LIBRARY OF CONGRESS ODODSDflHSbfl Ki^ifKRHf^apufTitiniiiEBt 1 1 *» '*SJ.J ♦.-rt' .0 e • - ^^U %>. * A* -a.v ^^ %^^^\^;* > . ..• ,G . .^^-v. o , » <> ^ . . • "^^ '^,:^^ •:^^ % :£ *J^ t*^ o 'bV :V ^^ %'^ ^^<^ " ^^<^' ,^,^. 0_, 4- •^ \ ^ ».". ° * ^.^ ol^ f' -^^ .4- * '^^•^v' k « • , ^ y^-r/r^^^ ^ 'xP^ "^btv*^ i> • k ^oV^ .V '>i:^ ■ t^. A^ -'^ .c ^^,. ,# .V ,^^ -b/ :^ "^^^ a,'' ^'. % .-^^ >* -f • o^ ^j^ #; ..V '^^- , •0^ ^^<^^' *«-' -" 0' 4 o. ^ ^f. .<^^ o> *, V*- 0^ -7*. o. «*.,M' .*^^, -p. X'' Vv c ,.^" ^o DISCOURSE OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF THE HON. JOSEPH STORY, LL. D., DELIVERED IN THE CHURCH OF THE FIRST PARISH IN CAMBRIDGE, ON SUNDAY; SEPT. 14, 1845. By WILLIAM NEWELL, PASTOR OF THE FIRST CHURCH IN CAMBRIDGE. CAMBRIDGE: METCALF AND COMPANY, PRINTERS TO THE UNIVERSITY. 1845. DISCOURSE OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF THE HON. JOSEPH STORY, LL. D., DELIVERED IN THE CHURCH OF THE FIRST PARISH IN CAMBRIDGE, ON SUNDAY, SEPT. 14, 1845. By WILLIAM NEWELL, PASTOR OF THE FIRST CHURCH IN CAMBRIDGE. CAMBRIDGE: METCALF AND COMPANY, PRINTERS TO THE UNIVERSIIV. 1845. At a meeting of members of the First Parish in Cambridge, held after divine service, on Sunday, Sept. 14th, the following votes were passed : — Voted, That this society hold in the most respectful and affectionate re- membrance the character of the late Judge Story, whose death has been noticed in the public services this day. Voted, That John G. Palfrey, Abel Whitney, Andrews Norton, Charles R. Metcalf, William Read, and Nathan Rice, be a committee to wait upon the pastor, to thank him for his appropriate and impressive discourse pronounced this morning, and respectfully to request a copy for the press. A true copy. — Attest, James Munroe, Jr., Sec'y. Cambridge, Sept. 15th, 1845. Reverend and dear Sir, At a meeting of the worshippers in the First Church in Cambridge, after divine service yesterday, votes were unanimously passed, a copy of which we have the honor herewith to place in your hands. Agreeably to our commission, we respectfully request a copy of your ser- mon, delivered yesterday morning, for publication. We are, dear Sir, with great esteem. Your parishioners and friends, John G. Palfrey, Abel Whitney, Andrews NoRTOff, Charles R. Metcalf, William Read, Nathan Rice. To the Rev. William Newell. Cambridge, Sept. IGth, 1845. To Messrs. J. G. Palfrey, A. Whitney, A. Norton, > C. R. Metcalf, W. Read, and N. Rice. ^ Gentlemen: — I place at your disposal the discourse of which you have asked a copy. It was necessarily prepared in haste, and is but an imperfect expression of the respect and admiration in which we hold the memory of our lamented townsman and friend. But as a token of our reverence and affection, coming from the heart, it may have its value. It may serve as one memorial of the sentiments with which he was regarded among the people of his own village, as well as by the community at large. Among the many rich flowers which will be strewn upon his grave by honored hands, I esteem it a privilege to join with my parishioners in this humbler offering of love. With much esteem, Your friend and pastor, William Newell. " He who has been enabled, by the force of his talents and the example of his virtues, to identify his own character with the solid interests and happi- ness of his country ; he who has lived long enough to stamp the impressions of his own mind upon the age, and has left on record lessons of wisdom for the study and improvement of all posterity ; he, I say, has attained all that a truly good man aims at, and all that a truly great man should aspire to. He has erected a monument to his memory in tlie hearts of men." Story's Discourse upon Chief-Justice Marshall. SERMON. "Behold the Lord, the Lord of Hosts, doth take away from Jeru- salem AND FROM JcDAH THE STAY AND THE STAFF, THE JUDGE, THE PRUDENT, AND THE HONORABLE MAN, THE COUNSELLOR, AND THE ELOQUENT ORATOR." — Isaiah iii. 1-3. *' The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the NAME OF THE LoRD." — Job i. 2L Every general law must be a law of wisdom and benevolence. Every universal condition attached to our being must result sooner or later in good. Every event which God has made necessary and inevitable carries in the very fact of its being so an all-sufficient argument, to a religious mind, that it has uses and blessings, seen or unseen, enjoyed in this world or to bp enjoyed in some future stage of existence, which amply compensate for its present and seeming evils. He who ordained it for all loves and pities his children, is laboring for the welfare of the universe, has ex- pressed his benignant purposes in his creation, has re- vealed his Fatherhood in the gospel and in the charac- ter of Jesus Christ. And under his administration, " Whatever is, is right " ; " Whatever has happened is best." The poet's maxim and the Persian