V- DISCRIMINATING BUT MYSTERIOUS TREATMENT OF HJS..OWN PEOPLE. ' ' f- ' ’ „7 / V DISCOURSE O'.. > 4\'" A VA /v DELIVERED AT THE FUNERAL OF REV. JOSEPH BENNETT, WOBURN, NOVEMBER 22, 1847. BY REV. JOHN W. CHICKERING, PASTOR OF HIGH STREET CHURCH, PORTLAND. BOSTON: DICKINSON PKINTING-HOUSE . . . DAMRELL & MOORE. 1847 . Woburn, November 25, 1847. Rev. John W. Chickering: Dear Sir , — The First Congregational Church in this place, at a meeting held this day, voted their thanks for your able and appropriate discourse on the mournful occasion of their beloved Pastor’s funeral, and also request that you would furnish a copy of the same for publication. In behalf of the Church, Brethren and Friends: Your note, conveying the thanks of the Church for my late service, and their request for the publication of the discourse, was duly received. I feel that, under all the circumstances, the manuscript is their property ; and I shall be glad if any effort of mine may serve to comfort and benefit a community endeared to me by so many associations. As a slight sketch of your late beloved Pastor’s life and character, and a humble attempt to throw the light of divine truth upon the darkness of that Providence which removed him from our sight, it may not be without its uses however hastily and imperfectly prepared. Since you have so judged, it is yours ; and may God send His blessing with it. Portland, Dec. 3, 1847. Very sincerely and respectfully, yours, J. W. Chickering. Messrs. Cutter, Thompson, and Richardson. DISCOURSE. MALACHI, 3 : 14—18. Ye have said, It is vain to serve God ; and what profit is it that we have kept his ordinance, and that we Have walked mournfully BEFORE THE LORD OF HOSTS ? AND NOW WE CALL THE PROUD HAPPY ; YEA, THEY THAT WORK WICKEDNESS ARE SET UP J YEA, THEY THAT TEMPT God are even delivered. Then they that feared the Lord spake OFTEN ONE TO ANOTHER; AND THE LORD HEARKENED, AND HEARD IT: AND A BOOK OF REMEMBRANCE WAS WRITTEN BEFORE HIM FOR THEM THAT FEARED THE LORD, AND THAT THOUGHT UPON HIS NAME. AND THEY SHALL BE MINE, SAITH THE LORD OF HOSTS, IN THAT DAY WHEN I MAKE UP MY JEWELS; AND I WILL SPARE THEM, AS A MAN SPARETH HIS OWN SON THAT SERVETH HIM. THEN SHALL YE RETURN, AND DISCERN BETWEEN THE RIGHTEOUS AND THE WICKED ; BETWEEN HIM THAT SERVETH GOD, AND HIM THAT SERVETH HIM NOT. God’s way is in the sea. Trackless as its surface, and unfathomable as its depths, his path is past our finding out. Yet it is clearly defined in his eternal thoughts, and unerring in its direction towards most desirable and glorious ends. It may be sufficiently known, even here, to minds taught by the Spirit, and illumin- ated by faith, to answer every important purpose of a perfect knowledge ; while the anticipation of reading the whole mystery, in a world where nothing will re- main mysterious, stimulates hope, and adds a new charm to our images of celestial bliss. BURTON HIST, COLLECTfG;, DETROIT 4 god’s treatment of his own people. To justify the ways of God to man, is a frequent office of the Holy Ghost, in this blessed Book. To this end Malachi wrote, in this chapter: “Ye have said, It is vain to serve God ; and what profit is it that we have kept his ordinance, and that we have walked mournfully before the Lord of hosts % ” They had said even more than this. They had “ called the proud happy ; ” and had declared, in a tone of unbelief and murmuring : “ they that work wickedness are set up ; yea, they that tempt God are even delivered.” Their thoughts had gone in the same direction with David’s thoughts, and to a more culpable extent than his, when he felt for a moment that he had cleansed his heart in vain and washed his hands in innocency, since all the day long he had been plagued, and chastened every morning. But the corrective which the Psalmist’s visit to the sanctuary supplied to his heart, ever ready to learn and to repent, the prophet was instructed, as the amanuensis of the Holy Ghost, to furnish to the myriads of Bible-readers in all ages : “ Then they that feared the Lord spake often one to another ; and the Lord hearkened, and heard it, and a book of remem- brance was written before Him for them that feared the Lord, and that thought upon His name.” Ah, that memory of God ! He knew, and He would never forget, who loved and feared Him. He knew the proud too, and remembered them. They that tempted Him were not overlooked. They that wrought wickedness were not forgotten. He discrim- god’s treatment of his own people. 