pov/er 
 of the sacrament is this, that it testifies to the death of the 
 
126 
 
 Lord Jesus ; observe, not to the faith of the church in it, or 
 to our individual faith in it, but to the fact itself, as a fact. 
 How else can we possibly account for its observance through 
 these past centuries? What other origin can you ascribe to it? 
 What else could have suggested it, or what motive could any 
 man have had in its appointment ; and how else could it have 
 taken and maintained its place in the worship of the Church? 
 There is no answer to these questions but the one. And often, 
 therefore, as we eat this bread and drink this cup, we do show 
 the Lord's death. I say again, — not show our belief of it, but the 
 truth of it, our participation of it as the testimony to our faith 
 in it ; the sacrament itself is the testimony to the fact in 
 which we believe. Whoever looks upon these symbols of the 
 Saviour's passion has virtually seen Christ crucified. They who 
 witnessed His actual death on Calvary have hardly any advantage 
 over us in their assurance of the event. There is a disposition 
 nowadays to discredit some of the most important personages 
 and events of ancient history ; even to throw a doubt over 
 their existence and to deny that there is any truth in some of 
 the stories which we have always believed concerning them. 
 Thus the heroes whom we have read of all our days are ban- 
 ished from the domain of history to the region of romance, 
 and we shall hardly know after a while what is fact and what is 
 fable. But as often as this table is spread there is the publica- 
 tion, the reproduction, of an occurrence which cannot be dis- 
 credited ; because if it had never happened, it never could have 
 been commemorated in this manner. That there was a man 
 called Jesus the Christ who did thus die long centuries ago, is 
 just as certain to us as though we had seen Him ; and through 
 all the centuries yet to come that fact remains unimpeachable 
 in the repeated witness of this simple ordinance. Build upon it 
 whatever theories men may please ; interpret it in whatever way, 
 believe or disbelieve all else recorded of Him, still He did 
 die a bloody death. And we to-day, in these ends of the earth 
 then unknown, and after the lapse of all these ages, are pro- 
 
127 
 
 claiming this fact as positively and as clearly as they who went 
 from Calvary and the cross to tell what they had witnessed 
 there. While, therefore, we thus renew the profession of our 
 faith in Him, let us also rejoice in every such opportunity to 
 repeat the testimony to this great fact of history. 
 
 That is one aspect of this sacrament as it looks back to the 
 past of long ago ; but there is another aspect of it, less promi- 
 nent in our regard, though not less important in its significance 
 and results. It is a prophecy no less than a history ; it looks 
 forward as well as backward ; and it foretells as plainly another 
 event as it records one already accomplished. Nay, more : it 
 is the future which gives to the past all its worth and power, — 
 which makes it worthy of remembrance or commemoration. 
 More even than this : the death which thus we proclaim was 
 the death of all our hopes, and we are publishing to the world 
 the bitterest disappointment we could ever know, — publishing 
 ever a fraud and imposture which it would be far better that 
 we should permit to pass into oblivion, if it is a dead Saviour 
 in whom we put our trust. Does our interest in Him, our 
 relationship to Him, cease at the cross on which He died, or 
 at the sepulchre in which they laid Him ? Then, indeed, it had 
 been better for us that we should forget Him ; for He has mocked 
 us with false promises, and our best and fondest expectations 
 were buried in His grave. Not all else that He had said or done 
 could give us any comfort ; not all His wise and loving words ; 
 not all His miracles of power and grace ; not even that won- 
 drous death itself. The sorrow which overwhelmed His friends 
 and followers when He died would be our sorrow still ; and as 
 that sorrow must soon have turned with them into indignation 
 at the deception practised upon them, so it would be with in- 
 dignation too that we should recall His life and His death, and 
 the blessings and thanksgivings we pay would be converted into 
 heaviest accusations and curses. 
 
 Let us be joyful, therefore, in a redemption not ended in His 
 death, — which had only been to us the end of all our hope, — but 
 
128 
 
 finished in His resurrection and ascension, and to be practically 
 finished to us in the fiirther prosecution of His work in our be- 
 half. It is a blessed truth to us, then, that while we celebrate 
 His death, it is in the knowledge also that that death was only 
 one of the necessary stages of His progress towards the consum- 
 mation of that purpose which brought Him from heaven to earth. 
 Let our rejoicing be complete, then, as we look forward to this 
 consummation, remembering that though we here show the Lord's 
 death, it is only //// He come. This is not, therefore, a perpetual 
 observance, but a temporary. It ends with the present dis- 
 pensation ; ends when the promise and the prophecy of this 
 death are fulfilled in the second coming of the Lord. Not 
 that then, or through the endless ages of futurity, that death 
 will be forgotten, or be less dear to the hearts of His people : 
 it will be the theme of adoration through eternity ; and the 
 songs of praise which shall never cease amid the glory of that 
 eternity, are the songs which celebrate this death. To Him that 
 loved us and washed us from our sins in His blood ; to Him 
 who died and rose again ; to the Lamb who was slain, — these 
 are the songs which shall ring throughout the celestial city for 
 ever and ever. But there will be no need of any such commem- 
 oration as we make here to-day. Our faith and love will no 
 longer need the quickening of this remembrance, nor shall 
 the world require any more the repetition of this testimony, 
 when He who was alive and was dead shall show Himself as 
 alive again, and having the keys of death and the grave ; that 
 will be enough for us and for all, — enough for Him too. 
 