proverb are but echoes of the great Christian truth, " All things work together for good" ; are implied in the great Christian prayer, — the prayer of our Lord himself, — the prayer which in so few words comprehends so much, — the simple but sublime prayer of an humble and filial faith, — " Father, thy will be done." That Will, not an arbitrary but an intelligent Will, has made life a short, uncertain, checkered pilgrimage. That supreme but all-righteous, all-benevolent Will has ap- pointed the mysterious change which w^e call Death for the accomplishment of its wise and good purposes. Life and death are both from the same hand, are both under the same overruling Power. He who called me into being in his infinite mercy, in his infinite mercy has placed the tomb across my path. The earth is but the cradle of man ; and at its Father's call the soul must leave its cradle for its nobler sphere, though at the cost of suffering and tears. The corruptible must put on incorruption, — the mortal must put on immor- tality, — the mounting spirit must ascend to a higher life, — but only over the ruins of its fleshly tabernacle, which sometimes slowly crumbles and falls, sometimes is suddenly laid low, that its prisoner may be set free. In our Christian faith we readily assent to the con- solation that is offered us on the departure of the great and good, of the lovely and beloved, of the innocent child and the virtuous old man, — that it is best for them that they should go ; that God has other work and brighter skies for them above ; that they have exchanged a world of suffering, of sorrow, of clouded enjoyment, of imperfect vision, of unsatisfied desires and hopes, for one in which all will be light, and love, and peace. We do not doubt that God has in store for them blessings infinitely outweighing the richest and most envied of earth. When the first bitterness of grief is past, in the calm of peaceful meditation, we rejoice for them that they are gone to the Father. As far as we in our present ignorance and weakness of faith can bring nigh to our minds the delights and the duties of the second life, we are comforted by the thought of their happiness. In some cases that thought is the first and most prominent in our minds. When our friends have ceased to be useful in the world, when their faculties have been hopelessly shattered by the violence of disease or sapped by the slow decays of age, when repeated misfortunes and bereavements have thrown a thick gloom around their path, and life has lost its sweetness, or has become a sad and weari- some burden, — we may even welcome the last enemy and hail him as a deliverer and friend, — to be de- voutly wished and prayed for. But there are instances perpetually occurring in which death presents itself under a very different aspect. It comes not only to the aged, the infirm, the wretched, the solitary survivor, the superannuated and idiotized pauper, the useless wreck of intelligence and power, the obscure and unknown outcast, but to the young and the hopeful, to the prosperous and the happy, to those who are still the blessings and the ornaments of the circle in which they move, to those whose continued stay seems necessary to the happiness and welfare, if not to the support, of a loving household, to the pillars of the church and the state, to the needed champions of truth, humanity, and freedom, to the lights of a nation and of mankind. "Behold the Lord, the Lord of 8 Hosts, doth take away from Jerusalem and from Judah the staff and the stay, the judge, and the sage, the honorable man, the counsellor, and the eloquent ora- tor." There is the mystery and the sadness of death. It removes those whom the world cannot afford to lose. It cuts short the career of many a wise and gifted man, even while the full radiance of his genius and virtue is shining upon society. It scatters the fond hopes, it rends the cherished affections, which are still growing fresh and strong around their honored object. It comes with heavy shock into the united family, and passes on through bleeding hearts. The heavy loss of the survivors makes us forget the unspeakable gain of the departed. While we mourn for ourselves, for our commonwealth and our country, we lose sight of the glory and the happiness of the ascended Christian. His departure seems to us all untimely and grievous ; — it is one of the darker dispensations of Providence, in its actual or apprehended effects upon the circle and the community which suffer, — one of the darker dis- pensations of Providence, in which evil seems for the time to be permitted to triumph ; — and our thoughts dwell more on the visible calamity which has fallen upon the living, than on the unseen bliss of the friend and benefactor whom they so deeply mourn and miss. Such an event has just occurred in the midst of this community. God has removed one of the great lights and