Hart, Luther
A Sermon,... of Rev. Alexander Gillett
New Haven, 1826

YALE
UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

a 2 R M o p S
at the Funeral of
REV. ALEXAHIKR (JILLETT (YALE 1770}
and
MEMOIR hy
Luther Hart.

A
DELIVERED AT TORRINGTON,
LORD'S DAY, JAN. 22, 1826,
At tVve Yjmeral
OP
^i^fl MHBSAswm ®mmw i
TOGETHER WITH
A MEMOIR OF
HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER.
BY LUTHER HART,
Pastor of a Church in Plymouth.

NEW-HAVEN :
T. G. WOODWARD AND CO. TRINTERC
1826.

A SERMON*

BE STILL, AND KNOW THAT I AM GOT).
Psaim xlvi. 10*
NEITHER the author of this Psalm, nor the occasion on
which it was composed, is mentioned ; but it was most probably
penned by David, in reference to the oppressions which the church
had experienced from her enemies, and the victories that had been
gained over them by divine assistance. In these vicissitudes the
hand of God was conspicuous ; and his wonderful? agency is here
celebrated in the most expressive terms of awe and praise. It is
reported of Luther, the distinguished German reformei*, that when
he heard any painful tidings relative to the cause in which his heart
was supremely engaged, he was accustomed to say, " Come, let
us siflg the forty-sixth Psalm." Indeed, it is a sacred ode, pre
eminently calculated to excite confidence in God under the darkest
dispensations, and to comfort the soul under its heaviest sorrows*
And if Zion be now in distress — if any of our friends are in trouble,
or have recently gone down to the grave — or, if by any other afflic
tive visitation our hearts are made to bleed, let us repair for con
solation to the forty-sixth Psalm, and especially to that peculiarly
sublime part of it, whioh has been presented as the theme of our
present meditations.
The duty here inculcated is submission to the will of God in
times of trial.
Let us, therefore, take a brief view of the nature of this exercise,
and then consider some of the reasons of its being required.*
"The subject here partially discussed, is of a general nature, being alike appli
cable to all seasons of sorrow. A topic peculiarly appropriate to the death of
a minister would have been chosen, had there been sufficient time for prepara
tion. But as the discourse may possibly meet the eye of those who heard it,
or the eye of their children, in other scenes of sorrow, the author cannot biV.

4
.# As to the nature ot't submission, let it be observed, in the vfirsf
place, that it implies a yielding to something in the divine "will
Which is ^contrary to the natural desires of the hunyui heart. For,
if God's will always accorded with our natural feelings, it would
be rather submission on his part to our choice, than resignation on
our part to his appointments. . As it .would be improper to say that
the holy angels are submissive—whose nature it is to rejoice in alt
that God does ; so it would be equally absurd to speak of the resig
nation of a sinner to those providential dispensations, by which he is
blest with health, and in other respects prospered according to his
natural desires. * His concurrence is physically necessary; and as
it implies no sacrifice of feeling — no yielding of inclination — no giv
ing up of any'thing dear to him.ln deference to the righteous sove
reignty of the Supreme being, it bears no relation to the grace of
evangelical submission. However readily a child may acquiesce
in the treatment which he receives from his parent, we never de
nominate him a submissive, child, if there be nothing in that treat
ment but what perfectly harmonizes with his natural inclination.
Thus, resignation to God necessarily involves the idea of some
thing in his requirements or dispensations, contrary to our taste or
choice. And when a christian submits to the div,ine will, he ac
cedes to that which is too frighteous and holy to be in accordance"
with the remains of his corrupt nature.
Again : It implies a just sense of the magnitude of our afflictions.
No person can be truly resigned under trials, any further than he
feels them to be such ; for in proportion as he is insensible to them,
they have virtually no existence. Pain has relation only to the
mind, and is therefore nothing except as the mind is affected. Of
course, if one under chastisement of the Lord should be so insensi
ble as to experience na grief, it would, in the nature of things, be
impossible for him to exercise a submissive temper. For it is no
more possible to be resigned to a calamity which produces no im
pression on the mind, than it is to a calamity which does not exist.
Submission then, instead of being mere apathy, necessarily implies
tender susceptibility, and a full sense of the nature and' measure of
the divine judgements.
When had Eli a more realizing sense of the sore chastisement he
hope that the subject, from its want of special appropriateness to a particular
case of affliction, will be the more serviceable to them, under the trying dis
pensations which in this vale of tears may await them, either as individuals
as families, or a community.

5 if ,,
was about to experience, than when,, he uttered thjs sublime lan
guage of resignation ! It is the Lord, let Ipm dp what seemeth him,
good. The emotion here expressed would have been any thing
but submission, had he been insensible to the greatness of the im
pending judgement. Of all that are afflicted in this world, none
have so just a sense of the import and degree of their trials, as they
who are most submissive under them.
Again : It implies a suppression of open murmurs, and secret
repinings. The command is, be still. But is he still, iu the sense
of this solemn injunction, who complains how hard his lot is — how
sore are his disappointments, and how insupportable his afflictions ?
If so, then David in his troubles went too far, for he said, 1 was
dumb, I opened not my mouth, because thou didst it. Doubtless ma
ny*" speak of the greatness, or the peculiarity of their troubles, in
the language of dissatisfaction, without thinking of the insubordina
tion from which their expressions proceed. But there cannot be
even a whisper of the kind, except as it is prompted by internal
rebellion. Hence, no afflicted man can comply with the spirit of the
injunction under consideration, if, in addition to the suppression
of all open murmurs, he do not subdue the repinings of his heart.
There are often secret thoughts, comparisons, and reasonings, which
are no less the offspring of an unsubmissive tamper, than audible
expressions of complaint.
•Further: It implies a most cordial, and therefore cheerful ac
quiescence in God's appointments concerning us, however crossing
to flesh and blood. It is not enough that the complaints of the
heart be silenced. If only this be effected, nothing better can en
sue than a bare equilibrium— a state between opposition and con
currence, which would be insensibility, apathy, an entire want of
feeling. God requires us not only to harbor no opposition to his
afflictive visitations, but to approve of them. So far as we are in
wardly dissatisfied, although no repinings break from our lips, we
are unsubmissive. So far as we bow reluctantly, we are guilty of
insubordination. We must readily forego our own choice ; prompt
ly yield our opinion; of what is right and best ; unhesitatingly con
form our preference to God's will, whenever or however it may be
made known to us ; eagerly submit our understandings to his teach
ing, and our hearts to his law and government ; and, in a word,
cheerfully, nay joyfully, take even the spoiling of our goods, and
every other affliction with which an infinitely better judge of pro
priety than we are may please to visit us. If the hand of God hath

6
*¦
touched us, we must not barely succeed in being silent after a long
and dreadful struggle with our rebellious feelings. The victory
ought to be immediate, and result not merely in uncomplaining suf
ferance, but in a cordial acceptance of chastisement. Should he
cause waves of trouble to roll over us, and present the prospect of
other trials, instead of only enduring them without disapprobation,
we ought cheerfully to consent to them, and even pray that his will
may be done. Does any one mourn Under the bereaving hand
of God ? It is well if he can refrain from all emotions of dissatisfac
tion in view of the painful dispensation ; but it is far better if he
can go one very necessary step further, and, breathing from his soul
a devout amen, appropriate the language of his submissive Lord —
not my will, but thine be done. '
Again : Submission implies an unconditional acquiescence in the
divine will. It is required that the resignation be entire. But to
say we are wholly resigned to a trying dispensation, when, in the
providence of God, there are circumstances connected with it which •
awaken dissatisfaction, or inordinate grief, is to affirm what cannot
be true. If you-hear persons unduly lamenting that a dear connex
ion died at a distance, where they could not be present to hear his
last words, close his eyes, and follow his remains to the grave ; — or
if you see them dwelling disproportionately on any other circum
stance, — such as that he died in early life, suddenly, in great agony,
deprived of reason, or in some- other respect differently from
what they could have wished,— it is most evident that there is with
in them, not a little insubordination to the will of God. His will
extends efficiently or perraissively, not only to the event itself, but
also to every attendant circumstance. To be entirely resigned,
therefore, to any afflictive dispensation, is to acquiesce in it just as
jt is, inclusively of all the accompanying circumstances. We
sometimes hear sick persons say that they should be willing to die,
provided they knew that their children would be properly taken
care of, or that themselves were prepared to leave the world. But
in this conditional willingness to obey the summons of death, there
is no true submission. The language of entire resignation is,
The will of the Lord be done, at any rate, and in all respects ; and
the feeling which prompts it, annihilates all our own conditions.
Another thing belongingto the submission which the text enjoins,
is a proper view of the divine perfections. Be still, and know that
lam God. The knowledge here intended is not only speculative,
but experimental also : it involves feeling as well as perception. If

is such a delightful confidence in him, as perfectly'satisfies the soul
that, in appointing bur sorrows, and in determining their nature, de
gree and continuance, together with all the attendant circumstan
ces, he acts in the character of an independent God, for he consults
not us in any of these matters ; — of a sovereign God, for in the dis-
tinctioris which he causes in the condition of men, his own holy
pleasure is his rule; — of an omnipotent God, for all diseases and
calamities are but so many instruments under his Almighty con
trol ; — of an all-wise God, for of all possible afflictions, those which
we actually experience, are the best that could be chosen ;— of
an unsearchable God, for we cannot comprehend all his. works
or ways ;— of a perfectly just God, for he afflicts none but the ill -de
serving ;— • -and of a benevolent God, for he suffers not even the wing
ofan insect to be injured, except from motives as pure as his own im
maculate nature. Thus, one of the most essential ingredients of
submission, is such a view of his adorable attributes, as shall pro
duce an unshaken confidence, that a being of such perfections can do
nothing wrong *
I shall add only, that submission implies love to God. We can
not even conceive of voluntary and cheerful resignation, where love
is wanting. It is true that at the last day, wicked men and devils
will, an a sense, submit to God ; but their knees will bow, and
their tongues confess, not from affection but from compulsion. A
child destitute of love to his parents, is always a disobedient, and
therefore an unsubmissive child. Or if he render a degree of exter
nal, obedience, it is under the impulse of slavish fear, or mercenary
hope. His heart is still the abode of concealed but cherished rebell
ion. And where is there a teacher of a school, who can reas mably
expect dutiful submission to his discipline, however just and saluta
ry, unless he haye some interest in the affections of his pupils ? The
Supreme Being too, must be devoutly loved, ; before it is morally
possible for us cordially to acquiesce either in his self-denying
precepts, or his crossing dispensations.
We have seen many unrenewed persons sorely afflicted, who,
nevertheless, from the influence of conscience, or a regard to deco
rum, refrained from all expressions of dissatisfaction with thejr allot
ments. But being devoid of evangelical love to God, there was in
them no holy resignation to his will, — no letting go of what he had
taken from them, and delightful consignment of it into his hands.
We might as well expect grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles, as
christian submission of a sinner, while his heart remains unreconcil-

