I library ;i:i:ss. J ■ ^UNITED IUCA.J MEMOKIAL. cth/-^&^ ^y? MEMORIAL OF THE LIFE AND SERVICES . OF THE LATE REV. HENRY A. ROWLAND, D.D., PASTOR OF THE PARK PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, NEWAEK, NEW JERSEY. ft ft t a zxman f^xtuzfytli at Y IS Jfutural BY Ef Rf FAIRCHILD, D. D NEW YORK : M. W. DODD, 506 BROADWAY. 1860. ce j^/^-l J^f^^. sw*y /F- /P6* Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1860, by M. W. DODD, In tbo Clerk's Office of tbe District Court of tbe United States for tbe South- ern District of New York. r r2= MEMORIAL. We have been requested to give a sketch of the Life of the late Eev. Henry A. Kowland, D. D., late Pastor of the Park Church in New- ark, New Jersey. We have hesitated to com- ply with this request, lest we should do justice neither to him nor to ourself ; for, to describe him as he was, to portray him under the dif- ferent aspects in which he appeared as the shifting light fell upon him, requires a firm and skilful hand. Others too may be more com- petent than ourself to speak of his ministe- rial character and labors.. But we have known and loved him long, we have seen him at all hours and in many scenes, we have followed 1* MEMORIAL. his course from youthful to riper years, and our heart has pleaded with the wishes of his friends that we should pay this tribute to his memory. We cannot hope that it will be a last- ing record of his useful life and services, but it may recall some things which those who knew him will wish to remember, and it will present, however imperfectly, the example of a warm- hearted, upright and generous man, frank, bold, decided, and independent, yet cordial, sympathizing, and true, fond of society, full of activity and good humor, the sincere Christian, the acceptable writer, the faithful and success- ful minister of the gospel. We shall be able, in the space allowed us, and under the circum- stances in which we write, only to trace some of the influences which formed his character, and to give a mere outline of his labors. The true record of his life is in its results, not yet nor soon to be complete, and is to be found, not MEMOEIAL. 7 in these fleeting words, but in the communi- ties in which he lived, and in the many hearts there and elsewhere which he drew to himself and led to piety and virtue. Henry Augustus Eowland was born of pure New England stock and pious ancestry, at Windsor, in the State of Connecticut, on the nineteenth day of September, eighteen hun- dred and four. He was the eldest son of the late Henry A. Eowland, long a useful minis- ter of the First Congregational church of that town* and was a grandson of the Eev. David S. Eowland, the previous minister of that church. By his mother's side he was con- nected with the celebrated divine and meta- physician, Jonathan Edwards — one of the truly great men of New England and America, and for a short time the President of Nassau Hall : — 8 MEMORIAL. and he was also a descendant of the Rev. John Warham, the first minister of Windsor, who had been "a famous minister in Exeter, the capital of the County of Devon " in England, and was " one of the principal fathers and pillars of the churches of Connecticut."* Dr. Bowland admired the noble band of exiles for religious liberty who planted New England, and was fond of tracing his lineage to the first settlement of his native town, where his ancestors filled the sacred office for periods, amounting together to nearly a hundred years. Windsor, as is well known, is the old- est town in the State of Connecticut, ana! was settled in the years 1635-6, from Dorchester in Massachusetts, the name of which town for a short time and until 1637, it assumed. As early as 1633 the Plymouth people came up Q Trumbull's Hist, of Connecticut, vol. 1, pp. 23, 467. MEMORIAL. y the river and established here a trading-house or factory. Eeports of the fertility of the soil on the Connecticut river and the adaptation of the country to plantation and trade, attracted settlers across the wilderness. In September, 1636, the Eev. John Warham, who had been pastor of the church of Dorchester for six years, settled at "Windsor. His church and congregation, the whole of whom are said to have removed to this new place of abode, had generally preceded him. Mr. Warham had come over from England in 1630, in a vessel of four hundred tons, with an " honorable com- pany " drawn from three English counties, who, having been formed into a church just prior to their embarkation at Plymouth, brought with their pastor the ordinances of religion to a place in the wilderness, which they named Dorchester, whence, as we have stated, they removed a few years later to the 10 MEMORIAL. fertile, but then savage valley of the Connec- ticut. Rev. Mr. Warham was pastor of the church at AVindsor for thirty -four years. The historian of Connecticut speaks of him and the Rev. John Davenport, one of the founders of the colony of New Haven, together as " those venerable fathers who had been singularly in- strumental in planting, and had long illumi- nated, the churches of Connecticut and New England."* Dr. Rowland often referred with respect and patriotic pride to his grandfather, the Rev. David S. Rowland, who was a graduate of Yale College, and preached for thirteen years at Plainfield, Connecticut, then at Providence, Rhode Island, and afterwards for eighteen years at Windsor, where he was settled March » Trumbull's Hist, of Conn., vol. 1, pp. 465, 46?— Pal- frey's Hist, of New England, vol. 1, pp. 339, 340, 369, 450, 453, 454. MEMOEIAL. 11 •27th, 1776, and where in January, 1794, he closed his ministry in its forty-fifth year, and in the seventy-fifth of his age. While pastor of a church at Providence he preached "at Wrentham in the Province of Massachusetts Bay, in New England, on the 14th day of July, 1774, on a day of fasting and prayer, occasioned by the distressed situation of public affairs," a sermon which is said to have made a great sensation, and is certainly remarkable for its ability, and for its fearless and emphatic an nouncement at that early period, nearly two years before the declaration of the inde- pendence of the colonies was signed, of the American doctrines of civil liberty. The text was, " My little finger shall be thicker than my father's loins." He breaks forth at times into a rude energy of expression, and assails the doctrine of passive obedience with contemptu- ous logic. His liberty-loving grandson keenly 12 MEMORIAL. relished the argument, and caused the serm on- to be published in one of the public prints as au example of the freedom and independence of the pulpit in our revolutionarj- period. He thus speaks of his grandfather in con- nection with it : " The lion. Judge Daggett, of New Haven, informed me that he was present when the discourse was delivered, and that it produced a very great excitement. I have been told by my father that my grand- father was a powerful and eloquent preacher, of commanding presence in the pulpit, and of fine elocution. It was not my happiness to know him, he having died long before I was born. He was ever a firm and zealous de- fender of the liberties of our country against foreign aggression. He was pastor of the Presbyterian or Congregational church in Providence, Ehode Island, at the time when the war of the Eevolution commenced. So , MEMOKIAL. 13 obnoxious had he made himself to the enemies of the country by his bold and patriotic defence of our liberties from the pulpit, that when the town of Providence was invested he fled with his family in a sloop ; and during the darkness of the night he escaped through the enemy's fleet and went up the Connecticut river. He afterwards settled in Windsor, where he died. He not only impaired his fortune in the cause of our country, but he equipped a son and sent him into the field, who continued in the service seven years and to the close of the war." Two of his sons were clergymen, — the late Eev. William F. Eowland, of Exeter, New Hampshire, an amiable and excellent man, and the Eev, Henry A. Eowland, of Windsor. Eev. Henry A. Eowland, who was a grad- uate of Dartmouth College, was settled at Windsor in 1790, as the colleague of his father, 14 MEMORIAL. and remained as such colleague until his father's death, or for about four years, when he became the sole pastor of the First Congre- gational church of that town, where he died November 28th, 1835, in the seventy-first year of his age. He was a man of sense and worth, who did not hesitate to speak what he regarded as the truth with freedom and plain- ness. He was of unspotted character, and was esteemed as a sound preacher, and as " in doc- trine incorrupt." He was much interested in the religious intelligence of the day, and from the first in those benevolent religious enter- prises of New England, then in their infancy, which have since grown to majestic propor- tions. In his parlor, the Constitution of the Connecticut Bible Society, one of the earliest Bible societies of the country, was drawn up. The interest in benevolent objects which he felt he inspired from their earliest years in his MEMOEIAL. 15 children. His parish, in all parts of which he constantly labored, was very extensive, run- ning no less than eleven miles along the river, and being upon an average perhaps three miles in breadth. His first wife was Elizabeth Newbery, by whom he had one child, who died in infancy. On the 14th of April, 1800, he 'married Frances Bliss, a daughter of the late Moses Bliss, of Springfield, Massachusetts, a woman of great loveliness and excellence of character, of unusual sweetness and modesty of disposi- tion, refined feeling, gentle manners, strong and steady affections, and warm and cheerful piety. To her might well be applied the beautiful lines of Pope — " Oh ! blest with temper whose unclouded ray, Can make to-morrow cheerful as to-day.' ' Her son Henry had great love and just ad- miration for his mother. 16 MEMORIAL. Her father was one of the five members of the bar of the county of Hampshire, in the State of Massachusetts, who before the Revo- lution had reached the rank of barrister, and he was one of the principal advocates and counsellors in that county. His son, the late Hon. George Bliss, himself an eminent lawyer, in an address to the bar of the counties of Hampshire, Hampden, and Franklin, in 1826, says of him: "I believe he was generally esteemed a sound lawyer and skilful special pleader. He graduated at Yale College in 1775, studied divinity, and preached for some time ; after which he read law a year with Col. "Worthington, and was admitted to the bar at November Term, 1761, and left practice in the year 1798." He married Abigail Metcalf, a niece of President Edwards, by whom he had a numerous family of children, of whom the mother of Dr. Rowland was one. For several of MEMOEIAL. 17 the -later years of his life he was a judge of the Court of Common Pleas for the County of Hampshire. "We are unable at this distance of time to state for what reason he changed his profession, but he was a man of character and piety, and for a long time and until his death was a deacon of the First Congregational church in Springfield. He died July 3d, 1814. Of the happy marriage of the parents of Dr. Eowland, there were five sons and two daughters, all of whom lived to mature life. Of these only one son and one daughter are now living. Their parents were anxious and careful to give their children a good education ; and, although the father had a very moderate salary, by great frugality and economy they accomplished the object. Three of the sons received a liberal education, and four of them entered the different learned professions. Two of them became ministers of the gospel — two 2* 18 MEMORIAL. brothers thus following in the footsteps of two brothers of a preceding generation. One of the brothers of Dr. Rowland was the Rev. James Rowland, who, after having been en- gaged for some years in the practice of medi- cine, abandoned it for the sacred ministry, and became the pastor of the Presbyterian church at Circleville, Ohio. He is said to have been " a marked and beloved member" of his Presbytery, and was an earnest and in- teresting preacher. When the cholera pre- vailed in the place of his residence, he per- formed the double duty of minister and physician. He died at Circleville of con- sumption, brought on by his incessant labors, manfully contending with disease to the last, preaching as long as it was possible to preach and until within three months of his death, continuing to use his pen when he could no longer occupy the pulpit, and calmly watch- MEMOEIAL. 19 ing his own ebbing life, until his physician announced, in reply to an inquiry, that his pulse could be no longer felt. At Windsor, in the comfortable home, and amid the numerous family of his father, who, to supply the deficiency of his salary, culti- vated some farming-lands, and had some farm- ing-stock, and orchards of fine fruit, Henry spent a large part of his active and happy boyhood. He was from very early years fa- miliar with the gun and the fishing-rod, and all kinds of wood-craft and country sports, and to a certain extent such rural labors as were appropriate to his age. Thence in a great measure the excellent health so long preserved by him, that remarkable flow of spirits which was so characteristic of him through life, and that taste for the brook and woods, which never deserted him. His native place was favorable to such tastes and habits,- — an old, 20 MEMORIAL. quiet farming town, with broad streets and venerable elms, on its eastern side swept for its whole length by the Connecticut, and con- sisting of a zone of fertile meadow along the river, and of level upland with fields and woodland behind. Through the centre of the town, past the church which crowned its bank, flowed the Farmington river, a considerable stream, which, rising in the mountains of western Massachusetts, first crosses its south- ern border and hurries towards the ocean, but suddenly turning northward at Farmington with reverted steps, as if loth to leave the pleasant country from which it comes, here runs easterly and separates the town into nearly equal parts. The town originally com- prehended large tracts of land on both sides of the Connecticut river, and in the part of Wind- sor, on the eastern side, now East Windsor, in 1703, Jonathan Edwards was t3orn. Like MEMOEIAL. 