ornaments of our country. He has taken from Jerusalem and from Judah, from the University and the Union, the stay and the staff, the judge, and the sage, the upright and the honorable man, the wise counsellor, and the eloquent orator. He has called him from us 9 in the undiminished vigor of his intellect, and in the mid noon of his fame and his usefulness, while we were looking forward with pride and hope to many years of active and beneficent labor in his high voca- tion, and to new contributions to legal science from his wonderfully prolific pen, — the rich, ripe fruits of a green old age, in full bearing to the last. His earthly mission has been terminated just as he was about to concen- trate his powers upon a field of occupation so happily adapted to his period of life and his somewhat en- feebled constitution, as well as to his character and talents, that, in our blindness, and in spite of the warn- ings we had already received, we felt as if there were almost a pledge given us by Providence that his life would be long spared for the work which he seemed to have been specially chosen and trained to perform with such unrivalled ability and success. Feeling that his health and strength were now inadequate to sustain the arduous and increasing labors of his public office in addition to his cares and responsibilities in the Uni- versity, and to the preparation of the important profes- sional works which alone would have been enough for the lifetime of a common man, but which he had laid out for himself as the pleasant employment of his next ten years, he was on the point of resigning his seat on the bench of the Supreme Court and of devoting him- self for the remainder of his days — so long as God should give him ability to discharge the duties of his station — to the charge of the Law School in this place, and to the completion of the legal investigations upon which he was engaged. But it was otherwise ordered. He died in the robes of his judicial office. 2 10 His colleagues in that high station, who looked up to him as their head in fact if not in name, are called to mourn for a different separation from that which they had already anticipated. They have lost the stay and the staff on which they as well as the community leaned. Almost at the moment when he was about to pen his letter of resignation, he was seized with the illness which, after a few days of alternate hope and fear agitating all hearts from the highest to the lowest (for he was known and loved by all), proved to be the last summons of God. A disease, which, it appears, had been preying for years on the vital organs of the system, and which no human skill could arrest, at length terminated a life which had long been sus- pended by a thread, and which, with this secret enemy within, could have been preserved as long as it was only by a favoring Providence, as well as by strict tem- perance and care. The silver cord is loosed. The golden lamp is broken. The pure light is quenched. The blessing is withdrawn. The marble coldness of death rests upon that honored brow. The funeral group gathers around that revered form. The last lingering look is fixed upon those loved features. The solemn prayer is uttered. The tearful eye speaks the farewell of many an overflowing heart. And, as the body is borne tenderly to its long home, and the mourners in sad silence or with subdued voices follow the relics of the dead to their last resting-place in the quiet shades of his own consecrated Mount Auburn, to sleep by the side of his children and in the beautiful spot which he had himself chosen and adorned, even a stranger's eye 11 may perceive that it is no common funeral which is passing through our streets, — it is no common loss which has fallen upon our people. I am sure, my friends, that I should do violence to your feelings not less than to my own, if I failed to ex- press our deep sense of the calamity which has fallen both upon our village and upon our country, and to lay upon the grave of our lamented townsman and friend, some tribute, however humble and inadequate, as I know it must be, to his genius and worth. He was one of the great men of our country. Very early in life he distinguished himself in the profession which he had chosen, and was a prominent leader in this Commonwealth of the political party whose princi^ pies he had espoused with all the ardor of youth and the warmth and eagerness of his temperament. At the age of thirty-two, a period of life at which most of his brethren are but just making their way into the practice of the law, he was appointed by President Madison one of the Judges of the Supreme Court of the United States. The result proved the choice to have been most wisely and fortunately made. Young as he was, he was found equal to his office. What higher praise can be given him ? The conspicuous- ness and difficulty of his station would have