5 mated infallibly; and the result of his discerning estimate was recorded ineffaceably on tablets that would never be broken. More than this, — the time was coming when these peculiar treasures of the Lord, being gathered from among the dross and rubbish, would be seen among his jewels : 44 They shall be mine ; ” known as His by being gathered ; claimed before the universe as his property ; recognized by angels and men as gems in the Redeemer’s crown. And He would 44 spare them, as a man spareth his own son that serveth him.” They had not been blameless, but by His grace they should be held harmless, as a father would not cast off a dutiful and penitent child, even for frequent offences. And what would follow \ 44 Then shall ye return,” — change your course of reasoning and turn from your mistaken opinions, — 44 and discern between the righteous and the wicked ; between him that serveth God, and him that serveth Him not.” God’s discrimi- nation would then become in a measure theirs. The difference He should make, would rectify their erro- neous confounding of characters. The proud would not always be happy. They that tempted God would not always be delivered. It would not always seem a vain thing to serve Him, keep His commandments, and walk mournfully, that is, penitently and humbly, before Him. The difference in the condition and pros- pects of him that serveth God and him that serveth Him not, — a difference not made visible on earth, by any outward tokens of the divine approbation or dis- * 6 god’s treatment of his own people. pleasure, and in consequence wholly lost sight of by careless observers, — would one day stand forth to view in such boldness of relief, such fulness of outline, and such vividness of coloring, that no doubting mind would remain, no cavilling voice be heard; but all worlds w r ould unite in saying, “ Verily He is a God that judgeth in the earth.” The passage thus expounded teaches the following truth : — The discrimination which Jehovah now makes BETWEEN THE RIGHTEOUS AND THE WICKED, BUT WHICH He does not now reveal to mortal view by His PROVIDENTIAL TREATMENT, He WILL HEREAFTER SO MAN- IFEST, THAT IT SHALL BE KNOWN AND READ OF ALL MEN. God alivays discerns between the righteous and the wicked. Not only the book of remembrance, but of knowledge, is open before Him ; knowledge of all events, and all beings. Nor is it the least important item in this vast, this boundless intelligence, that “ the Lord knoweth them that are His.” Under whatever costume of outward condition, under whatever drapery of religious form, under whatever clouds of mental distress, under whatever shadow, even, of imperfection and frailty, they may lie, their renewed and loving though but partially sanctified hearts are naked and open before Him, transparent to their inmost recesses. Nor is it less true that He makes, even now, a differ- ence in his treatment of these different classes of men. It is not only an intellectual discrimination, nor merely the going forth of His holy heart in complacent love god’s treatment of his own people. 7 to those reflected images of Himself. His discrimina- tion is, even now, practical. He manifests Himself to his people as He does not to the world. He speaks to them in words that sometimes lift them up from their deepest sorrows. He deals with them as with sons, even when he rebukes and corrects them. The purpose marks the act; and God’s purpose of sanc- tification and salvation gilds even His rod like a scep- tre, and changes blows into caresses. But it is equally plain, that this discrimination, unerring as it is, and manifested in a thousand ways to its favored objects, is not revealed by any uniform course of divine providence. The believer bears about with him no charmed life. In body, mind, and estate, he suffers like other men. Not only does the rain descend and the sun shine, alike on the evil and the good, on the just and the unjust, but those storms and lightning-strokes, which, since Eden was shut up, have desolated the world, have no restraining hand laid upon them to the exemption of the humblest and holiest from their dreadful visitations. Good men are in trouble as other men ; in trouble of mind as in other trouble. Let us dwell for a moment upon this branch of the believer’s sufferings; a large and fruitful branch of that tree of human woe, whose roots were planted in Paradise. Well may each victim of mental disease and suffering exclaim with Job, “ Have pity upon me, have pity upon me, O ye my friends ; for the hand of God hath touched me.” And even when 8 god’s treatment of his own people. disease has begun to impair the delicate texture of that organ in which the animal and spiritual seem myste- riously to meet ; after reason is dethroned, conscious- ness weakened, and responsibility gone, the same appeal for pity may be heard in the words of unnatural excitement or despondency, or perceived by the sensi- tive heart in the silent wretchedness of despair, and the dreadful deeds of an unguided and irresponsible frenzy. From all this, good men are not exempt. It is true in this respect as in others, that 66 one event happen- eth ” to the righteous and the wicked. Indeed, it has been falsely charged upon piety — the love and fear of God, and faith in a divine and compassionate Saviour — that it tends to mental derangement ! That reli- gious interest has sometimes resulted in insanity, is true in the same sense in which it may be affirmed of every other intensely deep feeling of the human soul. It would seem that the God of nature and of grace, who governs those two kingdoms in perfect unity of design, as parts of His vast universal empire, has kept them in an important sense distinct, and has not so far identified them that the body or the mind should find their ordinary laws of being and of action set aside in any case, because of the religious nature of the exercises by which their safety is threatened. But even these cases are far more rare than is generally supposed. "What may be called the religious phase of insanity, is often but a phase ; a secondary element, perhaps only a development, of disease having a purely god’s treatment of his own people. 