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A Seraion. . .of the Hon. Alfred Dwi^^^ht Foster;
(Life's ,'iork Finished:)
1852  ^  ¦

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

TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY

ALFRED DWIGHT FOSTER.

LIFE'S WORK FINISHED:

SERMON
OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH
OF THE
HON. ALFRED DWIGHT FOSTER
DELIVERED IN
THE UNION CHURCH, WORCESTER,
August 15, 1852,
BY
E. SMALLEY,
PASTOK OF THE CHUKOn.

WORCESTER:
ENOS DORR AND COMPANY
HENEY J. HOWLAND, I'KLNTEK.

The following Sermon, preached on the next Sabbath after the death of
Mr. Foster, is given to the press at the request of his Family and the
Deacons of the Union Church.

SERMON.

JOHN, XVII: 4.
I HAVX GLOKIPIED THEE ON THE EARTH; I HAVE FINISHED THE WOBK
WHICH THOU GAVEST ME TO DO.
These are the words of Him, who not only " spake
as never man spake," but lived as never man lived.
He was " holy, harmless, undefiled and separate from
sinners." No merely human being ever had so great
a work assigned to him as had the Savior of the world ;
none ever glorified the Father as He did, or finished
his work so perfectly. The record of his early life as
sures us that He would " be about his Father's busi
ness," and that his understanding and wisdom were
such as to secure " favor with God and man." When
He entered upon his public life. He gave the clearest
evidence that his chief delight was in doing the wUl
of God. Never, in thought or emotion, in word or
deed, did He vary from the standard of perfect recti
tude. He not only avoided aU sin, but performed all
the duties belonging to his varied relations. He was
meek and lowly, hungered and thirsted after right-

eousness, was pure in heart, sufiered persecution for
righteousness' sake, and, when reviled, reviled not
again. " The prince of this world came," and pHed
flim with every form of temptation which his inge
nuity could devise, " but found nothing iu Him" — no
vanity or pride, no covetousness or selfishness, no
tauit of corruption. His preaching was of a higher
order than any which the world had heard before, or
has heard since ; and He was perhaps the only one,
whose practice was as perfect as his preaching was
powerful. In all his instructions. He glorified the
Father ; and still more .signaUy did He glorify Him,
by the immaculate purity of his aflections, the holi
ness and beneficence of his life. He came to seek
and to save that which was lost. Sianers were un
der the " curse of the law ;" He would redeem them
from that curse, even at the expense of making his
own soul an offering for sin. Steadily He went for
ward to that mighty sufiering ; and if the cup might
not pass from Him — if the great ends of the redemp
tive system could not be accomplished unless He drank
it, still He would and did say, "Father, thy wUl
be done." Though his soul was in agony, and in that
agony, nature could do no less than exclaim, "My
God, why hast thou forsaken me;" yet, He did not
falter, nor draw back, but patiently endured all that
was laid upon Him, until He could say in those sub
lime words which filled heaven with praise, because

there was hope for man, "It is finished." So He glo
rified the Father on the earth; thus He finished the
work that the Father gave Him to do.
You will not suspect me of saying or implying,
that any man, however great or holy he may be, can
sustain a comparison, whether in words or life, with
the Eedeemer of the world. The best of men, after
haAdng made their greatest advances in knowledge
and holiness, are compelled to exclaim, " How lim
ited is our understanding of the deep things of the
Spirit, how imperfect our virtue !" How much of
their time runs to waste ; how frequently their facul
ties are misdirected ; how quick a conscientious analy
sis detects the alloy of selfishness in motives and char
acter; and how certainly are they reduced to the
concession, that they are but unprofitable servants.
Their course of life not only fails to bear the scrutiny
of God's law, but is far less perfect than they desired
and intended it should be. Too often, when they
would do good, evil is present with them; and what
they would not, that they do. That eminent apostle
to the Gentiles, whose heroic service and self-sacrifice
have given his name to immortality, frankly left on
record this admission — " Brethren, I count not myself
to have apprehended — not as though I had already
attained, either were already perfect."
StiU, there are those who "follow after, if that
they may apprehend that for which also they are ap-

