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MEMOEIAL

JOHN COFFING HOLLEY.

" Expecting still his advent home ;
And ever meet him on his way
With "wishes, thinking here to-day
Or here to-morrow will he come."
" So draw him home to those that mourn,
In vain ; a favorable speed
Ruffle thy mirrored mast and lead
Through prosperous floods his holy urn."

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FOR PRIVATE DISTRIBUTION.

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" HE ASKED LIFE OP THEE, AND THOU GAVEST IT HIM ; EVEN
LENGTH OF DAYS, FOR EVER AND EVER."

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OBITUARY NOTICES.

JOHN COFFING HOLLEY.
From the Litchfield Enquirer.
Died. — In San Francisco, California, November 3d,
John Cofping Holley, of Salisbury, aged 28 years.
It is seldom that we are called to record the death
of one whose loss is so great, not only to the immedi
ate circle of friends, but to the entire community.
Mr. Holley was a young man of marked ability and
rare promise. He gra'duated at Yale in 1859, having
maintained a high standing in his class. During his
last college year, he was severely ill with inflammatory
rheumatism, and that disease laid the foundation for
much subsequent suffering, and finally destroyed his
life by attacks renewed nearly every winter since
leaving college, and resulting in disease of the heart.
Dreading the return of cold weather, and fearful that
he could not survive another illness, he left home a
few weeks ago for a milder climate, in the hope that
there his life might be prolonged. A telegram an
nouncing his safe arrival at San Francisco without
suffering from his journey, gave great hope and en
couragement to his friends. But, alas ! how soon to
be changed to sorrow and disappointment by the news
of his sudden death. .>,^.w.

4 OBITUARY NOTICES.
Mr. Holley was much beloved by all who knew
him. He possessed high social qualities, rare unself
ishness, was devoted to his friends, and kind to all.
His convictions were earnest, and when his opinions
were formed, he announced and defended them with
honesty and independence.
Restrained by his infirmities from an active partici
pation in the recent struggle against rebellion, in
which so many of his class have won honor, he labor
ed with voice and pen in favor of maintaining the
supremacy of the laws, freedom and the right. Dur
ing tlie last Presidential campaign, articles from his
pen were extensively copied, and contributed doubt
less toward the formation of that public sentiment
Avhich re-elected Mr. Lincoln by such a remarkable
majority. Higli toned and upriglit, his influence was always
given to the promotion of justice and humanity. Had
life and liealth been granted him, he bid fair to occu
py an honorable and useful station, and when such
men fall we look around with anxiety to see who shall
fill the vacant place.
The circumstances of his death far from home, add
peculiarly to the grief of a devoted wife and fond
family. We shall long miss and mourn him, but we bow to
God's will, for we know that ' He doeth all things
well.' K.

From the New York Times.
The death of John Copping Holley, son of Ex-
Governor Holley, of Salisbury, Conn., carried sadness
into a wider circle than that of immediate friends and
kindred. These can indeed turn with melancholy

OBITUARY NOTICES. 5
pleasure from the fact of their great loss to the con
templation of liis exemplary friendship, and his noble,
patient living, under long and grievous disease ; but
the community has occasion to mourn a devoted and
honest man, cut off in the morning of earnest life.
There was added, in him, to that peculiar amiabilitj'
and sincerity that made him the favorite of a great
number of personal friends, a high order of intellect,
an exalted sense of the obligations of a citizen, and a
breadth of insight into the motives of human action,
rarely given to so young a man. Had his life been
spared, he could not have failed to leave upon the
community his impress for good in lasting characters.
Mr. lioLLEY was marked in college as a clear writer
and thinker on subjects concerning the State. He
was graduated at Yale in 1869. In the winter of
1862 he was the correspondent of the Times at Albany.
Prevented by frequent and terrible attacks of inflam
matory rheumatism from joining more actively in the
war, his pen was ever busy and earnest in the political
literature of liis State. To the second election of
Mr. Lincoln he sacrificed his life. He would devote
a measure of health and strength accumulated through
several years of comparative quiet, and which would
doubtless have overcome his disease, to personal effort
in that righteous cause. The exposure and exertion
drove the malady to his heart. After another year of
patient suffering, he journeyed by sea to California in
a last search for health. It was a happy omen to a
circle of friends anxiously watching for news of him,
and so far distant from the closing scene, that he was
permitted while yet upon the earth, to enter the Gold
en Gate.
To Gov. Holley, the loss of his son, the only one
who lived near him, and of such kind companionship
to soothe his declining years, is peculiarly severe ; but
1*

OBITUARY NOTICES.

to him, and to the kindred and the classmates and
the acquaintance who are saddened by his death, there
remains the fragrant and undying memory of a good
and true friend.