9 physical origin. Let the hand of God be laid upon the brain of one whose ruling passion and habitual thoughts relate to divine things, and it would be strange indeed if the disease did not develope itself partly, if not chiefly, in that direction. But it is most plain that piety affords no present protection against these calamities, more than against the thousand lesser ills that flesh is heir to, most of which, however, we think more of and speak of more frequently in our prayers and thanksgivings. Neither good men nor great men, nor those who have stood in the pastoral office in both those aspects, have been exempt from that dreadful class of calami- ties comprising the various forms of cerebral disease. Nor would it be strange, if a careful computation should show a large proportion of such cases in the ministry, compared with those in other professions. With so constant a taxing of all the powers of the brain, both those of thought and of feeling, while the other organs and parts of the system often lack the appropriate exercise, by which a due and healthful balance should be maintained ; and with such constant liability even among the kindest and most considerate people, to the rudeness of 44 unreasonable and wicked men,” and even of unreasonable good men also, who do not always show the meekness and gentleness of Christ in their treatment of Christ’s ministers, is it to be won- dered at, that the functions of that delicate organ are often prematurely impeded, and some bright lights of 2 10 god’s treatment of his own people. the church quenched in an early gloom l Rather let us say of them, that “ Like the morning star, Which goes not down behind the darkened west, Nor hides obscured amidst the tempests of the sky, They melt away into the light of heaven.” But how can I detain your thoughts with any other illustration of the exposure of good men to mental calamities, than the one which God has brought and laid here before us ! For God has done it. Our brother is not, for God hath taken him. Let us receive it to our hearts, at once a lesson and a lenitive, that our dear and excellent brother, — an Israelite indeed, in whom was no guile, — died by the vis- itation of God. It is as true of him, as if a stroke of lightning or of apoplexy had laid him low, or a burning fever, filling his veins with fire, had gradually consumed him. But custom, and the reasonable wishes of hundreds present, require me to go back for a few moments to his early and advancing life, before saying what seems due to his memory, and to the honor of that divine grace which he so largely shared, in relation to the physical causes of his death, and our sorrow. J oseph Bennett — how suggestive is the very name, to those who knew him well, of integrity, kindness, and the fear of God ! — was born in Framingham, May 13, 1798, and graduated at Harvard College in god’s treatment of his own people. 11 1818. On leaving the Theological Seminary at Ando- ver, in 1821, he was introduced to this people; among whom he was settled January 1, 1822, and married, in February following, to Mary Lamson, his ever discreet counsellor, as well as affectionate and beloved friend. In 1826 his labors were blessed, and the power of the divine Spirit manifested, in a manner and measure never to be forgotten by any who witnessed those thrilling scenes. At that time his own soul was visit- ed from on high ; first with deeper convictions of sin than he had ever felt before, and some doubts of his previous conversion ; and then with joys of faith, and a holy zeal to honor Christ and win souls to Him, which almost consumed the offering he so willingly and unreservedly laid upon the altar. This season of mental activity and joyful labor was followed, doubt- less, according to the laws of our physical being, and of his constitution especially, by a long and distressing reaction. He was exceedingly depressed, and felt himself unfit and unworthy to sustain the pastoral relation ; but was ultimately encouraged and restored, through the blessing of God upon the efforts of his family, and the considerate course of his ever affection- ate people. From time to time it pleased the Lord to bless his labors in a remarkable degree ; and it has been his happiness to receive many hundreds to the church. Let them remember that he