only made any incompetency more glaring had his claims rested on the flashy brilliancy of superficial acquirement and not on the solid foundation of learning and genius. If there were any, not knowing the man, who, under the circumstances of his appointment, doubted and feared, their doubts and fears were ere long changed into ad- miration, confidence, and respect. From the moment 12 that he was chosen to his exalted office, he gave him- self up to its duties with all his characteristic devotion and zeal. He forsook all interfering interests, and made it his first fixed aim to be an able, faithful, and righteous interpreter and minister of the Constitution and laws of his country. How he performed the great and responsible duties which he had undertaken, with what consummate ability, with what unswerving up- rightness, with what winning grace, with what univer- sal acceptance, — with what laborious diligence of in- vestigation, with what calm wisdom of judgment, with what wide-reaching comprehension of his subjects, with what overflowing fulness of learning, with what matchless resources of legal erudition, available at a moment's warning, with what clearness of reasoning and copiousness of illustration, — and, more than this, with what integrity, with what pure love of truth and of justice, with what candor and patience, with what strict regard to the rights of all, with what courteous con- sideration of the feelings of all, with what gentle inde- pendence and firmness, with what mild dignity of bearing, — in a word, with what a rare union of the gifts, accomplishments, and virtues, which best befit and adorn the station which he held, — is well known to his countrymen ; and will be yet better known and felt now that death has set his seal upon his labors, and summons the world to examine his finished ca- reer. It was not the least among the privileges and honors of the office to which he was so early called, that it brought him into intimate connection with one whose name stands by the side of Washington's in the annals 13 of our nation. He became the admiring friend and the trusted and worthy colleague of Chief-Justice Marshall. In the society of that great man, in the light of his wisdom and experience, in the atmosphere of his pure, patriotic, and noble spirit, he began his judicial hfe, and for a quarter of a century enjoyed the blessing of his companionship and cooperation. Every year added to his reputation and to his influence, till he stood with acknowledged authority among the most accomplished jurists of the age, and, in our own coun- try at least, first among the foremost. His mind was very peculiarly and happily endowed. It was richly and variously gifted both by nature and by study. It might be compared to the lithe proboscis of the elephant in its union of delicacy, dexterity, and strength. He combined surprising quickness of appre- hension with caution and solidity of judgment; the sa- gacity of a practical understanding with the depth of a profound reasoner in the subjects of his profession ; an eagle-eyed insight into the dim and remote truth with indomitable patience and intense industry in bringing it to light and clearing away the rubbish which had gathered over it ; the comprehensiveness of a wide- searching intellect, seizing upon the general principles of his noble science and mastering its most complicated problems, with the suppleness and tact and microscopic vision of a mind that inspects and grasps the minutest facts, and elaborates the minutest details, — reminding MS of the mighty power, which, in its varied applications, with equal ease, moves a mountain mass or finishes the point of a pin. He was thus most admirably fitted for the highest success in his office. He was alike ready 14 and qualified for business and for study ; for dealing with men and affairs, and for discovering truth and applying it. Those who can best appreciate his labors in his official station and in his printed works have borne ample testimony to their greatness and value. We may well congratulate our country that such men as he and his coadjutor, Marshall, have laid the foundations of our jurisprudence, deep and strong, for coming genera- tions. And it is not America only which recognizes the debt of gratitude which is due to him for his services and his writings. His name is widely and honorably known beyond the Atlantic. " The loss," it was truly said on the day of his funeral by one of our most eminent statesmen and advocates, "the loss is not confined to this country nor to this continent. He had a wider range of reputation. In the High Court of Parliament, in every court in Westminster Hall, in every distin- guished judicature in Europe, in the courts of Paris, of Berlin, of Stockholm, and of St. Petersburg, in the Universities of Germany, Italy, and Spain, his authority was received, and when they hear of his