8
ed to God. He may adopt very becoming language, and say with
his lips, — The will of the Lord be done : but there will be the inter
val of infinite space between the import of his words, and the feel
ings of his heart. Who; can really yield all his darling possessions,
and choicest comforts, to the sovereign disposal of a being whom he
does not love ? Who, that has a carnal mind, which is enmity
against God, can, under the influence of such a temper, see divine
Providence blighting his crops, breaking down his family, by the
iron hand of death, and defeating his most sanguine calculations for
this world, — and at the same time cheerfully say, — The Lord reign-
eth, let the earth rejoice ? The thing is impossible ! Evangelical love
to God is necessarily inseparable from the subniission that he re
quires. I am now to mention some reasons on which the duty of submis
sion is grounded.
I begin, by observing that God takes nothing from Os but wl\at is
his own. I say not what reason we might have for complaint if, in
'depriving us of temporal blessings, or even religious privileges, he
took from us any thing that was our own independent possession.
For surely it will be soon enough to devise some plea for insubor
dination, when he shall invade our rights, by requiring us to surren
der that which we did not receive at his hands. But if he gives us
the health that we enjoy, is he to be blamed when lie sends some
disease as his messenger to take it away ? If he'breathed into our
nostrils the breath of life, does he pass beyond the limits of his own
rightful province, when he requires us to yield it ? If the earth is
the Lord's, and the fulness thereof, who can reasonably complain, if
he issue his k storms and convulse the ocean,— if he kindle his vol
canoes, bid forth his earthquakes, or bring all the elements that he
has made, into a dreadful conflict, even though the catastrophe
should involve our houses, ships, and other possessions, in utter ru
in ? The world which he created, has he not a right to use as he
pleases ? We are glad to receive favours at his hand, even though
at the time of reception, we well understand that he reserves to him
self the right of recalling them at his pleasure. Tlien, the condi
tion on which they are bestowed, is seldom regarded as a painful
incumbrance. Nay, it rarely abates the degree of our gladness. But
if we are so eager to receive blessings on the condition that we are
to yield them at his call, how is it that our hearts should refuse to
resign them back into his hands, when he actually comes to exact
them ? Instead of repining when he demands what we gladly re-

9 *
ceived as a loan, we oijght to surrender it readily, and bless him
that he allowed us the enjoyment of it so long.
Another reason why we ought tp he submissive is, that we de
serve all that we suffer, nay, all the miseries of the second death.
Therefore, in the sopest inflictions with which God visits us in this
life, he is infinitely just, to say nothing of the forbearance and kind
ness yhich he displays in afflicting us less than we deserve. And
ought we not tQ be satisfied with perfect equity ? The truth is, that
every outcast in the prison of despair, ought to be eternally silent -
and uncomplaining under the execution "of the wrath of God. For
the obligation to acquiesce in that which is right, is an inseparable
concomitant of a rational nature. How profoundly submissive then
ought we to be, who, whatever may be our trials, are yet in a world
of njercy as well as of affliction, and are never called to suffer stripes
equal to the number of our transgressions ! Wherefore doth h living
man complain, a man far the punishment of his sins ? — especially
since the infliction bears'little or no proportion to his guilt. Such
vvas not tlje conduct of the man after God*s own heart, when re
proached and cursed jpy .Shimei. Sensible that he was exceedingly
guilty, and also that providence was at least permissively concern
ed in the course taken by the reviler, he voluntarily submitted to
the disgrace, as richly deserved, saying, Let him alone, and let him
curse ; for the Lord hath bidden him.
It ought to be considered also, that much of our guilt is of a kind
to render us peculiarly deserving of the privations we suffer. Every1 5
favour of which God deprives us, we forfeit by abuse. Our health,
friends, property, and all other temporal mercies, are conferred up
on us as so many talents, to be, at all times, employed to the glory of
God. But who has not forfeited them by an idolatrous attachment, ,
by unlawful use, or by making them in some other way the instru
ments of sin? Therefore, whenever they are taken away, it be
comes us to acquiesce in the visitation as being, in kind, appropriate
to the species of our guilt.
Another reason for submission is, that we are too ignorant of the
relations and interests of the great system which God controls, to
justify any complaint under the particular evils which we suffer.
He has the whole universe to govern, and in doing it, all the.innu-
merable and complicated relations of its parts to regard ; so that his
proceedings, if 'explicable to us, instead of proving that he has no
wise reasonsjxfor them, prove only that it does not concern us to, un
derstand them, or that they are above our comprehension, and there-
2

10
fore, that he has wisely concealed them from our view. We do ma
ny important things daily, which might seem unaccountable to a fly
or a worm : and yet, in point of intelligence and wisdom, there is an
infinitely wider difference between him arid ourselves, than between
us and the least microscopic insect in existence. For as the heavens
are higher than the earth, so are his ways higher than our wayp,
and hii thoughts than our thoughts. The whole weight of the
three-fold system of nature, providence, and grace, rests on him;
and we never can justly complain of what he does in one part^of his^
dominions, until we can know how it is related to, and how it will
affect the innumerable other parts of the universe. If then, he put
far from us lover and friend, and our acquaintance into darkness, it
will be soon enough to dispute the propriety of the dispensation,
when we have a perfect view of all the momentous consequences*
that are to result from it to heaven, earth, or hell.
Considering, therefore, the unlimited disparity between him and us,
and also between our interests as individuals, and those of the great
whole, a large proportion of his dealings with us, must be unavoid
ably covered with an obscurity impenetrable to every mortal eye,
and this shows, not that he is unreasonable, but that his creatures,
however inquisitive, are exceedingly finite. All repining then,' in
case of bereavement, must be impertinent, unless we know as well
as God himself, what purposes our departed friends are answer
ing in the world of spirits, and also all the effects, that are to be pro-
duced in this world, by their removal. But such kmwledge is too
wonderful for us ; it is high; we cannot attain unto it. Hence it is
plain that our ignorance is a reason why, under all our afflictions, we
should be perfectly submissive to the divine will.
Another reason is, that he cannot but be actuated by motives of
good will. It is repugnant to his benevolent nature, to delight in
the pain which mankind undergo. He can, in no instance, inflict it
for its own sake,--this would be malevolence; but solely for the
sake of the good which, sooner or later, it is to be the means of ef
fecting. Thus, the sufferings of the man of Uz were appointed, not
because God delighted in his misery; but because his trials were
needful as the means of exemplifying, contrarily to the false position
of satan, the disinterestedness, power and permanence of true reli
gion in the soul. The bible is stored with instances illustrative of
the fact, that God can appoint no natural evil, and permit no moral
evil, except for the purpose Of rendering it ultimately productive of
a greater good. This is a truth which the brethren of Joseph seem

li
act to have understood when, in despairing compunction for theit
cruel treatment of him, thjey/e/J down before his face, and said, Be
hold, we be thy servants. But he distinctly unfolded it to them by
saying, As for you, ye thought evil against me; but God meant it
unto good, to bring to pass, as it is this day, to save much people
alive. The subsequent oppression of the Hebrews served to hasten
their deliverance from bondage. It was a sore calamity that they
were employed in marching and counter-marching, forty years in
the wilderness. But. while God was too benevolent to impose up
on them the rigour of that protracted sojourn, merely on its own
account, he was likewise too benevolent not to do it, for it was his
purpose thus to develop their depravity, and abase their pride. In
deed, the greatest blessing this world ever received, was the fruit of
a murder which God, from motives of infinite good will to our spe
cies, permitted the wicked Jews to perpetrate. And the direful per
secutions which were raised against the apostles and other primitive
christians, were the means of disseminating the light of the gospel
throughout the then known world.
There|are, however, both in the word and providence of God, ma
ny mysteries, which he has not thought proper to unfold. But the
general truth is clear, that no adversity can befal us which will not,
under the control of infinite benevolence, prove a benefit to our
selves <jr to ! others. The perfections of God are an everlasting
guaranty to the universe, that no trying event shall ever take place,
without ultimately contributing its proper proportion to the gene
ral good.
Further: The direct tendency of affliction to produce serious re
flections, to show us the vanity of the world, and to wean us from
it, is a reason for cordial and humble submission. Whatever obscu
rity may rest upon its other salutary tendencies, its fitness to pro
duce these important effects, is obvious and indisputable. This
world is not our home ; and yet, without some crosses tending to
weaken our attachment to it; we should be more likely to wish to
" live alway," and therefore far more likely to die in our sins. Is
it ordained that we must through much tribulation enter into the
kingdom of God ? How then, if we meet with nothing but uninter
rupted prosperity here, can we be saved ? We are directed to be
followers of them who through faith and patience inherit the prom
ises. But there is no occasion for patience, nor possibility of such
an exercise, where there is nothing to be borne. In the day of ad
versity consider, is scarcely more a command, than a declaration

12-
that adversity is, in its own natirte, peculiarly fitted to produce se
rious considerations. Indeed, we are so constituted, as that we can
not, unless our hearts are rendered callous by unusual progress in
sin, experience the loss of any highly valued temporal blessing,
Without being led to reflect more or less upon the transitorineSS 'of
all things earthly, and therefore upon the necessity of securing, in a
better world, an inheritance incorruptible, and undefiled, and that
fadeth not away. If there were no other reason for submission un
der our privations, this would be a sufficient one, that they directly
lend to show us where our true interest lies, and of course, to pro
mote suitable feelings and endeavours respecting it. And shall we
murmur under trialsj of which the tendency is so salutary ? We
have had fathers of our flesh which corrected us, and we gave them
reverence: shall we not mucli rather be in subjection unto the Fa
ther of spirits and live ? For they verily, for a few days, chastened
us after their own pleasure; but he for our profit, that we might be
partakers of his holiness.
- A further reason for the exercise of submission "is, that Our comfort
in the present life, greatly depends upon it. Whether we are ben
efitted by our troubles or not, there is no avoiding them in a_ world
which, for nearly six thousand years, has beenigroaning beneath |he
curse of an offended God. And what but unfeigned acquiescence
jn his will concerning us, can sustain and cheer us under the many
and unavoidable sufferings " which flesh is heir to ?" All insubordU
nation; is painful. It is hard' to kick against the pricks,— to go
through life murmuring against God. Such is the constitution of
things, that* every man must be wretched, in proportion as he feels
hostile to the divine government. This opposition to God and his
administration, is no doubt the essence of the pangs which those feel
who are now suffering the vengeance of eterhal fire. And of all
miserable objects in this world, those are the most so who, on any
account, indulge feelings of aversion to God. The convicted sinner,
conscious that his heart is full of hostility to the divine will, is em
phatically miserable ; and so too js any one, if his heart directly re
monstrates against the -dealings of Providence. He is suffering un
der two evils, — the outward visitation, and a dreadful dissatisfac
tion within. "
If then it were ottr only object to avoid misery, it would be for
our interest to be entirely submissive under the rod. But this is
by no means all ; for true submission not only implies the absence of
the pain of rebellion, it pfoduces positive comfort, and indeed the

