O R A T I
ON THE DEATH OF
0lv> ^tjomas Eetots,
PRINCIPAL OF SUNBURr ACADEMY,
WHO DIED
ON THE 3d OF MARCH ;
DELIVERED
(BY PARTICULAR REgUIST)
IN SUNBURr MEETING-HOUSE
ON THB 3d OF APRIL,
I804.
t *
BY JOHN ELLIOTT, Esqjjire.
A Commissioner of the Academy.
PRINTED BY
SEYMOUR) WOOLHOPTER W STEBPINSj
SAVANNAH, CX9KQ1A.
10 JOHN ELLIOTT, ESQUIRE,
SIR,
WE the Members of Suneury Academy, beg leave to pre*
sent you our sincere thanks, for the OraTioni which you pronounced
in commemoration of the Death of our beloved Preceptor, Mr. Tko-
Has Lewis, and request a copy of the same, that it may be printed*
[Signed by all the Members of the Academy.]
The Instructors, who were assistants to the late Mr. Lewis,
join in the above request ; and take this opportunity to express to
you, their thamcs also, for the Oration with which you favoured
them on Tuesday the 3d instant.
JAMES E. MORRISS, 7 -
OLIVER STEVENS, j 1 UT0RS'
Sunlury dcadtnApril 9, 1804,^
&it #rattom
T HAT MAN was created innocent and happy, is
the language of unerring truth. Fashioned in the like¬
ness of his god, and endowed with the distinguished
gift of inlelletiy he was called into life, a rational, and
an accountable being ;—free to act or to refrain from
aiftion, as reason urged, or inclination prompted. Thus
rational, intelligent, and free> his indulgent maker op¬
posed to his willy but one restraintdeclaring that on
his strifl obedience, hung suspended, the future des¬
tiny of the bumaji race I Awful responsibility ! and un¬
happy issue ! ! Forgetful of the hand that made him,
apostate many tasted of the forbidden fruity and Al¬
mighty Justice thus challenged forth, pronounced the
impending sentence—Dust thou arty and unto dust
■sbalt thou return / A sentence, fixed as the throne of
heaven—irrevocable as yesterday's departed light—and
as extendedy as the empire of Creation ! !
From the birth of nature, through the Iongtraft
of almost six thousand years, have mankind in cease¬
less succession, travelled downward to the silent tomb !
None of the adventitious gifts of beauty, zvealthy or
pozvery have ever successfully interposed their dazzle-
ing aidy to arrest the eventful stroke ! The fair Cleopatra
and her tawny maid ; the wealthy Crcesus, and the hum¬
ble beggar Lazarus ; the mighty conqueror Alexander,
and his puny trembling slavesy have ally long since,
indiscriminately mouldered into the elementary mass%
from which they originated, Embosomed in the dank
and gloomy caverns of the grave, we know them not—
except where the pride or friendship of survivors, rear¬
ing the faithful monument, hath marked the lodgment of
the more distinguished dust. The resty the great unknown
mass of nature's, zvrccky are buried and forgotten. No
tombs point "out their humble clay—their graves un¬
marked save br*tke frfinuiqit iraft of brute-beast, that
[ 4 J
Invited by the waving herbage of the soil, oft visit the.
prolific sod! Such is the difference made by man.
Nature knows no distinction in the grave.—Heirs of
mortality, descended from the same frail origin, with
those who have preceded us, we too, my friends, must
e're long, yield to the resistless power of death ;
" What art thou, O thou great mysterious terror !
" The way to thee we know, diseases, famine,
" Sword, fire, and all thy ever open gates,
*' That day and night stand ready to receive us.
ei But what's btyond them ? Who will draw that veil
*c Yet death's not there—no, 'tis the point of time,
" The verge 'twixt mortal and immortal being.
*' It mocks our thought! on this side all is life,
" And when we've reach'd it, in that very instant*
" Tis past the thinking of !"—*
Death is the analysis of our nature—the gran4
divorcement of the soul and body / this, materialy slue-
gisby mortal, admits of decay and suffers corruption,
Ihaty immateriuly a£livet immortal, is liable to no es¬
sential change, and can never be extinguisned t What
a mystery is man ! mortal and immortal I The august
heir apparent of endless life—and yet dying from his
birth ! In existence beyond the grave, equal to a God—i
but on this side, the humble pensioner of time ! ! To
dying men> to expectants of immortal life, what can be
so momentous, as constant preparations for this awful,
certain, change of being. Assisted by human reason on¬
ly, the virtuous philosopher of Greece,* felt such
strong convictions of a fuiure state of retributiony as in¬
fluenced every action of his life. And the Athenian
legislator Solon has left honorable testimony of his fote-
sight and his virtuey in this memorable precept found
among his writings—" Keep thine eye fixed upon the
end of life.**
Reflections on the frailty and imperfection oi
all human attainments, are friendly to the probationary
state of man, and should be habitually cherished and
indulged. To hold frequent converse with the King of
terrors; to visit his gloomy mansions, and view his.
