YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

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Smith, Asa D.
The guileless Israelite. a senaon on ...the
death of Mr .Joseph Brewster,
'New York, 1851.

lif-

From the Library of
SIMEON E. BALDWIN, Y '6i
Gift of his children
HELEN BALDWIN GILMAN
ROGER SHERMAN BALDWIN, Y '90
1927

THE GUILELESS ISRAELITE.
A
SERMON /
OX OCCASION OF THE
DEATH OF MR. JOSEPH BREWSTER.

BY REV. ASA D. SMITH, D. D.
TAPTOE OF THE FOUETEENTn STr.EET PEESUVTEETAN pnTJRCH, ^-E^V YOEK.

THE GUILELESS ISRAELITE,

SERMON

ON OCCASION OP THE

DEATH OF MR. JOSEPH BREWSTER,

DELIVEKED IN THE

FOURTEENTH STREET PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH,

NE-W YORK, JUNE 29, 1851.

REV. ASA D. SMITH, D.D.
PASTOK OF THE OHUECH,

NEW YORK:
ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH, 669 BROADWAY.
1 8 j5 1 .

New York, Jul^2, 1851.
Rev, Asa D, Smith, D. D.
Deab Sik : — The relatives of our brother, the late Joseph Brewstee, wishing
to preserve some memento of his excellent and useful life, -we ask the favor, on
their behalf that you will permit the discourse you recently preached on
, occasion of his death, to be published. With great respect, yours, most truly,
JAMES BRE-WSTER,
LEMUEL BREWSTER.

Ne-sv York, July 18, 1851.
James and Lemuel Brewster, Esq's.
Gentlemen : — ^Your request respecting the sermon occasioned by the death of
your brother, I cannot refuse. Ever shall I regard it as one of the choicest
privileges of m/ life, to have been so long intimately associated with him ; and
I esteem it a privilege now, to aid, in however humble a manner, in preserving
and diffusing the sweet and precious savour of his memory. Yours, very truly,
ASA D, SMITH.

SERMOI.

John i. il. — " Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile !"
Of the cast of character here indicated, every day's
experience gives us a higher appreciation. In early
childhood, the judgments formed of men and things are
marked by an unbounded credulity. Seeming is syno
nymous with being. The stars are within reach ; all
that glistens is gold ; every smile is an honest one ;
and on every word there is the impress of truth. But
as time rolls away, not only does it correct errors of
less consequence, it rectifies those which pertain to
human conduct. As we are compelled to ask, is the
coin proffered us genuine ? — do we look on the paste
diamond, or the real gem ? — so as to character. How
earnestly do we inquire, after many a sad disappoint
ment, is integrity its fundamental element — is since
rity its crowning grace ?
So in respect to character generally, but with
greater reason in regard to the Christian life. False
seeming in other directions may do comparatively
little harm. But let our religion be marked by un
soundness, and the evil is extensive as the range of

6
our influence, and momentous as the destinies of eter
nity. 'How we love to perceive, both for the sake of
the exemplar and the example, what our Lord, in the
text, recognized in Nathaniel. " Behold," said he,
noting as well his inmost heart as his outward de
meanor, " an Israehte indeed, in whom is no guile !"
It is an honest piety alone that has power with God.
Men may
 " display to congregations wide.

Devotion's every grace except the heart."
Withfluency of speech, and the gush of animal feeling,
they may bow in the closet. They may even give their
goods to feed the poor, and their bodies to be burned.
Yet if God behold in them the taint of insincerity,
they shall be " as sounding brass, or a tinlding cym
bal." The mute unconscious worship of the dumb
creation, yea, of the inanimate world, shall be dearer
to him. No dews of divine grace shall descend upon
their own souls ; no saving influences shall they call
down upon the world. — Nor is the loss in this direction
more apparent than in another. It is only an unques
tionable piety that can properly commend religion to
men's consciences. Let it be widely felt, in respect to
one whose name is on the church-roll, and who sits at
the communion-table, that his religious character is,
after all, very doubtful, and so far from being won by
his example, men are repelled. We rejoice, then, in
every instance of piety so decided and whole-hearted

as to be known and read of all men. We bless God
for the proof thus afforded to men of skeptical ten
dency, that heaven is true, and that some beginnings
of it are known on earth. How much more effective
this than any merely abstract presentation. Give me
but one church member of whom all the ungodly are
compelled to say, " that is an honest man — however
it may be with others, he is indeed a Christian ;" and
you have put into my hands an argument which I
would not exchange for a whole library of apologies
and defences.
Another view here suggests itself Disordered and
marred in all its departments is our fallen humanity;
yet is there great diversity of natural character — a
diversity referable in part, doubtless, to differing grades
of sinfulness, but more, perhaps, to constitutional
causes, and to the influence of circumstances. Some
men, truly pious in the sight of God, have so much to
contend with, so many infelicities of temperament and
habit, that by their acquaintances in general they are
underrated. They are naturally rude, or austere, or
morose, or gloomy and reserved, or sensitive and
irritable. Grace struggles for the mastery, and main
ly secures it. Victories are gained, of which the super
ficial observer may have little thought, but which are
known and commended in heaven, yea, held in higher
esteem than the easier triumphs of men of happier
mould. Yet, the old, rude, ungainly stock is apt to be
more in men's minds, than the graft of holiness.

8
They look at the unsymmetrical, uncomely casket,
and forget the jewel it contains. Religion, on the
other hand, is peculiarly attractive when conjoined
with a felicitous natural character. When with true
piety is connected an original urbanity and dignity of
manners, a bland and even temper, a delicate sensibi
lity, kind and generous impulses, largeness and lofti
ness of mind — when these and other attractive traits
are the fitting counterpart of the spiritual, the appro
priate setting of the picture, the beautiful trellis- work,
around which the tendrils of grace may entwine them
selves and its flowers bloom — how is religion honored
and commended. When, especially, there is great
directness and transparency of character — all artifice,
management, and concealment apart — the inner man
unequivocally revealed in every movement of the outer,
as was not unlikely the case with Nathaniel — what
superadded reason to exclaim, "Behold an Israelite
indeed, in whom is no guile !"
The bearing of these remarks, my hearers, you al
ready perceive, as well as the pertinency of the text.
To the character of him who has recently been
taken from us, and to whose life our thoughts are
now to be turned, no passage within the lids of the
Bible is more appropriate. We cannot, indeed, like
the divine Redeemer, search the heart. But he has
said, " By their fruits ye shall know them." And who
that had intercourse with Joseph Brewster could
fail to understand his character ? His heart shone out