prehended of Christ Jesus." Kenewed in spirit, they
have cordially devoted themselves to the service of a
heavenly Master. They aim to walk in newness of
life. Not their own, they would henceforth live not
unto themselves, but unto Him who hath redeemed
them from iniquity, that He may purify them unto
Himself— a peculiar people, zealous of good works.
It is their supreme desire and their persistent aim, as
they behold the glory of God shining in the face of
Christ, to be transformed into the same image, from
glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord.
Professing to abide in Him, they would themselves
walk even as He walked. They do measurably, they
would perfectly, obey that law which is holy, just and
good. "Lord, what wilt thou have us dol" is their
daily prayer ; and they never have such pure felicity
as when they can honestly say, " We delight, O God,
to do thy wUl." Thus, though their holy desires do
not always take on the form of resolutions, and though
their good resolutions often fail to be carried into
practice, nevertheless they do, in a degree, glorify
their Father in heaven, and finish the work which
He has given them to do. So the language of Paul
was not a vain-glorious boast, but the utterance of
substantial truth, when, as the time of his departure
drew near, he exclaimed in accents of triumph, " I
have fought a good fight, I have finished my course,
I have kept the faith ; henceforth there is laid up for

me a crown of righteousness." Imperfect as he was
in himself, little as he had accomplished by his own
unaided strength, he was yet complete in Him who
is "Head over all things in his church." In this
sense, modified by the evUs of the past and the im
perfections of the present, it may be said of many a
life, that it has glorified the Giver, and accomplished
the work which was given it to do. On the whole,
it has been a life of study and intelligence, of honest
aims and habitual endeavor, of public spirit and in
tentional usefuhiess, of self-denial and dependence on
God for success and reward.
. All this, I feel justified in saying, was eminently
true of our lamented friend and fellow-citizen, whose
sudden death has filled with sadness so many hearts.
He, I am well aware, would have been the last man
to wish that a labored eulogy should be pronounced
on his name, or to endure the thought that an osten
tatious display should be made of his principles or
his actions. Totally unassuming in manners and
manifesting the greatest simplicity of character, he
was not one to covet notoriety or to entertain the least
semblance of adulation. Not for his sake, therefore, —
for he needs no praise of ours — not for his sake, but
for our own, do I feel it to be a duty and a privilege,
to give some account to-day, to the church which he
loved and in the house where he was accustomed to
worship, of one who, being dead, cannot but speak to

us all. And I know you will join me in giving
thanks to Almighty God, that there was so much in
his life which is worth contemplating — so much in
his example worthy of imitation.
Alfred Dwight Foster was bom in Brookfield,
Mass., July 26th, 1800. He was the second son of
the Hon. Dwight Foster of that place — a gentleman
of ability and distinction, who discharged important
public trusts with honor to himself and to the gener
al satisfaction of his constituents. He had ever rea
son for gratitude that it pleased God to give him
such a parentage, and to surround him with such
kindly influences from the very outset of hfe. His
early education, he pursued partly in his native
place, under the direction of his father, and partly
in Leicester Academy. At the age of fifteen he was
prepared for college, and entered Harvard University.
He was graduated with honor in 1819, and after
wards read law with Samuel M. Bumside, Esq., of
this place. Admitted to the bar in 1822, he remain
ed in Brookfield till after the death of his father,
which occurred in 1823. Having removed to Wor
cester in 1824, he continued the practice of law
about two years. He then relmquished the active
duties of that profession, and devoted himself to
other pursuits. From 1831 to 1833 inclusive, he
served his fellow-citizens as theu- representative in
the Legislature. He* was also on the Board of Se-

9
lectmen tn 1882. He was a member of the original
Board of Trustees of the State Lunatic Hospital
from 1832 to 1835, and also the Treasurer of that
noble Institution, during the first fourteen years after
its estabhshment. None could have performed the
duties of that station with greater accuracy or integ
rity. He was a member of the Executive Council of
State in 1842, and again in 1844 and 1845. In
1848, he served the County in the capacity of Sena
tor. When that philanthropic Institution — the State
Reform School in Westborough, was contemplated,
Mr. Foster was appointed Chairman of the Commis
sioners, to select and obtain an eligible site for its
location, to procure plans and estimates for the build
ings, to mature a system for its government, and to
ascertain what laws would be necessary and proper
to put the same into successful operation. These
duties he performed so acceptably, that he was ap
pointed the foUowmg year, Chairman of the Com
missioners to erect the buildings. In the duties of
these two Commissions he was deeply interested, and
to them he devoted much of his time until the Insti
tution was successfully established in 1848.
For many years, he was on the Board of School
Committee; and, in this relation, he labored diligent
ly and wisely, without money and without price. He
was one of the Trustees of Leicester Academy from
183S to within a year or two of his death; and also