¦¥
only rational consolation compatible with the circumstances of the
afflicted. Nothing can be so soothing to a wounded spirit; for it
brings God into view, with his adorable perfections, rights and glo
ries, and makes it seem, what indeed it is, an infinite privilege to lie
prostrate at his feet. It is not possible for a ^bereaved person to be
so serene, and even happy, as when with Job he can devoutly say,*
The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, and blessed be the
name of the Lord ; and add, in the language of the same tranquil
man of sorrows, Though he slay me, yet will 1 trust in Mm. The
holy'religion of the gospel affords no consolation superior to this ;•
and, yet, this is always experienced by afflicted saints, if their wills
are so perfectly identified with the will of God, as that when his is
accomplished, theirs is fully gratified.
The subject to which we have been attending, furnishes matter
for many interesting remarks ; but under existing circumstances, I
shall deduce only this one, viz. —
It is a most imperious duty to cherish a lively sense of our afflic
tions, as coming from God. For how can we be truly submissive if,
through hardness of heart, we are regardless of the unseen hand by
which they are -brought upon us? Shall there be evil in a city, —
any natural evil whatever,— and the Lord hath not done it ? To all
individuals and communities, seasons of adversity are appointed ;
but those seasons can be beneficial no further than they are first felt
to be from the Lord, and then submitted to, as being no less right
eous than severe. Nothing happens to us by what is often profane
ly denominated chance, accident or fortune. These were originally
heathen terms, and are still employed by perhaps the -majority in
Christendom, to express heathen ideas. In all events the providence
of God is concerned, and in none more directly, than those of an
adverse kind. Affliction cometh not forth of the dust, neither doth
trouble spring out of the ground. And there is no greater wo than
that which, in the bible, is twice denounced against those who re
gard not the work of the Lord, neither consider the operation of
his hands. And what have his hands just been doing in this place r
They have laid low the able instructor and best earthly friend of
this people, and sealed his lips in silence.
And now that I have mentioned the mournful event which has
deprived this church and congregation of their venerable pastor, it
would be grateful to my feelings, and doubtless to yours also, to en
ter at some length infi> a detail of the history of his valuable life.
The time however will admit of only the following sketch. * * *

* # * * *• * i * * * * j- gucjj was ne as a man, a Christian and a
minister. But no personal excellencei and no official fidelity, can
procure an exemption from death. Ministers and their people are
alike mortal. Four fathers, where are they ? and the prophets, do
they live for ever? Although his death was sudden and unexpect
ed, it was wisely ordered by the Lord, and calls upon us to mourn,
and yet to be profoundly submissive.
Let me then, in the first place, turn to the bereaved family, and
press upon them the instructive lesson of the subject which we have
been considering.
To you, dear madam, who have so suddenly been made to know
the loneliness of widowhood, permit me to say, that no accident has
befallen you ; that this cup of bitterness is one which your heavenly
Father has given you to drink, and that your only adequate solace
is to be found in unqualified submission. With your dearest earthly*
friend you was long permitted to occupy an important station in
the church of God ; but now he is removed to a still higher sphere
of occupation, and you remain to travel onward alone to the grave.
The time has long been when, if you had severe domestic trials,!:
you had also the comfort of mingling your sorrows with those of a
feeling and faithful husband. But now he is engaged in other
scenes, and there remains no equal partner of your griefs. Go .then
often to the long inhabited but now desolate apartment, where he
daily prayed for you and your children, and pour your sorrows into
the ear of Him who ever liveth to make intercession for you. You
have one friend, I trust, that "dieth no more," but is continually
presenting his blood before the throne in your behalf. Let him be
dearer to you than ever, since you find that no other friend can con
tinue by reason of death. And while you humbly yield your all to
him, be thankful that you once had such a husband, that he was con
tinued to you so long, that he led you to the house of God, helped
to rear your children, and blest your household by his counsel and
example. In endeavouring to console you, I feel my weakness ; and yet, in
inculcating cordial acquiescence in the holy appointments of God
I have disclosed a principle which, if duly felt, can ease the aching
heart of even a widow. Drink, then, this bitter cup, without a
murmur; cast all your care upon the Lord, for he careth for you;
tThe sketch here given when the discourse was delivered, is transferred to
the accompanying memoir.
$ Particular allusion is here made to the case of one of the family, who' has
long been in a state of mental derangement.

15
and let this vain world set loose about you, and then, after a few
more wearisome days are past, you will be joined with alt who have
for ever done with sin and sorrow.
And let the afflicted children of the deceased anxiously enquire,
whether they have a heart to acquiesce in an event so trying, and
yet so wisely ordered. It was your exalted privilege to be born and
educated in the house of a distinguished servant of God, where the
bible was made the law-book, the family altar the place of daily re -
sort, ^and a minister of Christ the teacher of the domestic circle.
You were reared fast by the moral centre, from which the voice of
truth and mercy was sounded forth into the wider region of the
church and the parish. With the blended emotions of a father and
an apostle, he raised his hand over your infant faces, and devoted
you to the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost. By his timely
counsel, his continued instructions, grave example, and ardent
prayers, he-prolonged to the day of his death, a series of efforts more
or less direct, in order to show you the way to Christ, and persuade
you to walk in it.
To intimate to you how anxious he was for your immortal welfare
as soon as you came into being, I need only remind you of a passage
in a sermon which he delivered at the ordination of one of your
number; — a passage of sublime tenderness, that sends a thrill
through my soul whenever I call it to mind. " Son Timothy, this
day all those desires of your father are fulfilled, which animated his
heart when, on the morning that your face was first presented to
him, he took you into his arms and wished for no greater happiness
this side of the grave, than to see you born the second time through
infinite grace, and faithfully employed in the work of the Christian
ministry."* And may you, dear Brother, who was the object of
this eloquent address, long walk in the steps of him from whose
lips you received it, and at last meet him in company with
multitudes brought home to God by the instrumentality of his la
bours and your own. But he that could feel thus for one of your
number, must have been equally solicitous for you all ; must have
taught you, prayed for you, and watched over you, with inexpressi
ble affection, through all the periods of your infancy, childhood, and
riper years. But his work is done. The eyes that so often spoke
the kindness of his heart, are closed. The voice that instructed
and warned you, is silent, and the frame that advanced to meet and
salute you, whenever you visited the paternal mansion, is stricken
* Quoted from memory.

16
with the palsy of dgatb. He has now left that mansion himself, no
more to return. And, considering that God has bidden him away,
what aie the feelings of your hearts ? Can you devoutly say, the
will of the Lord be done ? The present is to you a day of trial ;
and it is wisely appointed, that you may have opportunity t» know
whether through your own father's instrumentality, or by any other
means, you have ever found your way to the cross, and submitted
yourselves to God.
Be grieved you may, and ought ; but see to it that you harbour
no insubordination to the divine will. To the God of the fatherless
and the word of his grace I commend you, praying that your sub
mission may be such as to afford you the consolation you need, and
that by means of this bereavement, you may be incited to a faithful
discharge of the duties pertaining to your respective stations in life^
so that, when a few years are come, you may be prepared to follow
your departed parent,, and enter into the joy of your Lord.
And now, as I cast my eyes on the congregation before me, I
must be allowed to say, that it gladdens my heart to behold such a
crowd gathered around the remains of one who was once my belov
ed pastor, as well as theirs, — of one under whose ministry I was
made to feel the need of a Saviour, and of one from whose lips I re
ceived some of the most important rudiments of the little know
ledge that I possess. Yes, he was your teacher and mine, and as
we mingle our griefs, let us ascertain whether we realize this afflic
tive dispensation to be the voice of God to us, and whether this
wound, inflicted on our sensibilities, brings us low before him in
holy submission.
Ye members of this church, in what state of heart does this admo
nition of Providence find you ? God sent you a faithful messenger,
under whose ministry the most of you were pricked in the heart,
led to the Saviour of lost men, and admitted into this visible fold.
And what progress have you made towards heaven, during the last
years of your pastor's life ? He loved and nourished you as a fa
ther doth his children ; and yet, are there not some of your number,
who have relapsed into a state of worldliness and religious apathy,
and who, were they now to be called into eternity, would see him
only as, from the place of torment, they looked far across the impass
able gulf! It is possible that for a considerable period, they have
been spiritually torpid, and inclined to excuse their lethargy on the
ground that he was aged, and incapable of all those unwearied efforts
which he himself would have been glad to put forth. I say it is

17
possible ; for what end is there to the resources of that criminal in
genuity, which has led many a backslider to cast the blame of his
spiritual languor on any person, and on any thing, rather than him
self? I bring no charge, my brethren, against any of you. I only
suggest the subject as a topic for self-examination. One thing is
certain ; — excuses for coldness and inactivity in religion, will al
ways come at the bidding, and alas ! will too commonly bring along
with them the opiate of tiitisfaction. It is true that for a few years
past, your pastor could not, in every department of duty, go before
you by day and by night, as he once did. Hence, so much the
greater was the service that devolved on the members of the church.
You can, therefore, put to yourselves few questions more moment
ous than these > — How have we performed it ? Have we stood for
the defence of the ark with a watchfulness and manly endeavour,
continually increasing, as the powers of our leader diminished ?
Have we earnestly laboured to prolong those precious meetings for
social converse and prayer, which are ordinarily so promotive of the
growth of individuals in grace, and so necessary both as means and
evidences of the healthy state of a church ?
But now, brethren, still greater duties than ever devolve upon
you. Christ has established an important part of his kingdom in
this place; and are all things pertaining to its interests to remain
stationary, or actually to go backward, because being left as sheep
without a shepherd, you have no one to go in and out before you in
the Lord ? God forbid ! Too many around you are yet in the
broad way to destruction for this : and for this, also, the salvation of
some of your own number is doubtless too uncertain. No, you
must be humbled under the rod, and influenced by it to be unusual
ly vigilant, prayerful and active, and thus to strengthen the things
which remain that are ready to die. You have, I am well persuad
ed, too much regard for the sacred cause which you have espoused,
to remain at ease without one to break unto you the bread of life, to
build you up in the most holy faith, and to sound the note of alarm
in the ears of your perishing children. But you can scarcely expect
to be soon blest with another ascension gift, unless you set your
own hearts in order, gather around the ark of the Lord, and in the
true spirit of obedience, prove yourselves workers together with
God, in building these walls of Zion. We beseech you then, breth
ren, and exhort you by the Lord Jesus, that as ye have received of
him, who now sleeps in death before you, how ye ought to walk, and
to please God, so ye would abound more and more.