9
ever in his countenance ; his words were the very
echoes of his thought. At the greatest possible re
move was he from deception and double dealing. So
readily, indeed, did his warm affections gush forth, that
it was scarce possible for him to conceal or disguise
them. Let us muse this morning on his example,
let. us call to mind its singular combinations of excel
lence ; thatwve may follow him as he followed Christ —
above all, that we may glorify God in him.
There is something worthy of note in the lineage
of our departed brother. Though every man must
ft
stand on the foundation of his own character, yet a
godly ancestry is ever a ground of thankfulness.
Largely do their prayers avail for those who come
after them, and a blessed influence has their memory.
As replete with true Christian feeling, as with tender
and graceful natural affection, are those lines of
Cowper : —
"My boast is not that I deduce my birth
From loins enthrone, and rulers of the earth ;
But higher far my proud pretensions rise,
The son of parents past into the skies."
Joseph Brewster was a descendant in the sixth
generation from Elder William Brewster, a prominent
actor, you need not be told, in the early scenes of New
England's history. This excellent man was for a time,
in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, one of the under
Secretaries of State. He afterwards retired to tS^

10
obscure village of Scrooby, in Nottinghamshire, and
there took a leading part in the formation of a Pu
ritan church — the very church which subsequently
emigrated to Holland, and came at length in the May
flower to New England. It was formed in his house,
and by an English writer has been not inaptly called
" Brewster's Churchr." Says Governor Bradford, " He
was a special stay and help to them. Th^ ordinarily
met at his house on the Lord's day, * * and with
great love he entertained them when they came, mak
ing provision for them to his great charge, and con-
tinned to do so while they could stay in England."
Nor was he less efficient in the founding of the Ply
mouth colony. Brewster and Bradford have been
appropriately called " the Aaron and Moses of the
enterprise." While the latter presided in its secular
affairs, the former took the lead in its ecclesias
tical. In all the train of events, indeed, from which
that colony sprang, Brewster has not without reason
been represented as the prime mover.
I have been the more particular in these references,
from the impression, I think not a fanciful one, that in
the beloved elder whose departure we now idourn,
there was, in certain leading points of character, a
striking resemblance to his distinguished ancestor.
His memory has, in more than one respect, the fra
grance of the Mayflower. In illustration of this re
mark, let me quote briefly from Bradford's Memoir of
ElKer William Brewster. " He did much good," says

11
Bradford, concerning his residence at Scrooby, " in
the county where he lived, in promoting and furthering
religion, and not only by his practice and example,
and provoking and encouraging of others, but by pro
curing of good preachers to all places thereabouts, and
drawing on of others to assist, and help to forward in
such a work ; he himself most commonly deepest in
the charge, and sometimes above his ability." Amid
his many trials in Holland, " he ever bore his condition
with much cheerfulness and contentation." In the
new world, " he was no way unwilling to take his part
and to bear his burden with the rest ; .... he would
labor with his hands in the field as long as he was
able." " He was," adds his biographer, " of a, very
cheerful spirit, very sociable and pleasant amongst his
friends ; of an humble and modest mind, of a peace
able disposition, undervaluing himself and his own abili
ties, and sometimes overvaluing others ; inoffensive
and innocent in his life and conversation, which gained
him the love of those without as well as those within.
Yet he would tell them plainly of their faults and evils,
both publicly and privately ; but in such a manner as
was usually well taken from, him. He was tender
hearted and compassionate of such as were in misery.
... In teaching he was very stirring and moving the
affections. . . He had a singular good gift in prayer, both
pubUc and private, in ripping up the heart and conscience
before God, in the humble confession of sin, and begging
the mercies of God in Christ for the pardon thereof."

12
Joseph Brewster, the eldest of eight children, was
born in New Preston, Conn., May 28th, 1787. His
father, a man of great natural sensibility and kind
ness, had at one time a large estate. During the
signal commercial embarrassments of the year 1800,
however, he was subjected to great losses ; so
that at his death, which took place when Joseph was
quite young, no wealthy patrimony descended to his
children. They were thus, happily perhaps for them,
thrown the more entirely on their own resources.
The other parent of our deceased brother still sur
vives. Bending under the weight of many years
toward her own grave — missing the strong stafi" on
which she had so long and so fondly leaned — she now,
 " Reversed our nature's kindUer doom,

Pours forth a mother's sorrows o'er his tomb."
She was not, in his childhood, a professor of religion,
though such she has been for many years past. Yet
her children testify that her influence was, in respect
even to religious matters, very salutary. Since her
infirmities have forbidden her being here to listen, and
since, on the borders pf eternity, she will not be
harmed by the echoes of what I utter, I may freely
repeat their testimony. She was " instant, in season,
and out of season," in storing their minds with divine
truth. " My earliest recollections," says one of them,
" are of my mother teaching us prayers and hymns, and
the Assembly's Catechism, which were thus written,

13 •
as it were, with a diamond upon my heart, and are vivid
in my memory to this day." He refers especially to
that familiar stanza, " Now I lay me down to sleep ;"
a stanza which, simple and brief though it is, will be
more fondly remembered and more highly esteemed in
heaven, than many a volume of world-renowned poet
ry. The seed she thus sowed was not scattered in
vain. Of the son who has just departed we are to
speak at length ; but of the other children who survive
it must suffice to say, they are all professedly the fol
lowers of Christ. Deeply sensible was Joseph ever
of his obligations to his excellent mother. Even when
an unconverted and worldly-minded young man, her
word was a law to him. Ever did he treat her with
the utmost kindness and respect. Some of you re
member well how his face shone with gladness, as,
leaning on his arm, she walked with him to the sanc
tuary, the last Sabbath he spent on earth.
He learned the handicraft of a hatter in Norwich,
Conn., in the service — it may not be amiss to remark
in passing — of Capt. David Nevins, father of the late
Dr. William Nevins, of Baltimore, and of the late Mr.
Rufus Neyins, an esteemed elder of the Central Pres
byterian Church, in this city. Some years after the
close of his apprenticeship, he was employed as a
journeyman for a time in Northampton, Mass. About
the year 1813, he commenced business for himself in
Maiden J|[^ne, in this city.
The early fife of Mr. Brewster was 'marked by the