From the Poughkeepsie Eagle.
John C. Holley. — The telegraph brought the start
ling news to a large circle of friends and relations of
the sudden death of John C. Holley. It had been
settled by his physician that he had organic affection
of the heart. It was thought the more equable cli
mate of California might be conducive to longevity,
and while the journey hitlier was attended with risk,
his safe arrival at San Francisco without a day's sick
ness, and the receipt of letters affirming his excellent
health, had reassured his friends, if not of a restora
tion to soundness, at least of a control of the disease
in an otherwise remarkable fine constitution. Mr.
Holley first attracted attention by his correspondence
with the New York Daily Times, and subsequently by
some political and literary articles of great power. He
was the son of Ex-Govei'uor Holley of Connecticut,
a son-in-law of our esteemed fellow townsman Hon.
G. W. Sterling, and brother of Mr. Allexander Hol
ley, of Troy, who has won a European reputation by
the publication of scientific works. It became our
painful duty to announce to his grief-stricken parents
and family the sad news, and the expressions of affec
tion of those who were intimate with him as a boy,
companion and friend, as well as the large number
who come in contact with him as employees, were
very convincing as to high moral worth and integrity.

obituary notices. i
All pronounced him noble, manly and good. All were
saddened by the news, so sudden and unexpected. He
had just completed a beautiful place of residence, over
looking the lake at Salisbury, and on the spot where
an honored ancestry had achieved a record in the an
nals of Connecticut, and a career of usefulness and
happiness was just opening to him such as few young
men are favored with. A loving wife and one child
mourn his loss, together with a large circle of friends
who had learned to love, respect and admire him. B.

" Rest weary heart,
From all thy silent griefs and secret pain.
Thy profitless regrets and longings vain ;
Wisdom and love have ordered all the past,
All shall be blessedness and light at last.
Cast off the cares that have so long opprest.
Rest, sweetly rest."

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES.

John Coffing Holley, son of Alexander H. and
Marcia [Coffing] Holley, was born at Lakeville, Salis
bury, Conn., December 20, 1837. The period of youth
was occupied in the ordinary attendance upon school,
principally at Goshen and East Windsor, Conn., fitting
for College, though he occasionally spent a season in
light labor in his father's business, and in short excur
sions into neighboring States with a view to the im
provement of his health.
He entered Yale College in 1855, in the 18th year
of his age, and graduated honorably, and with one of
the appointments of his class, notwithstanding the loss
of nearly a whole term in each of two years in conse
quence of ill health.
During his whole Academical and Collegiate course,
he abstained from all those practices which so fre
quently mar an educational career, and left the im
press of a liigh moral character on all his associates.
He was both respected and esteemed by all the officers
of the College, as letters received since his decease
very clearly indicate. In the course of his third year
in College he experienced the first attack of the dis-

10 biographical sketches.
ease (inflammatory rheumatism,) which terminated
his existence seven years later. A considerable por
tion of the first year after graduating was spent in
traveling in the western States under the impression
that a change of climate would effect a favorable
change in his health. The slight improvement he ex
perienced, however, was not encouraging.
Subsequently he made several attempts to engage
in the business of the Holley Manufacturing Company,
but his health was never equal to the care and fatigue
incident to it.
In October, 1862, he married Lucinda R. Sterling,
daughter of Hon. G. W. Sterling, of Poughkeepsie,
New York. Three years of married life were spent
chiefly in pursuit of health, at Saratoga, at Pough
keepsie, in liis own pleasant cottage on the banks of
one of the most beautiful of the Salisbury lakes, and
in various short excursions about the country. These
years, tliough clouded by many months of illness,
were nevertheless brightened by many pleasant scenes,
and much agreeable intercourse with his friends. His
companionship was sought after and cherished by all
circles and associations in which he moved.
On the 16th of September, 1865, he left his home
and his family in company with two intimate and af>
tached friends on a voyage to California, hoping to be
benefited by an entire change of climate. After a
reasonably pleasant voyage of twenty-six days he land
ed in San Francisco, wliere, for ten days he indulged
the belief that he had taken the right steps in rela-

biographical sketches. 11
tion to his health. At the end of that period, he was
prostrated with a fever, induced, doubtless, by the
malaria of the Isthmus. Upon this supervened an
attack of his old enemy, (inflammatory rheumatism,)
seating itself in the region of the heart, which termi
nated his life on the 3d of November, 1865, in the
28th year of his age.
He leaves a wife, daughter, and son, the latter born
a few months after his departure.
Always fond of literary pursuits, he indulged in
reading, and in writing occasionally for the public
press, but could only do either to a limited extent, for
the want of adequate physical ability.
The purity of his life, the tenderness of his affec
tion, the fidelity of his friendships, his faithfulness in
all the relations of life, and his devotion to duty and
justice, marked him out as one who would have left
his impress for good upon his fellow-men if his life
had been spared. But God, whose ways are not as
our ways, has doubtless placed him in a higher sphere
of duty.
His character is appropriately alluded to in the ac
companying Sermon, and in remarks made at his
funeral. His remains were at first temporarily deposited in
the "Lone Mountain Cemetery" at San Francisco,
from whence they were removed in the following May.
After encountering a perilous voyage of some seven
teen thousand miles, during wliicli the ship was often
in imminent peril, they were safely landed at N. York,

12 biographical sketches.
and soon after, were quietly resting in the hall of his
father's house, where in life he had passed many de
lightful hours.
The melancholy satisfaction which was experienced
in the assured possession of his precious remains, (re
ceived a year after his decease,) thus enabling us to
deposit them by the side of kindred dust, could not
stay entirely the rising and re-awakened emotions of
grief incident to their return in a lifeless form, and in
a condition so entirely in contrast with the hopes we
had fondly cherished. But there was mitigation to
our sorrow, when to our surprise, we were again per
mitted to look upon the noble brow and manly form,
which were supposed to have passed forever beyond
the possibility of recognition upon earth.
The baptism of his infant son, bearing his name,
upon whom the father's eye had never rested in the
flesh, receiving this sacred rite while reposing in the
arms of a devoted mother in the presence of the life
less remains, was a scene calculated to awaken the
warmest sympathy, and to touch the tenderest and
purest feelings of our nature. If those who tread the
heavenly paths beyond the confines of earth, are per
mitted to know aught of the transactions of time, in
which they might well feel deeply interested, we doubt
not that the spiritual eye of that devoted husband and
father beamed with unwonted delight, as it rested
upon wife, mother, children and devoted kindred, the
latter commending to the care of a covenant keeping