21 Dr. Eowland, lie died at the age of fifty-five years. "^ETATIS LV. HEU NIMIS BREVIS,"* and his ashes also rest away from his native place in the soil of New Jersey. Windsor has another title to distinction, which in this con- nection we may perhaps be pardoned for men- tioning. It was the place of residence of Oli- ver Ellsworth, the second Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States, to whom among other public services is attribu- ted the drawing of that famous act of Congress, the judiciary act, under which the Courts of the United States were organized, and their business has ever since been conducted. He was the parishioner at Windsor of the Eev. Mr. Eowland, who, on the death of Chief Jus- tice Ellsworth in the year 1807, preached his funeral sermon. * Epitaph of Pres. Edwards at Princeton. 22 MEMORIAL. In this place, among such traditions and scenes, and under the instructions of such par- ents, in the freedom and affection of his own home, with the wide range of his father's par- ish, and a free welcome at the houses of rela- tives and friends, Henry spent a light and joy- ous youth, full of life, action, and excess of spir- its. Here he attended school until, we believe, his thirteenth year. For about six months he then went to the grammar-school in Hartford, but completed his preparation for college at the Academy in Springfield, the native place of his mother, where for that purpose he re- sided at the house of an uncle for two years or more. He pursued his studies at this school with considerable diligence. His mind was gaining general strength and expansion, if not much accurate learning. He was now the ar- dent, resolute, almost impetuous boy, a leader of sports on land and on water, his irrepressi- MEMORIAL. 23 ble spirits breaking out in his intercourse with his friends and companions on all occasions, and in spite of every restraint, in laughter and frolic. In the circle of his numerous relatives at Springfield, who were so closely connected with his father's family, by ties of relationship curiously intertwined,* that all might be con- sidered as one larger family, he had freedom and indulgence, and his social nature was warmed and developed. But he was soon to enter on a different scene. In September, 1819, at the age of fif- teen, he entered Yale College. If not the youngest, as he believed, he was among the youngest of a class, which at the time of its graduation in 1823 consisted of seventy-two members. Of the four years spent by him * Two of the brothers of Mrs. Rowland, his mother, mar- ried, the one (Hon. George Bliss) the sister, and the other (Mr. Moses Bliss) the niece of his father. 24 MEMORIAL. in college lie always retained a pleasant and grateful recollection. He was ever warmly attached to the venerable institution at which he was educated, which for more than one hundred and fifty years has pursued its career of honor and usefulness, and which has, at the present time, more than three thousand living graduates. His youth, and want of due and thorough preparation for college, prevented his taking that position in his class as a scholar which he might have otherwise reached, but he always considered the instructions and the discipline which he obtained there as of great and lasting value. He had reason to remember his connection with Yale College with pleasure and gratitude, for a more important reason : he experienced there that change of character, compared with which all others are trivial and unimportant. During his freshman year there was a revival MEMORIAL. 25 of religion in New Haven, which extended to Yale College. His attention was arrested. Under the preaching and familiar instructions of the Eev. Mr. Nettleton, who was active in those scenes, he was deeply penetrated with a sense of his own guilt as a sinner, and of his need of that absolute and complete renovation which the Scriptures emphatically call a new birth. His convictions on the subject were deep and permanent. No one who has read his works, and knows how competent he was to guide troubled souls in the terrible conflict between nature and grace, between the powers of darkness and those of light, can doubt for a moment that he knew much of that conflict, and something of the victory too. He had led hitherto, not a vicious, but a thoughtless, careless, heedless life. He had been too well instructed not to know that a life without God in the world is not innocent because it does 2 MEMORIAL. not break out into bold and startling trans- gressions, and not to feel the claims of the law of God, in their strictness and extent, when pressed upon his awakened conscience. The lessons of his youth, and his familiar ac- quaintance with the Scriptures could not have left him much in doubt as to the plan of sal- vation, and he soon found peace in believing. The change in his character and course of life was marked and decided. Early in his Sopho- more year he began to think of making a public profession of religion. In a letter to a friend, dated 17th December, 1820, after say- ing that his time is very much taken up with his studies, and expressing his earnest desire that the^ord would pour out his Spirit on Springfield and Windsor, and his anxiety for the salvation of some of his young friends, he says: "I have lately thought a great deal about making a profession of religion. It is a MEMORIAL. 27 very important 'duty, and cannot be entered into with too much prayer and self-examina- tion. It is a great thing to become a hum- ble, pious follower of our Saviour. I have thought, if I made a profession and did not according to it, it would be a greater dis- honors to the cause of Christ than if I never made a profession ; but God is able to keep me from dishonoring his cause, and if I trust in him he will do it. Some of my companions will come forward next communion. I think that I shall join with them. ... A great number are to be united to the church in town. The revival in college has ceased; who would have believed it ?" On the 7th of January, 1821, in his Sopho- more year, he made a public profession of his faith, and joined the College-church. "With his usual decision, he at once fixed upon his future profession, and determined to preach 30 MEMORIAL. himself, the strong or hyperbolical expression by which he might give emphasis to his opinions, in his familiar conversation and his lighter writings which were generally the inspiration of the moment, lie did not try to suppress. Those who only saw the foam which sparkled on the surface, without know- ing the depth of his character, sometimes mis- apprehended him. It would be an error to suppose, however, that his simplicity and openness arose merely from native disposition— the natural sunshine of his heart. Much was no doubt due to this cause. But, at least in his mature life, we think that they sprang also from his convic- tion of what was right and proper, and be- longed to true Christian sincerity. And when we reflect on the impression he made on others by these qualities, united with his disinterested courage and large heart, MEMORIAL. 31 when we remember the strong attachments which the j inspired, and the influence they gave him, we may well doubt whether the mistake is not often on the side of prudence, whether indeed timidity is always prudence, and whether a cold, artificial character, faultless in external demeanor but wanting in free expression, is not destitute of some of the strongest elements of attraction and nobleness. At that youthful period of life of which we were last speaking, he was overflowing with animation, with quick impulses. He uttered the rising thoughts of the moment. He often startled — perhaps he liked to startle — those of graver habits, by his disregard of mere con- ventional forms, or what were deemed the regular proprieties of time and place. Of an affectionate disposition, the presence of friends and kindred always exhilarated him, and in their society he gave the freest range to the 32 MEMORIAL. expression of his feelings. He had a vein of humor, afterwards more fully developed, and liked to indulge it. His active mind ran rapidly from grave to gay, too rapidly often for others to follow, or detect the subtle thread of association by which he had been led from the one to the other. But in the discharge of his religious duties he was always serious and thoughtful, and in his religious principles firm and consistent. In all the methods adopted for the advance- ment of religion in college he took an inter- ested part, and he did not fail to admonish earnestly his young friends of the great im- portance of entering upon a religious life. His practical turn of mind was also at this period clearly manifested. But he was yet in the immaturity of youth, with mind and char- acter forming, but in a great measure un- formed. MEMORIAL. 33 He maintained a fair character and standing through his college course, and had and after- wards retained the respect and regard of the officers of the college, as well as of his class. He was graduated at Yale College in Septem- ber, 1823, at the early age of nineteen years. For most of the following year he taught school, first a " small but pleasant" school of both sexes at Glastenbury, Connecticut, for four months, and then for six months " a large and wearisome" school at the Academy in his native town. That the charge of this Acade- my was entrusted to him by those who had known him in his thoughtless, boyish days, shows that his sterling qualities had not been overlooked. He found no difficulty in these early trials of his skill. In the meantime he was reading works of standard writers, with evident reference to the profession which he had chosen. In the autumn 2* 34 MEMORIAL. of the next year, 1824, lie entered the Theo- logical Seminary at Andover, Massachusetts. Here he was very studious and diligent, and labored with earnestness and success in the several departments of sacred study. His class was a fine one, and contained several who had taken the highest honors of college. Un- der the instruction of Woods, Stuart, and Robinson, he laid broadly and deeply the foundations of his professional education. In the summer of his second year, he was obliged by ill health to leave the Seminary for a short time and to go home, but he soon returned. We learn from one of his letters, that up to this year he had never been confined by sick- ness. In the winter he had some cold, but he says that he " took some warm tea and put a steam-engine to his feet" and was better. The letters written by him while he was at Ando- ver testify to his studious habits, and break MEMORIAL. 35 out at times into characteristic humor. Hav- ing remained at the Theological Seminary for the usual term of three years, he left that in- stitution in the autumn of 1827. In June of that year, while yet a student at the Seminary, he was licensed to preach the gospel, by the Hampden Association, an asso- ciation of Congregational clergymen of the County of Hampden, Massachusetts. He went to New York in the autumn of that year, and undertook an agency for the American Bible Society. He is described by the Secretary of the Society as at this time " young, ardent, active, full of cheerful and at times mirthful conversation, yet so blended with frankness and good-nature, and all so obvious- ly devoted to the interests of religion, as to render him an agreeable companion and a promising minister." He was first employed in the State of New York in the counties of 36 MEMORIAL. Columbia, Kensellaer, and Albany. In the spring of the following year he passed over to Maine, and went through that State. Re- turning he proceeded through the lower coun- ties of the State of Connecticut, the State So- ciety having just contracted its labors to the four Northern counties. He continued in his agency until the end of the summer of 1829. In this service he formed in these three States auxiliary societies, in direct connection with the parent society, with branches in the towns, connected with the county auxiliaries. This was an important work, in this early and what may perhaps be called transition period of the national society, when it was extending itself systematically over the older States. He then went to New York, and took the place, or discharged the duties of the Secretary of the Society, during his absence, and pre- pared, under the supervision of a committee, MEMOEIAL. 