14
4
same traits of natural character which were so ap
parent in later years. He was active, energetic, and
persevering in business ; frank, prompt, and decided ;
of a sanguine temperament, a sympathetic and gene
rous disposition. Of a companionable and vivacious
turn, his company was much sought by young men of
like spirit. Away from the direct influence of his
mother, and unrestrained by a principle of godliness,
he may have fallen into some of the follies to which
youth is so hable. It certainly pained him as a Christ
ian, to think of those years of unregeneracy. But there
is one form of evil — sadly prevalent in those days, and
not now wholly obsolete — from which he was happily
preserved. I allude to the vice of intemperance.
Fellow-apprentices and fellow-journeymen he had, ad
dicted to it; but he followed not their pernicious
example — ^in spite of no little derision, he took a de
cided stand against it This may be partly ascribed,
perhaps, to his mother's influence ; but " he seemed,"
a near relative testifies, " to have always a natural
antipathy to intoxicating drink." His stedfast and ar
dent devotedness, in later years, to the cause of tem
perance, was no new-born zeal ; it had connection as
well with early impressions and inclinations, as with
more matured convictions.
In 1815, he took a seat in the Cedar street Church,
where then the Rev. Dr. Romeyn officiated. It was
while in attendance there he became deeply Ihterested
in the subject of religion. His spiritual exercises were

15
marked by the same intensity which had characterized
his whole life. Under his convictions of sin, it is re
membered, as he listened to Dr. Romeyn, he trembled
so violently as to shake the seat on which he sat. A
good law-work — ever apt to be followed by a good
gospel-work ! Hope from the cross soon beamed upon
his troubled spirit, and he joyfully consecrated himself
to the service of Christ. Attractive as his natural
character in many respects was, there was a great
change in him. The sentiment of his heart seemed
to be " Love I much ? I've much forgiven."
His early youth had been spent in sin, and now he
would redeem the time. As he had been whole-souled
in worldliness, so would he be whole-souled in his reli
gion. He made no reserves. Intent he was upon
doing good. Hardness for the cause of Christ he was
willing to endure. In season and out of season did he
delight to labor for the salvation of souls and the glory
of God. It was in the year 1822 he made a public
profession of his faith ; and from that day to the hour
when he was taken from us, his purpose never faltered.
We claim not for him sinless perfection ; he was at
the farthest possible remove from claiming it for him
self We remember with what emotion he used to
sing : — " 0, to grace how great a debtor
Daily I'm constrained to be !"

16
But surely his path was " as the shining light that
shineth more and more unto the perfect day."
In the year 1826, he became a member of the
Bleecker Street Church, of which he was afterwards
chosen an elder. That church was then under the pas
toral care of the Rev. Matthias Bruen, that bright star,
removed too soon for earth's dimness to the upper
firmament. Ardently did Mr. Brewster love him, and
fiilly was that love reciprocated. He was scarce will
ing to leave his pastor's dying-bed. And when the
man of God bade our brother farewell, laying his hand
upon his head, he said, with peculiar emphasis, "I
shall meet you in heaven." They have met in heaven,
and with that other servant of Christ, the lamented
Mason, they are praising him in glory, whom together
they loved to magnify on earth.
In 1834, one of the two elders of the recently
formed Brainerd Church, the excellent Harlan Page,
was called to his rest. It was felt then in our city,
more than now, that missionary service should neither
be confined to the clergy nor to heathen ground.
Some friends of the bereaved church, accordingly,
having knowledge of Mr. Brewster's spirit, made a
formal appeal to him to take the vacant place in the
new enterprise. They found him in his spacious and
well furnished mansion, in one of the most pleasant
parts of the city. They found him too in agreeable
and profitable church relations. They laid their case
before him. He took it into serious consideration ;

17
and with his usual promptness, he soon announced to
them his determination to sever the ties which bound
him to his present place of worship, and enter the field
opened before him. He joined the Brainerd Church
Nov. 9th, 1834 ; and on the 30th of the same month,
he was installed as an elder. In connection with this
enterprise, as everywhere else, he did nothing by
halves. He not only gave liberally of his substance,
he threw his whole soul into the work. Nor was he
content to labor at arm's length. He did what too
seldom is done — he made his domestic arrangements
subservient to the building up of Christ's kingdom.
Like his God, he " loved the gates of Zion more than
all the dwellings of Jacob." He transferred his resi
dence to his new field of labor. He left his pleasant
mansion in Fourth street, and fixed his abode under
the very shadow of the newly erected sanctuary.
There, for more than half the period of his Christian
life, he served God and his generation, how zealously
and faithfully you who knew him scarce need be
reminded.
? A few years after he connected himself with the
Brainerd Church, an event occurred, on many accounts
memorable in his history. By unwearied diligence and
good management, he had, from small beginnings,
risen to affluence. In the year 1837, however, a
tempest of commercial embarrassment swept over the
land, beneath which, while wrecks were scattered all
around him, the fabric of his own fortunes trembled to

18
its very foundation. By the aid of kind friends — such
as it was not possible he should ever lack — the dreaded
catastrophe was delayed, but not averted. In 1838,
he came to the conclusion, more terrible than death
to a heart sensitive as his both by nature and by
grace, that he must fail in business. I well remember
the day when, under the crushing weight of that cer
tainly, he came early home from his store, and sought
opportunity to unbosom himself to me as his pastor.
The tears he shed then hke rain-drops were those of
a man, it is true, but they were those of a Christian
also. It was not the mere loss of money he cared for.
The fear that racked him was, that just claims upon
him would not be met, and that others would suffer.
His keen sense of honor was wounded ; and his heart
was pained by the thought that the cause of Christ
might be dishonored. Could he have been assured,
that though his remaining days must be passed in
poverty, all his obligations would be promptly and
fully discharged, the agony of his soul would have
been changed to gladness.
It is well known that with this failure certain specu
lative transactions, though their effect has by some,
probably, been exaggerated, were yet more or less
concerned. A passing glance at this aspect of the
matter may not be amiss. As in case of civil insur
rection, it depends often on the success of the under
taking, whether it be glorious revolution or infamous
rebellion, somewhat so is it, I have observed, with