 It is not enough then, for us or for Him, that we be reminded 
 only of His death in these memorials of it. Our service is in- 
 complete, and our satisfaction in it, if it does not point our hearts 
 and our hopes forward to this glorious hour when He shall come 
 again. 
 
 Accept it first, then, as a truth asserted not merely in the testi- 
 monies of Sacred Scripture, but in the very necessities of that 
 redeeming work He undertook for us. That reward He was to 
 
129 
 
 win for us and for Himself by His obedience unto death, He has 
 not yet received, though he is exalted to the throne of universal 
 empire ; we have not received, even though our sins be taken 
 away and our salvation made secure, — shall not receive, even 
 when our souls shall be welcomed to His glory. There is a 
 higher glory for both, and it awaits the manifestation of Himself 
 when He shall appear the second time without sin unto our 
 final and complete salvation. No wonder, therefore, that the 
 Scripture is so full of it ! it is the culminating point of all its 
 promise and prediction. The only wonder is that it does not 
 occupy a more prominent place in our faith and expectation, — 
 an omission, however, which is happily becoming less in our 
 day, as the thought and interest of the Church at large is more 
 directed to this glorious truth. After long comparative obscura- 
 tion it is coming out again into the light, and to the front, as 
 one of the great forces of the divine revelation, and in the 
 practical development of all church life and the prosecution of 
 all church work. It was the animating, inspiriting thought in 
 the church of the apostles and the early ages ; it is well that 
 after so long a time it is resuming its place in the faith and 
 interest of all the Lord's people. And then the question can- 
 not but suggest itself— When will He come 1 And few questions, 
 as you know, have provoked so much discussion as this. Need 
 I say that it has never yet been answered ? or say further, that 
 it probably never will be answered till it shall answer itself in the 
 revelation of the Lord Jesus Himself? Evidently it was in the 
 hope, if not in the faith, of the apostolic church, that the time was 
 near at hand ; though they did not pretend to any positiveness 
 in their expectation, — certainly did not assign any definite period 
 for its fulfilment. But it was their comfort and their impulse 
 and their strength and patience in all their toils and tribula- 
 tions. It fills a large space in all the inspired Epistles ; and 
 almost the closing words of the sacred volume are an assertion 
 of it as the great stimulus to Christian fidelity, and the great 
 encouragement amid all adversities. " Behold, I come quickly, 
 
 17 
 
I30 
 
 and My reward is with Me." To that promise of her Lord the 
 Church has answered for eighteen centuries, " Even so, Lord 
 Jesus ; come quickly." It has not been revealed to her when that 
 promise shall be fulfilled. It is not for us to know the times 
 and the seasons which the Father hath put in His own power. 
 Of that day and hour knoweth no man nor angel. Wisely and 
 mercifully has God withheld this knowledge from us. As in 
 regard to the day of our death. He leaves us in ignorance, — that 
 we may be always on the watch and always in a state of prepa- 
 ration for it, — so with reference to the great day of His coming : 
 it may be delayed for centuries yet ; it may not wait for the 
 rising of to-morrow's sun ; it will not wait one moment beyond 
 the appointed time. So we stand always in an attitude of ex- 
 pectation. The outcome of all the controversies in regard to 
 it has brought the Church to this position ; and vain, extravagant, 
 and foolish as much of the discussion of it has been, it has not 
 been wasted if through it we have reached this wise conclusion, — 
 looking for that blessed hope and the appearing of the great 
 God and our Saviour Jesus Christ. " Blessed is that servant 
 whom his Lord, when He cometh, shall find so doing." But let 
 not hope deferred make our hearts sick with disappointment, 
 nor disturb our faith in the word on which that hope is resting. 
 It is our great mistake that we make our short lives and the 
 limited periods of human history the measure of the divine 
 operation. But what are all our times to that immeasurable 
 eternity through which the providence of God is working out 
 His infinite purpose ? A thousand years are in His sight but 
 as yesterday when it is past, and as a watch in the night ; a 
 thousand years are with the Lord but as one day, and one day 
 is as a thousand years. He knows nothing of our divisions of 
 time. To Him there is no boundary assigned save that of His 
 own will ; and, unaffected by all the movements of human thought 
 and history. His eternal thought moves on His undisturbed 
 affairs. We cannot hasten Him, we cannot hinder Him ; but 
 surer than the rising of the sun His hour comes, — and then, 
 
131 
 
 swifter than the morning Hght, He comes. And whether that 
 glorious appearing shall burst upon our startled vision before 
 another day shall dawn, or in some midnight of a thousand 
 ages hence, our interest and our duty, our faith and hope and 
 all our immortal destinies, hold us to this one position, — waiting, 
 looking, longing, and ready always to enter with Him, when He 
 comes, into His joy ; and far more important for us, therefore, 
 than any question as to times and seasons, is that which relates 
 to the manner and the purpose of His coming. 
 