18
But there is another and, I fear, a much larger *class of persons
present, who ought to mourn and weep this day." Long did your
minister labour to convince you of your guilt and danger. Long
did he clearly state and illustrate to you the doctrines and duties
of the gospel. Long did he point you to Christ, and entreat you to
fly to his arms. Not one of you could for a moment doubt his anx
iety for your salvation, or his zeal to promote it. You often saw the
floods pouring down his face, as he stood' here importuning God's
mercy in your behalf. You were all convinced that heisought not
yours, but you ; that he aimed to attract your attention not to him
self, but to the message be bare you from the Lord, and that if you
were not made wise unto salvation, the blame must lie at your own
door. And O how sad it is, that you should have derived no spirit
ual benefit from his ministrations" ! How affecting, that he must die
without the joy of seeing you lodged in the ark of safety ! How
dreadful, that you should have come to his funeral to-day, under the
guilt of resisting all that he ever did to promote your salvation, and
therefore of defeating the merciful design of God, in sending him to
you on such an errand of love !
I call heaven and earth to witness, that in not obeying the mes
sage he delivered, you have rejected the Lord Jesus Chirst who sent
him. And how will ye answer it in the day when God Almighty
shall make inquisition for blood, and fix the destiny of them that
obeyed not*the gospel of his Son ? Haste, then, to the Saviour, or
you are undone ! Fly, or it may be for ever too late ! Wait not for
the settlement of another pastor ; for what other one can give you
better instructions than have been so long imparted to you from this
pulpit ? Your case is alarming beyond description ; for though
Christ has died for you, you have not embraced him ; and though he
has sent you his ambassadors, you have not believed their report,
'¦land what will ye do in the end !
I cannot conclude, without calling upon all, whether members of
the church, or of the congregation only, to be silent before Him who
has risen up out of his holy habitation, and withdrawn from you a
blessing, than which few can be greater. Indeed, with the excep
tion of that grace by which the hearts of men are renewed and sanc
tified, I know not whether God ever confers upon a people a greater
favour, than the gift of a minister who is a person of unquestionable
piety, intelligence and attainments; — who retires at night, and
comes forth in the morning, with their everlasting interest on his
heart ; — who teaches them the truth as it is in Jesus, and enforces

19
it by his example ; — who keeps himself aloof from secular entangle
ment, that he may the more faithfully serve them in the gospel, and
who, were they not wanting to themselves, would infallibly conduct
them all to heaven. Such a blessing have you long enjoyed ; and as
it is now recalled, be exhorted to humble yourselves beneath the
chastising stroke, and to inquire with deep solicitude, whether the
ministration of the gospel hitherto has been to you a savour of life or '
a savour of death.
Be exhorted also to use due exertions speedily to obtain from the
great Head of the church, another pastor and teacher, lest, in conse
quence of delay, there arise indifference, fastidiousness, or discord,
to embarrass or to defeat the attainment of the blessing. — And in
that great day when you shall meet him who so long spoke to you
the word of the Lord, and give account of the manner in which you
received it, may none of you be heard to utter the fruitless lament
ation, — How have I hated instruction, and my heart despised re
proof ; and have not obeyed the voice of my teachers, nor inclined
mine ear to them that instructed me !

(LT"gTo the afflicted Family and Congrega
tion of the late Rev. Alexander Gillett, the
following Memoir, designed as a record of his
worth, and of their severe loss, is humbly in
scribed, by their former acquaintance, and stiU
affectionate friend. L. JJ.

A MEMOIR
OF THE
LIFE AND CHARACTEROP
IBIEV9 MJSM3SWM OTMm.

SILENT EXCELLENCIES ARE SOON FORGOTTEN J AND THOSE MINUTE PECULIARI
TIES WHICH DISCRIMINATE EVERT MAN FROM ALL OTHERS, IT THEY ARE NOT
RECORDED BY THOSE WHOM PERSONAL KNOWLEDGE ENABLES TO OBSERVE
THEM, ARE IRRECOVERABLY LOST. Dr. JoknSon.
THE Rev. Alexander Gillett was born of pious parents,
Zaccheus and Ruth Gillett, Aug. 14th, 0. S. 1749, in a part of Sims
bury, (Conn.) now called Granby. It appears from his private wri
tings, that he entertained few thoughts of God during the former
part of his childhood, although he was carefully instructed in reli
gion by his parents, and by a grandmother resident in the same
house ; by whom he was taught also the rudiments of learning, as
the opportunities for schooling were, at that period, few. He was
uncommonly attached to books, and it was afterwards his opinion
that the effect of his fondness for history was to diminish his regard
for the scriptures", and divert his attention from the concerns of his
soul. At the age of thirteen, however, he was the subject of seri
ous impressions, during a revival which then prevailed in Enfield,
Suffield, Windsor, and several other towns in Hartford county. The
good work appears to have commenced in his native parish at a " con
ference meeting," which was attended by several persons from some
of those highly favoured towns. In reference to that meeting, and
its effects, he observes, "I went out of curiosity to the meeting,
which was conducted with much solemnity, by those persons before
mentioned. A more than usual seriousness possessed my mind till
the exercises were partly over, when the Spirit of God seized on the
consciences? of many of the youth present, and made them cry out
with much earnestness about their souls' concern. Thinking to my
self, There is time enough for these things afterwards, I deter
mined to return home. So I went into another room. But the
thought, What if God should not allow me another opportunity?1

22
came with such power into my mindas obliged me to return and join
the rest in crying to God." He went home with a heavy heart, and
the impressions then made, though they afterwards greatly declined,
seem never to liave wholly left him.
At a later period of life, however, he did not suppose that his con
victions were at this time genuine, although his parents seem to
have thought that he became truly pious during that revival. Ow
ing, probably, to opinions which then extensively prevailed, and
formed a leading feature in some of the revivals which existed at
that day, (for he remarks that he learned it from others with whom
he conversed,) he thought he should see God's angel, or some won-
1 derful outward sign, in conversion. But God, who designed him to
be a guide and a blessing to many under conviction of sin, did not
leave him to such delusion ; although it was not till long afterwards
that he obtained correct views on this subject. At the age of 14, he
began his studies preparatory to admission into college. His course
of study, however, was interrupted by various causes, more partic
ularly by the dismission of the Rev. Mr. Strong, his preceptor : so
that he seems to have made little proficiency until his 17th year.
He then came under the instruction of the Rev. Roger Viets,
" Church Missionary." Among his fellow students, was one of a
different persuasion, and different doctrinal principles from his own,
and " abandoned to almost all vice." Their difference of opinion
produced frequent and warm debates. By such controversy, the
subject of this memoir was led to a more careful investigation of the
grounds on which his sentiments were founded ; and the results
were, clearer views of evangelical truth, and a full persuasion that he
had not experienced a change of heart. In another respect, this
person, who was older and more advanced in study, acquired a most
unhappy influence over him. " I was led by him into many sins ;
but God did not leave me ; for he so wrought upon me as to induce
me to forsake his company."
In June, 1767", he became a member of Yale College. He had
previously formed the opinion that he should " at college be in much
better circumstances for performing duty to God than at home."
But in this he was disappointed, for he remarks ; " at college, such,
wickedness was practised as I had never been used to ; so that I
thought it the worst place by far that I had ever seen."*
" Aside from the unhappy intimacy which he successively formed with two
unsuitable companions, there were other reasons for his disgust with college as
a place unfavorable to the cultivation of personal piety. Laxity of principles
and of conduct, was, at that time, predicable of a large proportion of the stu
dents. Many, if not most of the Faculty, and even of the Corporation regard
ed experimental religion as enthusiasm, and were nearly allied, in views and
feeliugs, to their predecessors, who, some years before, had cruelly expelled
David Brainerd, for reasons and under circumstances which will reflect dis
grace on their memory as long as it shall be preserved from oblivion. Under
the influence of such governors, it is no wonder that religion was little regard.
ed by the students generally, and that this serious youth, upon his connexion
with the institution, should have experienced a painful disappointment. But
Yale College has long since undergone a great moral revolution. For the last
thirty years, especially, it has been the seat of more revivals of religion than
have occurred within the tame period in any other portion of this highly favour-

28
Nor were his controversial trials at an end. For though, not long
after his connexion with college, he entirely separated himself from
his former corrupt companion, his circumstances rendered it neces
sary for him to spend much of his time with another, whose religious
views, if less erroneous, were, nevertheless, to a considerable extent,
sectarian, and uncongenial with his own. It was his lot in college,
as he observes, " to room with one of the Church of England persua
sion, and of Arminian principles." From this resulted further dis
putation, and a more thorough examination of the grounds of his
own belief.
Hitherto, he seems to have had little aid in obtaining a knowledge
of the evangelical system, unmixed with the enthusiasm and An-
tinomianism of that period, except from the bible, and the resources
of his own mind, as taught by the Spirit of God. Though the dis
tress of his mind, during the first two years of his collegiate course,
was not so great as in his fourteenth year ; yet the Spirit continued
to strive with him, and generally the follies and vanities of youth
¦were embittered to him. He remained in darkness as to his spirit
ual state, until the summer of 1769, which he mentions as a happy
and ever memorable summer, on account of greater discoveries of
God and religion than any he had enjoyed all his life time before.
He now became acquainted, for the first time, with the writings of
President Edwards, and by perusing them, particularly his treatise
on religious affections, " he acquired a different knowledge of God
from what he had before possessed, and was convinced ' that true
religion is founded in love to God for his moral excellence." "I
read Mr. Edwards,"- he says, " with as much greediness as ever the
luxurious person glutted his appetite. The Divine Spirit gave me
great convictions, and a view of the hatefulness of sin in God's
flight ; of the holiness of God in all his ways ; of the fitness of the
person of Christ for a mediator ; of my proneness to sin ; of the in
finite wisdom of God so to order all events, that he might be glorified.
I longed much to be made holy; to be full of holiness, that I might
serve God in the- beauty thereof." About this time, Sept. 1769, he
entered into a private covenant with God, and after the example of
President Edwards, and many other eminent saints, committed to
paper several resolutions. To these he occasionally added Others,
during fourteen years. They amount in all to fifty.
From this period he turned his attention to the study of Divinity,
as far as was consistent with his classical pursuits, (for he had yet
to remain in college another year,) with his low state of health, and
his impaired eye sight ; a malady which had been induced by his in
tense application to study, and which continued to afflict him, to the
close of life. It appears from his diary that he was not fully satisfied
concerning his being in a gracious state, until sometime after he turn
ed his attention to theology as a science ; and yet, such were the na-
ed State. Its officers generally, have long been as eminent for personal piety,
and attention to moral regimen, as for literature and science ; and it is confi
dently believed that in point of instruction, discipline, and opportunities for
christian society, no similar institution in our land, furnishes to its inmates
greater facilities for Hterary and religious improvement.