37 certain publications for the Society. One of these was a pamphlet of about fifty pages, con- taining an exact and detailed account of the principles and operations of the American Bible Society, and of the manner of organiz- ing and conducting auxiliary and branch so- cieties, with numerous precise and practical suggestions. He was thus employed until the spring of 1830. We have reason to believe* that, in his connection with the American Bible Society, he showed much executive abil- ity, and we are assured that his whole course, while he was connected with it, was such as to create a cordial attachment, which lasted through life, between him and its board and officers. He was next invited to supply the pulpit of the Eev. Dr. Thomas H. Skinner in Philadel- phia, during his absence, and spent the sum- mer of the year last mentioned in the dis- 38 ' MEMORIAL. charge of this duty. In these various employ- ments he had been gaining what he needed- experience, maturity, and knowledge of man- kind. In the autumn of the same year, he was in- vited to the Presbyterian church of Fayette- ville, in the State of South Carolina, and ac- ne to recover her. Ee wrote under bis own nature to the editor of on spapers a humorous Letter, count of his Loss, and an amusing and - iption of Kate, and her qualities and habits. The letter was republished, and circu- lated far and wide in the public prints, and gave its author a new celebrity. This humorous letter was the means of re- covering the cherished companion of his labors. It met the eye of the purchaser, livii distant place in New Jersey, who recog: the stolen animal in his own barn from the graphic and amusing description given of her. He wrote to Mr. Rowland, and Kate soon re- MEMORIAL. , 95 turned, to resume her round of ministerial duty. In July, 1854, he received a unanimous call to the Green Hill Presbyterian Church in Philadelphia, and he soon after declined it. In the same year Union College conferred on him the degree of Doctor of Divinity. On the twenty-first of October, 1855, at the close of the session of the Synod of New York and New Jersey, which met at the city of New York, he preached at Park Church, Newark, and on the second of November in that year the society of that church voted unani- mously to give him a call. This call he thought it his duty to accept. His congrega- tion in Honesdale by a unanimous vote re- quested him to reconsider his determination. But further reflection not changing his pur- pose, he closed his ministry at Honesdale on the sixteenth of December, 1855. With strong 96 MEMORIAL. expressions on the part of his church of un- feigned gratitude to God for the experience of the last twelve years and of undiminished con- fidence in him, and with many tokens of affection and regard to himself and family, he says, " in the fear and blessing of God we left " Honesdale. "VYe now approach the scene of his last la- bors. The thought saddens us, and we must be brief. He was strongly attached to the place and the people of Honesdale, and remain- ed so during his life. He revisited that place with great pleasure. Thus in the summer of 1857 he notes that with some members of his family he 'had spent three Sabbaths there, " days long to be remembered." His attach- ment was warmly returned by his people, and when the call to Xewark was taken by him into serious and favorable consideration, his heart was +' oppressed " with the thought of MEMORIAL. 97 leaving those whom he loved. And when, as. the danger of his doing so became known, solicitations and expressions of affection poured in upon him from his congregation, it was al- most too much for a man of his warm heart to resist. But the deep sense of duty sustained him in the struggle, and finally triumphed. "I see," he said, " what I think is a field ap- propriate for me, and where I may be useful." Dr. Eowland began his regular labors at Park Church, -Newark, on the twenty-third day of December, 1855, and was installed as the minister of that church on the twenty -third day of January, 1856. His ministry of more than three years and a half at that place was not marked by striking events, but we believe that all who know the facts and are competent to judge of them, think that he did a great work there. At the time of his settlement the church was small, and before his call its elements, 5 9£ MEMORIAL. happily united in himself and harmonized by his judicious course of action, had been dis- united, and to some extent in conflict. The society itself was "laboring under difficulties which, unless speedily remedied, threatened as some thought to issue in serious embarrass- ments. But Dr. Rowland saw here an impor- tant point to be maintained, and a church to be built up. The aspect of things would have appeared discouraging to one of less resolute spirit than himself, or less assured by expe- rience of his own powers and resources, or less confiding in the efficacy of the divine word, accompanied by the influences of the divine Spirit. He sought not repose, he pleaded not weariness from past labors, he despised inac- tion. He held himself " at the service of the church," and like a good and tried soldier con- sidered the place where the heaviest blows were needed as appropriate for him. MEMORIAL. 99 At Honesdale he was pleasantly situated, and lie had a wide and commanding influence. But in the successive revivals there a large part of the youth and other members of his congregation had been brought into the church ; and in a new and untried field he hoped that he might do more good in his Master's service than he could in one which he had already reaped. We are indebted to a member of his church at Newark for the following account of his ministerial labors while he was pastor of that church : "When Dr. Eowland came to Park Church, Newark, the congregation was small, and the general condition of the church such as to create distrust and doubt rather than the cer- tainty of success. There was much to dis- courage any one who was not fully prepared to meet difficulties. At the same time the 100 MEMORIAL. point was an important one, and the location and the increasing demand for accommodation in the Presbyterian churches in Newark pre- sented inducements to one who was willing to make the sacrifice necessary to place the church in a firm and substantial position. "Dr. Rowland had received a unanimous call. The point of duty had been fully set- tled by him, the importance of the work to be accomplished being the main reason of his accepting the call. He possessed all the fire and energy of youth, with the experience of age, and a trustful reliance upon the great Head of the church for that blessing, without which human instrumentalities must fail. The work to be performed was similar to that attending a new enterprise; its elements re- quired harmonizing and strengthening. He turned his earnest efforts to this work ; infused his own spirit into those with whom he came MEMORIAL. 101 in contact, and new vigor was imparted to every department of the church. The congre- gation increased, and many members were added to the church both by profession and by certificate from other churches. " He felt the need of a suitable place for the ordinary weekly meetings, and as no lecture- room had been provided, a room was procured for this purpose, and plans devised to secure the necessary funds for building a lecture- room. The people responded to the call for that object. The funds were raised and a neat building erected adjoining the church. The church was at the same time beautifully frescoed. " These evidences of progress and enterprise were pleasing to Dr. Eowland ; but while he valued these evidences of prosperity and in- creased facilities for usefulness, they seemed only to increase his efforts and anxieties for 102 MEMORIAL. that higher and truer development in his people of spiritual growth. He visited his people, calling upon them at their homes and at their places of business, and embracing every opportunity to impress upon men the one great and important duty of attending to their spiritual interests. With him religion was the one great duty of daily life, and as properly introduced into the workshop or counting-room as into the parlor or the pulpit. He clothed religion in no austere or formal garb, but made it rather the one great source of joy and cheerful hope. "As an admirer of the mechanic arts he visited the factories, taking the opportunity to turn the attention of men to their spiritual welfare. Few men possess the power which he exhibited of gaining the confidence of others. Many who formed their acquaintance with him in the workshops were drawn to hear MEMOEIAL. 103 him preach. Some, who had not attended divine service for years, were induced to attend it regularly with their families. He not only became acquainted with the people himself, but he used every means to bring them to- gether socially that they might become ac- quainted with each other, removing the dis- tance which so often exists among the members of our churches, and establishing those strong bonds of union and friendship which give power and vigor to a people. " While he attended with care to these duties, he did not neglect his preparation for the pul- pit. He aimed not at the gilding or trappings of oratory. It was not the ear, but the un- derstanding and heart of his hearers that he wished to reach, and the seed sown by his hand was blessed to the conversion of men. A large number of members was added to the church, by profession of faith and by certificate, 104 MEMORIAL. during his ministry of little more than three years. " Lie attached great importance to the Sab- bath-school, believing it to be the main source of strength to the church — that here foundation was laid — that here the church to look for its growth, and that this institution should receive the earnest support of the pas- tor. No teacher was more regular in attend- ance upon the Sabbath -school than he, except when he was supplying some pulpit beside his own, or was called away by pastoral du1 For teachers and for scholars he had some kind word of encouragement, and the attachments here formed for him by the children of his charge, caused tears and sorrow for his loss. The school increased rapidly, and in two years it had more than quadrupled in numbers. In the midst of his labors, when the hearts of his people were fixed upon him, when evidences MEMORIAL. 105 of his usefulness were seen on every hand, he has been stricken down by disease, and death has severed the bond of union between him and his people. Long will his name and memory be cherished." Few particulars need to be added. His labors were unwearied, and, what at the time was wholly unsuspected, beyond his strength. He was present with an active and inspiring interest in every movement connected with the prosperity of his church and society. He preached almost uniformly twice on the Sab- bath, rarely exchanged, and had little aid in the pulpit. He liked to preach. If it was a toil, it was yet a pleasure to him to unfold the truths of the Bible, and recommend them to the reason, the conscience, and the hearts of intelligent hearers. Here, as well as at Hones- dale, without descending from the high ground of a spiritual religion, he readily seized upon 5* 106 MEMORIAL. local or parsing topics and turned them to a religious use. Be not only preached in the morning and evening of the Sabbath, the Sabbath-eohool regularly on the Sabbath afternoon, and the weekly lecture and pn meetings, but even i' choir, and took ft constant and effective interest, in which zeal was happily mingled with candor and good-humor, in the temporal as well as spiritual affairs of the society. A great and permanent change ensued, and a steady growth of both the church and congregation. In the first year of his minis- try, or 1856, thirty-five members were ■ to the church, and before the close of the third year, a large number of new members had joined it, composed of nearly equal numbers received on letter or certificate from other churches, and on the profession of their faith. In the second year of his ministry the congregation, the MEMORIAL. 107 growth of which, was in a still greater proportion than that of the church, had become sufficiently strong and united to build a conference house or lecture-room, and to repair and fresco their fine large church, as already stated, at an expense of several thousand dollars. It was pleasant and almost amusing to see the daily, earnest interest with which he watched the progress of the im- provement of the church, and urged it towards completion. At the close of that year he notes in his sermon-book, that he stops a course of sermons, which he had been preaching, " to introduce more practical and experimental preaching in consequence of a general seriousness," and then, after mentioning these marks of outward pros- perity", that " the church has been painted, a lecture-room built, and the congregation greatly increased during the last year," he glances up- 10 S MEMOBrAL. ward and drops the ejaculation, " Come, Holy Spirit, Heavenly Dove." We cannot doubt that this petition arose from the depths of a softened and longing heart, more solemn from recent afflictions, and that a record of it was made in heaven as well as on earth. In the following year there was a great and general attention to the subject of religion in his congregation, as there was in a very large number of the churches throughout the coun- try. This was to Dr. Eowland an arduous, and to him and many of those under his charge, a memorable year. On the fourteenth of March, 1858, twenty-nine were admitted to the church, twenty-two of them on the profession of their faith; on the second of May, thirteen were admitted, twelve of them on the profession of their faith, and during that year in all fifty-five, eleven of them on certificate from other church- MEMORIAL. 