* Fhocyat in th# Sieg« of ijlamatciii.
+ Socrates, who lived about 403 year* before Chritt.
[ 5 }
pale and ghastly victims, dispossessed of all Earth's
riches, vanities and toys, save the napkin, the shroud
and the pall, is equally the duty and the privilege of
man. Here, sensuality striped of all her evanescent
charms, ceases to ensnare ! Ambition, humbled at che
folly of his false pretensions, drops his towering crest,
and stands detected ! And even all captivating wealth,
before whose golden altar, millions are 'daily seen to
kneel in idolatrous adoration, here, looses all her gaudy
trappings—her diamonds cease to glitter, and her gold
is turned to brass ! In the language of inspiration, Yea
verily, it is better to go to the house of mourning, than
to the house of feasting, for that is the end of all men.
Come, then, my fellow mortals, and view with me
the grave of Lewis!—There closed in endless night,
behold those eyes which once so emphatically bespoke
the virtuous feelings of his ingenuous mind ! There
stiff and motionless, that tongue, which hath so often
entertained the jriendly circle, with chaste, familiar
and instructive converse—which hath, with such suc¬
cess taught our youth the rudiments of science, and the
all important principles of virtue—which from this sa¬
cred desk, hath often plead the cause oj God with man,
and vindicated his most wise and holy laws, against the
scoffs and cavils of the impious and profane ! There, in
more than iron fetters bound, those hands, which
have so frtquently met with ours, in the fond embrace
of mutual friendship ! There, never to beat againa
that heart, in which gra'itude, disinterested friendships
and manlv sensicilty, ever cherished, rose to their des¬
tined station ! Alas the calls of friendship, and the
tears of the distressed, move him now no more ! Eve¬
ry sense is frozen up! All the functions of animation
are extinct—Lewis sleeps in death ! !
. Dark, and indeed, mysterious are the ways of
Providence ! His counsels and designs, like his un¬
treated essence, are impenetrably veiled from mortal
Yiew. Why the youn^, the virtuous, and the usefult
are cut off from society in the midst of important la¬
bours ; and the aged, the vicious, and the worse than
c 6 3
useless permitted to continue :s a question which
finite investigation can never solve. But is it, there¬
fore, an impeachment of the attributes of deity ? JShall he
arraign the wisdom or the goodness of his ?naker, whose
weak and feeble view, can trace but a bare point, in
that immeasursable line, which bounds the vast majes¬
tic plan, on which the Creator conducts the government
of the world ! Let him rather bow in silent acquie¬
scence—and from the countless, indubitable evidences,
which hourly press upon his senses, both of the wisdom
and beneficence of his god, feel the fullest coviclion ;
that although " clouds and darkness areround about him
—rigteousness and judgment are the habitation of his
throneAnd that these solemn and mysterions visi->
tations, are intended by infinite wisdom, ultimately to
subserve the highest interests of mankind/ The good, we
are taugh% are taken from the evil to come, while the
vicious are made to feel, in the loss of their labour, the
value of such men to society ; and are constrained to res-
pecft religion, and those who practice its holy injun&ions.
In the estimation of the royal preacher, (< a good
name is better than precious ointment, and the day of
death, than the day of ones birth."
In paying this last tribute of respeft to the memo¬
ry of our departed friend, propriety demands that his
chara&cr be traced from early life : for the real fea¬
tures of the mind, are always better discovered, by a
careful inspection of the smaller and more circum¬
scribed transactions in life, than from a view of those
which from their known publicity, are expeAed to attracft
general observation.
Mr. Thomas Lewis was a native of Waterbury,
a small village in the state of Connecticut; who with
a brother and sister composed his father's family. The
first fifteen years of his life were spent in his native
town, where he occasionally attended a neighboring
school and assisted in tilling and cultivating his father's
farm. This latter employment, which many men of
weak heads and narrow views, would have been ashamed
to acknowledge, the mind of Lewis loved to dwell on.