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. 13
God the widow and the fatherless. Such scenes com
pel us to confess our faith in God.
It was a somewhat remarkable fact also, that these
rites were performed by the same clergyman who, but
three short years before, on the banks of the Hudson,
had joined the hands of the father and mother, so
that the twain became one flesh, who had also receiv
ed the first friendly greetings of the deceased on the
distant shores of the Pacific, who had uttered an
earnest and feeling prayer by his bed-side in sickness,
who had attended and performed the funeral ceremo
nies at San Francisco, was now present to take part
in the last sad ceremony of depositing in their final
resting place and amidst kindred dust, the remains of
his departed friend.

SBEMON,

ADAM REID, D. D.,

OF

SALISBURY.

SERMON.

DEUTERONOMY 32: 89.
" See now that I, even I, am He, and there is no God with me. I kill,
and I make alive; I wound, and I heal; neither is there any that can de
liver out of my hand."
The doctrine of scripture is that God governs the
world by and through the laws which he has estab
lished, and that to him every event is directly or indi
rectly to be ascribed. " In him we live, and move,
and have our being." "The very hairs of your head
are all numbered." " Of him, and through him, and
to him are all things." " The lot is cast into the lap,
but the whole disposing thereof is of the Lord."
" See now that I, even I, am He, and there is no God
with me. I kill, and I make alive; I wound, and I
heal; neither is there any that can deliver out of my
hand." These passages, and countless others which might
be quoted, show the universality of the divine provi
dence. Yet there are some persons who deny this
doctrine ; who contend that God, having created the
universe, and adjusted the vast system of worlds,
prescribed for them their course, peopled them with
2*

18 SERMON.
physical and rational agencies, and then sent them
speeding on their way, without further control or
care of his. He brought them, they say, into exist
ence, gave them a first grand impulse, and then left
them to the guardianship of the laws which he had
establislied. This is a very beautiful theory, but it
has manifestly no foundation in scripture, which
uniformly teaches that God is everywhere present,
and always operating; that the laws of nature, as they
are called, are but the successive acts of his will ; . and
that were he to suspend these acts for an instant, the
universe would rush into ruin, "and chaos come
again." That he employs means in doing this we can all
see ; but how or when he puts himself in contact with
these means no one can tell. He may touch only the
first link of the great chain of causation by which
events are brought to pass, or he may touch every link
in the chain. He may press the mainspring by which
the whole machinery of being is moved, or he may press
singly and separately the myriads of lesser springs.
The possible modes of action to a being like God must
be infinite. But it is idle for us to speculate on the
point. The great truth designed to be taught is, that
no event takes place at any time, or in any place, or in
any way, which does not depend, mediately or imme
diately, on the will and working of God.
It has always appeared to me that this doctrine is
the foundation of all true comfort and resignation.
If you deny to me the belief of an overruling provi-

SERMON. 19
dence, you deprive me of all reasons for trust and
resignation. If every thing falls out by chance, with
out any agency of God therein, tliere is no room for
any such feeling as loving confidence, I may sullenly
submit; nay, I may even in some sense acquiesce in
what is felt to be inexorable fate ; but I never can
exercise any of that sweet confiding christian resigna
tion whicii brings comfort to the heart. Even though
you leave untouched the great doctrine of the atone
ment, yet you practically take away from me its value
and use, because it is providence alone which can
connect that doctrine with any individual case. At all
events, so far as the present life is concerned, you give
the believer no advantage over tlie unbeliever. No
matter how true and loyal to him our hearts may be,
or how strong his regard for us as believing and re
newed men, all power of expressing that regard is
denied him. You limit the benefits of faith to the
world after death ; and thus God is practically, in this
present world, no more to the christian than he is to
the veriest reprobate.
But more than this, God could not have a provi
dence at all unless he have a particular providence, a
providence extending to every thing. We err, we
sadly err, when we imagine that there are some things
too minute and insignificant to be worthy of his no
tice. Tliat which appears insignificant to us, may not
appear insignificant to God; and that which appears
insignificant in itself, may be important from its rela
tions. Every thing wiiich he deemed it consistent

20 SERMON.
with his wisdom and dignity to create, it must be con
sistent with his wisdom and dignity to superintend ;
and to shut out from the sphere of his providential
care any thing to which he has given existence, is
irrational and inconsistent. An unceasing superin
tendence reaching to every object, every being and
every event, is possible to his unlimited power; his
immensity and omnipresence seem naturally to involve
it; and his wisdom, his equity, and his benevolence
positively require it. We have no right to measure
the dimensions and importance of the works and ways
of God. What we call small in the ongoings of the
world, may be, in reality, its mightiest agency, the
cause of grandest effects. Nothing is to be judged of
as standing alone, an isolated or unconnected thing,
but every thing as part of a great and comprehen
sive plan, having bearings and connections with every
thing else. Compared with infinite greatness, every
created object is small, infinitely small ; but as the
appointment of God, the most minute object may be
infinitely great. Apart from the plans and purposes
of God, the universe is insignificant; but in relation to
these plans and purposes, every atom is important, ,
because on every atom the entire sequence may de
pend. Who are we then, and what of God's ways do
we know, that we should presume to call any event or
any thing small and unworthy of his care ? Where
does his providence end ? What are great things ?
and what are small things ? How great must a thing
be to be worthy of his superintendence ? and how