10

of Amherst College from 1837 to 1851. For several
years previous to his decease, he was a corporate
member of the A. B. C. F. M.
In 1832, Dec. 2, he united by profession of his
faith, with the Central Church in this place, then
under the pastoral care of the Eev. J. S. C. Abbott.
As the population of the place increased, he was
among the first to perceive that new efforts must be
made to furnish facilities for public worship. Though
pleasantly situated where he was, he was willing to
make the sacrifice of changing his church relations,
and assuming the responsibility of commencing a
new religious enterprise. He knew it would make
large demands on his strength and resources; but,
convinced that it was duty, he did not hesitate to
commit himself to it. In the preliminary steps taken
to organize the Union Church and Society, his name
was prominent, his counsel sought and freely given,
his hand, and purse, and heart, were ever ready.
Under all the trials incident to the early history of
the church, he manifested such deUcacy and kind
ness, such earnest devotion to her interests, such self-
forgetfulness and magnanimity, as to secure esteem
and admiration from his friends, and the respect of
even those with whom he was compelled to differ.
As he began, so he held out unto the end. The
hopes which he raised at first, were not disappointed.
He moved along the even tenor of his way, scatter-

11

ing blessings in his course; and we all thought that
for several years to come, it would be the Master's
will to spare his life for the good of the church and
of the community, and for the happiness of his wide
circle of friends. Nor did he himself apprehend
that the time of his departure was so near. A few
days since, a slight physical infirmity made its ap
pearance; it excited no alarm; his physician, even,
seems to hare had no special anxiety respecting him,
until the morning of the day, when our Father said
to his son, "Come up hither." At eleven o'clock of
that day, a consultation of medical advisers decided
that there was no hope of life's continuance beyond
a few hours, and before two o'clock, he peacefully
breathed his last. That large heart ceased its beat
ings; that inteUigent, mildly-beaming eye was closed
forever; that manly, expressive countenance, was
fixed in the repose of death. It was so sudden to
all, that none could make it seem real. It sent a
shock through our whole city. A large community
mourned, because one of its best friends was no more.
A great assembly gathered at his late residence to
testify their respect for his memory; we followed him
to the grave with tears; and so we buried him.
Such is a brief outline of that earthly course
whose sudden termination is a grief to many hearts.
In the " midst of his days," was our friend stricken
down ; and to our Ihnited vision it would seem that

12
many should have been taken before him ; but " God
giveth not account of any of his matters." Adequate
ly to fill up the above outline, so that the man shall
appear before you as he was, in the harmonious de-
velopement of his various powers, is a task for which
the speaker is quite incompetent. Yet he would fain
attempt something in this way; for an example of
rare excellence should be commemorated, and the
grace of God is magnified as seen in the Hfe of one
of his most retiring, yet most amiable and faithful
servants. Permit me, then, to call your attention to
his Personal appearance. He had, at the outset, the
elements of a fine physical nature; and these were
in due season developed, and moulded into forms at
once dignified and attractive. There was a nobleness
in the whole bearing of the outward man. On the
street and in the public assembly, a stranger would
notice him as one apart from the multitude. In ac
counting for that marked infiuence which he exerted
on other minds, Ave may not OA^eiiook this manliness
of personal presence. But it was not in this regard
only, that the subject of our remarks Avas favored:
he had more than ordinary
Intellectual endowments. You saw this on a slight
acquaintance; you felt it the more deeply, the longer
and better you kneAv him. His Avere the poAvers of
a quick perception, a prompt and tenacious memory.

13

He had a large understanding and strong reasoning
powers, nor Avas he deficient in respect of imagina
tion and fancy. It Avas fitting that the body which
was fashioned in strength and elegance, should be
the home of a strong and a sound mind. There was
congruity between the exterior and the interior.
The temple was neither more costly nor beautiful
than the spirit made to dAvell therein. Nor was it
in original endoAvment alone that our friend was dis
tinguished. He had excellent opportunities for the
Cultivation of his powers. It is interesting to re
flect, that such a mind had not its lot cast upon the
shores of a pagan land, or on the soil of an ignorant
and grinding despotism. It was disciplined and ma
tured under the influence of free, Christian institu
tions. Its earliest openings took place under the ju
dicious training of an intelligent father and a devoted
mother. For years, it was specially a hoine education
which the favored youth enjoyed. At a proper time,
he was brought into contact Avith others of his own
age, and subjected to the agency of generous rivalry.
The stimulant of emulation doubtless quickened en
deavor and increased intellectual vigor. Thus, in
the kind providence of God, it was ordered that he
should have advantages for developing and maturing
those powers which came to him as an original gift,
and be enabled to blend and hannonize the separate
faculties into one effective whole. So finely balanc-