19
adventurous movements in business. He who prospers
in them, though it be even in spite of a thousand
blunders, is apt to be deemed a sagacious man, a man
worthy of all regard and confidence. But he who fails,
be he even a Necker or a Rothschild, may deem him
self happy if nothing worse be imputed to him than a
want of financial skill. In the case of Joseph Brews
ter, no one could suspect alack of integrity. That
he misjudged in some of the matters referred to, he
himself afterwards deeply felt; nor would we attempt
to' estabhsh the contrary. We are not concerned to
prove him perfect in wisdom. Say he was deluded, if
you please; yet what fellowship had he in that delu
sion — of some of the wisest and best men in the land.
Nor may we forget the unquestionable purity and
nobleness of his motives. It was from no low, sordid
purpose, no mere lust of gain, no desire of personal
aggrandizement, that he turned any portion of his
resources into other than the ordinary courses of
business. It was not that he might hoard, but that he
might scatter-r-that he might have still more ample
means of supplying the wants of the poor, and of dif
fusing through a thousand channels the blessings of
tbe;go&pel. I know, indeed, that under a plea of this
sort, the rankest worldliness may take shelter. Yet it
is not difficult here to discriminate. The man who,
VRhile he; enlarges his already engrossing business,
giving it new and perhaps hazardous directions, and
talks much >of the good he designs to do, yet holds his

20
present means as with a miser's grasp, we may be wefl
assured knows not what manner of spirit he is of.
Were he really under the influence of the motive he
speaks of, we should see evidence of it now. But the
man who, Hke Joseph Brewster in the days of his
prosperity, is giving month by month with a princely
liberality, may well be acquitted of the charge of
insincerity, when, even in unduly extending his affairs,
or in entering into unwise speculations, he avows as
his motive a desire to do good. I have, in my own
thought, a short method with men's purposes ; I judge
of what they mean to do, hy what they are now doing.
The business errors of Mr. Brewster — for some
such, hke other men, he doubtless committed — had
ordinarily, indeed, a leaning to virtue's side. Upright
and generous himself, he was in some cases, it may
be, too confiding. He was even misled at times,
perhaps, by a certain buoyant and rejoicing trust in
Providence. Those opposite elements, faith and sense,
it is one of the hardest things in the world to bring
together in business matters. Sense slowly calculates ;
faith begins with conclusions. Sense sails by sound
ings ; faith by the stars. Sense trembles at molehills ;
faith smiles at mountains. Sense cries, " See here
what perils beset us — we shall surely perish." " Nay,"
responds faith, " The angels will help us — ^yea, the
Lord of the angels." There is, in truth, a possible
harmony between the two ; they should be combined,
as the terrestrial and celestial charts for the use of the

21
mariner. Yet how liable to extremes, here as else
where, is human nature in its best estate. If there
must be such extremes, they are certainly loveliest and
safest when on the side of faith. When Mr. Brewster,
not very long before his death, to the suggestion of a
friend that it would be well for him to take out a policy
of life insurance, earnestly responded that it would
show a distrust of Providence, — though the answer did
not perhaps indicate the height of worldly prudence,
there was yet evident in its spirit much of the wisdom
that Cometh from above. A spirit like that, whatever
we may think of a decision of the judgment here and
there, must ever command our love and admiration.
That was no ordinary eulogium passed by a shrewd
observer on our sainted brother, when he said, after
mentioning a few points in which he thought he had
misjudged respecting his business, " His was one of
the rare cases in which men manage their spiritual
affairs better than their temporal."
Six weeks ago to-day, having bidden farewell to his
old place of worship, he united with others in forming
here the Fourteenth Street Presbyterian Church. It
was delightful to see how his Christian aflfections
clustered around this new sanctuary and his new asso
ciates. He loved the place where so many years he
had attended God's ordinances, and many were the
parting tears he shed. But his was not a religion of
circumstances, a piety so frail or. so volatile that it
would scarce bear transportation. He was not one

22
of those who only " in this mountain" or " at Jerusa
lem" can " worship the Father." He could hsten with
gladness to the Gospel, wherever and by whomsoever
it might be uttered. He loved the image of Christ,
wherever he recognized it. He could hold fellowship
with the people of God, of whatever nation, or kindred,
or tongue, or people. " What a blessed day," he said
to one of our number on the Sabbath this church was
organized, " has this been in Zion — in our Zion !" I
remember with what cordiality and animation of man
ner he congratulated one of the building committee
on the success of their labors. You recall his fervent
exhortation the last Sabbath evening he spent with us,
the radiance of his countenance whenever he worshiped
here, and his incipient labors for the advancement of
this enterprise. Nor am I forbidden to mention this
morning, what has been often repeated, and will still
bear rehearsal, that remark of his the evening before
his death, " There is but one place more pleasant to
me than that Lecture-Room — that place is heaven."
Having thus traced the mere outline of his earthly
career, let us pause now, ere we conclude, to contem
plate more particularly some of the leading traits of
his character.
We may not omit, in the survey, his peculiar cour
tesy. Few have exemplified more fully that " unbought
grace of life." It was not with him the mere varnish
of art or custom ; . it was a beauty that pertained to
the very grain of his character. It resulted from the

23
delicacy of his sensibilities, and his spontaneous regard
for the feelings of others, as felici^sly conjoined with
his speaking countenance, and his elastic physical
frame. A gentleman he was both by nature and by
grace. He deemed not beneath him an accomplish
ment which Inspiration has made a duty. How
observant was he of conventional proprieties — how
attentive to every one's convenience — how careful that
none should be slighted or offended !
How full was his heart of all benevolence. In his
original temperament there was much of kindness, but
grace had wrought mightily in the same fine. How
readily and tenderly did he sympathize with the sick
and the afflicted. Whatever pressure of business
might keep him from others, he was sure to visit them.
Nor, if the case required something more than sym
pathy, was he apt to go empty-handed. The very day
preceding his death, as he. called on the member of
this church whose decease has this morning been
announced, he promised to bring her, on the next day,
some little delicacy that might tempt a flagging appe
tite. Greatly was her heart moved on hearing that
on that next day he went before her to heaven. She
had hoped, she said, to welcome him there. Ever did
he rejoice to relieve the distresses of the poor. Among
my earliest pastoral recollections of him, is that of
his giving me money for distribution among them ;
and among my last, that of his gathering funds for a
kindred object. There lies on my desk a letter of