C 7 ]
That he had, at this early age, been at all useful, and
that too in providing for the comfort and support of his
father's household ; was to his feeling mind a gratify¬
ing reflection. And he has been often heard to say,
that he esteemed it of no inconsiderable advantage to
him, that he had been taught the art of plowing. Here
Inay be discovered the first buddings ot that amiable
disposition for usefulness, which afterwards so amply
expanded itself in this our afflicted society.
About the close of this period, manifesting a
strong desire for the obtainment of a liberal education,
his laudable inclination was indulged—and his father
placed him with a neighboring minister : under whose
instruction, the necessary preparations for collegiate ad¬
mission, were completed in little more than one half of
the time, usually spent in such preparatory studies. Ia
September 1794, Lewis became a member of Yale Col¬
lege. In this new character he is said, to have acquit¬
ted himself with much credit-—dilligtnce, application,
and improvement, distinguishing him as a scholar, and
as a youth, sobriety and morality with a respectful de¬
meanor to his superiors, and an obliging engaging de¬
portment to his equals. Having gone through the
usual course of Educations in September 1798, he re¬
ceived the honours of the institution ; and from the
threshhold of the college, stepped upon the busy stage
of aRive life j expecting now to act his part. But what
part ? was indeed, a momentous question. A question,
\vhose solution was to fix that all important feature of
the man> his charaEier. Born without the adscititious
gifts of for tune, he was necessarily led to view a profes¬
sional life as intended for him, by the Almighty Disposer
of men and circumstances. And as a man of candid
and impartial judgment, it is to be presumed, that he
viewed each of the learned professions, when conscious¬
ly discharged, as highly useful and respectable. But
having long had a predileElion for the sacred desk, as
involing in its duties the most interesting relations, be¬
tween the creature and his maker, he commenced " the
ambussadour of god to man, to dispense the grand
concerns ofjudgtnent and of mercy."
[ 8 3
During the short period, in which his health per«
initted him to preach, he received three pressing invi¬
tations to a permanent settlement ; which evince the
high estimation in which his professional services were
held. Pleased with the prospect of usefulness which
now presented itself to his anxious mind, Mr. Lewis
was on the eve o$ accepting that call> to which on seri¬
ous deliberation, duty appeared to diredl his choice-—
when lo ! the all righteous Governor of the world, in
his sovereign pleasure, thought fit to visit hirri with
disease ! And an alarming hemorrhage of his lun<js% cut
off all hope of an immediate settlement. Still with
much more zeal than prudence, the unfortunate Lewis
continued occasionally to preach : and his disorder after
every sermon assumed a more threatning type. Enfeeb¬
led and debilitated by frequent and copious bleedings,
it now became necessary, that he should remove to a
more southern latitude, as the only probable means of
preventing the fatal effefts of approaching consump¬
tion. At this crisis, the application of the Commis¬
sioners of the Sunbury Academy, for a suitable person
to superintend that feminary, reached Dr. Dwight,
and was by him laid before Mr. Lewis, who rejoicing
at the opportunity thus unexpectedly afforded him, of
not only removing to a more favorable climate; but al¬
so, of rendering to mankind those services, as a precep¬
tor, which his ill health prevented him from attempt¬
ing in the character of a publick speaker, immediately
took leave of his native statey his kindred and f, iendst and
arrived in Georgia in December 1801. On the 5th of the
April following, he found his health so much improv¬
ed, as to warrant the commencement of instruction in
the academy of this place, as Principal of the Institution.
How he discharged the various duties of this im¬
portant station, you all can judge. His labours have
been in the midst of you. With the most amiable and
engaging deportment, a highly cultivated mind, and the
genuine spirit of Christianity, Mr. Lewis, was eminent¬
ly calculated to please, to improve, and to benefit man¬
kind. His predominant wish ever was, to itiake him-
C 9 3
Self useful and agreeable to the society in which Provi¬
dence had placed him. IVbo among us hath not been
pleased with the suavity of his manners, and the unu¬
sual equanimity of his mind ? IVho hath been in argu¬
ment with him, and doth not respect his understanding ?
IVbo hath been sick, and he did nut visit him ? nay,
and did not nurse and watch over him as a brorher ? Or,
Ubho hath been in the depths of affliction, and he did
not hasten to the melancholy chamber, and feelingly
sympathize with the agonizing hearty offering in their
most intresting and acceptable dresst the triumphant
consolations of religion ?