14

ed Avere his powers, that any inaccurate perception
was easily corrected by experience, while the reins of
fancy and the aspirings of imagination were success
fully held in check by reason. His taste for the
beautiful never made him blind to the homely and
substantial ; and, although he desired and could ap
preciate the finest productions of the head and the
hand, he was considerate and candid in his judg
ments of well-intended mediocrity. With talents
thus cultivated and powers so nicely balanced, he
was, as you Avell know, eminent for that practical
sagacity which is known under the name of
Common Sense. There are many men who have
much talent, but little tact. Some have great learn
ing, but little practical wisdom. They are profound
in science, it may be, and quite at home among things
extraordinary, but the points of contact between
theirs, and the common mind are so few, that their
present infiuence is exceedingly limited. It was far
otherwise with the subject of this sketch. His
knowledge took the form of wisdom. He could sym
pathize with mind in its loftiest aspirings, and also
descend to its more humble Avorkings. His habits
of careful observation and patient reflection gave him
that insight into the workings of the human heart,
that knowledge of the course of events, and that
readiness in applying general principles to particular
cases, which always mark the man of common sense.

15

Nor was it the common sense of a strong mind Avhich,
having but limited opportunities for culture, can of
course exercise itself in only a narroAV circle. He
was accustomed to take
Broad and generous views of men and things. His
mind had grasped the central principle of many a
subject, and then gone out on different radii of
thought to a wide and still wider circumference. He
could look at a fixed point with steady and intense
gaze, until its true nature and position were revealed
to him, and then carefully note its relations to others.
Analyzing a complex subject into its constituent ele
ments, he saw very clearly how those separate parts
combined to form a whole; then, taking this whole
as a single element in a larger generalization, he
reached those higher ranges of thought with which
only minds of the first order are familiar. He could
not be content until he had found those broad princi
ples of belief and action, which no eflbrts of scepti
cism could undermine, no assault of faction or bigot
ry destroy. Not untU he had looked at a subject
from different and opposite sides, did he feel that he
understood it. He was what a German would call
a many-sided-man. No one could be more fully
aware how easy it is for a one-sided view of truth, to
produce some of the worst effects of error. With
such habits of mind, he could hardly fail to be a
Wise and safe adviser. No boast of superior sa-

U)

gacity ever was known to issue from his lips; and
yet, unostentatious as he Avas, his Avisdom could not
be hid. Those who had experienced the benefit of
his counsels, would naturally suggest to others where
judicious advice could be obtained. Many have
found guidance in their perplexities, and alleviation
in their anxieties, by a few calm words firom him.
He easUy won their confidence, quickly perceived
where doubts pressed and where Ught was needed,
and had the happy facrdty of expressing his thoughts
in a few well-chosen words, which a moderate imder-
standing could readily apprehend. It is not often
that so many are ready to say, when a man has de
parted this life, ' Hoav wise and exceUent were his
counsels !' But few could advise so weU, on so many
subjects, and in such diversified relations.
Let us not, however, dweU too long, attractive as
the theme may be, on the intellectual man. He had
heart, as well as intellect. He Avas famUiar with the
way Avhich leads from dry reasoning, to warm affec
tions. Every one who knew him, avUI recognize at a
glance the correctness of the remark, that he was
Eminently genial in his social feelings. He min
gled, indfeed, in general society less than many others
in his rank of life ; and yet the ties that bound him
both to his earlier and' his later friends, Avere strong
and endearing. There was that in his whole bear
ing, Avhich conciliated favor and Avon esteem. His

n
heart responded so promptly to the accents of kind
ness, he Avas naturally so amiable, his offers of ser
vice were proved by acts to be so sincere — in a word,
he was such a friend himself that his very presence
awakened kindly feelings in others. More than one,
whose hearts beat outside of his domestic circle, have
been heard within these few days to exclaim, — and it
seemed a perfectly spontaneous utterance — " He was
the best friend we ever had."
But, as was proper, it was in the intercourse
among members of his own famUy, that the kind
ness of his heart was most lucidly seen. Here,
however, I am not permitted to enlarge, for fear of
rashly intruding into the sanctuary of private grief
Suffice it to say, that he possessed those qualities of
mind and heart, which could not but endear him
most tenderly to the Avife of his bosom, the chUdren
of his affection, and aU who claimed a near relation
ship Avith him.
It should be added, in this connection, that his
social nature was not only warm and genial, but also
refined. It was not the tissue to attract public gaze
by a show of gaudy colors; but its hues were deli
cately blended and relieved. Courteous in manner,
gentlemanly in his feelings and in their manifesta
tion, he could not endure that boisterous mode of
speech and act which too often makes repulsive what
would otherwise be attractive. His were kind
3