SERMON. 21
small must a thing be to be unworthy of it? Who
can draw the dividing line? The moment we limit
the extent of God's providence we limit his perfec
tions, and we destroy his providence altogether.
No principle is more easily proved by facts than this,
that the momentous are often determined by the mi
nute. We cannot take up the annals of any nation,
or peruse the biography of any individual, or look
back on the incidents in our own personal history,
without observing how frequently the most important
results have turned upon mere trifles, as they are call
ed. The rise and fall of empires, the course of con
quest and the consummation of peace, the character
and fate of millions, have been decided by the most
trivial circumstances. Such is the relation of events
to each other, such their interdependency and com
plexity, that events not great in themselves, become
great by their connection. When the weights are bal
anced, a feather will turn the scale; when the cup is
full, a drop will overflow it; when events hang in sus
pense, an infant's touch will decide their course. The
fiercest and bloodiest feuds have often grown out of
an idle word, an ill-timed jest, an inoffensive remark
misconceived, the slander of the tale-bearer, the silly
whisper of the busybody.
And you must yourselves be conscious, my hearers,
how great and important events in your own personal
history have often sprung out of the most trivial inci
dents ; how the character and direction of your whole
future life has been determined by things the most

22

SERMON.

minute. The turning of a corner, a meeting in the
street, a paragraph in a newspaper, a word, a thought,
has often been the germ or occasion of the mightiest
influences. Yes, and in many instances, the interpo
sition of providence has been in a way so striking, the
danger against which we have been defended has been
so imminent and so far beyond human control, the
instruments of our deliverance have been so insigni
ficant, and have been employed so exactly in the criti
cal moment, that even the most unthinking were
surprised at our hair-breadth escapes, and were con
strained to say, "This is the finger of God." Every
day we see our wisest plans baffled by the most trivial
causes, our weightiest purposes overturned by the
smallest obstacles. And well is it for us, therefore,
that there is a superintending providence over all we
do ; "a power that shapes our ends, rough hew them
as we may;" a minuteness of care which counts the
very hairs of our head, and orders every footstep of
our path ; which determines every aspect of our lot,
and grasps every thread of the varied woof of our
history ; for were he by any chance to let go even the
slenderest thread, it might tangle and disorder all the
rest. Thus we see the importance of what we call
small things ; and that, if God is to govern the world
at all, they must come within the comprehension, not
only of his notice, but of his unceasing control and
care.

S^ERMON. 23
" 'Tis providence alone secures
In every change both mine and yours;
Safety consists not in escape
From dangers of a frightful shape ;
An earthquake may be bid to spare
The man that 's strangled by a hair.
Fate steals along with silent tread,
Found oftenest in what least we dread ;
Frowns in the storm, with angry brow,
But in the sunshine strikes the blow."
And how infinitely more worthy of God is such a
providence, a providence taking cognisance of all
things, managing all things, great things and small
things, things the most stupendous and things the
most minute, with equal ease and equal vigilance.
Without such a providence, history would be a track
less maze, human life an enigma. Is it to be conceiv
ed that a being like God, infinitely wise and good,
would form such a world as this, and leave it with all
its vast variety of minute causes and delicate adjust
ments, for chance to sport in and shuffle into confu
sion ? No, not for a moment. While his hand wheels
the planets, and feeds the fires of unnumbered suns,
it paints the petals of every flower, and decks the
wings of every butterfly. And there is not an object
however mean, nor an insect however tiny, but is un
der the inspection of his eye, and within the compre
hension of his care. Wherever order is maintained,
wherever changes are made, wherever living creatures
are preserved in existence, there are the proofs of his
providence. In the vast universe there is not a par-

24 SERMON.
tide of matter but his presence penetrates its sub
stance and controls its movements; not a living crea
ture but his presence upholds and animates it.
" He warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze,
Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees ;
Lives through all life, extends through all extent,
Spreads undivided, operates unspent ;
Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part,
As full, as perfect in a hair as heart;
As full, as perfect in vile man that mourns,
As the rapt seraph that adores and burns ;
To him no high, no low, no great, no small ;
He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all."
In turning this subject, then, to practical use, I lay
it down as the basis of all consolation and trust in
God. Remove this doctrine, and there is no room for
trust, no gioiind for prayer; for how can we ask God
to protect us against any danger, or to supply any
want, when he does not, and can not interfere in hu
man affairs ? It is because we believe God to have a
providence; a providence governing not merely the
great laws and cardinal movements of the world, the
course of a planet, the character of the seasons, the
destinies of a nation ; but also tlie events of our per
sonal history, the affairs of our household, the actions
of our daily life ; it is because we believe God to have
such a providence that we trust in him, and pray to
him in every emergency, and ask him for help. And
prayer and trust would be folly on any other ground.
My hearers, how unspeakably full of consolation is
this doctrine ! If we are only doing our duty, walk-

SERMON.