To his exposure in visiting the sick ; to his too
great zeal in occasionally venturing to speak from the
desk, and to his unwearied indefa!igable attenions tothe
arduous duties of his official station in the Academy,
may be justly attributed the late rapid increase of his
original complaint, which for many months immedi¬
ately succeeding his arrival in Sunbury, had assumed a
type so flattering as to encourage the pleasing hope of
eventual recovery. A few weeks before his death, he
became so feeble as to be unable to attend to his class.
This circumstance occasioned great uneasiness: and he
often expressed his deep regret, that although so youngs
he should have outlived his usefulness ; declaring, were
it the pleasure of his God, he would much prefer the
mansions of the grave to a state of barren unprofit¬
ableness !
The final awful scene now fast approached 1 His
fersont shrunk to the mere shadow of what it had been,
tottered on the verge of death ! But his intellefJual
party not at all weakened or obscured% seemed to acquire
new strength by every remove towards releasement, from
the frail tenement of its earthly habitation ! His eyes
always remarkably intelligent, now spoke a language
new and rare ! And his mind uniformly clear in its
perceptions of truth, seemed now to grasp subjttts in¬
tuitively I At this eventful crisis candour and friendship
claimed from his attentive physician, a disclosure of
his hastening end. Do you ask how he bore the aw~
B
[ ]
Jul tale of (hath ? In a manner that finished bis char¬
acter ! Had the all righteous God, said he, been
pleased, to have indulged me with a last farewell vieiv
of my dear and much re spelled parents, every earthly
wish would have, then, been gratified—but his sove¬
reign will be done ! I am ready ! His peace with God
had long been made—nothing on this momentous head
was now to settle. For the few hours, therefore,
which yet remained, his a<5tive mind turned to the en¬
tire discharge of social duties.
The attentions he had received from the inhabi¬
tants of Sunbury and its vicinity, now made the most
lively impressions on \\\s feeling heart ! and he could not
die in peace% without faying how much he felt them !
Yes, my friends, through him who now addresses you,
the dying Lewis speaks / He offers you his flattering
thanks, for your friendly visits, and your grateful ser¬
vices. He owns the generous hospitality which as a
stranger, he ever found among you—and his heart ex¬
pands with gratitude at the recolledlion of that disinter¬
ested jfriendship, which in his latter illness furnished
him with tender and sympathetic nurses ; studied in Its
ample provisions the caprice and delicacy of his sickly
appetite ; and saught by every known expedient, to ar¬
rest the progress of his fatal malady. Your sympathy
and hospitality reflect honor on this society—while the
grateful sense of the obligation, manifested by t\itwor-
fby objeff, proves how much he deserved therli.
The ebbing tide of life feemed now to scarcely
move; and the desertion of his animal senses in regular
succession, admonished him that his hour was near ?
Still his steady soul, strong in christian faith, shrunk
not from the p> ospetl of that untried world which fast
opened to his fearless view ! His immortal part had
long basked in the all quickening radiations of that il¬
lustrious star which was first seen to rise o'er Bethle¬
hem's unhallowed manger, ridiculed and scoffed at by'
ki gs and princes as a gleaming meator j but worship¬
ed and adored by shepherds and the eastern magit as'the'
promijed light from Heaven—of that uncreated Sun»
i: » 3
which Jeemcti to Jet a while on Calvary's mount-, but
which foon rose again, with renovated Jplcndour, and
mounting marked a passage to the throne of God ! To
his attending friends, he said, figh not for me, Jjhalljonn
be happy—and, then, with extatick emphafis exclaimed,
0 peaceful Jleep ! and funk to rejl ! !
Such was the end of him we mourn ! Such the
brilliant triumph of the dying chrijlian ! Although but
in the morning of his days, having numbered only
twenty-feven years, yet by virtues calender, Lewis was
Jar advanced in life I Hail virtue ! immortal God¬
dess hail ! Sole friend of mortal man ! His only good
that never leaves him! Thou, who travellest with him
through the da; k and dreary vale of death, and soarest
with him to the bright abodes above ! How amiable are
thy votaries ! How vafl and incalculable thy re¬
wards ! !
In estimating the consequences of our friend's de¬
cease, our sorrows must be purely felfifh. It were worse
than cruel to with him back, " to tread again the pain- ~
Jul road of life.''' The loss is wholly ours—and most of
all, of you,, my young friends, who were under his im¬
mediate guidance and inftruElion. IVhat fhall 1 Jay to
you ? To tell you that you have lost a friend, would
be but to mock your feelings. Thefe have already testi¬
fied how much you valued your instructor as a friend.