 How, then, shall He come? And to that question also, 
 though we may give a more definite reply, we can give none 
 which shall approximate the full expression of the truth. Even 
 the language of inspired description is beyond our comprehen- 
 sion, — feeble as all human words must be to depict a glory 
 which human eye hath not seen, nor human ear heard, nor hath 
 entered into human heart. Give the widest range to thought, 
 the freest wing to imagination, even, and still we cannot reach 
 it, — -can hardly come to some dim and distant vision of its 
 splendors. In the clouds of heaven and with great glory, with 
 thousands upon thousands of saints and angels around Him ; 
 with the overpowering majesty of a God embodied in the 
 form of His glorified humanity ; in the radiance of a light 
 which shall turn the sun into darkness ; marshalled by all the 
 hosts of heaven, and amid the music of celestial choirs, — ah, 
 who can understand even these poor attempts to express that 
 inexpressible glory ! We may gain perhaps some slight concep- 
 tion of it as we go back to the days of His former advent, and 
 think of it in contrast with the humbled, lowly, suffering state in 
 which we then beheld Him. As we remember Him thus, re- 
 calling his lowly birth and His life of shame and persecution, 
 how He was despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows 
 and acquainted with grief, the malice and hatred He encoun- 
 tered. His toil and weariness, the tears He shed and the 
 deeper woes which no tears could relieve ; as we follow Him to 
 Gethsemane, to the hall of judgment and the hill of Calvary ; 
 
132 
 
 even as we here show forth His death, — a death amid the hor- 
 rors of great darkness, when even the Father's love and pity 
 seemed to have failed Him, and he cried in the extremity of 
 His anguish, " My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me ! " 
 — remember all this, and then uplift Him to a height of honor, 
 majesty, and glory at the utmost possible remove from this, it 
 may be that by such contrast we may gain some glimpse of the 
 ineffable splendors of His second advent. For by all that 
 via dolorosa which He travelled during the days of His humilia- 
 tion He was journeying towards a crown and kingdom which 
 should be the ample compensation for all the trials and distresses 
 of His earthly pilgrimage. Low as was the place of His humili- 
 ation, so high the place of His exaltation ; dark as was the 
 day of His toil and suffering, so resplendent the time of His 
 rest and rejoicing ; painful and bitter His seeming defeat, so 
 gladdening and complete his victory ; unspeakably appalling 
 the cross on which He died, so bright the lustre of the throne 
 He won, and before which all the principalities and powers of 
 earth and heaven bow down to pay their homage. 
 
 One other question yet remains, — the vital question as to all 
 the pomp and splendors of that great day, — For what shall He 
 come ? And that, too, is a larger question than we can answer ; 
 for this is the day for which all other days were made, — the 
 crisis of all human history and destiny. It is the day toward 
 which all preceding centuries have travelled, and for which all 
 have been preparing. What all the tremendous issues of this 
 day shall be who can tell ? But this much we may tell, as we 
 do know that then He shall come to be glorified in His saints 
 and admired in all them that believe. Whatever may be its re- 
 lations to the world, and to the final judgment of mankind, and 
 to the two eternal, changeless states which lie beyond the judg- 
 ment seat, it is the time of blessedness and glory for His people 
 all, and for which all have waited, and are waiting still. No 
 matter whether they be slumbering in the grave or toiling still 
 amid the conflicts and trials of the earthly life, the flash of 
 
133 
 
 that celestial light shall pierce the darkness of the sepulchre, 
 and the trump which announces His approach shall waken the 
 dead from their sleep, and this mortal shall put on immor- 
 tality (whether of the living or the dead), and all alike be raised 
 to meet Him and mingle with that ever-swelling multitude which 
 no man can number, of every age and people, of every time 
 and place, of every tribe and tongue, from days before the 
 flood and from all the periods after it, from east and west and 
 north and south, from every clime and continent and every 
 island of the sea, from city and desert, from graves where the 
 good have lain for ages and from sepulchres which no man 
 knoweth and from beneath the waters, — patriarchs, prophets, 
 priests, martyrs, and holy men of all times, a mighty gathering. 
 And in the midst of them all the King in His glory ; and next 
 to Him in our joy and welcome our own beloved dead, whose 
 faces we have not seen for so long, — the darlings whom we laid 
 in the tomb with tears of bitterest grief, but still in hope of a 
 blessed reunion ! and no more to be parted, no more tears, 
 nor groans, nor separations, — forever with the Lord, and for- 
 ever with His glorified saints, and forever with our own recovered 
 lost and loved ones ! Only till He come shall we watch and 
 wait ; only till He come shall we hope and pray ; only till He 
 come shall we toil and suffer ; only till He come this holy com- 
 munion of His body and blood, — and then, when He cometh, 
 communion with Him and His loved ones forever and forever 
 more ! 
 
 Trenton, N. J., Sept. 5, 1879. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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