death they will agree that a great luminary has fallen. He has, in some measure, repaid the debt which America owes to England ; and the mother can receive from the daugh- ter without humiliation and without envy the reversed hereditary transmission from the child to the parent. By the comprehensiveness of his mind and by his vast and varied attainments he was most fitted to compare the codes of different nations and to comprehend the results of such research." It belongs, however, to others, better quahfied than myself, to speak of his 1^ legal attainments and his judicial merits as they de- serve to be spoken of. The common voice of his brethren and of the people has already pronounced this general eulogy upon his public character and his official labors ; — and those who understand them best praise them most. But there are other relations in which we are at no loss, any of us, to comprehend and to feel his excel- lence ; — other points of view, — and those, too, of more importance in the sight of God, — in which we love to remember him. He was not merely a great man in the common and lower sense of the word, — not only illustrious for his intellect and learning, — not only admired for his ready gifts and varied acquire- ments, — not only reverenced for the high station which he occupied, — not only rewarded with a wide-spread fame for the lucid and instructive works which issued from his pen ; — he was much more than all this. He was great and illustrious, admired and reverenced, for his private virtues, for his Christian graces, for the noble and winning qualities of his kind and generous heart. He was another instance of the double power which is added to superior talent by its union with sin- cere goodness. His life was without stain. No breath of suspicion ever rested on the spotless ermine of his character. He was the truly upright and honorable 7nan, as well as the just and independent judge, with- out fear and without reproach. He carried into all his dealings, — into all his varied duties, — the same purity and elevation of purpose, the same heartiness of inter- est, the same mildness and consideration for others, which distinguished him on the bench of justice. In 16 his habits of life he was remarkable for his simplicity, regularity, unwearied diligence, and methodical ar- rangement of time. He could never have accom- plished what he did, except by the most persevering industry, united with the peculiar activity and hghtning quickness of thought, and ever-ready command of his faculties, which were among his peculiar gifts, derived from a happy nature, improved by education, circum- stances, and self-discipline, and kept bright to the last by unceasing exercise, amidst the multitude of his pressing duties. And what was remarkable in him was, that while he thus gave himself with his whole heart to his legal pursuits, while he was one of the most laborious of students, and the most industrious of writers, he was always ready to enter into the passing interests of the day, — he could unbend his mind at once from its graver occupations and its profound in- quiries, and descend with ease and grace into the pleasantry of lighter conversation, — he could enjoy with keen relish, not only the society of kindred and equal spirits, but the company of younger and differ- ently trained minds, — he could apply himself to their mental condition, sympathize with them in their feel- ings, and become for the time their companion and friend. He rose from his books, not dulled and stif- fened by his labors of thought, but ever with pliant and light spirit, prepared for friendly intercourse, for do- mestic hilarity, for interchange of ideas and feelings, or for the practical, every-day business of life. And this was to be ascribed partly to a natural versatility of tal- ent, and a natural elasticity of intellect, and partly to the genial cheerfulness of his disposition, and the out- 17 flowing kindliness ol his temper, that was ready to see good in every thing and to do good to every man. And who that knew him will ever foro;et his affable and cordial manners, his warm greeting, his ready smile, his hospitable welcome ? In him the consciousness of superiority never betrayed itself in a haughty, cold, repulsive demeanour. Wherever he went, he carried with him an atmosphere of sunshine. His pleasant wit, his inexhaustible vivacity, the flow of his conver- sation, ranging with equal ease from the lightest to the gravest subjects of thought, his stores of anecdote, his varied and instructive discourse, charmed and glad- dened all whom choice or chance brought into his company. In the street and by the fireside, in the public conveyance and in the private meeting, among strangers and friends, with all classes and conditions of men, with the old and the young alike, with the learned and the ignorant, his free, social, and communicative