had no greater joy than thus receiving them, except to see them 44 walking in the truth.” Few ministers could say with more sin- 12 god’s treatment of his own people. cerity, or depth of meaning : “ Now I live, if ye stand fast in the Lord.” During a part of the year following the extensive revival of religion among his people in 1840, he suf- fered severely from a diseased state of the digestive organs, attended, as those attacks always were in his case, with extreme depression. “ Sometimes on the mount, sometimes in the vale,” is his own recorded outline of his whole life. None, however, but his most intimate friends, I might say his most intimate friend , knew how deep that vale sometimes was. Suffice it to say that her anxiety, and watchfulness, and sad words, are now understood in connection with what he has said to his son concerning “ horrid temptations in 1840 ; ” and that we are sure that it is no “ strange thing that hath now happened unto ” him, so far as mental disease and awful impulses are concerned. We now understand, also, more fully than any but his own family knew, the necessity for that physical labor, and the benefit of those out-door occupations at home and abroad, undertaken by him with such characteristic ardor. There is no doubt that the enterprises in which he engaged from time to time, in behalf of feeble churches and other charitable and religious objects, relieved the mental excitement from which they received such a powerful impulse. It was in these ways alone that he could preserve that bodily soundness so essential to his mental health. In few persons has the old classical maxim of a sound mind in a sound body been more clearly illustrated. His god’s treatment of his own people. 13 mental state was, perhaps even more than in most men, dependent on his bodily health, and that again, in great measure, on daily and abundant exercise in the open air. It was partly owing to his enjoyment of unusual bodily health, at and before the time of his first wife’s death, that he was enabled by the supports of divine grace to rise above the depressing influences of that event, and instead of sinking, as it was feared he might do, into gloom and despondency, was led almost from the first to show even more than his usual cheer- fulness. This must, however, be considered as evidence of a highly-excited state of feeling ; and his vivacity was often, according to his own statement, the result of a strong effort to keep himself up from the gulf of gloom into which, from often and sad experience he feared he might fall. Even his liveliest sallies of hu- mor, as he said himself, while expressing the most conscientious fears lest he should go too far towards an unseemly levity, were uttered by a kind of des- perate effort not to be sad. To minds in a certain state, gayety or gloom is the only alternative. In the early part of the autumn of 1846, he was threatened with a reaction from this state of cheerful- ness, and a repetition of former seasons of despond- ency. “ I fear,” said he to his son, “ that I shall have another attack of disease and depression, and I must throw it off by exercise.” This for a time he suc- ceeded in doing, occupying nearly a month in vigorous bodily exertion. Early in the present autumn his 14 god’s treatment of his own people. mind was much excited by causes which need not now be detailed ; and it was matter of relief to his affec- tionate children, that his attention was soon and happily diverted from those causes of anxiety, towards the choice of a companion. But the crisis, though perhaps delayed by that scene of pleasing interest, on which we cannot here dwell, but which was a last and abiding source of comfort to our departed friend, — though, alas, how brief ! — the crisis^ I say, came at last. On Friday morning, just a week before his death, he found himself deep in the vale of gloom. He said to his children, who came home on Saturday, “ I am glad you have returned ; I wanted to see you once more ; an awful attack of melancholy came upon me Friday, as suddenly as a thunder-clap, and it is impossible for me to shake it off.” He was by much effort, however, temporarily and partially cheered. But all the endeavors of his family, though assid- uous and discreet, and uniformly met on his part in kindness, and with many demonstrations of unabated love to them all, were successful only for the moment. The spell was upon him. There is now little reason to doubt, that the purpose whose execution has filled our hearts with anguish, was steadily pursued, — ought I not rather to say pursuing ? — during that whole week. Dark and dreadful week ! who can imagine its horrors, amidst which one so conscientious, — one in whom physical timidity and moral courage were so remarkably blended, — one so fond and so blest in the god’s treatment of his own people. 