24
condolence to a surviving friend of his, from a widow,
who years ago, ancBw'hen his own circumstances were
somewhat straitened, was relieved by his timely inter
position from utter temporal ruin. Deep was his inter
est as well in the secular as the spiritual prosperity of
those in his service. Often,, when business lagged,
fearing they might suffer, he would give them work at
a loss or a risk he could ill afford. Where need was
not, how did he scatter kind words as pearls in his
pathway. I cannot forbear to repeat that testimony
of his Catholic domestic, uttered amid her falling
tears : — " I have been three years with him, and never
has he spoken an unkind word to me ; never have I
seen a frown upon his brow."
He embraced in the circle of his beneficence all
worthy objects, but especially those which pertained
directly to the advancement of Christianity. Zion was
his chief delight, and in her, he believed, were the
springs of all good. It was the charm of his benevo
lence that he gave so cheerfully. Who can doubt that
God loved him ? Never was he heard to complain of
the frequency of the calls for charity ; never, after the
manner of some, did he speak of the agent of a benevo
lent society as coming on a beggar's errand. He
esteemed such a one, rather, as Christ's agent and
almoner, and judged it a privilege to respond to his
appeal. At the manner of his giving as much admira
tion was sometimes called forth as at the measure.
The late Rev. Dr. White, when many years ago he

25
was an agent of the Education Society, made applica-
to him. He apologized for being unable to do much,
as he had recently been starting an establishment at
New Orleans, but said he would give a trifle. The
Doctor, of course, expected but a few dollars ; but, to
his surprise, Mr. Brewster handed him a hundred dol
lar bill, and then, as he was apt to do in like cases,
thanked him for calling. Soon after he made a profes
sion of religion, the late Dr. John Holt Rice came to
this city to solicit funds for the Union Theological
Seminary in Virginia. By the advice of a friend, he
visited our brother Brewster — then doing a compara
tively limited business in Broadway — with the hope of
obtaining a small donation. Mr. Brewster was in a
back shop, engaged with his workmen ; and, being
called in, the Doctor introduced himself. " I am happy
to see you. Dr. Rice," said Mr. Brewster. The Doctor
then began to lay before him the object of his visit,
and had uttered but a few words when he was inter
rupted by his auditor. " It is a very good object. Dr.
Rice ; I had the pleasure of hearing you yesterday, and
know all about it." The Doctor resumed, apparently
fearful of failing in his application — and supposing,
•perhaps, that here, as in too many other cases, he
must make his way to the heart-strings and the purse-
strings by the most powerful appeals — when he was
again kindly but courteously Cut short. " It is a very
good object, Dr. Rice, and I suppose you have a little
book. My men are waiting for me ; you will therefore

26
please excuse me." The Doctor handed him the " Uttle
book," and, to his astonishment, it was returned with
a subscription of one hundred dollars. He was wont,
ever afterwards, to speak with enthusiasm of " that
pious hatter !" These are but specimens. For years
he contributed six hundred dollars annually to the
American Home Missionary Society, to sustain one of
their agents at the West. At the time the Rev. Dr.
Parker went to New Orleans, the firm of J. d% L.
Brewster gave six thousand dollars towards the erection
of the church in which he preached there, and in which
the Rev. Dr. Scott is now laboring with such abundant
usefulness. Among the last of his larger benefactions
before his failure, I have heard the following mentioned.
The Rev. Dr. Proudfit, then Agent of the Colonizatic^i
Society, was desirous of raising twenty thousand dol
lars to purchase a certain extent of the African coast,
with the view, among other things, of cutting off the
slave trade. He applied to Mr. Brewster. "I," replied
he, " will be one of twenty to furnish that sum." The
other nineteen were not to be found — I believe not one
of them. Yet our brother, at some inconvenience, out
of regard both for the object and the applicant, paid his
thousand dollars. Of such a true Christian royalty*
was his benevolence ; and his only regret was, when
his property was gone, that he had not given more !
It is worthy of special note, that Mr. Brewster had
grace to honor God both in prosperity and adversity.
It is no easy thing to walk with God when the world

27
around us wears its brightest garb. How perilous the
heights both of honor and of affluence, the admonitions
of the Bible show us. Yet many a man who has appa
rently run well in prosperity, has been found wanting
when tried by trouble. Not so with our brother. The
dross was purged away, but the gold shone the brighter.
Like Job, he " sinned not, neither charged God fool
ishly" — in all temptation he maintained his integrity.
I heard lately, from the lips of one who was intimately
conversant with his affairs, through the whole period
of their greatest perplexity, the emphatic testimony,
that not a single transaction had he ever discovered in
which he had the least reason to think Mr. Brewster
had not been conscientious. There has been handed
me this morning his " Discharge in Bankruptcy,*" and
my attention has been called to an endorsement upon
the envelope, in his own hand-writing, singularly illus
trative of his character. The first part of it is — " Free
legally, but not so morally.''^ I rejoice to hold up this
inscription — so honorable at .once to him, and to the
religion he professed — before this business community.
While his piety shone forth thus in the .sphere of social
obligation, the latter part of the endorsement exhibits
that same symmetrical piety in its more direct relations
to God : — " This instrument, bearing date 27th June,
1842, was handed me on board the steamboat Ameri
can Eagle, on Wednesday, 29th June, 1842. To be
kept as a memento of the interpositions of a kind Provi
dence." In the practice of a rigid economy, and the