qualities made him the life and the light of the circle. And these were connected with, were indeed a part of, the loving and disinterested spirit which formed one of the prominent traits of his character, and which showed itself not only in the ways which have been mentioned, but in all the multiplied forms under which the various calls of human life and human society could bring it forth. He was always among the foremost and the full-handed — you can bear witness to it — in every good work ; — always standing ready with purse and influence, with wise counsel and generous sympa- thy, to throw into the stock of human happiness ; holding his ten talents in his open palm, and writing in his life a golden commentary on the charge of the 3 18 Apostle to the rich in this world's gifts, " that they be not high-minded, nor trust in uncertain riches, but in the living God, who giveth us richly all things to en- joy ; that they do good, that they be rich in good works, ready to distribute, willing to communicate." No one who needed his help ever went to him in vain. No useful enterprise, no charitable undertaking, ever failed through his negligence or coldness. With all his engrossing cares he found time to serve his friends, his townsmen, his fellow-citizens, in a multitude of ways, besides that which Providence had made the chief mission of his life. And the more he did, the more he seemed able to do. Hard work and useful work was his pleasure. The more of it the better. It was a delight to him to impart aid and comfort and happiness to every individual who came within his sphere. And his kind and liberal heart poured itself out in secret streams of bounty, as well as in more public benefactions, freely and ungrudgingly. The same disposition which led him to communicate so readily of his stores of knowledge to all who ap- proached him led him to communicate not less readily, at every call of duty or charity, of his stores of wealth. He did not live for himself alone. "By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another," said the Saviour. Our departed friend, certainly, if any man, was entitled by this crite- rion to be called a disciple of Jesus. In this spirit of love he was indeed a Christian worthy of the name. And he was not only a Christian in spirit, but a Chris- tian in faith. He was a Christian in spirit, because he was a Christian in faith. His life bore the fruits of his 19 creed. His death was in accordance with it. He bowed humbly to the will of God. His last words were words of prayer. He was a believer on con- viction in the divine mission of Christ, in the facts of the gospel history, and in the truths of the Christian revelation. He was a sincerely religious man, with- out any parade of piety. He reverenced Christian institutions. He was a devout and constant worship- per at the sanctuary. As long as his health continued firm, he never failed to appear, morning and evening, in the house of God. He was deeply interested in re- ligious subjects, and in the religious movements of the day. He gave his voice and his influence, his authori- ty and his example, to the Gospel of Christ. It would be well for others to remember and profit by the les- sons which he gave them in this as in other points of human duty. In his theological opinions, he acknowledged no creed but the Scriptures, and no authority but that of the Great Master himself. He had rejected the so- called Orthodox doctrines, because they were at vari- ance, as he thought, with the teachings of reason and the true interpretation of the Bible. He was an avowed and earnest Unitarian,* and, on more than one occasion, bore his eloquent public testimony in behalf of that form of Christian faith which we deem it our privilege to have embraced as the truth of God and the teaching of the primitive Church. When it can number in its ranks such men as Newton and Locke among philosophers, and Milton among poets, apd * He was for several years the President of the American Unitarian Association, and a speaker in its public meetings. 20 Lardner and Channing among divines, and Parsons and Story among jurists, it may be fairly presumed that it is no weak or pernicious heresy ; that it rests on safe and strong grounds ; that it has God's smile upon it. We only ask the world to judge the tree by its fruits ; — at least, before they condemn it on hearsay, as a barren and poisonous thing, to remember a few of the names which shine among its branches, and whose fragrance yet fills the world. I have thus imperfectly, in the limited time which I have been able to give to the subject, sketched the char- acter and merits of our beloved and revered townsman, — the learned and upright magistrate, the illustrious jurist, the accomplished scholar, the indefatigable stu- dent, the eloquent instructer, the wise counsellor, the pure patriot, the public-spirited citizen, the