'^.F,

ing by faith and feeling our dependence, then come
what may, be it success or disaster, be it wealth or
poverty, all is in God's hands, and will work well for
us Secondary causes may be employed ; it may be
fire or flood, it may be pestilence or famine, it may
be bereavement or beguilement, it may be treachery
or mismanagement, it may be our own infirmity or
our neighbor's wrong; no matter how it comes, or
whence ; God's hand is in it ; he appoints the rod, he
holds the crucible ; and every element of the bitter
cup is wisely mingled for us.
Brethren, if this doctrine be true, if there be no
chance in the ongoings of the world, if God's hand is
in all things, then all repining becomes impiety ; and
to mourn, and fret, and be unhappy under the allot
ments of life, is to arraign the wisdom of God. Your
experience may be very painful ; trouble may waste
your spirits, pain may rack your body, bereavements
may lay your house desolate; but I challenge you to
show liow a single past providence in your lot could
have been better for you than it was. All things have
been working for your good, to make you holy, to
make you useful, to avert worse calamity, and to pre
pare you for the glory yet to be revealed. And if you
could now retrace the path you have been led along,
and see the wisdom and the goodness with which you
have been conducted, the pitfalls you have escaped,
the dangers you have missed, the catastrophes you
have been guarded against, you would be compelled
3

26 SERMON.
to say with the Psalmist, " Surely goodness and mercy
have followed me all the days of my life."
I repeat it, what a source of consolation this doc
trine of an universal providence is! God's eye is on
every moment of my existence. Every breath I in
hale is drawn by a power which he deals out to me.
His providence keeps me through the whole course of
my restless and ever changing history. Go where I
will, he tends me and cares for me. And the same
hand which is now working in the remotest domains
of nature, and governing the motions of suns and
systems, is also by my right hand to sustain and pro
tect me. How can the mind sink into doubt or dis
couragement, if it once fairly takes in and fully
realizes this great and comforting thought ? -
The pilgrimage of man, what is it but a scene of
sorrow and trial from the cradle to the grave. We
drink no cup but is mingled with bitterness. We
pluck no flower but has a thorn. And how miserable
beyond conception would this life be, if we could not
repose on the belief of an all-wise providence presid
ing over every event? But how soothing to the heart-
bleeding with anguish, to know that there is a wise
and merciful God caring for us? When treachery
deceives us, when disappointment overtakes us, when
sickness lays us low, when death bereaves us, how con
soling to feel that one wiser and better than we are
is consulting by all these our highest and eternal wel
fare ; that they are not the results of chance, or the
blows of an aimless fate, but the inflictions of a ten-

SERMON. 27
der father. This thought is a sheet-anchor to the
soul amid all the storms of life. It dispels fear,
awakens confidence, implants submission, brings peace
and joy.
But alas ! how slow we are to believe this ; com
plaining of this trial and of that sorrow, murmuring
and fretting under our afflictions, as if we deemed
them to be unjust and unkind, as if our only thought
was how to get rid of them. But all this is wrong,
sinfully wrong. Each event is only a link in the great
chain of life ; just one of the steps of the path of God
on the great waters. He is not dealing out blows at
random. He is not roaming over the sea of life with
an aimless mind. He is not perplexed, or changed,
or shifted about, or tossed out of his course, by the
various emergencies that arise. No, he has a plan;
he has an end in view, an end clear and well-defined.
To that end all the scenes of our history are tending ;
and that end is his own glory, and the safety and hap
piness of his people.
It is hard, no doubt, very hard to believe this, if we
take only a cursory glance of things, and observe the
strange and untoward occurrences which are continu
ally taking place; the removal of the good, and the
sparing of the wicked ; the young and the useful cut
off, and the old and the worthless preserved ; sorrow
on sorrow poured into the cup of the godly, while the
ungodly are wholly exempted ; it is very hard to feel
that God is 'ruling by any settled plan, or that all is
ordered for the best. Yet, if we pause and reflect for

28 SERMON.
a moment, we know it must be so ; and that whether
his ways be in the heaving sea or in the plain and open
path, in the storm or the sunshine, they are equally
wise and right. It is his very nature so to do; and
he might just as easily cease to exist as cease to act
on the best principles, in the best modes, and to the
best ends. What right then have we to suspect his
dealings, or to murmur under them? We cannot
comprehend them, indeed, we cannot fathom all their
designs; no, but if we could, we would not be one
whit more sure of their wisdom. Let us take our
stand on the perfections of God, and look out on the
sea of his providence; it is just as if we stood on the
solid mountain, and gazed over the unquiet ocean.
What then to us are the tossings and surgings of hu
man affairs? We feel the attributes of God to be im
pregnable as the everlasting rocks; and how, then, or
why should the heavings of the sea of life cause us
any anxiety or any distress ? " Clouds and darkness
are round about him; but righteousness and judg
ment are the habitation of his throne." " As for God,
his way is perfect." He makes no mistakes. He
never miscalculates. All his dealings are right. And
when hereafter, in the pure world of light, the mys
tery which so often now surrounds his providence is
all unfolded, every dark passage in our history explain
ed, we sliall see that he led us by the right way, and
be constrained to bless God ; Naaman for his leprosy,
Bartimeus for his blindness. Job for his afflictions,
Paul for his thorn in the flesli, and you and I for the

SERMON. 29
very things which were our sorest trials. God has
distinctly assured us of the final happy issue of all his
dispensations towards us; and may we not, ought we
not, to suffer him to manage all tlie intermediate steps
as he pleases? "All things work together for good
to them that love God, to them who are the called
according to his purpose."
How prone we are to forget this! How prone to
dwell on second causes, and to vex ourselves with
calculations, that if such and such things had not
been done, that if this or that individual had not act
ed in a certain way, that if we could have foreseen
how events were to fall out, that if we had only exer
cised a little more forethought, tiie calamities we are
suffering might have been avoided. How much more
rational is it, how much more for our comfort would
it be, to look beyond all the secondary causes of our
troubles, and remembering who it is that sits at the
helm of the universe, guiding and controlling all things,
to trace up our afflictions to him, and say, "It is the
Lord." Oh ! it is one great secret of that peace which
passeth all understanding, thus to mark the hand of
God in all the changes and sorrows of this ever-vary
ing scene. And it is the want of this whicli makes us
so often the prey of vexation and distress. If we
have acted for the best, without any selfish or unwor
thy motive ; if we have counselled one whom we lov
ed to remove to a distant land in search of health,
and if that loved one has gone there only to die, why
should we blame ourselves, or vex ourselves with re-
3*