24
ture of his exercises, and the sobriety of his deportment, as to fen
der it manifest to others that he had passed from death to life. Nor
is it unusual for persons to exhibit, to those with whom they are con
versant, convincing evidence of having experienced the washing of
regeneration, many months before self distrust, which, in a greater or
less degree, is always generated by true religion, allows them fully
to admit, in their own favor, the conclusion to which such evidence
naturaflyxleads. And there is scarcely a more favorable indication
of genuine conversion to God, than when a person hesitates to judge
himself pious, till, by his principles and his life, he has constrained
others to regard him as such. There can be little reason to doubt
that he was now in a state of justification ; and yet it was not until
December, 1770, that he became, in his own opinion, a child of God.
On the tenth of that month, when he began a regular diary, he wrote
thus : — '" In the morning, while wrestling with God by prayer, Iliad
the greatest discoveries I ever had in my life, of the beauty of holi
ness ; of the holy Wisdom of God's ways ; of the infinite propriety of
all honor and praise to the sacred trinity : also of God's justice in
the damnation of sinners ; of the dying love of Jesus Christ, for such
infinitely hateful worms as men ; of the heinous nature of sin ; of
my mere nothingness in the sight of God : also of the deceitfulness
of my heart. I had such discoveries that my soul seemed almost
drawn from the body, for some minutes, in secret praise to God. I
thirsted fpr such a spirit, that I could praise God enough. I longed
to be full of holiness; free from such a deceitful heart, and to lie ex
ceedingly low before God ; and that mankind would help me to
praise him. I prayed earnestly that the influence of sin and satan
might come to an end." ;
He had taken, his degree at college, the September previous ; and
on the third Sabbath of April following, while residing in his native
parish, he recorded this interesting account of the state of his mind :
" Great presence of God in secret devotion ; sweet satisfaction in
going to God's house, to call upon his name. As there was no prea
chings I read at meeting Mr. Edwards' discourse, on the Excellen
cy of Christ, and it attracted my attention so much, that after meet
ing, near an hour before sun-set, I went forth into the fields to medi
tate on divine things and pray. As I was walking and prayino', a
sweet sense of the beauty of Christ shining forth in those two attri
butes, Majesty and Humility, came into my mind ; and continuing to
contemplate the divine object, my thoughts rose higher and hio-her
till he appeared unspeakably pleasing, lovely, excellent, and the
only fit person for a Redeemer, These views continued for some
minutes, and gave me such a sight of my deformity by sin, and
of his amazing, condescending love, that I so loathed myself, as
exceedingly to desire an entire banishment from self and to be
wholly enfolded in Christ, so that.I could be low enough before God,
and, through Christ, appear comely in his eyes. Ataiight, particu
larly, in the time of secret prayer, a very great sense of divine things
possessed my mind. Such inexpressible beauty and loveliness ap
peared in Christ and holiness, that my soul was, as it were, swal
lowed up ; and I said, None but Christ— none but Christ I longed

25
16 be released from this state pf sin and sorrow, to enjoy the imme
diate presence of God and Christ. I could willingly have left the
world, and all things therein, to go to Christ ; and when this thought
¦came to mind, What if death should seize me this night? I cried,
Come Lord Jesus ; come quickly. I seemed to die awaytas it were,
with desire to be gone ; and those words, IVHom have I in heaven
but thee, and there is none upon earth that 1 desire besides thee, were
exceedingly pleasant to me." *
In the Succeeding month of May, he united with the church in
Turkey Hills, (Granby) ; but owing probably to there being no set
tled minister in the place, he had no opportunity of coming to the
table of the Lord, until the first of December following, when he
wrote thus : " I apprehend this day to be one of the most remarka
ble days God ever favored me with. For he permitted me, though
I am so deeply stained with sin, to wait upon him at his table, and
io meet Christ ih participating the holy ordinance of the Lord's Sup
per ; which participalion I never before enjoyed. Notwithstanding
my base ingratitude and insensibility, a small degree of warm affec
tion, from a view of the solemn scene, influenced the exercises of my
mind. Some sorrow and humiliation engaged my heart ; and as I
received the sacred symbols, I earnestly applied to the throne of
sovereign grace, through Christ, to be admitted to the inestimable
privilege of feasting my famished soul, with those all-excellent and
soul-satisfying beauties of holiness, which are communicated in
plenteous streams from the Redeemer's inexhaustible fulness."
What his views were of the sacred office, and of the qualifications
which it demands, we learn from remarks which he penned nearly a
year before he was clothed with its affecting responsibilities. " My
journey furnished me with many reflections, in particular, concern
ing the work of the ministry, in which I propose to engage ; and the
more 1 reflect upon it, the greater appears the necessity of my care
ful examination. It is truly the greatest work man ever engages to
pursue. And no one, I am bold to maintain, can be in any proper
manner qualified for the employment, unless the Divine Spirit has
stored his mind with, at least, one degree of spiritual understand
ing, that he may, in some measure, be satisfied that he is a child of
the living God. Divine wisdom, wisdom divine, I am engaged for."
In June, 1773, he was licensed as a candidate for the gospel min
istry ; which occasion he thus notices. " I went to the association
at Northington, and was examined on Wednesday, June 2d, and li
censed as a candidate to preach the gospel. But am I fit for it ? O,
I am a filthy nothing. But God' is all ; he can strengthen me ; glo
ry be to his name."
In December of the same year, he was ordained the first pastor of
the church in Farmingbury, now Wolcott, where he remained al
most eighteen years, diligently employed in the arduous duties of
his office. Owing to an uneasiness in the parish, which arose from
no moral delinquency in him, and which has since been generally
regretted by that people, his pastoral relation to them was dissolved
in November 1791 ; and in May following, he was installed over the
first church in Torrington, with very favorable prospects of useful^-
aess. His views and exercises after he had a pastoral charge, are,
4

26
to some extent, expressed in the succeeding extracts from his diary.
« Sept." 8, 1775. — It appears that I am, the chief of my time, cold
in the exercises, of religion. Am I properly qualified for the minis
try? I find no great blessing on my labours. Sin abounds, and
this is a dofeful state ! 0 that I had wisdom and grace ;— that I had
a praying spirit; — that I might become a vessel of honour,— an in-
strumenlpn the hands of God, to build the Redeemer's kingdom."
"July 19, 1777.— The general frame of my mind appears for a
long time to have been cold and insensible, so that I often cry, with
the apostle, O wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from
the body of this death? But I thank God, I sometimes feel what I
am. A constant uneasiness follows^ me every where. -I want the
presence of God. I have but little success in preaching the gospel,
though I have hdtie of some. 1 have lately been reading the first
volume of President Davies' works, and the life of the famous
George Whitefield. When I looked over their lives, their incessant
zeal, love, labours, "and faithfulness for our common Lord and Mas
ter, and reviewed what I have been doing, I felt self-Convicted for
sloth, and t cried, What have I done for Christ ?"
"July 20, Sabbath morn.— -The last night, the best night I have
passed, since I became a preacher of the Gospel. Rose some time
before'day, for the purpose of prayer, and continued in my suppli
cations, with little intermission, till towards sun-rise. I think,
wrestled with some importunity, especially that religion might be
revived. I was earnest that God would grant me wisdom and
grace, and make me faithful in his Work.
*' After meeting. — Preached with the most feeling sense of my sub
ject of any time I can recollect. As attentive an audience as I have
had for a long time. 1 hope God is preparing the way for a glorious
season of refreshing in this place. O Lord, quicken me in the work
of the ministry."
" Sabbath 27. — The week past, more of God's blessed presence,
and more sense of divine things, than any week I can remember.
But still, how cold ! What a strange stupor has filled my soul ! O
that I was alive ! 0 Lord, through Christ quicken me, and fill me
with life, vigour and activity ! Rose early this morning, and spent
some time in prayer. At evening — I think I spoke, this day, as in
Some measure sensible in whose presence I have been."
"December 31, 1778.— Some of the last sands of another year
are running out, and I am still alive. I have passed another season
in the character of a preacher of the gospel ; but What have I done ?
The old complaint returns. 0 the desperate deceitfulness of my
heart ! Who can know it ? A cold heart, a luke warm frame of mind,
a disposition to forget God ; these sometimes are my sad afflictions.
O who can understand the poison of his heart ? and whither would
mine lead me, if left to myself? Sometimes I am at a stand. Some
times, ere I am aware, I find myself handling that deadly thing sin,
which God's soul abhors. Sometimes I feel alive in the duties and'
business of religion, and am refreshed in the sweet employment 
Blessed be God, I have some of his smiles, and these are worth ten
millions of worlds.— I cannot say 'that" I make any progress in the
Christian character; but this I know, that I find no ease, content

27
or satisfaction, in any thing short of the lively exercises of religion.
When I can cry to God witl) some degree of the spirit of a child ;
when, with humble dependence, I can lisp, out Abba Father, then I
feel well, — satisfied with that joy which the world cannot give nor
take away."
There are two very different states of the mind, either of which
will induce a Christian to complain of spiritual cqldness and bar
renness. The one is that in which, for the time being, he is really
cold and fruitless, neglects secret duties, or engages in them with
out comfort, and, in a word, has little feeling, except that which
consists in a painful consciousness that his spiritual condition is
most deplorable. How long a person may be in this criminal state,
and yet be a Christian, it is difficult, if not impossible to determine ;
but that many have guilty experience of it, and for a considerable
period, feel and live, much like sinners who are at ease in Zion, is
manifest from their appearance while in such a condition, and from
their heart breakingacknpwledgements, after they have been brought
to repentance and reformation. The other state of mind alluded
to, is that in which the coldness and dearth complained of, are ren
dered the more perceptible and odious to the'soul, by the presence
of right affections. In this case, the complaint arises not from the
mere force of conscience, but from the influence of those holy emo
tions, which heighten the sense of internal corruption, by contrast.
It will not he pretended that Job, when his eye saw the Almighty ;
nor that Isaiah, when he beheld the^glory of God and his train fill
ing the temple, was in a state of apathy and backsliding. Probably
they never were in the exercise of so much holy affection before ;
and yet the one said : Whepefore, I abhor myself; and the other
exclaimed : Wo is me .' for f am undone ; because I am a man of
unclean lips. The self-loathing of every Christian will, in perhaps
all cases, be proportioned to his cordial desire of moral .excellence,
or, which is the same thing, to the degree in which he is the subject
of holy exercises.*
The reason, then, why the subject of this narrative so frequently
complained of insensibility and sin, as we have seen in several of
the preceding extracts, was not that he was in the first, but that
he was in the last pf the two states of mind that have been describ
ed. It was not possible that he should be habitually the subject of
so many Jjoly emotions as were indicated by his delight in prayer,
his longings after God, his anxiety for the revival of religion, and his
solicitude about the success of his ministerial labours, without dis
covering in his own heart, many corruptions that would have es
caped hi& notice, had ho been Jess spiritual in his affections and
aims. It is to he feared that great numbers are too much inclined
to measu re their piety by the degree of their joy ; as if joy were the
principal or only effect of religion. But this is altogether an erro
neous view of the subject ; far, although there is no enjoyment com-
* No one can question the extraordinary piety of Mr. Bunyan, and yet, in
his Life, expressively entitled, " Grace abounding to the chief of sinners," he
observes : "If hath been my every day's portion to be let into the evil of my
own heart. still made to see such a multitude of corruptions and infirmities
therein. hath caused hanging down of the head, under all niy gifts and
attain ive felt this thorn in the flesh, the very niercy of God to me."

