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SERMON

PREACHED AT JAMAICA PLAIN;'

FEBRUAEY 21, 1847,

BY JOSEPH HENRY ALLEN,

ON RESIGNING HIS PASTORAL OFFICE THERE.

published by request.

BOSTON:
PRINTED BY ANDREWS & PRENTISS,
No. 11 Devonshire Street.
1847.

SERMON.

Li k e x vi . 2.
GIVE AN ACCOUNT OF THY STEWARDSHIP; FOR THOU MAYEST BE NO
LONGER STEWARD.
I suppose it is generally understood, that my official con
nexion with this church has ceased, in accordance with the
vote given last Sunday. I am here now to say a few words
before a final separation. As your minister I can no longer
speak ; — only as a friend, long and deeply interested in your
welfare, who wishes now to say a single parting word. You
have chosen to give me that title, — urged me to tarry a
while in virtue of it, or at least to bear it with me where the
Providence of God shall hereafter call me. And for this
once I will use the privilege of it, and speak freely, as only in
the presence of brethren and friends. I bring neither flattery
nor reproach ; neither supplication for your good will, nor
complaint at anything that has been done or withheld towards
me. What I have in my mind to say, with your consent I
will say it, as briefly and quietly as I may.
It was just three years and a half ago this day, that you
offered to me your invitation to be your pastor. The lament
ed death of my predecessor, together with a series of circum
stances over which you had no control, had created a want

in this religious society, not soon or easily supplied. After
nearly a year and a half of interval, the existing differences
of opinion were waived by common consent, as I understand
it, for the sake of union and harmony ; and to this excellent
and Christian motive I ascribed the unanimity of feeling,
with which, as I was then informed, the invitation was ex
tended to me. Deeply conscious of my deficiencies, and
filled with distrust, both from the greatness of the responsi
bility and the suddenness with which it was put upon me, I
yet accepted the offer ; trusting that the harmony and mutual
conciliation then manifested, were a pledge of the patient
kindness and willing sympathy with which my imperfect
endeavors would be received.
It must need be a solemn and affecting review that I am
now led to make, of the three years' experience I have passed
through. There is always a soberness about the last of any
course ; and when the season has been one of much friendly
intercourse and many serious thoughts, identified with the
religious history of a community of living hearts, accompanied
at every step by solemn prayer and an interchange of the
deepest of the soul's experience — then it cannot but be in
some respects a matter of almost painful sadness to take a
final leave of it. But cheerfully and confidently we must be
ready to meet any change. Providence summons from one
sphere to another. The voice of God calls, and it is our
part to be prepared.
Without apologies, or complaint, or sentimental grief, I
feel myself entitled now to state one or two principles that
have been prominent in my mind, and somewhat shaped my

course ; together with such thoughts as may naturally come,
and fit themselves to the occasion.
In the first place, what sort of ministry is it, that is needed
in such a spot as this ? The one idea, of the character of
the office to be filled, must be the governing and essential
one. If any mistake is made in this, it will show itself in the
disadvantage and failure of all that is undertaken. If the
idea seized and clearly apprehended, is a true one, it will
gradually work upon all, and bring it towards a right issue.
This then, in brief, has been my idea of such a ministry ;
that with its eyes open to all the light that comes from the
kingdom of God, and its heart open to every want and inter
est of the world of man, it should be strictly a local ministry,
— identified with every interest, plan of improvement, joy,
sorrow, scenery even, and incident of the place where it is
established. My ambition has been, not to be a popular and
striking preacher, not to be a finished and learned scholar,
not to be the associate of a few, the gifted and cultivated and
prosperous ; but, in simple sincerity I say it now, as far as I
knew how, to be a useful minister, citizen, man, here at
Jamaica Plain. This has been my ambition and desire,
because it seemed the business of the profession I had
chosen. Personal reputation, whether as preacher, scholar,
or member of society, I have held to be subordinate and of
very small account, in comparison with that object. And it
has seemed to me that no duties were too humble, no detail
too insignificant, which would help at all towards carrying
out that idea. I have always thought, that whether my stay
should be six months or sixty years, my plan should be for
permanent usefulness in this place. With any other view