18

thoughts, kindly expressed — ^friendly emotions, deH-
cately shown — benevolent feeUngs, benevolently man
ifested. But we must contemplate him in wider re
lations. Mr. Foster was truly a public-spirited man. His
was the mind to look beyond the circle of private in
terests and domestic relations. Averse as he was to
public display, he was ever ready to promote the
public good. Avoiding notoriety and coveting re
pose as he did, he was nevertheless prompt to sacri
fice personal ease and preferences, whenever duty
called him to public trusts. Whether in the HaU of
Eepresentatives, or in the Senate Chamber, or on the
Governor's CouncU, or in Avhatever pubUc sphere he
moved, he made it evident that it was not his owa
emolument solely or chiefiy, but the welfare of the
community, which he sought. I wonder what must
have been the amount of that bribe, which could in
duce him to seek a public trust for a selfish advan
tage] In him the cause of education ever found an intel
ligent and devoted friend. By his words of Avisdom,
by his pen, by his purse, by his long services on the
Board of School Committee, he evinced his earnest
desires that the young might enjoy the best advan
tages for intellectual and moral training. None but
those who knew him intimately, can form any just
estimate of the serAice he gratuitously rendered to

19
the cause of education in this place. The young
among us may hardly hope for a warmer or a wiser
friend. In him the interests of temperance and good mor
als, had a firm supporter. Never obtrusive in his
efforts to further these interests, he yet aided them
much more effectuaUy than some who make a greater
show of action. Where he could not see his way
clearly, he was not the man to rush forward with a
reckless disregard of consequences; but in the place
which was appointed for him to fill in the accom
pUshment of a good work, he was prompt to act and
"himself a host." Those who heard him in an adja
cent haU, on a subject which he deemed of impor
tance to the moral fame of our city, when, with the
authority of a princely inteUect and the presence of
moral worth, he quelled the uprising of passion's
storm, and hushed the tumults of the people uito a
sUence that was solemn, wiU not easily forget the
grandeur of the scene, or doubt the 'awful power of
goodness.' Nor were his efforts to advance the public good,
confined to his own city or his own State. He was
a true patriot. He loved his country and his whole
country. Sincerely he mourned over the causes that
threatened its injury, and rejoiced over all the influ
ences that promised its permanence and success.
That all his feUow-citizens should be educated and

20

free, good and happy — this was his earnest prayer,
his habitual endeavor. And what he desired for his
country, he desired for the world. His heart was
large enough to take in the race; and if the race be
not blessed, it wUl not be for lack of his prayers. A
man himself, whatever concerned man, had interest
for him. We are thus brought to consider the most
interesting phase of his character.
Mr. Foster was a Christian. 1 say this Avith great
confidence, because he was known by his "fruits" to
be such. Among those who are most true and exem
plary in their relations to God and his church, he
was most obviously to be placed. The Ust of holy
men who lived and walked with God, however limit
ed, must include him.
He was an intelligent Christian. Calmly had he
examined the claims of the Gospel to be a revelation
from God, and strong was his conviction that they
are well founded. Attentively had he considered the
great system of truths which the Bible contains, and
fully did he believe that it came from God and is
worthy of its author. He knew what he beUeved,
and whereof he affirmed. He knew in whom he be
lieved, and was persuaded that He would keep that
which he had committed to Him against that day.
A dUigent student of the Scriptures, he was always
ready to give a reason to every one who asked it, for
the hope that was in hira, Avith meekness and fear.