109 es, and forty-four on the profession of their faith. These details may not be necessary, but they verify and enforce the general statements which have been made. If to win souls be the prime object of the Christian ministry, it can hardly be inappropriate in a memorial of a minister of the gospel that the issue of his labors in that respect should be recorded. Near the close of the previous year an event occurred which made a deep impression on the mind of Dr. Eowlancl. This was the death of his brother-in-law, the Eev. Abraham Polhe- mus, D. D., pastor of the North Dutch Church in Newark, " who," to use Dr. Eowland's terse language, "died 28th October, 1857, at Dr. Forsyth's, Newburgh, in triumph." Taken away as he was in the fulness of vigorous manhood, when long years of earthly happi- ness and usefulness appeared to be in store for him, when he had but lately entered upon hij3 110 MEMORIAL. duties as pastor of a neighboring church, and had come to reside at Newark, his death spoke powerfully to Dr. Bowland's heart. He seemed to have a new sense of the vanity of life and of the trivial nature of its ordinary pursuits, and to him who pens these lines then pre- dicted that his own wife would be a widow, as if he already felt the solemn shadow of that coming and near event. But his energy and capacity for labor, and cheerful alacrity in the performance of duty still continued. And he was cheered and gladdened by seeing the abundant fruits of his labors, and by the proofs of attachment re- ceived from the members of his congregation by himself and his family. A pleasing evi- dence of this attachment was given in the year previous to his death. Sunday, the loth of August in that year, was the anniversary of his marriage. On the following evening his MEMORIAL. Ill congregation met in a surprise-party at his house, and celebrated with himself and his wife their silver wedding. An address was made to Dr. Rowland, to which he replied, a purse of five hundred and fifty dollars was presented to him, and an appropriate original poem, written for the occasion, was read. An entertainment was also provided, and a scene of enjoyment displayed, not soon to be forgotten. The assurance given by this manifestation of affectionate regard, was particularly grateful to Dr. Rowland's heart and memory. The occa- sion was indeed one in itself to inspire unusu- al pleasure and gratitude. Since he had been married, years had rolled away, children had gathered around his table and hearth to add to his happiness, and of the silver-chain which was how clasped, not a link had ever been broken. The dear family circle, of which himself and his wife were the beloved centre, 112 MEMORIAL. had never been invaded by death, hardly by sickness, and he had had large experience, as those familiar with his well regulated home well know, of the sacred joys of domestic life. We think that we should not give a just idea of the services of Dr. Rowland, if we represented them as confined to his own par- ticular congregation or to the community in which he lived, or even in addition to the val- uable contributions made by him to our relig- ious literature. His church was an integral part of a wide-spread and powerful denomina- tion, in whose councils and affairs and among whose ministers and members we believe he had no insignificant weight and influence. He was often a member of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian church, and in May, 1858, at the meeting of that body at Chicago, he was the chairman of its judiciary committee, — a fact which shows his high standing among MEMORIAL. 113 his brethren, and the confidence which was placed in his ability and judgment. He had indeed made the constitution, discipline, sys- tem of doctrine and general organization of the Presbyterian church a subject of particular attention and study, and he thought that he understood them. If we may venture such an opinion, his success in his pastoral relations was promoted in no slight degree by his accu- rate knowledge of the proper working of this system, and its limitations of power and of duty. In the Presbytery to which he be- longed, he was distinguished, if we are not misinformed, by the ardor of his zeal for the extension of the privileges of the gospel and the kingdom of Christ among men. That seemed to be the burden of his heart. lie was not only zealous, he was also practical and effi- cient in both devising and executing; and in 114 MEMORIAL. carrying out the plans adopted, he took a de- voted and active part. During his short residence in the city of Newark, he gained greatly upon the feelings and affections of the community. As his character became known and understood, it was appreciated. His manliness and energy, his plainness and directness, might be expected to suit a, people so prominent for the successful prosecution of the ingenious arts of mechan- ical industry. He soon became widely known. His social, genial spirit, his kindness of heart even to the humblest and youngest — he had a pleasant word for everybody, — his unhesitating frankness and contagious good-humor, his in- terest in all the affairs of life, all the forms of industry and movements of society, his forget- fulness of adventitious advantages and readi- ness to meet all cordially on the common ground of thought and feeling, his evident MEMORIAL. 115 simplicity and sincerity, won for him many friends, and with, his uprightness, activity, con- stancy, and earnestness of purpose, his solid in- tellectual qualities and Christian worth made a deep, wide and increasing impression. We shall not attempt to notice all the directions in which the rays of his influence were benignly felt. Those upon whom they immediately fell, and who rejoiced in their light, can best speak, not only of their warmth and brightness, but of the many ways in which they reached the heart. He preached sermons on special occasions, and series of sermons on special topics to large audiences. He wrote much for the Newark newspapers. " He was fond of writing, and few men handled the pen with more ease, whether in the composition of a sermon or in the lighter articles in which he described some humorous story, or depicted — never in an un* 116 MEMORIAL. kindly spirit — some of the social foibles of the da}^. His contributions to the Newark papers of various kinds and on various topics, if col- lected, would make a considerable volume." Some of these contributions were on the moral questions of the day, on which he held decided though not extreme opinions, expressed with- out hesitation or reserve. The pressure of his engagements left him little leisure for the com- position or publication of new books. But amid his numerous occupations, he made con- siderable progress in the preparation of a new edition of one of his works, with special refer- ence to the recent forms assumed by infidel- ity in this country. If we are not mis- taken he also projected a new work, shadowed forth and to a considerable extent embodied in a series of sermons delivered by him, on a sub- ject deeply interesting to the Christian heart. Death, however, that solemn event which so MEMORIAL. 117 frequently defeats the purposes and hopes of man, however wisely formed or apparently sure of fulfilment, prevented the realization of his. His constant and anxious labors, especially to build up his church and. to fill and enlarge his sphere of usefulness, began to make a visi- ble impression on his excellent health and con- stitution, whose powers of resistance may well be supposed to have been already weakened by a laborious and earnest life. In looking back, his most intimate friends, at least the one who had the best opportunity to know, think that about two years before bis death his health showed signs of faltering, though they were not fully appreciated or much regarded at the time. But in January, 1859, he had a sudden attack of illness which for a week or two prostrated him on his bed; and although he was soon around and continued to preach 1 18 MEMORIAL. until the following May, he was never well again. Months later and in the summer, Dr. Kowland traced the sickness, which was after- wards fatal to him, to this period or the one immediately previous, but its hidden internal causes were undoubtedly of a more remote and then unsuspected date, and, after unseen prog- ress, were only receiving in this sickness their full development. As the winter closed and the spring drew on in its promise and beauty, which so strongly contrast with sickness and decay, his friends became alarmed lest his vig- orous constitution, which had so long enabled a willing heart to do manful service for his master, should give way. They hoped, and there seemed to be reason, that his complaints were merely dyspeptic, but the severe pain in the region of his heart, his difficulty at times of breathing, and his want of sleep, pointed to something more serious. His friends urged MEMORIAL. 119 upon him that he must take some relaxation. In the early part of May he accordingly went to Newburgh, and spent about ten days or a fortnight there, making then, or in a subse- quent visit to the same place in June, "■ little trips to West Point, Greenwood Lake, and other places in the vicinity." He returned to Newark so much better as he thought, that he ventured to preach, and on the 29th day of May, delivered his last sermon in his own pul- pit. He preached in the morning of that day from John xii. 46, and in the afternoon from Mathew vii. 26, 27. But he found that he had mistaken the degree of the improvement in his health, and estimated much too highly his strength. His congregation " with consid- erate kindness" gave him a respite of four months from his labors. He spent some time with his old and valued friends at Honesdale, and with one of them went to Saratoga, in the 120 MEMORIAL. hope, which proved delusive, of some benefit from its mineral waters. There he was very ill, and he was hardly able to reach his home. Under an erroneous impression of the nature of his disease, he had sought physical exercise and excitement, when he needed rest. His body had wasted away, and his nervous sys- tem had become very much affected by the fearful inroads of his disease. He sought his bed at once. But he rallied soon again, and in pursuance of an arrangement previously made with some of his Honesdale friends, which he could not be persuaded from fulfil- ling, he started about the first of August, with his wife and one of his daughters, on a trip to Gloucester, Massachusetts, for the benefit of sea-air and sea-bathing, and the enjoyment of his favorite sport of fishing. On board of the steamer on his way to Fall River, he became seriously ill, and reached Boston only "to lie MEMOKIAL. 121 down on what proved his bed of death." An abler pen than ours, of one who was sum- moned to his side, shall describe the closing scene of his last sickness. "Dr. Eowland reached Boston with dif- ficulty, and was obliged immediately to be- take himself to his bed, and to send for Dr. Jeffries. In his skill as a physician lie felt and testified the utmost confidence, while his kind Christian sympathy and conversation were refreshing to his soul. Though his pros- tration was extreme, and his nervous derange- ment so great as to prevent his sleeping during the night or day, Dr. Jeffries did not for some time consider that there was serious danger of a fatal termination. ' I am more afraid of his mind than of his life,' said he on one occasion, to a relative who had gone to Boston to visit Dr. Eowland. The medicines that he seemed especially to need, were rest and sleep. Hence 122 MKMOKIAL. for several weeks none were admitted to his room except those who were in attendance upon him, as the unexpected presence even of an old friend agitated him exceedingly. As the extreme nervous excitability was, on one or two occasions in the course of his illness, somewhat allayed, hopes were entertained of his ultimate recovery. But his constantly wasting strength plainly enough showed that his days were drawing to a close. " His friend and classmate at Yale and Ando- ver, the Rev. Dr. Blagden, of the Old South, visited him daily and prayed at his bedside, but the nature of his disease, as well as the in- junctions of his physician, did not allow of lengthened conversation with him. From an early period, Dr. Eowland himself seems to have been strongly impressed with the convic- tion that this sickness would be unto death, but the prospect did not dismay him; he MEMORIAL. 123 trusted in the Lord, and according to the promise he was ' kept in perfect peace.' There were, indeed, moments when the thought that his recovery was possible occurred to him, and he then said that he should like to get well that he might labor for Christ, as he felt that he might be more useful than he had ever been — that he had been brought to make a more complete surrender of himself to the Lord than ever before ; still if the Saviour had nothing more for him to do, he was ready to go. His wife and his sister were constantly with him by night and by day, and the latter writes, 'Through his entire sickness I never heard him express a doubt of his own accept- ance, but all his expressions were those of faith, trust, and entire submission to the will of God.' He very frequently spoke of his trust in Christ as an all-sufficient Saviour, and said, ' I wish to speak for Christ, but I have 124 MEMORIAL. not strength to do so.' Besides his feebleness, the soreness of his mouth and throat rendered speaking difficult and painful. " A letter which had just arrived from West- ern New York, containing an account of the great good resulting from the circulation of the Path of Life in the place where the writer was visiting, afforded him great satisfaction. He remained silent for a long time after the letter had been read to him ; but at length said that he had had 'wonderful views of the exten- sion of the Kedeemer's kingdom.' The subject was evidently one especially attractive to him, and which very much occupied his thoughts. He at one time asked his sister if there were any tidings of revivals, and when she mentioned to him the great work of God in Ireland and other parts of the British isles, he exclaimed, ' Glorious ! glorious !' This was the burden of his prayers — ' Send forth thy light and truth.' MEMORIAL. 