30 SERMON.
grets? Why should we think that it would have been
wiser and better if we had acted and counselled other
wise ? All was under the wise and merciful ordering
of God; the motives that prompted, the steps that
were taken, the end that was reached; and who can
tell but that end would have been far more disastrous
if that counsel had never been given, and that step
had never been taken. God rules, he rules in every
thing; and he uses the promptings of affection, the
counsels of prudence, the chances of health, to work
out his wise designs. And our duty is to acquiesce
calmly and reverently in his will, without one mur
mur or regret.
This, then, is the doctrine of God's providence.
And speaking as I do tiiis day to those who are in
deep distress, mourning under the weight of sudden
and sore bereavement, I am thankful that I have such
a refuge, such a source of consolation, to whicli I can
direct you. What though the hand of God fell upon
you so suddenly and unexpectedly, it did not fall un
justly or capriciously, without an ample cause, and a
wise and gracious design. What though you are call
ed to mourn the loss of one who was well beloved,
and who was worthy of your love, both for his moral
worth and his intellectual endowments; what though
the fondest hopes have thus been all dashed, and the
fairest prospects withered, and sorrow and desolation
were brought into your home in a single hour, the cup
which is given you to drink has not come to you by
chance, but has been mingled and presented by an

SERMON. 31
infinite hand, by one who knows what medicine is best
for you, and who will not make that cup one degree
deeper, or infuse into it one grain of bitterness more
than you are able to bear, or will be for your highest
good. What though he died far from home, without
the sad consolation of your being able to smooth his
pillow, or to receive his last words ; yet he did not die
alone. The omnipresent God was there ; there to
mark the repentant sigh, if it arose ; there to hear
the believing prayer, if it was offered; there to minis
ter to his last hours by kindly and loving hands.
In speaking of the departed, I feel that I am well
qualified to do so. I have known him from infancy;
I baptized him; he grew up under my own eye; all
the features of his mental and moral character, as
they developed, I could mark, and did mark, as he
ripened from boyhood into manhood. I may be par
tial; for loving him as I did, for his own sake, and as
a member of this honored family, my judgment may
be swayed by my affections. But making all due
allowance for this, it does seem to me that John C.
Holley was a young man of unusual promise; not
only of fine natural powers carefully cultivated, but
of strong sterling moral principles to direct and con
trol them. His intellect was clear, and his judgment
sound ; remarkably so for so young a man. There
was nothing rash, nothing visionary about his mind ;
all his views were calm, thoughtful, maturely formed,
eminently practical, distinguished by judiciousness
and good sense, and all under the control of a tender

32 SERMON.
and enlightened conscience. Indeed, it is rare to find
a young person in which the mental and moral facul
ties were so fully developed, and so finely balanced.
And I do not hesitate to say, that if he had lived, and
health had been granted him, he would have acted a
prominent part in public life.
He was of a large and loving nature, having warm
social affections; amiable, unselfish, courteous, genial
and playful; devoted to his family and friends; with
all those private traits and virtues which win the heart
and secure our esteem ; in short, a man formed to be
loved, and whose death makes a gap in the hearts of
all to whom he was dear that never can be filled.
As regards his religious character — and this is the
main point — I do not feel able to speak quite so deci
sively. He never made a public profession of religion,
and was somewhat reticent upon this subject. But
there are certain things known to me, as well as cer
tain traits and habits known to every one, which may
help us to a favorable decision. He loved the house
of God, he was always in his place there, he rever
enced the Lord's day, he always spake respectfully of
religion, he was a child of the covenant, the son of a
sainted mother, trained up by her, taught to pray,
taught to fear God ; and I have seen letters of his to
her, in which he clearly and distinctly expressed his
love to the Saviour, his trust in him, and his determi
nation to cleave to him and to live to his glory. The
covenant of God to godly parents is sure ; the prayers
of saints cannot fail; and we will hope and believe

SERMON. 33
that that Saviour whom he was thus taught to love
and adore was with him in his last moments, his stay
and his portion.
" No further seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode ;
(There they alike in trembling hope repose,)
The bosom of his Father and his God."
As to the particulars of his death, how he left home
and went to a distant land in search of health, and
died only a few weeks after arriving there, they are
so well known that I need not dwell upon them. All
the features of the case were so distressing that every
heart was touched with sorrow and sympathy. Let
the bereaved family bow in adoring submission to the
will of him who rules supremely, and who " doeth
all things well."
Men and brethren, in a world like this, so full of
uncertainty and sudden events, what other refuge is
there into which we can flee and find rest and peace
to our minds, but this; the universal presence and
the universal control of a wise God. All is darkness
around us and before us. We cannot tell what a sin
gle day or a singe hour may bring forth. The morn
ing may open all sunshine, and yet the day be wrapt
in clouds ere noon arrives. The very moment we are
least apprehensive of evil the tidings of evil may
come. And how can we live in composure a single
moment in such a world, or how can we walk forward
a single step, if we live and walk by sense? No, we

34 SERMON.
never go out but trouble may await our return; we
never gather our friends around us, but the intelli
gence of the death of some dear friend may reach us ;
and just when all is bright and happy, joy and glad
ness in every eye, a bolt may drop from the heavens
in the very center of our home, and turn it into deso
lation. And thus there is no true help for us, no
sufficient support, no light to live and walk by, no
possibility of meeting the trials of life calmly and
profitably, but in the abiding impression that God is
everywhere and in everything; that he kills and
makes alive, wounds and heals, at his sovereign pleas
ure ; and that all things are wisely ordered, and surely
working towards the glory of his own great name, and
the highest good of those that love him. Amen.