21
He was an earnest Christian. KnoAving that Je
hovah is worthy of his supreme homage, he aimed to
love Him with the whole heart, and to devote to Him
his best powers. Aware that the service of God is
the truest and highest freedom of the soul, he would
not be lukewarm in that service. To him it was the
basest of aU hypocrisies, for a man to pretend to be a
friend of God — a foUower of Christ, and yet be su
premely attached to the sensual and the earthly.
The more intimate your knowledge of him, the more
clearly you saw that his religion was what enlisted
his deepest emotions and received his highest regards.
He was characterized by singular humility. It
was his nature to be modest, unassuming ; and in his
relations to God, he was in a marked degree the
humble man. Earely could a layman speak so di
rectly to the point of Christian doctrine or duty, or
so much to edification, as he ; yet, whUe all who lis
tened were delighted with his pertinent thoughts ut
tered in his concise, felicitous sentences, he has said
to the speaker once and again, ' I never feel that I
have said what I ought, or have said it in the best
manner.' For no passage of Scripture did he appear
to manifest a more constant regard, than that which
exhorts, "Let no man think more highly of himself
than he ought to think." The last thing with which
he could be charged, would have been the over-rating
of his own attainments or piety. He sought not

22
honor from men ; if he accepted it from them, it was
with reluctance and much self-diffidence. So obvi
ous was his distrust of himself, so conspicuous his
unassuming spirit, that when he was exalted, none
seemed to envy him, when honored, aU were ready to
rejoice. StiU he was a
Courageous Christian. MUd when mUdness was
permissible, harmless as the dove when harmlessness
was consistent with duty, he could yet hurl an in
dignant defiance at the pander to corruption or the
solemn mockeries of the unmasked hypocrite, and
be bold in the advocacy of truth even in sight of the
stake. Denying that rashness is courage, or that
moral heroism is synonymous Avith unregulated zeal,
he would yet maintain the post of duty with un
shrinking bravery, and was ready to sacrifice every
thing for principle. He was a
Catholic Christian. The rights which he claimed
for himself, he wUlingly accorded to others. There
was no bigotry in his nature or his training. Decid
ed in, his oAvn convictions of truth and duty, he as
sumed that others would be decided in theirs. WhUe
he intelligently embraced that system of doctrines
which to him seemed to be clearly contained in the
Gospel of Christ, and whUe this appeared to him the
only true basis of hope for a condemned man, it Avas
no part of his religion or his conduct to coerce others
into his own belief He Avould have every man fully

23
persuaded in his own mind. His was the liberality
of the Bible, of his Master; and not that falsely so
caUed, which places right and wrong, the holy and
profane, on the same level. It wiU be obvious from
the points already considered, that our friend was a
Reliable Christian. The winds of error and the
gales of fanaticism might rage about hun, but they
caused him not to swerve from his purpose, because
he was "rooted and grounded in" principle. Where
you found him to-day, you were quite certain to find
him to-morrow; or, if changed at aU, it was the
change of growth in knowledge and in grace. He
gave his hand to the church, because he had given
his heart; and having vowed to be faithful unto the
end, he proved faithful. Modest as he was, perhaps
morbidly sensitive at times lest he should do or say
something that would not be wise or best, yet he
never faUed you in what you had a right to expect of
him. Unless Ul health or absence from home pre
vented, you might look for him in his place in the
house of worship, — morning and afternoon, with as
much regiUarity as you anticipated the succession of
Sabbaths. Eminently conscientious, he would faU
in a promise or neglect an obUgation which he had
assumed, only when death or some inexorable ne
cessity had put its fulfilment beyond his power.
This was one of his great excellences — you could rely
upon him. ' Though he swore to his own hurt, he

24
changed not.' In a higher degree than most men
and most Christians too, he was 'steadfast, unmova-
ble, always abounding in the work of the Lord.' Let
me add, in homely, but expressive language, that he
Avas an
Every-day Christian. There are those who appear
to be very pious on the Sabbath, and very worldly
during the week. They are quite devotional at morn
ing and evening prayers, but when they leave the
place of secret prayer, they leave behind them the
spuit of devotion. They seem quite conscientious
in some relations, but in others of equal importance
perhaps, substitute the maxims of worldly policy
for the principles of Christianity. He of whom we
speak, was not of this category. In theory and in
practice, he utterly repudiated such fancies, miscall
ed religion. His Christianity was good enough and
none too good, to be taken with him wherever he
went, and to infiuence his conduct at aU times and
in all circumstances. He would be a Christian in aU
things. The company that was too refined for a
pious word or thought, Avas too refined for bini ; and
the employment or office that contradicted the princi
ples of the NeAV Testament, contradicted the cherish
ed sentiments of his heart and utterly forbade his
participation in them. On the principle that what
is worth doing at all is worth doing weU, he aimed
to honor his religion in all things: and he was hence