28 % r
parable to that which true religion affords, yet it belongs fo the na
ture of all holy affections, to render the soul observant of its remain
ing pollutions, and to produce a proportionate degree of mourning
and self-abhorrence. David and Paul abound in bitter lamenta
tions over their in-dwelling sins ; and although their religious enjoy
ment rose at times to holy rapture, yet their piety never shone more
conspicuously than when they were brought, by a sense of gurit,,
into the valley of humiliation, and there made to pour their wait
ings and intercessions into the ear of the Most High. But to re
turn :
He frequently speaks of renewing his covenant with God, and ta
exemplify the remarkable solemnity and fervour with which he en-
gageif in the momentous transaction, the following extract, relating
to such an occasion, on one of his birth days, is subjoined.
" Aug. 25, 1779; This day I am thirty years of age. Thirty 5
I start at the sound. The ever blessed Jesus was thirty when he en
tered on his public ministry ; and what an important, all-perfect
example has he set for his followers ! He knew no sin, neither was
guile found in his mouth, and he was ever seen about his Father's.
business. This should teach bis ambasssdors that they are not their
own, but his who died for them, and rose again. His perfect cha^
racter should constrain us not to be slothful, but steadfast, unmove-
able, always abounding, in the work of the Lord. And the age at
which he entered on his public office, should teach us not to be
hasty in assuming any public character; especially that of a preach
er of the gospel. Now, O Lord, may these thoughts suitably affect
jny mind and conduct. May I be sufficiently roused to look intoi
the character to which I have been called as a preacher of the ever
lasting gospel. May I feel the greatness and importance of the
work ; and my absolute dependence for wisdom and strength to be
faithful. 0 Lord God the Father, may I look to thee as the foun
tain of all things. Lord JesUs, may I look to thee as the Mediator
of grace and glory — the great medium to communicate to me all
desirable good. And O thou ever-blessed Spirit, may I look to
thee, as the Spirit of life, activity, and consolation, to help me to
Jesus.^and assist me in all my infirmities. Great God, make me an
aWelKinister of the New Testament. Furnish me abundantly with
all gifts and graces ; with the best assistance for prayer and medi
tation — for preaching and conversation. Surround me with the best
circumstances for study — for looking largely and clearly into the
things of the kingdom. Give me clear thoughts, a sound judgment,
a ready memory, and a heart enlarged with love. O thou sacred
Three'! grant me all assistance, that, for the future, I may be alive
before thee. Pardon mine iniquities and my unfaithfulness; and
henceforth may I walk before God, carefully observe all my solemn
resolutions, and be blessed at home and abroad, — as an individual,
as a neighbour, as a Christian minister, and as a member of the glo
rious church of the first born, whose names are written in heaven,"
It were easy to adduce from his private papers, many other pas
sages of equal interest, but the preceding are sufficient to show that
his religion was seated deep in the heart, and that with him the min
isterial office was something more than a mere profession for life^

20
Jind was undertaken and pursued from other motives than a love of
filthy lucre. No further extracts, therefore, will be presented, ex
cept as they may serve to illustrate particular traits of his character,
«r to disclose the principles by which he regulated his conduct.
His mind was distinguished less by brilliancy, than by strength,
and patience of research. He seems to have entertained a just opin
ion of his own mental powers ; for he speaks of his fondness for
metaphysical disquisitions, and of his genius as naturally formed for
hard, deep study. He was more familiar with the writings of Ed
wards, than with those of any other divine ; and the peculiar attach
ment which he manifested to the opinions and reasonings of that in
comparable theologian, arose from a clear perception and a devout
experience of their truth and importance. To him no branch of
study was dry and uninviting,- that resulted in enlarging the boun
daries of moral science. And although few minds are more fitted
than his -was, for abstract investigation, the object of his researches
never terminated in the attainment of mere speculative knowledge.
Whether examining the principles of the moral law, doctrinal posi
tions, cases of conscience, or modes of church government, he aimed
equally.at practical results. He waived the investigation of no im
portant subject in the department of theology, because it is attended
with difficulties ; and, indeed, he left dissertations or sermons, on al
most all the topics of debate, however abstruse, that were agitated in
fiis day.
His sermons were not hasty, immature compositions. They were
distinguished by the importance of their subjects, by argument, me
thod, and perspicuity, and were richly fraught with matter. Every
discourse was a thorough discussion of some point of Christian dob-
trine, or practice, closing with an impressive application to the con
science and the heart.
He possessed not the graces either of style or of elocution ; for he
seemed tp aim little higher in these respects, than to be free from
positive defect. And 8" it fie considered that his manner of delivery
was ordinary, though generally characterized by a great degree of
fervour, and jet, that his discourses almost invariably rivetted the
attention, and satisfied the desires, of the more intelligent and pious
of his hearers, it must be admitted that his mind itself was of a high
order, and thoroughly furnished.
He had an inextinguishable thirst for knowledge, which rendered
him indefatigable in his researches, and observant of every new
thought, or valuable hint, that was suggested by others. In these
respects he was unquestionably influenced by habitual regard to his
15th and 16th resolutions. " I resolve to improve every opportuni
ty to investigate the truths of .the holy writings." — " I resolve to
collect what truths I can, that will be of service to me, from the
writings of, other men, and also from conversation, God helping." —
But as he was naturally less fitted for extensive and familiar inter
course with mankind, than for the solitude and stillness of retire
ment, it was in his library that the greatest accessions were made to
his stock of knowledge. To say merely that he read many books,
would be to say only that which would still leave his character as a
scholar equivocal ; for it often happens that those who are exceed-

30
ingly greedy of books; are far from being equally distinguished by
their attainments. '-He was not so much what is ordinarily called a
great reader, as a constant, deliberate, reflecting reader. Possess
ing in an eminenent degree that enviable command over his mind,
which enabled him to absorb in profound attention to the matter in
hand, all curiosity respecting what might be presented in subsequent
pages, he proceeded no faster with an author, than he comprehended
the sense, and permanently reposited the most important ideas in his
memory. Seldom, therefore, was he unable to analyze a volume, and
present, extemporaneously; a connected abstract of its contents, seve
ral years after- the perusal." And yet no man, perhaps, who wrote and
preached as much, borrowed less fromothers. That his performances
Were not' improved by his extensive acquaintance with authors, rt
would be in vain to affirm. But whatever assistance he gained from
reading or conversation, all the ideas were thoroughly digested, made
to fall naturally into his own train of thoughts, and reduced to his
own style and manner.
His acquaintance with some of the learned languages was intimate
and critical. Thirty years after he left college, he was so familiar
with Horace, as to be able, without reviewing that difficult author, to
conduct some students through his. works, making at each recita
tion such profound critical remarks, as that one of those pupils,
though at the time cherishing indefinite expectations of more perfect
instruction in his future academic course, has since been heard tp
observe, that" he found in college, no instructor in the languages more
competent and 'thorough.
In early life he carefully perused the works of Homer to a con
siderable extent ; and to the day of his death, was able to read the
Septuagint with correctness and ease. The study of Hebrew he did
not commence till he was past the middle of life. And as a proof,
both of his attainments in that tongue, and of his distance from every
thing like ujiseemly pretension, it may not be improper to state, that
the writer of this narrative, being a few years since in his1 study , and
seeing the Hebrew Bible, lying by his side, ventured to ask him
how far he had perused the original of the Old Testament. He
replied that he had been "through it," and, with a voice modestly
depressed, added, " three times." It would be well if ministers.
generally had been " through it" even once, with as much careful
attention as he was accustomed to devote to every branch of knowl
edge which he pursued.
He was exceedingly attached to the study of history, and from the
days of his childhood, he pursued it with avidity. And such was his
knowledge of both profane and ecclesiastical history, that he was
rarely consulted regarding a point in either, without being able to
impart the information desired. Hence he was uncommonly quali
fied to be instructive in the family, in the circle of his brethren, and
in general society. His performances in the pulpit, aUo abounded in
historical illustrations and proofs.
In the art of stenography also, he was skilful, and wrote a large
proportion of his sermons altogether in symbols, In the latter part
of his life, however, he partially desisted from the practice, on ac
count of the disease in his eyes, which rendered it difficult, in thV

31
delivery of his discourses, to trace, with sufficient readiness, the ar
bitrary and crowded characters of short hand.
Sacred music he cultivated both as an art and a science. And such
were his inventive powers, and his acquaintance with the intricate
principles of modern harmony, that he produced many pieces of
church music possessing considerable excellence. As a proof of
their merit, it is sufficient to observe that they are mostly of the style
in which the celebrated Dr. Arnold often composed for the church,
and that numbers of them are still in use, by several highly cultiva
ted choirs in New-England.
But theology was his favorite study : here it was that his under
standing and his heart delighted to range, more than in any other
field of science. Here his most vivid perceptions and lively emo
tions found their objects. His library, though it would not be con
sidered large at the present day, was scarcely surpassed by that of
any minister of the generation to which he belonged. It was abun-,
dantly sufficient for one who duly pondered what he read, and was
selected with the judgment of a scholar and a divine. If it contain
ed any thing which bore no important relation to his profession, it
consisted chiefly of certain articles in ail extensive Encyclopedia,
which are necessary to the completeness of every. general dictionary
of science. He procured no books merely for the purpose of refer
ence, but of attentively perusing the whole of every volume, and
thoroughly digesting its contents. And such were his critical habits
as a reader, that it is questionable, whether a material instance of
false typography can be found in any of his volumes, English, Latin,
or Greek, which he has not corrected with his pen. This remark ex
tends equally to those books which have, and to those which have not
a printed list of errata. — The use which many make of overgrown
libraries, evidently tends to make them miscellaneous and superfi
cial, rather than accurate and profound. At any rate, it is believed
that of the many eminent divines in New-England, who for nearly a
century have been pouring light on several parts of Europe, as well
as on the American Israel, few had an extensive command of books.
That great advantages may be derived from copious libraries, cannot
be denied ; but it is equally true that a majority of our most able
theologians have attained this eminence, by mastering a few authors
of peculiar merit, and then by humbly relying, under God, on the
faithful application of their own powers. And who that has ever stood
on the ramparts of Zion in modern times, has 8one more than they,
to build and defend her towers ?
The subject of this sketch, though extensively learned, did not,
however, fill a large space in the eye of the public, as an author
His publications consist principally of a few sermons', and a number
of pieces inserted occasionally in religious magazines ; all on sub
jects of primary importance, and exhibiting the piety and talent for
whicli he was distinguished. He left a variety of papers worthy of
the press ; among which is a course of uncommonly able and instruc
tive sermons on the 17th chapter of John. These appear to have
been designed for publication ; but whether they are yet to be pre
sented to the world, must depend in a great measure, on the degree