28
most untiring devotion to business, he was ever after
ward striving to liquidate the claims from which he
was thus set " free legally, but not so morally." A
considerable amount he actually paid ; and the hope
of paying all was fondly cherished by him to the latest
hour of his life.
He did, indeed, at times, severely reproach him
self It was touching to see him thus humbhng
himself " under the mighty hand of God." To a
friend who met him soon after his failm-e, he spoke
with great fervor of the kindness of his Heavenly
Father in thus administering to him what He saw to
be a needed discipline, and suddenly taking out of his
pocket a small, well-worn Testament, he opened it and
said,-*-" Did I ever read this before ? Did I know it
was here ? — ' Godliness with contentment is great gain.
For we brought nothing into this world, and it is cer
tain we can carry nothing out. And having food and
raiment, let us be therewith content. But they that
will be rich fall into temptation and a snare, and into
many foohsh and hurtful lusts, which drown men in
destruction and perdition. For the love of money is
the root of all evil : which while some coveted after,
they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves
through with many sorrows.' I now feel as if I know
what this means. My heavenly Father saw that I was
making an idol of wealth, and that I did not give it as
I ought to the cause of benevolence, and He has sent
this to discipline me, and bring me back to him."^

29
Deeply though he felt his losses, for the reasons tha
have been stated, yet his habitual temper was that of
meek submission to the Divine will. Many of us can
never forget how in the prayer-meeting, as well as the
private interview, he was wont to bless God for his
afflictions. A testimony did he bear, also, to the power
and preciousness of religion, such as could never pro
ceed from the halls of wealth or the bowers of ease.
Thus both in gladness and in sorrow did he honor
Christ; and how, according to one of his favorite
scriptures, hath the Father now honored him !
There are many other points on which I would
gladly have enlarged — such as the happy balance of
his character — his habitual joyfulness as a Christian —
and his felicitous union of fervency' in spirit with dili
gence in business. Happily did he exemplify that
injunction : " Discharge aright
The simple dues with which each day is rife.
Yea, in thy might.
Ere perfect scheme of action thou devise,
Will Ufe be fled;
While he -who ever acts as conscience cries,
Still lives though dead."
But I can only advert, in conclusion, to his eminent
fidelity to souls. It was a general rule with him never
to allow a favorable opportunity for admonishing an
unconverted man to pass unimproved. Many of those
present will remember with what inimitable earnest
ness and tenderness he was wont to say, " Have you

30
been so happy as to give your heart to Christ?"
Almost never did his appeals give offence ; and in
many an instance, there is reason to believe they were
made of God efficacious unto salvation. Of such cases,
let me give a single specimen. Some twenty years ago,
at a refectory where he dined, he became interested
in a young man, a clerk, to whom he was accustomed
to make payment for his meals. That young man was
a stranger in the city, and his health was somewhat
impaired. By taking an interest in his temporal wel
fare, and dropping as he could, in his brief interviews
with him, a word on religion, Mr. Brewster soon won
his heart not to himself alone, but to^the Saviour of
sinners. The young man made a profession of reli
gion, and is now. With most if not all of his family, in
connection with one of the evangelical churches of our
city. Further I may not speak of him. For I have
reason to believe, though I know not his countenance,
that he is here to-day, to thank God with us for the
grace He was pleased to bestow on our beloved and
now glorified brother.
But I must stay the current of my thoughts and
feefings, lest I read a book rather than utter a sermon.
Very precious is the memory of him whom we afl
mourn ! Dear was he to his Pastor's heart. With
my earliest ministerial labors — with all the hopes and
fears, the joys and sorrows that clustered ai-ound them
— is his image associated. I can scarce feel that he is
indeed gone. I behold him again, as I used to meet

31
him, in his hospitable mansion. Again do his sympa
thetic tones fall on my ear, as he bends over my bed
of sickness. I see him still as he used to sit in his
pew, his whole soul concentrated in his steady gaze.
I hear his voice again in the Lecture-Room — in that
prayer of heavenly fervor — that exhortation of impas
sioned earnestness. But he is not here — for God hath
taken him ! We will give ourselves to the work of
life the more earnestly for his example ; and the heaven
to which he has gone — ^chiefly desirable because of
Christ's presence — shall be still more precious to us
because he is there in whom Christ is so glorified.

APPENDIX.
It has been thought proper to subjoin here the substance
of certain statements and remarks embraced in the extended
address atthe funeial of Mr. Brewster, but which, for obvious
reasons, were not repeated in the preceding Discourse. To
this will be added such other facts and views as may give to
this necessarily brief memorial somewhat greater complete
ness. Of his courtesy and affability., so intimately connected with
the unaflfected kindness of his heart, something has been said.
Wealthy and influential Christians are sometimes accused of
a supercilious and haughty reserve. Against him, it is
believed, no such charge was ever preferred. He was access
ible to all — ^he had ever a nod or a smile or a word of recog
nition for all. A new attendant at the church, if in a pew
near his, was not likely to remain long unnoticed by him.
He had a facility and felicity of address in this respect, with
which few are endowed. Though he had no children of his
own, he entered readily into the sympathie * of the young,
A large circle of nephews and nieces were wont to loolc up to
him with a tenderness of regard and a fullness of confidence,
little short of filial. Even at the height of his worldly pros
perity, he condescended " to men of low estate." It was
affecting, at the funeral, to see with what emotion some of
the poorer members of the church took their last look at that
countenance, by the kindly radiance of which they had so
often been cheered and comforted.
Allusion has been made to the remarkable equipoise of his
character. Naturally ardent though he was, his zeal had no
tinge either of fanaticism or bitterness, He kept himself, on
either side, from unwise and unprofitable extremes. He
shunned, on the one hand, that conservatism, falsely so called,

33
which bows in stupid idolatry of the past, which trembles at
all change, and would dwell in a world of petrifactions ; and
that blind, credulous radicalism, on the other, which would
sweep away all existing realities, to people the vacancy with
its own vain dreams. Nor did this cast of character result
from any extraordinary natural sagacity, or comprehensive
ness of mind. It came of the purity and depth of his piety,
a piety so symmetrical because cast in the unwarped moulds
of the Grospel. G-od's word was pre-eminently his study and
his joy ; hence the happy adjustment and balance of his
Christian character.
There were scarce an end to the illusstrations which might
be given of his Christian liberality. A lady from a neigh
boring city was present at the funeral, to whom, some twenty
years ago, when she was in great straits, though not person
ally acquainted with her, yet, on the representation of her
case, he sent twenty dollars. But an hour before the service,
she heard of his death, and hastened to the church to shed
the tears of mingled gratitude and grief at the bier of her
kind benefactor. I have heajd that in one of the congrega
tions with which he was connected, a debt having occasioned
much embarrassment, and there being a lack of readiness
and liberality in furnishing the means to remove it, he, at
one of the meetings, promptly and nobly offered to take the
whole upon himself. This of course, by others as able as he,
was not allowed.
His zeal and constancy in attendance upon all the means
of grace, is worthy of special note. His general rule was,
to be in his place in the sanctuary, if able to be at his
business. Whoever might be absent from the prayer-meeting,
no one expected, save in case of sickness, to see his seat
vacant. His frequent remarks and exhortations there, though
not extraordinary in an intellectual point of view, were always
delightful and impressive, from their obvious sincerity, frank
ness, and earnestness, and the holy pathos which pervaded
them. Certain familiar scriptur^pe was accustomed often to
repeat, such as, " Except a man be born again he cannot see
3