25
honored by it. It Avas this that made him so con
scientious and amiable in private life. It was this
which croAvned all his other excellences as a friend,
and which caused others so implicitly to confide in
him. This was the flower and fruitage of those
graces that so endeared him to the domestic circle.
Here also were centred those deep impulses and abid
ing sentiments, which made him the wise and earnest
public servant, and which enlarged his patriotism
untU it became phUanthropy. At home and abroad,
in the closet of devotion and the house of public
worship, in his private charities and his large contri
butions to benevolent societies, in the readiness Avith
which he aided those who needed his benefactions
and met the demands made upon his means to sustain
religious institutions here and elsewhere, in aU his
bargainings and pecuniary transactions, in his well-
considered plans and the persistent efforts with
which he carried them out, you saw that he was ha-
bituaUy govemed by righteous principle, not by mere
impulse or convenience, and that his daily life and
his religion were one and the same thing. Hence, he
was habituaUy growing in grace and in the knowl
edge of our Lord Jesus Christ. Hence, the large de
velopment -of individual exceUences of character, and
the harmonious blending of separate graces into so
rare a specunen of spiritual manhood.
These statements account for several facts which
4

26

might not otherwise be easUy explained. They show
us how he acquired such weight of character. A stran
ger might have wondered how he could sit in the
quiet of his home so much, and mingle in the excit
ing scenes of earth so little, and yet exert so great an
influence over other minds. A few words from him
would often have more effect, than a long speech from
others. His name was a much coveted power AAdth
which to back any good enterprise. Even those who
differed from him in opinions and in measures, were
yet constrained to accord to him both honor and in
tegrity, and deeply to regret that he could not be one
with them. As his word would be taken as readUy
as his bond, as his name on paper would be equal to
the amount of gold indicated on the face of that
paper, so his endorsement of any plan to promote
the welfare of the young or the interests of society,
would command respect and go far to establish the
conviction of its feasibUity and importance. AU this,
because he had an established reputation for probity,
and a sound mind — such unusual weight of charac
ter. That moral power was the legitimate result of
his religious principles, carried mto aU the depart
ments of daUy life.
In this way, too, we account for it, that he accom
plished so much good with so little counteracting evil.
The world has seen men who appeared to try very
hard to do good, and perhaps effected it m a slight

27
degree; but they were so indiscreet, so liable to mis
takes of judgment, so lacking in refinement and deli
cacy of sentiment; they so miscalculated the relation
of means to ends, or were so blind to the limitations
and abatements of peculiar circumstances, that it is a
problem of difficult solution whether the good or the
evU preponderates. They were slow to learn the les
son oi giving no offence in any thing, that their minis
try be not blamed.
Precisely their opposite is found in the character
before us. It seems to have been an habitual inqui
ry Avith him, ' How shall I avoid doing erUV as Avell
as, 'How shall I do good"?' And doubtless he did so
much of the latter with so little drawback from the
former, because he so successfully brought his oAvn
spirit and principles into harmony with those of his
Lord. The same fact would justify the assertion, if we
should say that but few have effected so much as he
did, with so little noise and display. Many appear to
forget what the divine teacher said, and to act on the
principle that ' the kingdom of God cannot come with
out observation.' They would get up a sort of exhi
bition, and have the sound of a trumpet precede
them, that it may be seen and known that they are to
do some good in the world.
How unhke the friend whom we mourn ! See him
as he sits quietly in his library. Behold him as he

28

moves respectfully, yet without ostentation, among
his fellow men. Look at him in his public trusts.
Contemplate him as he takes his place in the house
of God, or seats himself with a class of young men
in the Sabbath School. Go with him wherever he
goes, hear him whencA^er he speaks, and notice him
in his diversified acts. How unobtrusive; how noise
less; and yet how effective! So the divine teacher
went about doing good, neither lifting up his voice in
the streets nor shouting; but letting his doctrine drop
as the rain and his influence distU as the dewl And
because our friend aimed to be like Him, he did so
much, and that so noiselessly.
I have thus very imperfectly completed the survey
which it seemed proper to take of the life and char
acter of the Hon. Alfred Dwight Foster: — have
shown him to you as he was in retirement, in his
famUy, among his friends, in general society, in the
discharge of public trusts, and in the church of God.
In alluding to the dead, hundreds and hundreds of
times during his public ministry, the speaker has
never said so much of any man before; and yet never
was he so well sustained by the conviction, that every
thing which has been said would meet with so hear
ty a response of approbation from all who have heard.
That the excellent man had his faults, hunself was
among the first to acknoAvledge and deplore; and iU
would it beseem us to claim for him, or any one, ab-