than this, a large part of what I have occupied myself about,
might seem trifling and distracted. It did not seem so to me,
as long as it was what ought to be done, and as long as it
seemed to help in the least to carry out the ultimate and
perfect plan. Some things were certainly undertaken with a
lack of judgment, and led only to vexation and ill success.
But, as I chose to measure them by my own plan, they did
not seem wrong to me ; and I always knew that a few years
would bring them all to bear, easily and obviously, upon the
work of my profession. For three years they may possibly
be deemed failures ; but not for ten or twenty years. I
regret the incompleteness, not the undertaking of them.
To do a single thing rightly by the place, I thought I must
regard it as my home; my lasting and permanent home, if
so it might be granted ; my own home, at least as long as it
should be granted. And so there is not a feature in the
beautiful landscape, or a child's face, or a family in the
parish, or a proposition for anything of benefit to our village,
that I have not looked on with interest and affection ; feeling
that in the Providence of God it was somehow connected
with my duty and hopes and prospects here. With strong
and earnest love I looked forward, (while the hope was
allowed me, ) to the prospect of being more entirely at home in
this neighborhood, and more closely identified with the social
and spiritual life of a place that had welcomed and encour
aged the efforts of my early youth. Much of it was only a
pleasant dream — and it has passed over now — but it had
grown deeply into my affections and thoughts. It made part
and parcel of the life's work I had sketched out for myself
here. Where there was mistake, I regret it. Where there

was fault, as in my own conscience I know there must have
been, I am deeply sorry for it. But such as I have stated,
was the main idea with which I came among you, and which
I have sought to carry out.
One word more, and I have done speaking of anything
especial in my idea and plan of ministerial labor. I have
been mortified and disappointed — not for myself — at find
ing some things misunderstood and complained of, which
seem to me so clearly right, that I am only sorry there was
not more of such reason of complaint. I mean in regard to
the republican and unaristocratic character of some of my
conduct here. Jesus of Nazareth, as we may infer from
Scripture, and as the Church has always believed, worked
with his own hands at a carpenter's bench till he was about
thirty years of age ; and throughout his ministry was re
proached for his free and indiscreet bearing, (as was thought)
towards all classes of men. I have been grieved and ashamed
sometimes, that any persons should rebuke an imitation of
him in this respect, in any one who professes to be his dis
ciple. But to pass over this topic, I would go on to say, that
it has seemed to me a main and very important part of the
Christian office, to melt away by mutual intercourse and
brotherly kindness, the harsh divisions that too often separate
us into sets and classes . in our social life. I remember to
have often heard it affectionately related of my predecessor,
that among his last words to this people was the earnest
exhortation to brotherly union and kindliness of intercourse.
It has seemed a charge solemnly put into my hands from him,
to make the ministry a constant and active means of bringing

this about — his last desire and request. The methods I
have taken may have been indifferently planned, and only
partial in their effects. But it has been a very great satis
faction to learn that a warmer and more general interest than
I supposed, has been felt in them ; and that something,
however little, has been actually done. If a beginning, no
matter how humble, has been made, the work of promoting
harmony, union and Christian charity, may safely be left
with you. t
In regard to the great and special work of the ministry
here or elsewhere — the inculcation of Christian truth and
righteousness — it becomes me to speak with diffidence and
reserve. There are deep religious wants everywhere — wants
which only the strongest, purest, wisest, best of men can
adequately meet ; and they, relying solely on conscience and
the help of God. I feel deeply — no one more than I —
how very imperfectly I have met and satisfied these wants.
The world demands a high and hard task of its spiritual
teachers. I am glad it does. When the mark is set high, it
is a good sign. Something is already gained when the want
is felt. How vast and glorious would be the gain if the want
were fully satisfied.
Elsewhere I have spoken more fully than I can at present,
of the principles that belong to this portion of the work. But
there is one point that seems to deserve especial mention now.
I mean the application of Christian principles to the position
and duties and immense responsibilities of the privileged,
prosperous, and influential. To set forth this, I have con
sidered a main and very essential part of the preacher's office