REMARKS
OF REV. J. L. CORNING, OF POUGHKEEPSIE, AT THE
FUNERAL OF JOHN C. HOLLEY, ESQ.

Not a generation has elapsed since the modern
Opliir, which stretches its long peninsula into the Pa
cific ocean was a wild, unexplored wilderness. It is
within the memory of most of us how its buried
wealth was discovered, and what an unprecedented
stimulus was given to civilization by this so called ac
cident of history. Towns and cities sprung up as if
by magic; commerce, manufactures and the mechanic
arts overspread the desert places, and lonely forests
and plains became populated with the greedy votaries
of mammon. And so the unknown land of yester
day has found a place on our national atlas ; and a
multitude of wayfarers, returning with their spoils
from its golden shores, have made us, in repeated
story, familiar with its every feature.
A little less than a year ago, the cherished friend,
whose mouldering form lies before us, embarked for

36 REMARKS OP REV. J. L. CORNING.
those far off shores in quest of health. Two friends,
who cared for him with brotherly tenderness, bore
him company on the voyage. Those who bade him
farewell thought not of him as of one who had gone
alone to a strange country. They could follow him
over every league of the pass ige, almost tracing the
wake of the steamer on the ocean chart. They could
etch upon fancy a picture of the land whither he was
going, its terreted cities, its golden rivers, its grand
mountains, its blossoming vineyards. They had spann
ed the dividing continent with eager hope, and imagi
nation, instinct with love, had made many months
seem like moments, and in visions how sadly sweet
the absent one had retraced the voyage and once more
was a living presence amid the warm welcomes of the
fireside. Alas! "God's thoughts are not as our thoughts,
neither are his ways as our ways." Long ere the in
tervening months of intended absence had spent them
selves, and a few days only after he had set foot on
the far off shore, he was summoned to make another
voyage, over other waters, to another harbor. Could
we trace his receding path and get a vision of some
spot of beauty on the celestial shore upon whicli he
has landed, we should not be weeping in bitterness
of spirit over this poor frail body which he has left be
hind. We have many traditional faiths respecting
heavenly fruitions, and yet the pilgrimage which noble
spirits make thereto is all uncharted to our blind eyes.

REMARKS OP REV. J. L. CORNING. 37
and the harbor where they have dropped anchor is
veiled in shadows of uncertainty.
There is an immutable law of moral affinity which
solves not a few of the dark problems that appertain
to the future life ; and to this law I turn for an answer
to the question, where has the departed spirit of this
boy, (whom I loved with almost a father's affection,)
found its home ?
In the dim and remote past Jesus of Nazareth walk
ed among men, the representative of the truth, the
purity, and the love of Divinity. By a law of his
very nature he attracted to himself the true, the pure
and the loving, and repelled the false, the carnal and
the selfish. And so, though his visible form has van
ished from men's sight, his divine soul has been omni
present through all succeeding ages, attracting the
noble, repelling the vile. I have asked myself, what
if a year ago the son of Mary had made a brief so
journ In this village as he did of old in Bethany, and,
taking up his abode in some humble cot, had sent
abroad to the inhabitants an invitation to visit him ;
would not our departed friend have been among those
who would have counted it the choicest festival of the
soul to be found in such royal company ? In other
words, were not the truest and most interior relishes
of this departed spirit, while in the flesh, for those
qualities which anointed Jesus as the selectest son
of God ? Setting aside the partialities of brotherly
affection, and scrutinizing this character, with all its
confessed imperfections, after an intimate acquaint-
4

38 REMARKS OP REV. J. L. CORNING.
ance extending over three years, I unhesitatingly an
swer this question in the affirmative. I claim not
that John was free from many of the infirmities of
human nature ; and yet I believe the Omniscient knows
that he was a singularly truthful, pure and unselfish
man. I confess to have been saddened sometimes to
observe that, by reason of morbid mental, and perhaps
physical moods, he hesitated in yielding assent to the
truth of a beneficent providence all-prevalent in the
world. Had he believed this with a firmer faith, many
of the obscure and gloomy passages of life would
have become luminous with hope. And yet, I have
thought sometimes that this infirmity in one aspect
strengthened the witness of his christian fidelity; for
though not seldom he had only a hidden God, yet was
he not willfully disobedient. And they who were most
familiar with him bear witness that for the name and
character of Christ he ever manifested, the profound-
est reverence.
Into the sanctity of his domestic life T will not
allow myself to intrude ; but the widow knows how
faithful and gentle he was, and the father bears this
hearty testimony, "that he never had a moment's
anxiety about John except concerning his health.
Of late years he had become an active participant
in public affairs, and, had his life been prolonged, there
is little doubt that he would have proved himself wor
thy of some high political trust. But he was never
ambitious for personal prefermenf;, but kindled his en
thusiasms on the altars of piety and patriotism. I be-