32, ¦
m whichthe outlines of the latter portion of the series, shall be found
to have been filled up by their venerable author.
It was one of the most prominent traits of his character, that he
made all his literary pursuits subservientto the momentous business
of his holy calling. He daily consecrated his time and talents to
the service of Christ, and made every branch of his learning tribu
tary to his improvement as a christian and a minister.
His life, it is believed, was as correct an exemplification of the
practical rules of the gospel, as can well be found even among the
most devoted ministers of Christ. Scarcely has any person, in any
station, uttered fewer words at random. Possessing a wonderful
command over his passions, provocation rarely betrayed him into
expressions which demanded regret; and, carefully guarding against
all undue animal excitement, even if others in his company were fa
cetious, it is not recollected that he ever uttered a sentence inconsist
ent with the dignity and sobriety becoming a minister of the gospel.
From useless compliments, jesting, and every species of lightness in
conversation, he conscientiously abstained. He related no anec
dotes calculated to produce excitement by their wit or drollery, and
to no smart repartee was he ever known to reply. This was to be
ascribed not to the want of ready invention, but to the influence of
fixed principle, as appears from the following passage in his private
vyritings. " Whilst I was at college, and before, I never took much
satisfaction in jesting and joking, I thought it best then, and do
think so still, never to return a joke; for I believe there has been
the most abominable wickedness committed in this kind of exercise.''
His eldest son has observed, " Though he frequently smiled, I nev
er heard him laugh." The question here is not so much whether
all laughter is sinful, as whether his total abstinence from it, did not
indicate extraordinary self-command and great purity of motive.
It may possibly bejnferred by some who had no personal acquaint
ance with him; that he must have exhibited the appearance of habit
ual gloom, if not of moroseness. But such a deduction would be alto
gether unjust. There was far less repulsiveness in his unalterable
fravity, than attraction in the accompanying mildness that glowed in
is eye and tempered the whole expression of his countenance
There is an ample medium between morbid dejection and a mirthful"
mood; to wit, cheerfulness, "which may be Considered only as a
modification of joy— a sort of perpetual gladness," and of which the
subject of this memoir had no diminutive share.
, , He excelled as a casuist, and as a guide to enquiring souls
Scarcely any question in divinity, or case of conscience could be
presented to him, but he was able to solve it immediately by appro
priate texts of scripture or by the application of principles which
have their foundation in the word of God. Often blest with revivals
among his own people, and frequently called to labour in other re
vivals, as well at a considerable distance from home, as in neigh
boring towns, he was remarkably qualified to meet the objections
and cavils of opposers; to strip the stupid of their excuses, to guide
the anxious sinner to Christ, and to administer the requisite aid to
the lambs of the fold

33
His talents for investigation, his familiar acquaintance with the
constitution and usages of our churches, together with his great
practical wisdom, rendered him able in ecclesiastical councils, and
gave his opinions great influence with those who were associated
with him on such occasions.
His customary method of administering reproof was highly wor
thy of imitation. The guilty party was not personally exposed, in
public, and thus kindled into resentment ; but tenderly addressed in
private, — agreeably to his 21st resolution : " I resolve not to tell
any person his faults before company for the future;" nor in these
private interviews with the delinquent, was it his practice to be
profuse in the use of words. He was commonly successful in these
efforts ; but the happy effect was generally wrought by a word fitly
spoken,^-bj an argument rendered doubly powerful by its brevity
and its directness. a
Of his exemplary economy in the management of his secular con
cerns, it is the more proper to speak, both because it is a quality es
sential to those ministers who have but a scanty stipend allowed
them, and because it is too often supposed to be rather a peculiar
natural endowment, than an attribute which they are under a moral
obligation to cultivate and display. It cannot indeed be question
ed that there is in some, a greater natural aptitude than in others, to
judge correctly respecting the probable comparative results of this
and the other expenditure, and therefore to make their appropria
tions with practical wisdom. But so far as economy consists in the
purchase of those articles which it may be easily seen will dous sub
stantial good, instead of those which it may as easily be seen, can
but gratify our taste or our pride, it is a quality of which no man,
certainly no minister of the gospel, can be innocently destitute. He
cannot be greatly deficient in this respect, and avoid the alternative
of coming to want, or of calling on his people foi* subsidies which,
were he sufficiently provident, might, in most instances perhaps, be
needless. • , „
Upon him, however, whose character is attempted to be delinea
ted in these pages, no defect on the score of economy could be char
ged. Without patrimony, and receiving, till within a few years of
his death, a very small salary, he yet, by the assistance of his frugal
and industrious companion; brought up six children ;* assisted one
of them in procuring a collegiate education, and left his family in
possession of a valuable farm. It should be observed, however, that
his property was principally acquired before that unprecedented in
crease of the expense of living, which was induced, some years
since, by the wars in Europe, and which has, in a great measure,
continued to the present time. And althqugh the nominal stipend
of most clergymen is now nearly twice as great as it was before that
change in the times, the ratio between their salaries and their ne
cessary expenditures, was manifestly more favourable to them prej
viously to that event, than it has ever been since. His economy,
* Mr. Gillett was married December, 1779, to Adah, the third daughter of
Deac. Josiah Rogers, of Farmingbury, — a descendant ef Rev. John Rogers, the
martyr. Of their six children, five are now living.
5

34
always widely remote from parsimony, and especially his success
ful management in training uplhis sons in habits of industry and
providence, were the more remarkable, as no man almost, was ever
more secluded from the bustle of secular avocations. He laboured
not atall on his farm, except in the summer season, and then only a
few days, and but a few hours in the day. He knew as little as Ed
wards did, respecting his agricultural concerns, after his sons were
of sufficient age to attend to them. He was devoted to the solitude
of the study; and when not engaged in parochial or other profes
sional service that called him from home, appeared to feel an une&?
siness that nothing could remove but his accustomed converse with
the tomes of the learned and pious dead. And though he occasion
ally sought relaxation in book-binding, an art in which he attained
considerable skill, and by which he rendered much service to the
^inity, such was his attachment to the place of his musings, that
most parts of the mechanical operation were performed in his belov
ed cloister.
Another leading trait in his character, was that he did every thing
•methodically and in season. At a particular hour he retired at
night, and at a particular hour he rose in the morning. He was
regular in his diet, in his exercise, and in his seasons ot private de
votion : for there exists abundant evidence that he had daily in view
his 19th resolution. " I resolve to present my petitions before God
in secret, if possible,, three times a day, and oftener if I have oppor
tunity."— He was distinguished for his punctuality in the fulfilment
of his public and private engagements. Nothing but same serious
physical impediment, or the call of some unexpected but greater du
ty, ever prevented his seasonable attendance at every religious
meeting which he had appointed, whether it were near or remote.
And till the infirmities of age had considerably impaired his bodily
vigour and his^esolution, few ministers, it is believed, have been
more scrupulously punctual in attending the sessions of Associa
tion, Consociation, and those other voluntary and more frequent
meetings of the clergy ; which are observed in many districts, and
from which so much spiritual benefit has resulted to them and to the
churches. Not only was he regularly and seasonably present at
those various meetings of his brethren, during a period of forty
years, but he was rarely unprepared to perform the service which
had been assigned him. He was ready with his sermon, his disser
tation, his exegesis, or whatever else was expected at his hands ;
thus exhibiting an instructive example, both of attendance and prep
aration, ia which the life and utility of such ministerial associations
consist. But in nothing was his characteristic regularity more con
spicuous and^exemplary, than in his timely arrangements for the ar
rival of the Sabbath. With him holy time commenced in practice,
as well as in opinion, precisely at sun-set the day preceding. His
devout attachment to it, was indicated, not only by his uniformly
calling it the Lord^s day, and by his abstinence from every book,
expression or act, which would be regarded as a violation of its
sanctity ; but also by rendering on the day preceding, as far as was"
practicable, those attentions to his person, which were necessary to

35
decency of appearance in the house of God, but which, by most oth
ers, are deferred it is to be feared, till the morning of the Sabbath.
Although the breast of every saint is the habitation of all the
graces of the spirit, yet, in different individuals, they exist in differ
ent proportions. This is one reason why there is so great a moral
diversity among persons who, perhaps, are equally pious. Some
of the qualities most observable in the religious character of Mr.
Gillett, were the following :
An abiding sense of the evil of sin. He often speaks of partic-
lar sins in such terms of bitter abhorrence, as might lead one, who
never realized the extent and spirituality of the divine law, to sup
pose he had committed crimes of the most atrocious kind, whereas
on the contrary, his reference is perhaps only to some indiscreet
word, some unholy thought, or defective motive. Of many exam
ples, one only must suffice. Referring to his conduct soon after he
commenced his collegiate course, he says, " I committed such sins,
that many times since, I could not think of them without horror;
such as spending the Sabbath in vain talking, &c." There are
much greater sins than the only one here specified, which excite
no " horror" in the minds of many who flatter themselves that
they are in the way to heaven. But whence this sensibility to the
evil of sin ; a sensibility which numbers would doubtless regard as
being extreme, if not morbid ! It arose from his view of the divine
law, which was the subject of his study, and the source of his de
light. " I had such a view of God's law as most excellent, that I
went to God on the bended knees of my soul, and, through Christ,
requested the Spirit to teach me wondrous things out of it."
His longings -after greater holiness ivere habitual and ardent.
This appears from many of the preceding extracts ; and further
proof might be produced from his diary, under almost every date.
The following* passages are selected, not because they are more
striking than many others, but because they are short. " I pleaded
earnestly at the foot of sovereign grace, to be universally emptied
of self and sin; that I might receive communications from Christ's
fulness of holiness ; that I might possess every holy grace ; that I
might acquire true wisdom m its utmost latitude; and thus be
qualified to serve God acceptably on earth, and enjoy him in heav
enly glory.'* " I was conscious to myself that I loved holiness,
such as the gospel requires. This led me further to consider
wherein consists the happiness constantly enjoyed at God's right
hand. I determined it must consist in the continual communica
tion of holiness to his creatures, that they may forever increase in
conformity to God in excellence, From such a view I shrank into
nothing, as it were, and desired to put on Christ, that I might be
prepared to take r jssession of this sweet enjoymenV " Great God,
communicate to me, for Christ's sake, wisdom and holiness, that
the charms of sin may be broken, or I die !" " O, 'for spiritual,
spiritual, spiritual freedom !" * _ •_• -?m
His gratitude was a living and influential pnncipW " Glory
and praise to God for the least favor," is an expression of frequent
occurrence in his private papers ; and it was prompted as well by
the reception of ordinary temporal mercies, as by the enjoyment of