15 conjugal and paternal relations, — one so inexpe- rienced in even the simplest arts of concealment, — was going steadily and darkly on to the destiny which seemed, like some spirit of evil, to beckon him forward to its consummation. We can easily imagine him crying out during that long and solitary struggle with the dreadful temptation, which it is now supposed he had the last evening of his life, while each of us then in the family thought he was with some other, “ My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me ] ” But over those scenes the Divine hand has drawn a veil which we may be thankful can- not be lifted until that day, when the retrospect by him, and our knowledge of its details, will awaken only new thankfulness that it is for ever past, and call forth new praises to Him who maketh our light afflic- tion to work out for us an exceeding and eternal weight of glory. His melancholy, so far as could be gathered from the few words he reluctantly uttered concerning it to his nearest and dearest friends, took the form of remorse for sin, as is usually the case, for reasons already alluded to, with conscientious and pious people. This was joined with anxiety respecting his pastoral relations, and his fitness and acceptableness as a minister of Christ. To the affectionate inquiries of his wife, why he sighed and lamented, he answered, “ O, I am such a shiner ! ” He told his son he was not worthy to be a minister, or to have such children, and such a wife. May it not have been this feeling 16 god’s treatment of his own people. which prompted him to the selection of the fifty-first Psalm, for that last public exercise in the vestry, on Thursday evening, when he gave a brief exposition of each verse, so clear, and expressive of such unfeigned humility, that it will never be forgotten by those who heard it, though his manner was noticed at the time as less animated than usual ? But to return to the order of our sad narrative. Tuesday evening, on his son’s saying that duty called him to resume his studies at Andover the next day, and that he believed he should go in the morning, he replied, grasping his hand with a peculiar pressure, “ Perhaps you had better stay a little longer ; if you should go, may the Lord bless you, my son.” This language we can now interpret only as intended for a farewell. On Wednesday morning his dreadful temp- tation was disclosed to his son, though its force was little imagined, and the announcement led only to a compliance with his father’s request, that he would remain at home, and to such watchfulness as was judged necessary and sufficient. The morning preced- ing his death, he was seized with a sudden and violent pain while at the table, which led him to place his hands to his head and cry out in agony. As he had previously suffered in the same way, and now assured his anxious companion that such a pain had sometimes proved the crisis of similar disorders in his case, no new fear was awakened ; though the occurrence now seems to demonstrate in a manner, which, if needful, would be consoling — the presence of physical disease god’s treatment of his own people. 17 producing derangement of mind * ; according to the unhesitating conclusion of all best qualified to judge, and the recorded verdict of a jury of inquest. The evening before his death, the speaker, ever kindly welcomed as a younger brother and friend by his venerated father’s successor in this now vacant bish- opric, was directed in the inscrutable providence of God to what was intended as a visit of congratulation and social pleasure. But it was evident that our dear brother was not himself. Strangely moody and silent, and often lost in thought, he hardly smiled during the evening, except when his wife cheered him into a mo- mentary likeness to his former self by a favorite piece of music. With an evident feeling of incapacity for the sole management of the weekly prayer-meeting, he insisted on my sharing that duty with him ; and after- wards, when entreated to try and be more cheerful, with the assurance that he had seldom spoken better at a meeting, replied, that he had one of his old dys- peptic turns ; “ and then ” said he, “ you know I can- not be cheerful.” * The fact has since been communicated by the family, that Mr. B.’s father, having fallen into a similar state of gloom, in consequence of an affection of the liver, -which caused a loathing of all food, and being seized with the impression that a famine existed, and that the only way to save his family from starvation, was to abstain from food himself, resisted for fourteen days all entreaties and efforts, and died of exhaustion. He thus fell a victim to an insane impulse close- ly connected with affection for his family ; while his son, as there is more and more reason to believe, found his chief source of anxiety in the affection he bore to his people ; and in the fear, not well-grounded, and yet not without some slight occasion, making it seem a reality to his sensitive mind, that he could no longer labor as he had done among them usefully and happily. 