125 " As the conviction became more and more settled in his own mind that his ministry on earth was near its termination, his thoughts naturally turned to his congregation at New- ark, and his tender interest in their welfare came out in various ways. On one occasion his sister, who was watching at his bed, no- ticed that his countenance indicated that he was in great distress, and she proposed to change his position, hoping thus to relieve him ; but he raised his head and made a dep- recatory gesture, saying, 'Hush, hush.' As the distress appeared to continue, and the big drops of perspiration stood upon his forehead, she again spoke to him, but the same signifi- cant gesture and words were repeated. After a while he looked up calmly and said, ' I was bidding my people farewell.' During the last week of his life a number of his parishioners came on to see him. They could remain near 126 MEMORIAL. his bed only for a few moments, and he was able to address only a few words to them ; but these words told how warmly he loved them and yearned for their salvation. To one of them, a valued friend who stayed in Boston until his decease, he said, 'The only thing worth living for — ' his speech here failed him, but he made his meaning plain enough by raising his hand, pointing towards heaven. "One night he desired that his sister, who had retired to get some rest, might be called. Mrs. Eowland having awakened her, he said to them, ' I am going to dedicate myself renew- edly to God, and I wish you to join with me in making a perfect and entire surrender of ourselves to God for time and eternity.' He then offered a very affecting prayer, in which this purpose of his heart found most appro- priate utterance. After he concluded he turn- ed to his wife and sister, and said to them, MEMOKIAL. 127 ' Kemember now that you are henceforth the Lord's wholly.' ''During the Friday before his death, lie was for a good while apparently engaged in medi- tation, in the course of which his face was so irradiated with the light of joy, that the changed expression, usually one of pain, was so striking as to attract the attention of those around his bed. His wife said to him, 'You see the heavenly city V 'Yes,' he replied. Mrs. F., another relative, added, ' And you will soon be there.' He made a gesture of assent. 'And you will meet,' she rejoined, 'many dear friends who have gone before you there." ' More, more,' he exclaimed. ' You will see the Saviour,' she added. ' Yes,' he said ; ' the Lamb, the Lamb.' Dr. Blagden came in soon after, and asked him if he could put all his trust in Christ. ' Yes, yes,' was his instant response. 128 MEMORIAL. " During the greater part of the last week of his life, his physician thought from day to day that each one would be his last. But during this whole period, though his sufferings at- times were very great, he was perfectly con- scious, recognizing and in brief sentences con- versing with the friends around him. The last night he spent on earth was one of pro- tracted and often exquisite pain ; but it ceased an hour or two before his departure, and at length he fell asleep so gently that it was im- possible to fix the moment when his soul was released for ever from the sins and sorrows of earth, and entered the pavilion of peace in the bosom of his God and Saviour." Thus died this servant of God— away from his earthly home, but near enough to that in heaven, nor yet among strangers, for some of those dear to him were at his side, relieving his sufferings by their kindness and sympathy MEMORIAL. 129 and sharing his faith — in a city, where he could avail himself of the advice and skill of eminent physicians, an advantage to which he was not insensible — in the State of his mater- nal ancestors, and near the spot where some of them, exiles for religion, driven to a strange land, had landed about two centuries and a quarter before. Dr. Eowland died at Boston, on Sunday, the fourth day of September, 1859, in the fifty- fifth year of his age. No cloubt remained after his death as to the character of the disease under which he had been laboring. It was found to be of a complicated nature, the prin cipal feature of which was an enlargement of the heart. Other important organs were im- plicated or disastrously affected, so that had he survived this attack, and escaped danger from that quarter, his life would probably not have been for a great while prolonged. 180 MEMORIAL. The mournful train of his friends left Boston, on the next Monday morning, with all that was mortal of Dr. Rowland, and arrived at Newark on the following evening. The daily newspapers of that city had from day to day made known his condition, as for some time past " 'twixt night and morn" his life had hovered "on the horizon's verge," and a deep and general interest in him, and the event of his sickness had been felt. The in- telligence of his death, though not unexpected, made a deep impression upon the whole com- munity, and called forth expressions of sorrow and sympathy from all classes of the citizens. The strong hold which Dr. Rowland had gained on their affections, within the short period of his ministry among them, was now seen and recog- nized. The members of his congregation were prompt, assiduous, and generous in manifesting their attachment to him, and in rendering their MEMORIAL. 131 services to Lis family, and in the last sad rites. The sorrowful company of friends on their ar- rival from Boston at New York, were received by members of the congregation, and conduct- ed to Newark, and by others still at Dr. Eow- land's house. How changed the scene from that which had gathered them there a year ago! The shadow of death so long delayed had at last fallen upon this pleasant home, and the honored head of the then unbroken family had been laid low. Into the sacred sorrows of that hour we will not intrude ; but if the angel of death was there, we believe that the angels of consolation and faith were also there. The last mournful ceremonies were celebrated on the Thursday following. After a prayer had been offered at the house by the Eev. Dr. Wilson, the remains of the deceased were accompanied by his relatives and immediate 132 MEMORIAL. friends to Park Church, where the funeral ser- vices were conducted by clergymen of the city. The large church, draped in black, was crowd- ed to excess. The funeral sermon, an impres- sive discourse, was preached by the Eev. Dr. E. E. Fairchild, from Matt xxv. 21 : " Well done, good and faithful servant. Thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things. Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." After explaining the para- ble, from which the text was taken, he referred to the character of the deceased, and spoke, strongly of his fidelity, piety, virtues, and tal- ents, of his qualities as a man and a Christian, of his abilities as a preacher and excellence as a pastor, and gave a brief notice of the princi- pal events of his life. At the close of the solemn services the procession proceeded to Mount Pleasant Cemetery, where a touching address was made by the -Rev. Dr. Stearns ; and MEMORIAL. 133 there, on the bank of the Passaic, by the side of the Eev. Dr. Polhemus, were laid the re- mains of our departed friend, to rest until he shall " rise again in the resurrection at the last day," when " this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on im- mortality." The death of Dr. Eowland was profoundly felt, — the more profoundly in the city 6*f his residence, that already, within the two years immediately previous, two pastors of distinction connected with churches in that city, the Eev. Dr. Scott and the Eev. Dr. Polhemus, had been removed from their posts by similar acts of Divine Providence. The society of which Dr. Eowland was pastor, beyond its participa- tion in the general grief, had its own peculiar cause of sorrow. It had lost a beloved teacher and guide just as it had learned to appreciate his worth, and as it had entered on a new career 134 MEMORIAL. of strength and prosperity. It was a source of great satisfaction to Dr. Rowland in his sickness, that, as he believed, the church for which he had labored so earnestly was now firmly established. Resolutions were adopted to express the profound sense of their loss by his death, their warm attachment to him, and high appreciation of his character and labors ; his salary was generously continued to the end of the year for the benefit of his family, and many other substantial and generous proofs were given of their regard for him and his family. On the Sabbath succeeding the burial of Dr. Rowland, the Rev. Dr. John Forsyth, of New- burgh, preached a sermon in the vacant pulpit of Park Church, with reference to the event which had deprived it of its pastor, on the appro- priate theme of abounding in the work of the Lord, from the text 1 Cor. xv. 58 : " Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast, immovable, MEMORIAL. 135 always abounding in the work of the Lord." He showed that it was the duty of all Chris- tians (explaining in what manner) to abound in the work of the Lord, and to be immovably steadfast in the doctrine of the resurrection of the dead, inculcated in the glowing passage of which his text was part, and he said that the text intimated that there was a close connection be- tween such steadfastness and abounding in the Lord's work ; and then, after having spoken of the fundamental verities of Christ dead and Christ risen, he made a solemn and affecting ad- dress to his audience on the event of Dr. Eow- land's death. On the following Sabbath, the Eev. Dr. McKee, of the Reformed Dutch Church, who had supplied Dr. Eowland's pulpit in his ab- sence, preached a sermon at Park Church, with reference to the same event, and this sermon closed what may be considered as the series of funereal services. 136 MKMORIAL. Thus died and was buried, the Rev. Henry Augustus Rowland, honored and beloved: We have entirely failed in the imperfect outline which we have sketched, if it be necessary to speak particularly here of his character. His life speaks. We have tried to give a sim- ple picture of it. He was a sincere Christian, unwavering in his faith. From the time when he entered the Christian ministry, his life was full of proofs of devotion to his divine Master. His piety was not formal or ostentatious, but it lay at the foundation of his whole course of action. It was more a principle than a sentiment, though it partook of both. It was the animating mo- tive, the impelling spring of all his exertions. As a preacher, he was able, forcible, and in- structive, clearly explaining and boldly de- fending" the doctrines of the gospel, and en- forcing them with solid argument and earnest MEMORIAL. 137 exhortation. His sermons were diligently prepared, and usually sedulously corrected, though less with reference to the niceties of verbal criticism than to force of argument and effectiveness of expression. As a pastor, he was active and faithful, sympathizing with all classes of his people, familiar with them all, vis- iting them freely in their homes and places of business, meeting them without formality and re- straint, and winning their confidence and their hearts, mindful of the poor and contributing generously to their relief, assiduously caring for the instruction of the young, and wisely and pa- tiently leading the inquiring into the path of life. He was one of those practical, earnest, en- ergetic men, who build up the institutions of our Christian civilization, and to whom society owes a debt of gratitude which, after they are gone, she is not always prompt to repay. As an author, he has made valuable contributions to our sacred 138 MEMORIAL. literature, which will prolong his usefulness and perpetuate the fragrance of his name. He was a noble-hearted man, of great moral courage, of genial temper, social inclination* and habits, frank, open, transparent as the day, with cheerful manners and an illumina- ting smile. lie was true and constant in his friendships, upright, forgiving, and sincere, with a large, generous heart. In his family he was the loving and beloved husband and father, the centre of its affections and hopes. He did not pretend to be without faults. It was a part of his religion that we do daily err in thought, word and deed, and he neither ac- knowledged perfection in others, nor laid claim to it himself. He knew his own integrity and the honesty with which he uttered his convic- tions. His faults, such as the)' were, lay on the surface, and grew out of the simplicity, frankness, earnestness, and energy of his char- MEMORIAL. 139 acter. They did not affect its solid basis or substantial worth. Those, for whom it is appropriate, have re- hearsed the lessons of his life and his death. We would silently meditate upon them. "We have been permitted to copy from Dr. Forsyth's sermon, to which we have already referred,* his closing address, in these words: The subject to which your attention has been directed, seems to me to be a not inap- propriate theme of meditation, in the circum- stances in which we meet in this sanctuary, and in which, unexpectedly, I have been asked to occupy this vacant pulpit. To myself, per- sonally, as well as you, these circumstances are very solemn and affecting. Only two * See page 134. 140 MEMORIAL. years ago, among the pastors of this city, there were two, both of whom were my brothers in a double sense; both of whom were in the meridian of their days ; and concerning both of whom it might then have been said that, among all their colleagues, none had fairer pros- pects of being spared for active and effec- tive labor for Christ, during many years. To- day they are both numbered with the dead who have died in the Lord, and in yonder beautiful cemetery on the banks of the Passaic, they repose side by side. They have gone to swell the myriads who sleep in Jesus. They have finished their course, and having kept the faith they have joined the great multitude of disem- bodied saints who are present with the Lord. Nor are they the only ones who have been called within the short period, from your good- ly brotherhood of pastors, to rest from their labors. Another is there whose memory is MEMORIAL. 