Shall I,, then, press you to a remembrance cf the precepts
which he gave you ? and call upon you, to emulate his
bright example ? This is a theme which claims the at¬
tention of the speaker, and that well befits your ear.
You are now arrived at that time of life, when na¬
tural propensities are flrongeft, when pleafures attraft
with mojl Juccessy and when the world feems moft calcu¬
lated to make you happy. Untutored hope, sketches the
outlines of the pifture of human life ; inexperience,
pleased with the fuppofed rejemblawe conjents that fan¬
cy should throw in her brilliant colourings ! But be¬
ware ! Like the ice castle of the north,* it may bejair
* Splendid Caitle reiied with ice by the Emprcis of Ruuia, «
c ta 3
and beautiful to look at, but will be found utterly uni
Jafe to trull in ! It may amuse through the Spring fea-
Jon of youth—but will ultimately p*~ove deceptive, and
vani/b before the jlrong rays of reafon and experience !
It is of vafl importance, to your future happiness, thac
you now make a proper ejlimate of human life. Difap¬
pointment is the natural inheritance of man. And he
is mofl of a'11 difappoin'ed, who expels uniform pr^/per-
ity ! Without looking, therefore, for unusual success
in mature life, let it be your first and molt assiduous
care to endeavor to deserve it. Like your departed
friend and tutor, be studious and tradable ; em¬
bracing and improving every opportunity of becoming
be ier informed, as well in the important principles of
virtue, as in those of science : recollecting that on you^
piesent improvement, depend your future characters.
Tkf. man, from whom Providence, had, in youth,
withheld the opportunity of acquiring an education,
may be thought unfortunate; but wiU never be deemed
censurable for his deficiency. While ignorance in
thofe whose whole time has been expended between the
school, the academy and the college, is ever highly
reprehensible ; and invariably provokes ridicule and
contempt. ' ;
To promote improvement in the various avocations
of life, nothing is of more importance than regularity,
Regularity engenders habit, and habit soon renders the
most trkfome and unpalatable duties, pleafant. The re-*
(•ularstudert, when his necessary hours of relaxation are
pastj returns with pleafure to his books; because habit has
rendered the perusal oi books one of his principal grat—
ificuti.-ns. The virtuous man, long habituated to with¬
stand temptations, feels no inconvenience, at abandoning
the most pleajurablepurfuit, when duty becons him away.
'Man, says a celebrated writer, is a bundle of habits. A c-
co' dm^ly, we find him contractihg habits, in the earli¬
est jiages (f his infancy : ' which are either good or bad
in exact conformity to the treatment of his nurse. The
cradle or the chair, whu h is first used to rock him to
repose, becomes the object of his fond attachment, and
I '3 3
which, at the approach of sleep, he uniformly experts,
and impatiently claims with sobs and with tears. The
hours, at which he has been accusromed to receive his;
nourishment, are also recollected; and with surprising re¬
gularity, he awakes from his sleep, and by signs intelligent
to his nurse demands the grateful ftreams of infant support ;
Advanced to childhood, his habits increase and strengthen.
But when arived at your age, my young friends, they be¬
come numerous, and still grown stronger, require the
utmost care and watchfulness to have them rightly and
honourably formed.
You have enjoyed in the precepts and examples of
your worthy instructor, invaluable advantages. And it
affords the speaker, the liveliest satisfaction to say, that
you have most of you diligently improved them. Your
last public examination, gave flattering proofs of your
advancement in science; and your orderly condudl with¬
in, together with your general deportment without the
walls of the Academy ; lead to the grateful belief, that
the habits already formed, are of the reputable and vir¬
tuous class. These, it now behoves you, to cultivate
and strengthen.