3 18 god’s treatment of his own feofle. He afterward, however, as already intimated, was soothed by the sound of music, and spoke, with almost his usual vivacity, to his old friend of the new friend who thus cheered him, and of whom he had said, but a few days before, that he feared he should love her better than his God. Let me be allowed to give one more evidence of the dreadful power of mental disease upon him, in connection with one of the most striking glimpses of his devout habits. His custom was, and had been, as is supposed, for years, in addition to other devotions, both secret and social, to pray audibly upon his pillow the last thing before yielding to sleep, and again the first thing on awaking ; thus devoting daily not only his first and last thoughts, but his first and last words, to his God. But during that last dreadful week, this had been wholly omitted. Who that knew him can believe that this was but an ordinary tempta- tion of Satan \ Who can doubt that his soul was not only exceeding sorrowful, — for this always brought him to the mercy-seat by day or by night, — but that his soul was darkened with the shadows of departing reason, even while, as in most cases of derangement, some of the faculties remained ? Over the scenes of the next morning we draw a veil. May their remembrance make us who mingled hi them “ wiser as well as sadder ; ” and may what is known or imagined by others, lead them to ask with humble self-distrust, and with daily thanksgiving to Him who imparted and preserves their reason, “ Lord, what is man \ ” god’s treatment of his own people. 19 And what shall I say of the character of our de- parted friend ? When I consider what must be said, if the truth be spoken, I seem to hear a remonstrance from those silent lips, which ever “ spoke the thing he meant,” and from which we have all heard such words of humility and confession. Yet it was not he, but the grace of God which was in him, acting upon and refining a naturally noble character, — itself the prod- uct of the divine hand, — that made him not only an honest man, but a holy man, that nobler work of God ; and that imparted to him, also, an intellectual vigor such as few men possess. Most of those who hear me have known and loved him so long and so well, that their own thoughts are to themselves his best eulogy. And if I should attempt to speak their thoughts, — their first spontaneous thoughts ; to say of him in few words what they feel, when they look upon those fea- tures once so lighted up with varying expression, what ought I to say \ My own heart says : Noble, great- hearted man ! whole-souled, generous, sincere. A man to be relied upon. Noble in the warmth and fidelity of his friendship ; noble in the humility which made him esteem others better than himself ; noble in gen- erous self-forgetfulness ; noble in forgiveness, and in all the developments of that grace, which, granted through the cross, made him live not unto himself, but unto Him who loved him and gave Himself for him. He was remarkable, and to all his friends in the strict- est and highest sense amiable, for the warmth of his affection. If we may not say of him, as we may of 20 god’s treatment of his own people. no mortal man, that he loved the Lord his God with all his heart, and his neighbor as himself, we may at least say, that he loved both God and man with an amount of affection, of which not many human souls seem to be capable. His religious feeling and domestic affection com- bined, shone with a heavenly lustre in his care for the souls of his dear children ; in his frequent prayers with and for them ; and in his midnight visits to their couches during a season of prevailing religious inter- est, where alternately beseeching them to be reconciled to God, and beseeching God for Christ’s sake to have mercy on them, he was instrumental in leading them to the paths of early piety, in which his own daily walk of consistency and kindness ever afterwards guided and encouraged them. His zeal for God, and longing for the souls of his people, amounted at times to the highest moral sub- limity. Who that saw him in the first great scene of religious interest under his ministry ; his own soul filled with new love and zeal ; disregarding all consid- erations of ease and safety to health ; forbidden at times by his physicians to converse hi the open air, yet pouring forth his whole soul in expostulations with those who accompanied him homeward from his winter evening services, — who that thus saw and heard him but must have felt emotions which nothing but a com- bination of greatness and goodness can awaken? It was not simply beautiful ; it was sublime. And with all that iron firmness of purpose hi labor, and all that god’s treatment of his own people. 