141 precious to many in this city. "Within the brief space of two years, three sister churches standing almost side by side have been com- pelled to array themselves in the dark drapery of mourning. Polhemus, Scott, Kowland, — shall be seen no more forever in the pulpits, nor in the streets where they were so well known. Surely these repeated strokes, coming as they do from the hand of (rod, are not without a meaning! Yes. "The Lord's voice crieth unto the city, and the man of wisdom shall see thy name ; hear ye the rod and him who hath appointed it." These successive bereave- ments are indeed the impressive utterance of him who walketh in the the midst of the gold- en candlesticks, addressed to ministers and to people, — saying to one and all, "Be watchful and strengthen the things that remain ; have patience, and for my name's sake labor and 142 MEMORIAL. faint riot; be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, for the night cometh in which no man can work." I do not appear before you this morning, my dear friends, for the purpose of painting the character, or of describing the career of the pastor whom God hath taken from you. That service has been already well performed by one who had known him long — a beloved friend and brother in the ministry every way competent to the task. But indeed, those among whom Dr. Rowland has gone out and in, discharging the various functions of his office, hardly require any other portraiture of him than that which is written on their own memories. For if ever there was a man who walked among his fellows with a window in his breast, it was he. Long and intimate as- sociation with some men is necessary in order to understand them thoroughly, and rightly to MEMORIAL. 143 appreciate them. Not so with your departed Pastor. His distinctive traits were so legible that all who were brought into contact with him could read them. But, as I have said, I do not come here to portray or to eulogize the dead. Let me rather enforce the exhortation of the text by arguments suggested by his life and death. And if he could have been conveyed from the chamber where he breathed his last, into this pulpit, to utter in your hearing the farewell to his people which he tried to ex- cogitate, even amid the pain and languor of disease, oh ! with what intense earnestness and emphasis would he have cried out to you, "Be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord." If, dear friends, you could have been with your dying pastor during the last week of his life ; if you could have been admitted to see him as he lay upon the bed from which he was 144 MEMORIAL. never to rise ; if you could have seen him wan and wasted by disease, sleepless, tossing his head upon his pillow, while often his whole frame was racked by sharpest pain, and if you had been forced as you would have been if there, just to sit and look upon his sufferings, conscious that neither friend nor physician could alleviate them, you might have been tempted to say, How pitiable his case, how in- tensely wretched his condition. And yet, if by the turning of a straw he could have been raised from that bed of languishing to instant and perfect health — unless for your sake, and for those dear to him by the ties of nature — I am persuaded that he would not have turned it. He knew whom he had believed, and was confident that for him " to die is gain." Do you ask me what sustained him ? It was the sight of the Lamb of God, once slain for sinners ; it was the felt presence of Christ, MEMOKIAL. 145 who died and rose again. This was the truth which he found more precious than gold or silver, — the truth which filled him with a di- vine peace even then when heart and flesh were failing, and when he himself was conscious that the earthly house of his tabernacle was dissolv- ing. Yes, it was the simple truth " how that Christ died and rose again." And during all those wearisome weeks which were appointed him ; and especially as he saw their end approaching, what, think you, were the recollections he most fondly cherished, the memories which, like gentle breezes laden with balmy fragrance, refreshed his wearied heart ? It was the remembrance of the service he had been enabled to render to the cause of his divine Master — of the good accomplished through his instrumentality — of the time spent, the efforts made, to advance the Lord's work. These were the recollections that came over him 7 146 MEMORIAL. with an influence like that of the descending dew upon the mountains of Zion. Ilis only regret was that he hud not " abounded" more in the blessed work. As he said to a friend who had come from a distance to see him, — " The only thing worth living for"— he could not complete the sentence in words, but he made his meaning plain enough, as he feebly lifted his hand and turned his dying eyes towards heaven. From that bed of death, from his new-made grave, he speaks to you, saying, " My beloved brethren, be ye steadfast — always abounding in the icork of the Lord." Oh ! my dear friends, let me entreat you to " remember him who hath spoken to you the words of God," not merely by cherishing the memory of him as a pastor, and a friend, but by " considering the end of his conversation," Jesus Christ, and by following his faith. He has spoken to you from the pulpit ; he has spo- MEMORIAL. 147 ken to you in your own homes ; lie has pressed upon you the claims of the Eedeemer, the per* ils of your souls, the momentous realities of eternity. Some of you have been, it may be, not unmoved by these faithful dealings of a pastor whose face you shall never see again, whose voice you shall no more hear ; and yet you have not taken the decisive step— you have not yet brought yourselves to form the grand resolve, You are still lingering, still- hesitating between the world and Christ, you are sensible that your condition is neither right nor safe ; you are, in a word, strangers to peace and joy, because strangers to Jesus who died and rose again. Listen, I beseech you, to the voice of this bereavement, to the solemn voice that comes to you from this now vacant pulpit. And may your Pastor's death be the means of bringing you to the instant and blessed deci- sion to yield yourselves to that Saviour whom it was his greatest joy to preach, SERMON REV. E. R. FAIRCHILD, D.D. Preached at the Funeral of Eev. Henry A. Rowland, D. D. Thurs- day Morning, September 8th, 1S59, and repeated by request, Sun- day Evening, the 23d of October following, to his former charge in Honesdale, Pa. SERMON. Well done, thou good and faithful servant ; thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many fellings : enter thou into the joy of thy Lord. — Matt. xxv. 21. These words constitute a part of our Sav- iour's memorable "parable of the talents." The main design of that parable was, to unfold, in a true and impressive form, the relations of men to Grod — their accountability to him for things entrusted to them, for use or enjoy- ment — and the future condition which awaited them for their respective courses, in practical life. It was doubtless the intention of the Saviour, that these truths, thus set forth, should also furnish to all who should hear his gospel 152 SERMON. worthy and weighty motives to diligence and fidelity, in the discharge of the duties which were divinely imposed upon them. That in- tention the parable most happily carries out. The imagery employed, though simple, and drawn from familiar scenes, appeals strongly to principles of human nature which, to a very large extent, control the lives of men. A most striking part of that imagery is comprised in the words of the text, which no one can deliberately contemplate without admiring its moral beauty and feeling its power. In the former part of the parable the Master is represented as having distributed his goods among his servants, and also as having gone into a far country, and tarried there a long time. He is here represented as having re- turned and engaged in taking an account of his servants' stewardship. He has just finish- ed his reckoning with one to whom he had SERMON. • 153 entrusted the largest amount of his goods. That servant was found to have been most con- scientiously and scrupulously faithful to the interests committed to his care ; and as evidence of his fidelity, industry, and attention to his various duties, he presented the goods he had originally received, and the increase which his efforts had secured : " And so he that had received five talents, came and brought other five talents, saying, Lord, thou deliveredst unto me five talents : behold I have gained besides them five talents more." The gratification of the Master at the dis- covery of this faithfulness and its results is intense, if not unbounded, and in the text his feelings and gracious purposes are earnestly and emphatically expressed. He therein pro- claims his unqualified approbation of both the character and work of the servant; and oifi- 7* 154 SERMON. cially announces to him the honorable treat- ment he shall consequently receive — the high and glorious rewards to which he shall succeed and enjoy forever. " Well done ! thou good and faithful ser- vant ! . . . . I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." It is to be observed that the recipient is a servant, and has lived in association with servants and the things connected with a humble condition of life ; but now there is to be a happy and a great change — a transition from servitude, obscurity, poverty, to that of freedom, rank, wealth, influence, princely honors, the rich and varied enjoyments of a glorious and imperishable kingdom. That life which has hitherto been led, remote from the celestial dwelling-place of the Master, is no longer to be drawn out in a far-distant and SERMON". 155 trying abode of care and toil, of sin and sor- row; but exchanged for a life to be led in the heavenly world, in the immediate presence of the Saviour — and whose excellence and happi- ness by way of distinction and of eminence is called " the joy of his Lord." If the parable refers exclusively, as some suppose, to ministers of the gospel, who in the Scriptures are called servants of Christ, (though I see no necessity for restricting it to them,) then the scenes of the text, which rep- resent the great events connected with the death of an eminent one of them, are pecu- liarly appropriate for contemplation on this sad and mournful occasion. But I cannot thus limit it. It has a wider range, and while it refers, it may be, in some special sense, to those who have been invested with the office of the ministry, it also has reference to all the servants of the Saviour, everywhere and in 156 SERMON. every station in society. It brings oat to view the great and joyous truth that every one who loves the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity — who takes the will of God as the rule of his life — and the divine glory as the end of all his efforts, and in this manner fills up, well and property, the sphere divinely allotted to him, will at death be admitted into the heavenly world, and be made ineffably happy through eternity. This in few words is the character of a "good and faithful servant ; ' of the Lord, and the blessed reward to which he succeeds when he has finished his earthly course. A formal and full development of the charac- teristics of a " good and faithful servant " — and of the nature and grounds of the rewards be- stowed upon him at death seems called for by the text, and would comprise a rich and profit- able variety of thought ; but the circumstances of the occasion admonish me of the fitness SERMON. 157 of brevity, and I shall therefore notice these things but incidentally, and as illustrated in the person and life of that excellent man, and brother in Christ, whose comparatively sudden and unexpected decease has now convened ns. And what gloom, what sorrow, what tender associations, what solemn and painful interest, gather around and attach to the event that has assembled ns in the sanctuary to-day ! In the death of any person there is some- thing that awakens a feeling which nothing else inspires, — a feeling which words are wholly inadequate to describe. That mysterious change which we see come over the form which was previously blooming in health, joyous in its activity, exquisitely sensitive, and diffusing pleasure on all around — which reduces it to insensibility, and clothes it with repulsive attributes — which dissolves all its earthly relations, and sunders all its ties, 155 SERMON. however tender and dear, so that they can no more be formed, or united, — and then that dense darkness that overshadows, as to us, the nature of the futurity on which the departed spirit has entered, places the death of any indi- vidual among the most painful and appalling of events. We cannot contemplate death, even when occurring among strangers, doing its work upon the commonest citizens, though it has been ravaging the earth for many long centuries, without a severe and painful shock to all our sensibilities. But when viewed in closer proximity, — when its victim is taken from the circles of our acquaintance, or is one who has occupied places of influence or trust, and has been distinguished by excellence of character and usefulness of life, our emotions are more painful, the awe is more solemn and oppressive. But when it intrudes into our domestic SERMON. 