kind neigh- bour and friend, the sympathizing and true-hearted companion, whose genial spirits and open affections ran warm to the last, untouched by the chill of age, the generous helper and benefactor, the affectionate husband and father, the pure and devout Christian. He has passed from us in the fulness of his virtues and honors, in the unabated freshness and strength of his fine powers. His loss is in many respects an irre- parable one. — What it is to his family, I need not say. I will not intrude upon the sacredness of domestic sor- sow. — It is a loss to the nation and the world. It is a heavy loss to this village and to our own religious society, with which he was partially connected, as an occasional fellow-worshipper,* and in whose prosper- * During the College vacations. And in this connection I may mention the fact, which, though trifling in itself, is so characteristic of the man, 21 ity he took a warm and active interest. It is a loss which cannot be estimated, or, as it now seems to us, repaired, to the whole University, over whose affairs he has so long presided, as a member of the Corporation ; and, above all, to that department of it with which he was specially connected, and which, under the auspices of his name and the lustre of his character, has at once risen in rank and in numbers above every other institution of the kind in this country. His pupils have already expressed in their affectionate tribute to his memory the veneration and love with which they re- garded him. He was " the minister of God to them for good " ; inspiring them with his own enthusiasm for the studies of their chosen profession, showing them by his own example the excellence and the rewards of industry, and distilling into their minds, not only by direct precept, but through the high moral tone of his conversation and his character, an interest in all truth and beauty, a reverence for goodness and for God. He led them through the temple of justice to the shrine of virtue and the altar of the Most High. They looked up to him as a father, counsellor, and friend. His kind and familiar manners drew them to him in a kind of filial confidence. The love which he manifested towards his pupils was amply returned in the love which they bore to him. And what was true of him in this relation was true of him in every other. He was " the general favorite, as the general friend." that he gave directions to the sexton of the church to use his pew free- ly during his absence, and to keep it open for all strangers and visiters who might wish for a seat. He was indeed " given to hospitality" in the church as well as at his pleasant home. 22 The anxiety which prevailed among his townsmen, of all classes, during the progress of his last illness was an expressive and aflfecting testimony to the value of his public services, and the winningness of his private life- It may be pleasant to them to know that he felt and appreciated it. He was peculiarly touched and grat- ified by the many expressions of interest which came from the workmen and mechanics of the village. He was not less loved than honored by all. For all had experienced or knew his kindness. They read it in his benignant countenance and his courteous manners. They saw it as he passed through the street. He had some word of pleasant greeting for every one whom he met. The poorest and humblest were treated by him with a truly republican, a truly Christian affability and kindness. This was not the least part of his greatness. No man among us was more universally beloved than he. No man on his dying bed could better apply to himself the words of the ancient saint : — " When the ear heard me, it blessed me ; and when the eye saw me, it gave witness to me. I put on righteousness and it clothed me ; and justice was my robe and diadem. I was eyes to the blind, and feet was I to the lame. I was a father to the poor ; and the cause which I knew not I searched out. Jnd I brake the jaws of the wicked and plucked the spoil out of his teeth My glory imis fresh in me and my bow was reneived in my hand. Unto me men gave ear, and waited, and kept silence at my counsel." He is gone. The places that have known him will see him no more. But he lives in the hearts of men. 23 He lives in the works and words which he has left behind him. Still more he lives unto God. He has gone to the Father. That Father has kind and benef- icent purposes in his removal, though we may not see them now. He will not forsake his people. He will raise up others to guide and to bless them. He taketh away from Jerusalem and from Judah the stay and the staff. But we must thank him that he gave the blessing and that we have enjoyed it so long. We must bow to his decree in trust and in hope. " The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the name of the Lord." 39 w w M 1 ^

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