21 vividness of conception, that power of rebuke, and that moral courage, which made him at times in de- claring the vileness of sin and God’s threatenings against it, like him whom men called Boanerges, what a vein of tenderness pervaded his character, and ran like a silken thread, soft and shining, through his whole pastoral life. This was the secret, under God, of his power in winning men, even the proud and the wicked, by private appeals. His great tenderness made him at times irresistible. He would enter a man’s dwelling, sit down by his side, place, it may be, his hand upon his shoulder, or lean gently upon him, and with tears entreat him to reflect. “ I have not come,” he would say, “ to argue with you, but I want to tell you my heart.” This trait showed itself in his love to his people. It must be a comfort to them to know, that after that week of mental suffering began, and even the very last day he spent on earth, he said to his companion, who as they were riding tried to cheer him with the thought of his happy parochial relations : “ O yes, mine is the best parish God ever gave to a minister.” As a preacher, he manifested a great diversity in point of style and of thought, these depending of course very much upon his singularly variable temper- ament. But his sermons were never without thought, — thought that breathed often hi burning words, al- ways in those that were clear and intelligible. It w T as remarked by his venerated friend and former instructer in theology, concerning a published sermon, the singu- 22 god’s treatment of his own people. lar expressions in which have doubtless attracted the attention of many who failed to notice the strong di- rect current of its sentiment, and the nervous Saxon simplicity of its diction : “ That sermon is all alive with thought.” As a popular writer, he might have greatly distin- guished himself, as many an able article in various periodicals will testify, if his published writings are ever designated as the product of his pen. Among his brethren he was without guile, and ever hopeful of them as distrustful of himself. He could differ without malice. He could express his views strongly 'without the words leaving their deepening furrows in his own heart, as is the case with some whose severe w T ords spoken one day but prepare the way for deeper feeling and severer words the next. He said all he meant, and when you thus saw his whole heart, you were neither alarmed nor angry. Ever “ Free from envy, scorn, and pride, He could a brother’s failings hide, And show a brother’s love.” Having much of that charity which thinketh no evil, his heart inclined him to err, if at all, in his estimates of character, on that side. But you knew him, my fathers and my brethren, and you loved him. You do love him, as you look upon those sad remains, and say: he is not here, but is risen. As a husband and a father he was, from first to last, every thing that the warmest affection could make him, god’s treatment of his own people. 23 or the most glowing eulogy represent him. In these relations God has greatly blessed him, and he in his heart daily blessed God, and received these mercies with the practical thanksgiving which consists in the right use of the divine bounty. He was in these rela- tions “twice blessed,” — blessed in imparting happi- ness as in receiving it. And few, perhaps, have better understood the meaning, in all its applications, of those last-recorded words of our divine Lord, “ It is more blessed to give than ,to receive.” But I cannot, and I need not, attempt any farther sketch of a character, which, while it requires a longer and a calmer time to analyze, we all feel that we un- derstand without description. Those, who knew him best, loved him most ; though far be it from us to con- tradict his own humble confessions of sinfulness, or to doubt that it was true of him, as of ourselves, that the Being who knew him best of all, saw jn him most to disapprove. Like other men saved, he was a sinner, saved by grace. And what shall I say to this circle of mourners \ Alas, I am a mourner myself; and need to sit and hear words of comfort and of counsel. But from whom shall they come \ Are not all these, my fathers and brethren in the ministry, mourners too ? Let me then not shrink from even a feeble effort, to expound the providence as well as the word of God, remembering the blessed office of consolation which we, my brethren, as Christian ministers, have sustained 24 god’s treatment oe his own people. in common with our departed brother who so well ful- filled it. O, if he could now this once more resume its duties ! If, from the temple in the skies, he could come down in spirit and employ those cold lips, or speak in angel’s whispers to our aching hearts, what might he say 1 — “ Weep not for me, but weep for yourselves. Weep, ye saints, for your sms ; weep, ye sinners, for your prospects ; weep, ye ministers, between the porch and the altar, and tell dying men, as you and I never knew or felt how to tell them while I lived, of the glorious heaven, the dreadful hell, and the precious Saviour, which things now seem to so many of them like idle tales. “ Weep not for me, thou dear companion, who didst rise a bright evening star upon my path, just before it ended darkly in time, to begin again under the morn- ing sun of heaven. “ Weep not for me, ye dear children ; with your sainted mother, and all the holy dead, I dwell joy- fully in this world, where they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are as the angels of God in heaven. Be sure to meet us here. “ Weep not for me, ye beloved companions of my childhood, one of whom has but so lately left the care of my broken household. With a brother’s love, I beseech you all to be comforted, and to be my com- panions hereafter. “ Weep not for me, ye aged and ye youthful connec- tions, whom I have dearly loved with the love of a god’s treatment of his own people. 