34

the kingdom of God," " My son, give me thy heart," " Freely
ye have received, freely give," and — as he used to quote —
"He that honoreth me, him shall the Father honor." Yet
as they fell from his lips, they seemed always new. The
commonest thoughts, indeed, as tinged by his deep emo
tion, seemed to lose all their triteness. Who that used to
hear him, but hears him still, repeating these oft quoted
stanzas ? —

' 'Tis religion that can give -.
Sweetest pleasures while we live :
'Tis religion can supply
Solid comfort when we die,"

Especially interesting was he apt to be in the Sabbath eve
ning prayer-meeting, elevated as his affections had become
under the ministrations of the sanctuary, luminous as his
face had grown amid his unbroken communion with G-od.
Those who knew him will understand a remark made by a
plain woman who one evening heard him for the first time. ' ' I
never cried before," said she,* " in a Presbyterian meeting;
but when that old gentleman got up, I could not help it."
In the Sabbath School he was a faithful laborer — ^the oldest,
yet prompt and energetic as the youngest — during most of
the period of his connection with the Brainerd church. The
latter part of the time, his health not being very good, he
intermitted his services as a teacher. But the very day
before his death, he told a friend that he intended to go into
the Sabbath School of the Fourteenth Street church. He
meant to work, he said, till he was called home.
All this activity in religious matters, it should be remem
bered, was connected with constant and even intense devoted
ness to business. Many and urgent were the cares both of
prosperity and adversity. Yet he could find time for devo
tion, both in the closet and the family. He could find time
for the prayer-meeting, a^^the weekly lecture. He could
find time to visit the sick ana the afltlioted — for religious -visits

35
in other directions — and for many additionallabors of Chris
tian benevolence. All this, because he had singleness of pur
pose, with a habit of " redeeming the time," and of doing
every duty just as it presented itself,
mis fidelity to souls, already adverted to, deserves further
notice. Though his address was affectionate, it was not only
characterized by directness, but where the case required it,
by unflinching boldness. He was walking in the city,
some years ago, with a friend, when a young man passed
them using profane language. Mr. Brewster stepped forward,
and tapping him on the shoulder, uttered a few words of
gentle reproof. Resuming his walk with his friend, he
remarked that he never omitted speaking to those he heard
using profane language, and that he never met with a rebuff. —
It will be recollected by some of the former members of the
Brainerd Church, that early in its history there was a liquor
establishment near it, notorious for its Sabbath day gather
ings. Into this establishment, pained at its desecrations, he
one Sabbath entered, "girt about with truth," and having
the sword of the " Spirit which is the word of God." It was
called, I think, " Fort Washington ;" and never was fort
more gallantly stormed. The revelers, it is believed, quailed
before his pungent appeals. — The love he bore for souls was
ever manifesting itself. But a few Sabbaths before his death,
he met in the Brainerd Church a gentleman and his wife who
formerly had seats there — the latter a professor, the former
unconverted. After cordially greeting them, he said to the
lady, aside, "Has your husband given his heart to the Saviour
yet ?" Her husband, overhearing this inquiry, was melted
to tears, and the next day spoke of it with deep emotion. — Mr,
Brewster was fertile in expedients for reaching the hearts of
men. I have even heard of his putting religious tracts into the
hats he sold. In his silent example, indeed, there was power
to save. The case has been mentioned to me of a young man,
once a Universalist, who, from merely observing his daily
walk, became convinced that it was shaped by motives to
which he was himself a stranger.' As the result, he left his

36

former place of worship for an evangelical church, and
became at length a decided follower of Christ. Both himself
and his companion are now consistent and influential mem
bers of the church.
The development of his character under affliction, was
most delightful. At times he suffered keenly ; he would be
ready to exclaim "All thy waves and thy billows have gone
over me." Yet his resort woftld be the throne of grace ; and
he would soon come forth with renewed peace and strength,
to bear testimony to God's goodness. So that his habitual
joyfulness as a Christian was scarce interrupted. In the year
1839, after his failure, a destructive fire occurred one Satur
day night, by which his store and^ its contents were consumed.
He stood by till the Sabbath dawned ; then, while others were
mourning their losses, he calmly walked home, and having
repaired to his closet, called together his family for the morn
ing sacrifice. At the appointed time he met his Sabbath
School class, and afterwards engaged as usual in the worship
of the sanctuary. Those who observed him during the day,
were struck with his peculiar serenity and Christian cheer
fulness. He enjoyed greatly the privileges of the day, rejoic
ing apparently in the thought, that though the flames had
touched his earthly possessions, his heavenly inheritance was
still unharmed. Much good as he would unquestionably have
done had his wealth been spared to him, I cannot doubt that,
on the whole, his losses were a gain even in a point of useful
ness. They deepened, under God, his Christian experience.
They brought him nearer to his Saviour, They gave occa
sion for a bright display of patience, resignation, and Chris
tian integrity. They enabled him to bear, as has been
remarked, a peculiarly precious testimony to the power of
the Gospel, Few hearts could be unmoved, as rising in the
prayer-meeting he praised God, at once for the afflictions with
which he had been visited, and the grace by which he had
been sustained.
It is evident in the review of the last years of his life, that
he was fast ripening for heaven. Some of the profoundest