here. It has been our congratulation, perhaps our pride,
that there is as much prosperity and wealth among us, along
with as little want and suffering, as can be found anywhere,
in a community of the same number of persons. Sharing in
the commercial prosperity of the capital, we are free from its
poverty and disquiet ; in a great measure free also from its
excitements and vice. Blessed with a situation singularly
beautiful and salubrious, we are exempt from a great share of
the sickness and mortality that prevail in other places. Our
affections are not so painfully disappointed, our households
not so broken and desolated, our hearts not so weighed and
afflicted as many others, by the visitation of disease and death.
Along with all this privilege, comes a great responsibility.
Moral wrong and dangers there will be, equal to the exemp
tions and advantages of such a place. If our position is
favorable to general friendly and pleasant intercourse, to
quietness and contentment and mutual good will, it exposes
us also to a certain class of faults. What those are, it has
been my duty and my earnest endeavor to understand ; for
this reason, if for no other, that I am as much exposed to
them as any one. I have tried in this matter to be both
strictly faithful and scrupulously just. I have endeavored to
test each single principle in my own experience and conduct
first ; and not to deal in personalities, or make any charges
upon the individual, while I sought in all possible ways to
bring every man's conscience into play. I have considered
that in matters of conscience each must find his guide and
accuser for himself; and this rule I have steadily kept in
view, when urging as strongly as I knew how, the peril and
responsibility just spoken of.
2

10

Probably our greatest danger is of selfish apathy and out
side morality, without profound and earnest sentiment. This,
I suppose, is the chief moral danger of all human society ;
especially of our highly civilized and artificial way of life. It
is a danger which I am sure we must all feel for ourselves ;
which we must all have noticed in the prevailing faults of our
community. And there is one evil, closely connected with
it, so great that it seems to swallow up almost every other
sin. I mean the indifference and neglect of the prosperous
and influential towards matters of the most vital interest to
the morals and happiness of man. The sin of moral indif
ference, in whatever shape, it is a most imperative duty of
the religious teacher to rebuke — if possible, to cure. With
what success I cannot tell, but you will bear me witness that
I have not neglected to give my testimony against this great
and fearful wrong.
Again, the very broadest application of Christian principles
of right, is at once the lawful claim and the duty of him
who speaks in the name of conscience and God. And con
sequently, while his main business is undoubtedly with the
solitary heart and the private character, at the same time
there are matters of public morals, to which he must give
some attention. At any rate he must be free to speak, " as
God by his secretary Conscience shall enjoin." If there is
not personal confidence towards him, sufficient to bear him
out in uttering his honest thought on any topic of moral or
religious interest, this office is not for him to fill. I have felt
free to speak, so long as I have stood here, whatever I felt it
right and necessary to speak, in reference to those subjects —
as war, intemperance, a vicious public sentiment, and the

11

false value set on wealth — which strike me as the most
prominent evils of the day. Of course I should feel and
vindicate this freedom wherever I might be, and should use
it whenever I felt imperatively called on so to do. Pardon
me, if I have not been clear enough, or strong enough, or
earnest enough, as to these great and vital points.
One more fault I must speak of ; the rather, because it
takes hold so insidiously, and affects us before we are aware.
I mean the fault of depending too much on what God intends
as the tools and instruments of our usefulness, and too little
on his providence, and on our own soul. We think too much
of house and land, too much of prosperity and gain, too
much of bodily health and ease, too much of the world's
opinion and our reputation among other men, too much of
the mere outside, and too little of the inner spiritual force of
character and life. Even in our plans of doing good we
partake of the same material tendency. We flatter ourselves
that we shall be more useful and influential, better able to
fulfil the trust God has reposed in us, if we get a larger share
of the worldly goods which we mean shall be our instruments.
God forgive us for this willing self-deceit of ours. We all
share in it more or less. The notion is deceitful and wrong.
Our real success, our real usefulness, or valuable influence in
the world, depends far more on the spirit of the mind within
than on the array of outward help. We direct our economy
the wrong way. We cramp the mind and expand the pos
sessions ; whereas we should contract our wants if we must,
think less of our possessions at any rate, but make the soul

12

large and generous. For what we have is of infinitely less
account than what we are.
I have known the tendency was wrong, and have spoken
of it frequently. But with sorrow I acknowledge, that with
out this present experience, I should never have felt its false
ness, as I feel it now. The plans of action, the schemes of
one kind and another of success, the outward things so
pleasant to my thought, so long identified with my hopes and
love and worldly prospects, have passed away, like the thin
film of mist that hid the morning sky. I can be glad that
they are gone, if in spirit I can feel a grain more free. If any
degree of moral and intellectual force, any gleam of deeper
spiritual eyesight, has been granted me, though at the sacri
fice of what I had ever so strongly set my heart upon, I
should feel that I had only reason to rejoice at the exchange.
So pleasant a worldly lot as that which I now leave, I do not
look for again. But however pleasant and desirable, it
should not weigh one hour against the smallest degree of
genuine spiritual good that might be gained. Would we
could all conquer, once and forever, that wiliest sophistry
that comes to corrupt our souls. <
And now for a few last words I turn, my friends, to you.
When this hour is once passed., I shall go away, and can
never again stand towards you in that relation which has
been heretofore so pleasant and dear to me. I go, because
my own judgment and yours have decided that it is best I
should go. But if there has been a word of truth, a single
thought sincerely spoken in all this time, I cannot possibly be
indifferent hereafter to the religious welfare of this society.