REMARKS OF REV. J. L. CORNING. 39
lieve God knoweth that John loved his dear kingdom
far more than the poor recompenses of political strife.
I have thought of the welcome which would have
awaited him had he been permitted in visible presence
to return to a native shore. As the ship that bore
him furled her sails and approached the wharf, what
acclaiming words of joy, what faces beaming love
would have greeted him ! But I have pictured a scene
like unto this on the celestial shore, where bright angels
congregate, the prophets, apostles and martyrs, all
who have bravely endured and borne witness for God.
On that shore, to our holden eyes all invisible, but
stretching aw.ay in endless wealth of beauty, our lost
voyager has found his welcome. And so we will be
glad amid our tears. We will not in this great grief
forget to thank God that the precious form which held
the noble spirit in confinement, the form long exiled
in its distant sepulcher, is restored to us, and that we
can lay it with its kindred dust, where they that loved
and have survived it may visit it betimes, to drop a
regretful tear of affection, mayhap to plant some fra
grant blossoms which shall be faint reminders of the
virtues that sprouted in this brief mortal life to bear
immortal leaves and clusters in the better land.
And as for the absent soul, enough for us to know
that it has found its true home in the bosom of God,
all its stains washed out in forgiving grace ; the dross
of earth melted away, and the fine gold of manhood
alone remaining, making our absent pilgrim rich for
ever and ever.

REMARKS
OP REV. F. B. WHEELER, OP POUGHKEEPSIE, AT THE
BURIAL OF JOHN C. HOLLEY, ESQ.

How the months crowd together, and how does the
past repeat itself. It seems but yesterday, since I
stood on a distant shore, and beneath other skies, to
welcome the arrival of one, whose burial we are now
completing. The steamer in which he had passage was so delay
ed, that fears were entertained for her safety. When
at length she swept through the Golden Gate, and
reached her moorings, there was gratitude in our
hearts, and thanksgiving on our lips.
I shall never forget the look of recognition that
shone on that manly face, the warm grasp of that
friendly hand, with the utterances of those truthful
lips. He went from these pleasant surroundings, the
home he had so fondly reared, the wife, child and kin
dred, whom he so tenderly and strongly loved, in
hope that out there toward the sun-set, he might be

42 REMARKS OF REV. P. B. WHEELER.
strengthened for the further and more vigorous prose
cution of life's great labor ; but God had determined
otherwise. Scarcely had he trodden those golden
shores ere his spirit was hurried to the God who
gave it.
Such dying, so far away and in such circumstances,
seems to us sometimes a sad and awful mistake, but
it was far from thus. God was in it all, wisely, lov
ingly. There were those even there who loved him,
who cared for him, who prayed for him and soothed
his last moments.
And when mortal life had fled, and nothing more
could be done for his living comfort, there were lov
ing hands that bore him gently to the house of God,
in whicli he spent the first sabbath morning after his
arrival, in devout and grateful recognition of that God,
who had borne him so safely over treacherous seas;
and thence, after prayers were lifted, and the same
sweet hymns were sung that just now thrilled our
hearts in yonder church, to the "Lone Mountain" of
the dead, there to sleep till such disposition could be
made as that which has brought this precious dust to
sleep where these surrounding hills cast their shadows,
and where kindred dust reposes.
There is sunshine in all this storm, light on all these
troubled waters. Ye are smitten of God, and afflict
ed ; and oh ! how our hearts out there, yearned to
wards you all and prayed for you all, as we thought
of you, overborne and crushed by the tidings that
came to your liomes.

REMARKS OF REV. F. B. WHEELER. 43
But what cause for gratitude that you have been
permitted this very day to look upon the face of your
dead, and what blessed joy that you sorrow not as
others who have no hope.
I, too, can bring my tribute to the wise and manly
excellence of John C. Holley, in whose character were
so finely blended womanly delicacy and masculine
virtues. A man whom earth can ill afford to lose, but
treasure such as heaven rejoices to gain.
He is not here. He has entered those gates of pearl,
trodden those streets of gold, and gotten the victory
for ever.
Blessed be God, that through these dim and tear
ful eyes we can look up into heaven, and feel that he
is there, among the kings and priests unto God.
Blessed be God, that those serene heights which he
now treads, were as near that city of the Pacific as
they are to this the place of his birth. And God was
there, and_ Jesus was there, and the Comforter was
there. And there gathered those precious consola
tions by which he was enabled to push his way through
the shadows, and pass into the far more exceeding and
eternal weight of glory.
And oh ! this mortal shall put on immortality, and
this corruption shall put on incorruption. Earth to
earth, dust to dust, ashes to ashes, till that coming
resurrection morn, when tlie Lord Jesus shall come
with his angels and the tramp of his gathered armies.
Then shall this vile body be changed, and fashioned
like unto his glorious body, according to the working

44 REMARKS OP REV. P. B. WHEELER.
of that mighty power whereby he is able to subdue all
things unto himself.
Here sleep till then ; then, precious dust, summers
shall wax and wane, autumns shall ripen their fruits,
winters shall cast their snows, but the glorious spring
time is at hand, and that which we now sow in weak
ness shall be raised in power ; for now is Christ risen
from the dead, and become the first fruits of them that
sleep. " Our flesh shall slumber in the ground,
Till the last trumpet's joyful sound ;
Then burst the chain with sweet surprise,
And in our Saviour's image rise."