Many of you will shortly exchange the academ-
ick for the collegiate life. Removed far from the par¬
tial eye of parental friendfhipt nothing will so much a-
vail you, in conciliating esteem, and drawing forth res¬
pect, as a regular application to the studies of your
class; a prompt and respectful compliance with the
rules and regulations, established for the government of
the institution j and a scrupulous attention to the choice
of companions. In the first two points of attention,
from the habits already formed, it is presumable, you
will not be found deficient. On the third, the choice
of companions, as much circumspection should be ex¬
ercised, there may be some danger of your acting pre¬
maturely and incauiiously. While, therefore, you ob¬
serve a carriage respectfully civil and polite to all with¬
in the circle of your acquaintance, avoid forming an in¬
timacy with any, whose practices and habits are not of
the most reputable kind. Man, and particularly in
[ H ]
youth, is fond of imitation ; and you will hardly be
long attached to, or intimate with, an idle and vicious
character, without finding your diligence insensibly re¬
laxing, and your firft disgust at his vices daily lessen¬
ing. And it is a melancholy fact, that those whose so¬
ciety is least to be coveted, are generally the firft to invite
familiarity. But the very willingness of such to make
you their bosom friends, is a strong evidence of their
want of prudence, and ought to inspire you with suita¬
ble distrust. For had propriety marked their conduct
towards you, they would have, at first, treated you on¬
ly with the respect and civility due to ftnngers ; and
not sought to cultivate an intimacy under the fa red
name of frrcndfbip, until by a developement of your
characters something might be supposed to have ap¬
peared, calculated to attrad: it
Collegiate life is a striking miniature of that
with which the world will afterwards present you. Al¬
most all the paffions of the man, are here seen a<5tive
and busy in the youlb. But emulation and envy are the
most conspicuous—and are the only twi which will,
now, be noticed. Emulation is a noble, generous emo¬
tion, tending diredtly to the advancement of individual,
worth, by the most fair and honorable means : while
Envy seeking through the bye paths of falsehood and
detraction to raise its subject into undeserved notice„
never acquires for him, more than an ideal and transi¬
tory reputation. At the discovery of superiority in a ri¬
val, emulation may cause the cheek to flush> the eyes to
drop, and the heart to assume a brisker motion—but these
are rather the expressions of virtuous shame% than the-
hateful feelings of envious resentment. The emulous
youth ever aims at real superiority by assiduously endea¬
vouring to augment his stock of valuable information.
But the envious is contented with a supposititious char-
a5ler} indulging emotions of hatred and ill nature
towards all who really are, what he only seems to be !
The former is never unhappy at the fame of others.
The latter, is never gratified but when genius suffers or
reputation sinks ! Avoiding envy, therefore as mean%
n >5 3
-disingenuous and disgraceful—embrace emulation as tut,
youthful Hercules, in whose strength, you are to sur¬
mount every opposing obstacle.
Emulate not only the literary attainments, but
also, the shining virtues of your deceased Preceptor.—
While you are not asked, my young friends, to be
Christians, merely because your falhers or your instruc¬
tors, may have been so before you, without the interven¬
tion of your own choice—It is earnestly hoped, that you
will not suffer yourselves to become infidels from the
Jacinating writings, and ingenious sophisms of scepti-
cisniy before your reason and your judgment, fhall have
acquired sufficient maturity, to detect tho. fallacy of its
subtle arguments, and the absurd tendency of its doc¬
trines. What can be expected /rotn a sytem, however
acutely and ingeniously reared, which rests upon a false
foundation f What from that philosophical hypothesis,
which resolving every thing into impressions and ideas,
rejects the existence of both mind and matter, and proud¬
ly disclaims the very testimony of our senses, as only fit
to amuse and mislead the vulgar ! Thus presumptious¬
ly levelling, at a single stroke, all distinction between'
wisdom and folly, virtue and vice, truth and er. our I
In the appropriate language of Cowper,
" I feel my heart
" Dissolve in pity, and account the learn'd^
" If this be learning, most of all decevied.
" Defend us, therefore, common sense, I say
" From reveries so airy, from the toil
" Of dropping buckets into tmpty wells,
And growing old in drawing nothing up."
Your present opportunities, if duly appreciated and
faithfully improved, will conduct to much respectabi¬
lity and happiness, in this transitory life j zndjhat which
awaits you beyond the grave to an immortal crown I
hat joy and transport would it afford your departed
friend, to mee t you all on the right hand rf the throne
of heaven^ on that great and awful day when God shall
judge the world in righteousness I Methinks, at your
C '6 3
approach, T see his anxious eyes sparkle *with [Celestial
fire, and bis eager arms outstretched, to embrace and
welcome you to those peaceful mami ns &f eternal rest f
Would this be happiness ? Then hasten and prepare to
Jneet the approaching criiis-—when the great arch-angel%
'veiled in clouded, majesty, shall descend from heaven*
and resting upon the sea and upon the land, shall lift
his hand and stvear by him who Lveth for ever and ever
that time shall be no longer! When the last trump
shall raise its mighty voice, and bid the sleeping nations
of the earth awake to jud ment ! When et rnity shall
fix the date of human happiness, and of human woe ! ! i