159 circle, and strikes down a venerable parent, a brother or sister, an affectionate child, or a beloved companion, — a husband, or wife, — the shock is almost overpowering, and emotions are awakened which we cannot describe, and which can find expression only in sighs and tears, and from the burden of which the soul can find adequate and permanent relief only in God, and in the grace of the gospel. Such to-day is our sad and painful position. Death has made a terrible breach upon us. He has made his mark high. An affectionate husband, a kind and indulgent father, a sym- pathizing and generous brother, a pleasant companion, a valuable citizen, an able " minis- ter of the New Testament," a most faithful and useful pastor, has fallen by his invisible, yet sure and fatal shaft. And what aggravates the woe is its sudden and unexpected visita- tion, and also the fact that, led by an over- 160 SERMON. ruling, mysterious Providence to a distant city, when going in quest of health far beyond it, he fell, as it were exiled from the bosom of Lis family and. church, and where but few of either could be with him. But some of them were present, and witnessed the last scenes of his earthly existence, and ministered to all his wants. And strangers gathered round him there, and manifested, their sympathy, and extended their aid. Thanks to those kind and generous persons in that city, who, moved by Christian sympathy, cheerfully and promptly performed many offices of love and kindness to him, and those of his friends who were permitted to visit and temporarily to remain with him. But though the death we mourn is trying in the extreme, we will bow in humble submis- sion to the will of him who has inflicted it, not doubting that it has been ordered in infinite SERMON. 161 wisdom, and for the promotion of great and glorious ends. Devoutly, we therefore say, in the midst of our sorrow, " Not our will, O God, but thine be done." "We come then, with subdued feelings, to the discharge of a painful duty, — the celebration of the funeral solemnities of the Eev. Henry Au- gustus Eowland, D. D. While to surviving relatives and friends the event we mourn is deeply afflictive, by reason of relations dissolved, ties sundered, friend- ships disturbed, and an awful, unalterable in- terdict which it has placed on all communica- tion with him on earth, " till the heavens be no more," still the scenes connected with it are not wholly dark. Light is mingled with them. There was much to console the living, to sus- tain the dying — and for many reasons, we think that death to him who has been taken from us is unspeakable gain. He sustained 162 SERMON. in an eminent degree the character of the ser- vant whom the Master in the parable pro- moted, and, like him, he has entered, we doubt not, into the "joy of his Lord." We have, therefore, strong reasons on his account, at least, to mingle expressions of joy and thank* fulness, in our service, and greatly to moderate our griefs. Believing that he is now in the immediate presence of the Great Master — and in the unrestricted enjoyment of the blessed- ness of the heavenly world, into which none but " good and faithful servants " are admit- ted, we may compose our feelings, and think and speak of him freely, and derive the lessons which his active life and triumphant Christian death suggest and impressively enforce. The Eev. Henry Augustus Eowland, D. D., was the eldest son of the Rev. Henry A. Eow- land, who for many years was pastor of the first Congregational church of Windsor, in the State SERMON. 163 of Connecticut. His mother was the daughter of the Hon. Moses Bliss, of Springfield, Massa- chusetts. He was born on the 19th of Sep- tember, 1804. The family consisted of five sons and two daughters, seven in all — two on- ly of whom — a brother and a sister — survive him. His early training was religious. In this regard he enjoyed the privileges usually con- nected with the families of evangelical and pious ministers of New England, and the salutary influence upon him was felt through all his life. His childhood was not particu- larly marked, but was spent chiefly at home, amid the scenes of his native place and the immediate vicinity. There he attended the common school, and, exhibiting a taste for the higher branches of education, and also the possession of talents which seemed to promise much usefulness, if cultivated, he was put up- 164 SERMON-. on a course of study preparatory to entering college. At the early age of fifteen he entered Yale College, and graduated in 1823. His hopeful conversion to Christ occurred soon after he had entered upon college life, and before he had attained his sixteenth year. Thus from his youth he was the servant of the Lord. Though young, his religious exercises, prior and subsequent to his conversion, were very distinctly marked, and the change wrought was so decisive as to be very satisfac- tory to his Christian friends, as well as to inspire himself with strong hope of his per- sonal acceptance of God, and of eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ. From this date he became deeply interested for the salvation of his fellow-men. With his years this interest increased in strength. Hav- ing an intense desire to be engaged in the work of the gospel ministry, in order to pre- SERMOtf. 165 pare himself for it, in 1824 lie entered the The- ological Seminary at Andover, in the State of Massachusetts, and for three years pursued with diligence the course of study prescribed in that institution. In the autumn of 1827, he was licensed to preach by the Hampden Con- gregational Association of Massachusetts. He now had attained the object which he had so long desired, and he addressed himself with energy to the work of the ministry as doors of labor were opened before him. His peculiar qualifications for enlisting the sympathies of people in objects in which he was himself interested —his industry and executive ability, soon brought him to . the notice of the officers and friends of the Amer- ican Bible Society, who sought and obtained his services in its behalf. He labored for that Society, discharging important duties, promot- ing its influence and usefulness, till the spring 166 SERMON. of 1830, — a period of a little more than two years. During the summer of 1830 he labored in the city of Philadelphia, supplying the place of the pastor of the Arch street Presbyterian church (now the Rev. Dr. Skinner), who was temporarily absent. His ministry there was highly acceptable and useful, and many of the people of that congregation remember him still with much affection. On the 24th of November of the same year, he was ordained an Evangelist by the Presbytery of New York. Soon after his ordination, the Presbyterian church in Fayetteville, North Carolina, sought his labors as a pastor, and he removed thither and devoted himself to its service, though he declined to enter into the pastoral relation. He remained in Fayetteville and labored with very great acceptance, and with marked use- fulness, till the early part of 1834, when under SERMON. 167 a strong sense of duty, though greatly regret- ted by the church and congregation, he re- turned to the North with a view to remain there. About that time the South Reformed Dutch church, in the city of New York, extended a call to him to become their pastor, in connec- tion with the Eev. Dr. Matthews, who then, and for a number of years previously, had held the pastoral office in that church without a colleague. Simultaneously with that movement in the South Dutch Church, the Pearl street Presbyterian church, in the same city, called him to its pastorate. He accepted the latter call, and was installed over the Pearl street church on the 13th of April, 1834, where he remained about nine years, and labored with great earnestness and encouraging success, not- withstanding the peculiar infelicities connected with its location, 168 SERMON. -Having resigned the pastoral office in that church, and subsequently been called to take charge of the Presbyterian church in Hones- dale, in the State of Pennsylvania, on the 14th of June, 1843, he was installed over that peo- ple. On his settlement in nonesdale, he found the church and congregation very much affect- ed by unhappy differences, which were con- nected with the history of his immediate pre- decessor in the pastoral office, who eventually was deposed from the gospel ministry. By the blessing of God upon his instrumentality, those differences soon were harmonized, confi- dence and affection were restored, and the congregation increased in numbers and strength, and was marked by general prosper- ity. Besides its growth in numbers and material resources, many of its members were hopefully converted to God, and added to the communion, and it soon became one of the seemojst. 169 most interesting, important and useful church- es in the Presbyterian connection. From Honesdale he removed to this city (Newark), to take charge of this church (the Park Presbyterian), to which he had been pre- viously called, and over which he was duly installed by the Presbytery of Newark, on the 23d of January, 1856. With what assiduity, fidelity, zeal, and success he has labored here, perhaps most who hear me know. Suffice it to say, that the membership of the church and congregation has been very considerably aug- mented, — the interior of the church edifice has been refitted and handsomely improved, a much needed and convenient lecture-room has been erected, and the general interests of the congregation have been most encouragingly advanced, in connection with his ministry. Thus here, in this sacred temple where we are assembled, we have evidences clustering 170 SERMON. around us, not only of his acceptableness, but of his usefulness, and possession of many rare traits of character, admirably fitting him for his work. But lie has fallen in the midst of his labors, — in the strength of his manhood, — and when bright visions as to the future, in the history of his charge, were calling him to increased exertions, which he earnestly longed to put forth. He has finished his course among the churches ; and here I may close my remarks upon this part of his history, and speak of other things. As a man, he was interesting and attractive. In person, he was above the ordinary stature, well proportioned, having a finely formed and intelligent face, and a kind expression of fea- tures. His appearance was manly, and adapt- ed to inspire respect, confidence and love. He had a strong sense of honor, integrity, and justice, which discovered itself in all the de- SERMON. 171 partments of life. He was benevolent and truthful. He cherished a strong sympathy for his kind, which always rendered him an agree- able companion in those circles in which he had occasion to be. He was true to all his friendships. His natural temperament was ardent, cheerful, and confiding, and like others of that peculiar cast, he was subject to seasons of depression. He was a sincere man. He was undisguised, open, frank in spirit and in action. There was with him no concealment, no harboring in his bosom, hidden from view, the feelings and opinions he had formed concerning men, or their procedure, or anything else, about which his position or his duty required him to speak. He frankly uttered his convictions, purposes, or plans, his griefs or joys, to such an extent as to seem almost to ignore what the world calls prudence. He preferred to be 172 SERMON. betrayed at times, and wounded, too, by the designing, if it must be so, than to suppress the kind and generous feelings of the soul, the exercise of undisguised simplicity, or the utter- ance of what he regarded truth. In this re- spect, his was a character of great transpar- ency. He was eminently a good man. Of his conversion to Christ, and genuine attachment to the religion of the gospel, even a casual observer would scarcely fail to receive a deep impression, while those who knew him intimate- ly, in the various positions incident to his ac- tive ministerial life, received it still more deeply. He uniformly, though unconsciously, imparted the conviction to beholders, that he loved the Saviour and his cause. His cheerfulness and mirth, his sorrows and his sighs, every feeling and principle of his nature, were chastened, modified, and governed by the laws of Chris- SEEMON. 173 tian obligation; and if by any impulses he was led to strong expressions, or decided ac- tion in a wrong direction, he would soon re- turn, and find his proper place, as a conscien- tious, faithful disciple of the " Son of man." He had no long-cherished hatred to gratify — no old grudges to revenge. If maligned, or ill-treated, his sanguine temperament might produce prompt and strong remonstrance, or sudden effort at adjustment, as he conceived the cause of truth and righteousness required ; but he soon forgave the wrong, and acted as though it had been done in ignorance, or per- haps not done at all. Governed by the law of Christian love, he cheerfully took part in measures designed for individual and public welfare. He sympa- thized with the poor, the destitute and the oppressed, even as an elder brother, or a fa- ther; and many a suffering individual, and 174 SERMON. family, too. have enjoyed the advantage of his counsels, his words of consolation, or other forms of aid, which few besides the recipients have ever known. lie was a man of unusual ability. His in- tellectual capacity was much above that of most men. His studies had well developed the intellectual powers with which he was en- dowed by nature, and qualified him to occupy and hold with honor to himself and friends, not only a respectable, but a distinguished place- among the more eminent ministers of the gospel. Of the elevated, or superior rank of his mind, his work, entitled "The Path of Life," is abundant testimony. Had he published noth- ing else, that is sufficient, not only to give him rank among the ablest ministers in this coun- try, and abroad, but to perpetuate a remem- brance of him as a benefactor and a verv strong man in the religious world. Already SERMON. 