29
solute perfection. But " e'en his failings leaned to vU-
tue's side." For, was it not his failing to rate himself,
as compared with others, too low? Did not his friends
sometimes think, that there was a degree of morbid
sensitiveness in his desire to be so much apart from
the scenes of busy life? WhUe he was well fitted to
inspire an ardent friendship and was cherished in the
deepest affections of many, was he not wont, at times,
to feel that scarcely any one cared for himi Did not
the shade of melancholy that tinged his nature occa-
sionaUy deepen into a cloud which the rays of the sun
could scarcely pierce? Were there not those who knew
how much he could do, and do so well, who some
times thought he misjudged, because he brought not
his noble talents more prominently into view? And
yet how much better thus, than to have ventured
rashly into the place where slander could have feast
ed on his reputation, or the eye of envy could have
delighted itself in seeing his weU-eamed renown tar
nished by the sweat and dust of party strife, Eather
than regret that he was npt otherwise, we shoiUd
be thankful that he was so much and so good. Com
pared with others, he was eminent for the degree in
which he glorified the Father, and finished the work
which was given him to do. Though he was cut
doAvn while in the full strength of his manhood, yet,
as " that life is long which answers life's great end,"
we may rejoice this day, that there was so much in his

30

heart and life to command respect whUe he Uved, and
to awaken gratitude and affectionate veneration, now
that he is dead. Our loss is indeed great. He was
a good man ; we loved him ; we knew not how to
spare him. There are but few such in any commu
nity. We could have spared many others better than
him; and we can hardly faU to cry out AAdth the
plaintive Psalmist, "Help, Lord, for the godly man
ceaseth, and the faithful faU from among the chUdren
of men."
To-day, we are aU mourners. Each one feels that
he has lost a personal friend. Many a circle Avill
speak of his worth and deplore his loss. Many a
poor family will miss the comforts which his thought
ful liberality supplied. Not a few of the Benevolent
Societies of the day wUl learn AAdth sorrow, that a
conscientious and generous friend has been taken
from them. The cause of education and good morals
wUl feel that an earnest supporter has been Avith
drawn. For his country, the prayers of a patriot
are ended. The State wUl know that a citizen, than
whom few are Aviser or better, has no more service to
render her, save in the posthumous infiuence of his
prayers and remembered wisdom. Worcester, his
home, the city of his affections and his pride, for
whose welfare he labored and sacrificed, and of whose
name he was a praise and an ornament, will be sad
to remember that he is no longer a citizen of hers ;

31
but has become an inhabitant of the " city not made
with hands." This Church and Society, every step in
whose history has been marked, by his watchful eye
and aided by his example, contributions and prayers,
mourns because his place at the table of their com
munion AvUl no longer be fUled by him, his seat in
this house of worship, where he was so constant,
AviU be vacant, his strong arm aatU no more be stretch
ed forth, his large heart no longer beat, for their sup
port and encouragement. May they learn to rely
with single-eyed faith on the arm of the Almighty
Savior, who is head over aU for his church. The
Sabbath School have felt the shock, and his particu
lar class of young men can not but exclaim, each for
himself, 'my father, my father!' And the pastor!
He can only say, Thy will be done.
His old friends, who have associated with him
these many years, who knew his worth because they
had tried his principles, and who must soon foUow
him; — ^wiU not sorrow fUl their hearts because he
can no longer travel Avith them doAvn life's declivity?
May they imitate his example, have his hope, die as
he died, and share his glory beyond the grave. But
none can miss him so much — none deplore his loss
so deeply, as the members of his immediate famUy.
They knew him better than aU others, but to revere
him the more affectionately — the more tenderly to
love him. The afflicted sister who, with her father-

32
less chUdren, leaned on him as a stay and staff"; the
chUdren whom he loved with aU a father's yearning
tenderness, and for whom it seemed that he could
not do enough ; the companion who was with him in
sorrow and in joy, and for whose interests he tender
ly cared and fervently prayed; how keenly must they
feel the piercings of sorrow, and what a gloom must
at times settle down upon their spirits. But could
he send them a message from the spirit land this
morning, this doubtless woiUd be its import — ' Weep
not for me ; let not your hearts be troubled. True,
I cannot return to you ; but I am waiting for you
in my Father's house.' May they have a larger and
richer experience of the grace of God, than ever be
fore; and may their 'light affhctions wliich are but
for a moment, work for them a far more exceeding —
even an eternal weight of glory.' Amen,

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