25 soil or a brother, and for whom by name, and from my soul, I have prayed, while I remained in a world of prayer. “ Weep not for me, ye officers and members of that dear church, which, except my God and my family, laid nearest my heart. O, may none of you come short of this blessed rest into which I have entered ; but each one, from the oldest to the youngest, be presented faultless before the throne of His glory with exceed- ing joy- “ Weep not for me, ye dear members of my flock, whom I have vainly endeavored to lead to Christ ; but weep for yourselves, and for your children, whom your example may bring with you to that place of torment which I through grace have escaped. O, let me see you all on the right hand of the Judge. “ Weep not for me, beloved children and youth, who have now looked into my coffin. I am with that Saviour whom I have so often entreated you to love, and into whose sacred name, with that of the Father and the Holy Ghost, I have baptized so many of you. Weep for your sins, and come to Him, whose blood can wash them all away. 44 Weep not for me, my fathers and my brethren in the sacred office. Though I was a sinner, I have been saved by grace. He is faithful who hath promised. Only take heed to yourselves, and to the flock, over which the Holy Ghost hath made you overseers.” Thus may we imagine him to comfort and to teach us. And above all must we, my fellow-mourners, what- 4 26 god’s treatment of his own people. ever the nature or degree of our sorrow, look to the God of all grace and consolation ; to the divine Teacher, who “breathes upon the word,” and who interprets to the believing heart the mysteries of Prov- idence ; and to the High Priest, who can be touched with the feeling of our infirmities. And now we turn again reverently to the Blessed Word. Let us not forget that glorious vision of the future adjustment of these mysteries, which our text presents. “ They shall be mine, saith the Lord, in that day when I make up my jewels,” They are His now, and He knoweth them ; but then, they shall be gathered “ From ocean caves, beneath the waves ; ” from lofty mausoleums and unmarked sepulchres, shall the bodies of the saints be brought. And their righteous souls, often vexed like Lot’s, with the filthy conversation of the wicked, no longer scattered gems, trampled under feet with the vilest pebbles, but brought together and deposited among the peculiar treasures of the celestial kingdom. “ Then shall ye return and discern.” Even the most blind would see, the most inconsiderate caviller would understand, that there is a difference, in condition as in character, be- tween the righteous and the wicked. And what a difference ! Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man while in his mortal state conceived, either of the wide extremes. O, could I speak of one extreme, as those now silent lips have god’s treatment of his own people. 27 declared the terror of the Lord until the stoutest hearts have felt the word made quick and powerful by the attending Spirit, and have bowled like the trees of a forest in the wind. O, may he, being dead, yet speak, through memory, telling you again the words which he spake while yet present with you. But the scene leads chiefly to different thoughts. O ! that other extreme; the blessedness of those who, being ransomed by the blood of Christ, shall escape the second death. "What should we even now discern, if our eyes were opened like those of the young man with the prophet Elisha \ How should we discern the spiritually wise, shining as the brightness of the firmament, and those that have turned many to righteousness as the stars, for ever and ever. How kindly are they spared, as a man spareth his own son that serveth him. Spared from all farther fear and endurance of bodily pain or mental distraction ; spared from sorrowing ; spared from sinning ; spared from the just punishment of sin, because God spared not his own Son, and they have accepted Him as their Saviour ; spared from all that is evil, and blest with all that is good ; safe, holy, and happy, for ages without end. O ! will not the universe, wflien they see this, clearly and for ever discern, even according to Jehovah’s unerring discrimination, between the righteous and THE W ICKED ; BETWEEN HIM THAT SERVETH God AND HIM THAT SERVETH HlM NOT \