175 his name is fragrant with the blessings of many inquirers for salvation, who by that pro- duction of his pen have been led, instrumen- tally, into the light and joys of evangelical religion. His work entitled the " Common Maxims of Infidelity" discovers the same qualities of mind. In that volume he grappled with the " strong man armed," and fairly overcame him in his palace, and despoiled him of his vaunted power and glory. His other works, " The Path of Peace" and " Light in a Dark Alley" exhibit the same traits — the existence and working of a vigorous intellect. But strength was not the only quality of his mind. He had other attributes which fitted him for compositions of quite another type than those to which reference has been made — qualities which rendered his contribu- tions to the public press quite acceptable to 176 SERMON. the lovers of " light literature." His writings, prompted by passing events in domestic, social, or civil life, or by other causes, are various as to their topics and style of execution, but all bear the impress of one intent upon some good end. If they contain occasionally a phrase or paragraph, which a rigid censorship might desire expunged, none who read them without prejudice would put down aught to malice in the author. They bear upon their face the evidence rather of a kind and genial spirit, which would shrink from inflicting a wound, even on those whose foibles, or errors, it might mirthfully expose, with a view to secure their reform. But I am anxious to say, what I feel assured his people, and all who knew him, will con- firm : He was an excellent Pastor. I do not mean to say that in this relation he was perfect. Perfection belongs only to the SERMON. ] 177 great Head of the dmrch. But I do mean to say, that he was remarkably endowed with qualities adapted to that sacred and important office, and fitted to render him useful, success- ful, and happy in it, whatever want of perfec- tion might have been attached to him. He appreciated the office and its relations, and cherished a deep and an abiding sense of its responsibilities. He sincerely loved the duties of a pas- tor, and devoted himself without reserve to the performance of them. His whole heart went into the work to which he had been called, and his ministry was consequently not marked as a divided service. As a preacher he had more than ordinary ability. In his sermons he studied clearness of method, comprehensiveness of thought and expression, and directness in application to the condition and wants of his hearers. His 178 SERMON. preaching partook more of a didactic and ar- gumentative, than of a discursive and horta- tory form. Doctrinal discussion held a prom- inent place in his pulpit exercises. Though not insensible to the beauties of rhetoric, and competent to a highly finished order of com- position, he aimed rather to instruct and to persuade to a life of godliness, than to attract admiration by a display of mere genius, or any of the ornaments of style. In manner he was plain, yet uniformly earnest and impas- sioned. Prompted by industry, which was natural to him, as well as by the force of religious principle, he visited the members of his con- gregation frequently, and kept himself apprised of their moral and religious state, and of their various wants. He visited the dwellers in the lanes and alleys of the city ; he entered the stores of the merchants, the shops of the me- SEEMON. 179 chanics, the business places of the workmen of different trades, manifestly with as much interest as he visited others in other parts of the citj, and in what is regarded by some as the more elevated walks of life. His errand to those places was to seek for opportunities of doing good, as a minister of the gospel. He desired to convey to those he visited the word of life — to gather them into the fold of Christ ; or, if they were already members of the di- vine family, to promote in them the growth of grace. He knew how to be condescending, and also how to be firm. He knew how to en- courage, and also how to rebuke, for the wel- fare of the soul, and the honor of the Saviour and his cause ; and in these things, and this course of procedure, doubtless lay the secret of much of his success in the pastoral offi.Ge. He was deeply interested in the children and youth of his church. Apparently he was 180 SERMON. never better pleased, or happy, than when with them,— taking part in their affairs, com- municating some instructions, and seeking to interest them in moral and religious things. With remarkable facility he could enter into their conceptions, and identify himself with them, and when he had imparted the les- sons which he designed, resume his former position, and engage again in the duties of his office among the older members of his charge. But while he faithfully labored for the wel- fare of his congregation, and longed for its advancement with a strong and consuming desire, his feelings were deeply enlisted in the prosperity of the denomination to which he belonged. He identified himself at an early day with the policy and plans of the leading members of the body, and enjoyed to a laro-e extent the confidence and respect of those who knew him, and was allowed, in the ecclesiasti- SERMON. 181 cal assemblies, local and general, of which he was at any time a member, an honorable share of influence. It would add strength to the convictions we now have of the loveliness and excellence of his character, if I might speak of him as known in his domestic circle, and fulfilling the duties of- his various relations within it. But I may not intrude upon the scenes of private and domestic life. I may say, however, that he was a kind, affectionate, and good father, a tender and devoted husband, a sympathizing and generous brother. He was to his family a happy exemplification of what the names of the relations he bore in it signify. But he is taken from it, from his church, and the wo^d, to the enjoyment of the reward of the " good and faithful servant." As we can see him no more in the midst of us, discharging the duties, or exercising the 182 BBBMOW. functions, of the sacred office which he held, let us convey, ourselves in imagination at least to the place where his last days were spent. Let us with reverence, becoming stillness and solemnity enter the sick chamber, and view him amid the scenes of approaching and ac- tual dissolution. Let us remember, that not till recently did he entertain a conviction tha t his earthly work was nearly done, — that he was about to be called from time to eternity. At his departure from this city, in July last, to visit the eastern part of Massachu- setts, and indeed for some days after his ar- rival in Boston, where he was detained by increasing illness, and where he eventually died, he entertained the confident expectation of speedily recovering his health, and then of resuming his ministerial labors. It was but a very short period previous to his decease that he abandoned that expectation, and became SERMON. 183 convinced that he was near his end. The scenes of* that moment when he gave up the hope of recovery were scenes which language is incompetent fully to portray ; but they were* all honorable to himself, in all the relations he sustained, to the religion he professed, and of which he was a minister. He received the intimations of his friends on the subject, and the convictions of his own mind, not merely with composure, but as a Christian far advanced in the divine life, and ripe for the anticipated change. The nature of the malady by which he was affected, was such that his physician* had di rected that he should be kept entirely quiet Owing to the state of his throat, he could con verse but little, and only with great effort. When he spoke, it was with such indistinct ness, that it was extremely difficult to under * Dr. Jeffreys. 184 SERMON. stand his words. But it was satisfactory to know, as it was known by various means, that his mind was clear, that he apprehended his condition, and that he retained his conscious- ness to the last. On one occasion a little before his death, he clearly manifested the strong affection which he still entertained for his family, his friends, his church, and all the interests which had been committed to his care. His thoughts became too intense to be pent up in his bosom, and under the excitement, he tried to speak. He spoke with the relatives who attended upon him, and took an affectionate farewell of them, and sent farewell messages to those members of his family who were absent. He remembered, too, the people of his charge, and wished to leave for them his dying counsels. He began to speak, pronounced a word or two, but his ut- terance was unequal to his wishes ; a pause en- SERMON. 185 sued, his strength, was gone, and he could not complete what he had commenced and de- sired to say. Subsequently there were moments when he could and did speak at least a few words. And when he could be understood, it was strikingly manifest that he enjoyed a most happy frame of mind. Illustrative of this is the following fact. When the Eev. Dr. Blagden, one of the pastors in Boston, in one of the last interviews which he held with him and his attendants, quoted a passage of Scripture, adapted to the occasion, Dr. Eowland- exclaimed with much and manifestly joyous emotion: " The Lord is good ! The Lord is good ! The Lord is wise ! Praise the Lord." When asked, a few days before his death, whether he could still place his confidence in Jesus, — he replied : " Yes, I rejoice ! I rejoice!" On one occasion, after having laid quiet 186 SERMON^ for a considerable time, he raised his arm, and pointed towards heaven : Ilis wife noticing the attitude said to him : " You see the beautiful land ?" II' nodded assent twice. Another friend then said to him : "You will soon be there, and your trials will be over." He again nodded assent, and said : " Home !" The friend rejoined : " There you will meet many loved ones, who have gone before." He said : " More ! more !" " Yon mean," said the friend, " yon will see Jesus, whom yon love more than all the rest ?" He nodded three times, as if he wished to give emphasis to the thought, and said: "The Lamb! The Lamb !" Christian friends, and members of this be- SERMON. 187 loved church, these utterances and these scenes of the dying chamber which have now held your attention a brief moment, reveal the frame of mind in which your pastor died. You may now return from the sacred spot where he closed his useful life, and where you have now seen the triumphs of Christian faith, over death and all its associations to this sanctuary. For the last words of your beloved Pastor, you have now heard. The last moment of his earthly life, you have now seen. You left him in an ecstacy of joy, ravished with a view of the "Lamb," the great and glorious Saviour of sinners. You saw him then going rapidly to the embrace of that Saviour, and to a trium- phant and most welcome entrance into the celes- tial city — the paradise of God, where no sin nor sorrow enters, and where he must be in- creasingly happy forevermore. Under the guidance and protection of " The Lamb," he 188 SERMON. is safe. And I am persuaded, that you, even in the midst of your sorrows because of your bereavement, can rejoice to leave him in the heavenly world to "follow the Lamb whither- soever he goeth." Cease, then, your sorrow- ing and your tears, and rejoice that your Pas- tor has entered into life eternal. Eelatives and friends of the deceased — can you not heartily unite in this sentiment ? We know, indeed, that your hearts bleed— that your sorrow is deep — your affliction over- whelming, especially when you think of the bereavementyou have suffered. But think of the scenes of which I have spoken, — of the rewards to which your beloved has gone ! What higher honors, what greater and more enduring good, could you ask for him ! With him all evils are at an end, and pure and perfect hap- piness is enjoyed. And it is to be continued for ever. SERMON. 189 " Lo ! the prisoner is released, Lightened of his fleshly load ; "Where the weary are at rest, He is gathered unto God I Lo I the pain of life is past, All his warfare now is o'er ; Death and hell behind are cast, Grief and suffering are no more. Yes, the Christian's course is run, Ended is the glorious strife ; Fought the fight, the work is done, Death is swallowed up of life I Borne by angels on their wings, Far from earth the spirit flies, Finds his God, and sits and sings, Triumphing in Paradise." From this delightful view of the state of the believers in Christ after death — and we confi- dently believe that he whom you now mourn is in the enjoyment of it — you may derive much consolation. But let me remind you that there is a sure and unfailing source of support to which you may always repair, and have all your 190 SERMON. griefs assuaged. The Saviour has been mani- fested in the flesh, that he might sympathize with his people. Go, therefore, to him, cast all your burdens on him, for he careth for you. Trust in him, and he will not only sustain and comfort you, but this dark, perplexing and crushing dispensation, which baffles all your attempts now to understand, he will most cer- tainly enable you to comprehend hereafter. To him, and to the word of his grace, I com- mend you ; praying that he will, through this life, support and comfort you, and when it shall be ended, an entrance may be ministered to you abundantly, into his everlasting king- dom with exceeding joy. Brethren of the ministry ! How loud the appeal, how solemn the language of this be- reavement to us! With what urgency and power does it admonish us to be active, ear- nest, and diligent in our work ! We may be SERMON. 191 near the close of our earthly service ! But a few weeks since, our lamented brother trod the streets of this city with a firm and vigorous step, proclaimed with strong and healthful voice the truths of the gospel in this desk, and took part in all the activities of life, as we do this day. But he has ended his course. It has pleased the Master suddenly to withdraw him — to call him to his reward. Let us, therefore, be vigilant. Let us do with our might whatsoever our hands find to do, that when called to render the account of our stew- ardship, it may be said to us individually by our divine Lord and Master, — " Well done, thou good and faithful servant ; thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things : enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." 3 1880. '