37
views of Christian experience, and some of the loftiest con
ceptions of Christian duty, was he wont to express. He said
much of the importance of honoring Christ — of making this
a chief aim in religion. Most admirable and searching dis
criminations have I heard him make between the religious
feeling which comes of nature, and that which grace engen
ders. There is a joyfulness, he used to remark — he feared
his own had sometimes been of that sort — which springs from
worldly rather than spiritual prosperity. It is joy in the
creature, rather than the Creator. In the dark night of trial,
he had evidently learned to say, as never before, " Though he
slay me, yet will I trust in him ;" " Though the fig tree shall
not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines ; the labor of
the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat ; the
flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd
in the stalls : yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the
G-od of my salvation."
I have been permitted to read -what is supposed to be the
last letter he ever wrote, except on business. It was to a
niece engaged in teaching, and bears date June 10, 1851,
the day but one before his death. As it is very characteristic,
I make a few extracts from it : —
" I am pleased at the manner in which you view the hand
of an all- wise and kind Providence, in placing you in your
present position ; and do hope you may have grace given you
so to discharge your duties to the children of your charge, as
shall be for their best good, for your own spiritual improve
ment, and as shall redound to the glory of the precious
Saviour. If this principle could actuate us in all our duties
and relations in M%, we should have comparatively but little
solicitude where we are ; and not only so, but we should
rejoice in every situation in which a kind and gracious Provi
dence might place us. The great and prominent aim of every
true follower of the blessed Jesus should be the promotion of
his glory. If this were our governing principle, we should
have but little solicitude for self. And why should this not
be our governing principle ? For we are not our own, but

38
are bought with a price ; and should ever strive to be in that
frame of mind which would enable us to say, ' Not my will,
0 Lord, but thine be' dome,' . . , If you are faithful to the
dear children committed to your charge, you may be the
honored instrument of inducing them to accept the proffered
mercy of a Saviour's pardoning love. This is the greatest
honor that ever was conferred upon a mortal. How can it
be otherwise, when our blessed Master says, ' There is joy in
heaven over one sinner that repentetli.' Let us strive ever to
act on the principle, ' Freely ye have received, freely give.' "
In the same letter, after expressing his fears that a certain
Christian friend had declined somewhat in spirituality, he
adds, " No Christian can prosper spiritually, who suffers any
idol in the heart.''''
It is ground of thankfulness to Mr. Brewster's friends,
that the last months of his life seemed to be marked by
unusual comfort and joyfulness. His health was good. His
business was uncommonly prosperous. He had removed to a
new and pleasant residence, near to his beloved church. The
firmament of God's love was unclouded above him. Meet
he was to live to the praise of his Saviour ; but meet also
for " the inheritance of the saints in light." On the day of
his death, Thursday, June 12th, he arose, as his custom was,
very early in the morning. For the last time he visited that
little room where he was wont to engage in his private devo
tions. He spent some time, as he often did, in pleasant labor
among the flowers in his garden ; and having breakfasted
cheerfully with his family, he passed, with his usual buoy
ancy of spirits and elasticity of step to his place of business.
Little did he think it was his " coronatien day." About 8
o'clock, A. M., he had occasion to go down to the ship Chal
lenge, lying at the foot of Wall-street for the purpose of look
ing after the stowage of some goods. Passing between decks,
where it was not very light — the upper hatchway being closed
— ^he, by some misstep, was precipitated through the lower
hatchway into the hold, a distance of some fourteen feet. A
compound fracture of the skull was produced, and after lying

39

about two hours in a state of unconsciousness, he passed to
his rest !
To the eye of sense, there was something sad in the man
ner of his departure. It was painful to think he was so sud
denly taken, with no opportunity for preliminary thought, for
parting exhortation, or for uttering his last farewell to those
whom he loved ; that he was taken too in the fullness of his
Christian influence, when his very presence was a joy and an
encouragement to every heart that loved righteousness. But
the eye of sense is in its nature microscopic. Its survey is
partial — hence, often, too sombre visions ; as if, dwelling on
the darker hues of a picture, one. should see nothing but gloom
and repulsiveness in the most splendid creation of genius.
We should look on scenes like this, rather, with faith's larger
view — a view which, in its measure like G-od's, takes in both
the lights and the shades ; yea, which sees in the shades a
certain loveliness derived from the lights, and in the lights a
superadded brightness strangely gathered even from the
shades. We may thank G-od for gleams of divine wisdom
and goodness, irradiating, to the eye of the thoughtful believer,
even that vessel's dark and fatal hold !
Reasons not a few we can think of, why it was well, how
ever painful to us, that our brother should be thus taken.
He needed no additional evidence of discipleship ; on that
head there could be no shadow of doubt. Without guile, as
he was — bearing about ever a window in his bosom — we could
not mistake his character. By his fruits we knew him.
Nor needed he, as some seem to do, a long continued disci
pline of sickness, to wean him from the world and mature his
Christian graces. As to death-bed admonitions, he might
well say, as Whitefield did, "I have borne my testimony in
life — I shall die silent." He was spared, besides, the pain
his susceptible, sympathizing heart might have felt iaparting
with his family. He was spared the oppressive conscious
ness of having come short of his favorite purpose — the liquida
tion of every just claim upon him. He was saved from the
trial — a severe one he would have found it — of outliving his

40
usefulness. " I shall never," he once said, pleasantly, " have
old bones.'''' This seemed to indicate as well his preference as
his expectation. His death, too, was probably painless. His
last consciousness on earth, we may presume, was that of
falling — his next, that of heaven's bles.?edness. He seems to
us as one translated ! If that promise was not literally ful
filled — " He shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep
thee in all thy ways ; they shall bear thee up in their hands,
lest thou dash thy foot against a stone" — it was at least vir
tually accomplished. From that scene of death, angels did
bear him up to glory ! There are no images of sickness and
languor and pain associated with his last hours ; we think of
him as but yesterday standing in health and joy among us —
as to-day before God's throne. Had he lived, moreover, to
decrepit old age, another generation would have arisen, not
knowing "Joseph" as we have known him. A loss there
would probably have been in respect to the influence of his
remembered example. The very suddenness and strangeness
of his death, besides, has called public attention to the excel
lence of his life. As Enoch was the more thought of because
" God took him"-: — as Elijah's influence on survivors was the
more potent because of that " chariot of fire" — somewhat so
is it with our brother Brewster. Into the frame-work of this
singular and startling providence has his example been set,
that it might not only be noted now, but hold a chief place
among the hallowed and venerated fixtures of memory.

YALE UNIVERSITY
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