13

For the personal testimonials of kindness shown towards me,
I feel, especially at this time, most warmly and sincerely
grateful. Within one short month, I have relinquished all
the methods, hopes and plans of these three last years.
The change wrought in this brief time is so entire, that I
surrender them all without a single regret, unless it be at
parting with those who have had so large a share of my
esteem and love. I should deem it profane and ungrateful
towards God, to be troubled for my own sake at a change
like this.
And for the sake of this society, I sincerely hope the
change may be for their advantage. It will be so, if all can
feel the need of mutual forbearance and harmony of action.
Any change of outward condition or circumstance, has its
value in leading our thoughts within, and teaching us to find
the spiritual wisdom which is God's most precious gift. As
to a change of this sort, ( we may as well acknowledge it, )
it cannot come to pass without some alienation of feeling and
some difference of opinion. You have felt something of this
already. At the present moment your minds are in a some
what harassed and divided state. Now you can suffer this
state of mind, whatever degree of it exists, to brood and
rankle, and kindle animosities that will trouble your peace
for years. Or again, you may show the better wisdom, of
soothing away all spirit of contention, and addressing your
selves in right earnest to the work of your Christian culture.
What is past is past, and can never be recalled. Everything
that has come to pass, has served to put you in a, position
where you can improve every advantage and make good
every loss. Personal experience of spiritual things is cer-

14

tainly the greatest possible gain, purchased at whatever loss
of other things.
You can deal wisely or foolishly by this circumstance,
which has interrupted the smooth flow of our religious
history. It certainly need not be a disadvantage, in what
ever view we consider it. I am not disposed to think so
sadly as many do, of the breaches of pastoral connexion, so
frequent in our day. Very often it is necessary for a man,
for the sake of his own growth and intellectual truthfulness,
to leave a spot where he is compelled to labor at a disad
vantage. And for a society it may also be a benefit, if it
breaks the monotony of long routine, and turns their thought
upon their spiritual history and wants. The frequent changes
therefore, so much complained of, may be a sign of greater
religious activity in the body of our congregations. Let us
hope it may prove so here. At any rate, you have now
before you the clear choice of what you will do. You may
forget personal preferences and personal feeling. You may
put out of sight the differences of opinion. You may
address yourselves, with one mind and heart, to the task
of building up Christ's kingdom here. You may do for
yourselves what I have not been so well able to accomplish
for you. All this lies before you, as the cheering and
encouraging possibility now offered. A little mutual concess
ion, and a gentle, forgiving temper, will work wonders in
effecting any Christian work. Only, whatever harmony there
is, let it come not from policy, but principle ; not from a
mere calculation of the advantage of uniting, but from that
spirit of brotherly love and deep religious, conviction, which
will sanctify whatever you undertake, and make all discord

15

among you forever impossible. God give you grace, that
in simple sincerity you may henceforth preserve the unity
of the spirit in the bond of peace.
Brethren and friends of this Christian Society. I have
done, what by the judgment of a sufficient number of you,
coinciding with my own, it seemed best that I should do.
I have withdrawn from the care and responsibilities of the
office I have held among you. I respectfully decline the
proposal you have made, that I should remain another half
year, — partly in justice to myself, that I may not labor
where there is not all that mutual confidence so necessary to
any satisfactory result ; partly in justice to you, that I may
not stand any longer in the way of that better ministration
which you hope to find. As friend, and not as pastor, I shall
henceforth know you, — by that title which you have pre
ferred that I should bear. And be assured of this, that on
whomsoever your choice shall rest, I do not anticipate any
possible jealousy or distrust, that can arise between him and
me. For him and you I shall feel both willing interest and
a strong desire of success. And along with this, permit me
to indulge the hope, that any true word I may have spoken,
and any plan of religious action here begun, may be if
it were only a single ear of wheat, or a grain of scattered
seed, in the harvest which you shall reap together, unto
everlasting life.