36
more precious spiritual blessings. He never mentions a journey,
whetherslong or short, withouPrecording his gratitude for certain
circumstances attending it; and especially for every instance in
Which he was favored with opportunities for prayer and religious
conversation. *
The following passage, penned after a journey of moderate
length, will shew how easily his grateful sensibilities were excited.
" O how many times and by how many methods does God discover
his perfections to me, a poor, wretched, ungrateful worm ! God is
kind, even when I forget it. If I think not of liim, he is kind ! He
has condescended to go with me and take me into the arms of his
tender protection, wherever I have been. The mercies of God are
so many that 1 cannot reckon them up. He allowed me to go to N-~,
and see many pleasant scenes; to find some sweet religious con?
versation, and to return home in safety ! He allows me constantly
to enjoy the comforts of life, and the glorious privileges of the gbs-
pel ! I may pray to God ! / may study God ! And I find, many
times, sweet communion with him in prayer, and in contemplating
his divine glories !" He gratefully noticed the goodness of God
when acts of kindness and hospitality were shewn him. " I found
persons where 1 went remarkably kind and hospitable, which, at
times, filled me with wonder, that God should grant the enjoyment
of any favour to me, who am so polluted with sin, and who exercise
it in such amazing acts of treachery and rebellion."
Duty was alike his aim and his delight. On this subject he was
peculiarly considerate and conscientious. If he spoke, it was evi
dently from fore-thought ; — if he acted, it was from a sense of mo
ral obligation. What is duty ? was a question that seemed to be
ever present in his mind, and influential over his conduct. And to
him, the path of duty was the path of enjoyment; for he writes, 
" It is good to wait upon God, to visit his house, to have communion
with him in secret, to travel wisdom's ways, and investigate the
grand theme of holiness. Blessed be the name of God for ever
more !"
His piety was eminently of a disinterested character. In his
closet he was accustomed to plead as earnestly for others as for him
self. Such was his diffusive benevolence, that in many of his most
importunate addresses to God, he left himself entirely out of view
and pleaded the spiritual necessities of a world lying in wickedness'
f O that religion might revive ! that God's goings might be seeii
throughout the' earth." "The same ardent longings for holiness
wisdom, self-abasement, and the revival of religion continued • but-
stronger in degree. Blessed be God for any favours." « I seemed
to travail in birth ft* souls, that Christ's kingdom might come and that
the earth might be filled with the glory of God." « My soul waited
with earnest entreaty at the throne ot grace, that God, for Christ's
sake, and tofthe confusion of all his enemies, would extend his in
finite mercy to the children of men, and enlarge his spiritual king
dom." « Jfiiid a few moments to mourn and lament at God's feet
not only for my own heinous conduct, but likewise, for the abomina
tions of the earth." " Earnest solicitations at God's footstool for
an entire Subversion of every sin, and for the bright beams of divine

31
illumination so to shine into the heart of each human being, as td
dispel the darkness which at present awfully shades thetminds of
men." «, Ardently besought God, for Christ's sake, to revive reli
gion, and destroy all things contrary to holiness. I thirsted exceed
ingly to be a powerful instrument of destruction to sin and Satan,
and to promote Christ's spiritual kingdom here, 0 what a happy
time it would be, I thought, if all flesh would glory only in the
Lord; for God appeared unspeakably glorious, especially in Jesus
Christ." Nor did his benevolence spend itself in secret lamenta
tions and prayers in reference to the moral wretchedness of our
species. Asidefrom his labours at home and in neighbouring par
ishes, he repeatedly. encountered' the toils of missionary service.
Thus he went as a missionary into the waste places of New-London
and Windham counties, many years before the formation of the
Domestic Missionary Society, which is now such an unspeakable
blessing to several feeble parishes in Connecticut. With the appro
bation of the association of New-Haven county, he, in the year
1789 or 17-90, performed a missionary tour of several months in the
Hey settlements of Vermont, almost wholly at his own expense ; his
pulpit being supplied a part of the time by his brethren in the vi
cinity. And afterwards also, by appointment from the Connecticut
Missionary Society, he weht several times into thdse destitute re
gions, on the same errand of good will to men.
He was exceedingly anxious in regard to the effect of his minis
try on others. He wishej to«deliver not only his own soiil, but the
souls of all who heard him. It was not enough that being faithful,
his skirts were not likely to be stained with the blood' of his people.
The great object of his labours and prayers was, that their blood
might never be shed. His diary con'tains many passages which in
dicate quite as much solicitude for the success of his ministrations,
as for his own salvation. This, indeed, is so visible in some of the
extracts already produced, and was so manifest in his actual servi
ces, that further quotation is deemed superfluous.
Few persons have been more modest, unassuming, or free from
an envious disposition. Habitually esteeming others better than
himself; no one ever preached before him without interesting his
feelings, and gaining his approbation, in proportion to the real merit
of the discourse. He seemed to rejoice as much in the superior elo
quence of some of his brethren as if it had been all his own. And
whenever they displayed peculiar learning or ingenuity in their
performances, his admiration of their powers and attainments, ap
peared to produce in him an utter forgetfulness of any similar ex
cellence in himself. His knowledge of Hebrew, as has already
been remarked, was extensive and accurate ; but such was his
aversion to every thing like seeming ostentation, that even in the
company of his most intimate brethren, he seldom alluded to that
language, and never, except when cases of criticism, or exegesis,
were depending- He was so much in the habit of expending his
views towards the infinite expanse which lay beyond the bounda
ries of his own knowledge, as to take it for granted that others, anti
especially those who had enjoyed the peculiar advantages of a more
modern education, must know more than himself. Whenever it

38
transpired to what extent he had pursued any branch of Hterature
or science, it was almost invariably the result of direct interrogation
Or of incidental circumstances. Indeed, it is difficult to conceive
how he could have been more unostentatious of his learning, if he
had supposed himself uncommonly illiterate.
But least of all was he accustomed to speak of himself as a Chris
tian. He rarely said any thing respecting his own religious exer
cises ; and he had by no means a favourable opinion of the piety of
those who talk much of their experiences. This was especially true
as respects those preachers and exhorters Who, on every occasion,
are proclaiming what theyhave felt or seen. His 30th resolution
discloses the principle which governed his conduct in relation to
this subject: " I resolve not to boast of my interest in Christ at
any time ; but to behave with all modesty and humility before God
and man, relating to these things, always."
Such are some of the features of the character and life of this ex
cellent minister of Christ. It is not pretended that he was a per
fect man. There is no such being in our fallen world. And although
it is not known that any scoffer, or other ungodly person, ever ques
tioned the piety of his heart, or the propriety of his deportment, he
was accustomed to entertain the most humiliating views of himself,
in both. these respects. He felt himself to be a poor sinner, and
founded all' his hope of salvation on the mercy of God, through
Christ. His sense of personal vileness, and his self-loathing on ac
count of it, have appeared in several qLth^ preceding extracts ; and
among many others of a similar comple?ion, that might be produced,
is the following : " This day spent in fasting, reading, and prayer
in secret retirement, for forgiveness, of my sins, and for divine assist
ance to enable me to perform all my duty to God ; and also for the
revival of religion. I discovered more of my heart than ever before,
and found it so awfully under the power of sin, that I questioned
whether I had any love to God. It appeared a hold of all filth and
poison, so deadly and infectious as to pollute my whole soul. I
seemed a vile hypocrite, and all my religion on a sandy foundation
of self. I tried to weep, but could not. I tried to mourn, but was
dreadfully stupid and senseless. But I committed myself to God,
iu. the name of Christ, and waited the event."*
It was, doubtless, a humbling sense of his sinfulness in the sio-ht
of God, which more than any thing else, rendered him so peculiarly
unexceptionable in his deportment. Had he been satisfied with him-*
self, he had been much less grave, discreet, and exemplary.. It is
they who think themselves to be something, who are nothing in the
sight of God and men.
* It is worthy of remark, that the above was' written only, the next day after
the almost rapturous enjoyment which he experienced on the third Sabbath of
April, 1771, andkof which an account has already been given in his own words.
Nor are such great and sudden transitions of religious feeling uncommon
Most Christians, however great their attainments, find that the regions of joy
ful and painful experience, are not, ordinarily, far apart. The mount and the
vale are contiguous. This, is farther exemplified in the instance before us ; for
what was " the event" which he awaited ? It was Such, that on the evening of
the^same day, he had occasion to write, — "A lively sense of spiritual thiDgs
and sweet repose (through Christ) in God." '

39
That such a minister should have been a very successful labourer
in the vineyard of Christ, is not wonderful ; for God delights to
honour those who honour him. Under his ministry at Wolcott there
were seasons of refreshing/from the presence of the Lord, in conse
quence of which considerable accessions were made to the church.
During the period of his connexion with his flock in Torrington,
there were three extensive revivals of religion, in which, with great
freedom from enthusiasm and irregularity, large numbers were hope
fully brought into the fold of the chief Shepherd. Of the former of
these last mentioned revivals, he published a detailed and interest
ing account in one of the early volumes of the Connecticut Evan
gelical Magazine. There were other seasons also, particularly du
ring his ministry at Torrington, when many were made to feel the
influence of truth, and to yield their hearts to God.
During a few of the last years of his life, his age and infirmities
rendered him, in a measure, incapable of discharging some of the
duties of his calling ; but he ever retained the same good will to
wards his people, and the same disposition to serve them, to his dy
ing day. It must be admitted that he was in the habit Of visiting
them less than was desirable, and less than many other ministers
visit theirs. But like the immortal Edwards, the man whom he
most admired, and whom, in several respects, he most resembled, he
was constitutionally of a retiring disposition, and fully sensible that
he did not possess that ease of address,* which, however it may fit
one to be agreeable and instructive in conversation, is not always
associated with qualities of much greater importance ; a capacity
for deep investigation, and a talent for lucid exhibitions of truth in
the pulpit. With only these two abatements — the one to be made
on account of constitutional reserve, — the other on account of re- ,
cent bodily infirmity, and neither of tbem, it is believed, involving*
any moral defect; he was one of the most faithful and useful minis
ters, that have ever lived to bless the churches in the region to
which he belonged. As a scholar, a christian, and a divine, and al
so as a discreet and exemplary pastor, he probably had few superi
ors. But no endowments of mind, and no estimable qualities of heart,
would exempt him from the infliction of the sentence, Bust thou art,
and unto dust thou shalt return .' Favored with a firm constitution,
and being regular in his diet and exercise, he possessed perhaps,
unusual health and muscular energy, through nearly 'the whole pe-
* In conversation even upon literary and religions subjects, he did not excel
unless his thoughts were communicated in an argumentative, or didactic form.
Then he was free, copious, and occasionally eloquent. He was commonly most
communicative, when others by propounding important questions, selected the
topic, and thus furnished him employment. But whatever were the subject, he
had litde of that native readiness and fluency, which are so necessary to the
sprightliness of animated interlocutory discourse. Besides he was naturally
diffident, and the consciousness of deficiency in colloquial powers, often
served no doubt to increase his embarrassment. Hence, unquestionably, he
was many times reserved, when he would gladly have been "liberal of his
knowledge." Had he been constitutionally more communicative, he would
have been probably more engaging as a man, and more useful as a minister.
But in what one man can be found all the qualities that would be desirable in
every minister of the gospel ? '¦'-'

40
riod of his life. It was but recently that any failure in the power*
Of his" mind was perceptible. And in none of them Was there any
material decay, except in his memory, which, for the last two years
of his life, was so much impaired as to render him, in a few instan
ces, neglectful of the regular sequence of the several parts of public
worship. Upon being informed of these small mistakes, which are
committed occasional Iy- by almost all who are far advanced in the
ministry, ,he was sensibly affected; and, wishing to officiate no, lonr
ger than his services were edifying and acceptable to his people ; he
proposed to them, in the fall of 1824, to release him from public du
ty till the following spring, and to employ some other preacher in his
stead ; at the same time voluntarily relinquishing his salary du
ring that period.
At the close of that period he resumed his labors with improved
health and powers; and thenceforth continued, with few exceptions,
to supply his pulpit as long as he lived ; officiating even on the last .
Sabbath "of his life with his accustomed correctness and fervor. On
the following Thursday, Jan. 19, 1826, when his spirit winged its
way to a better world, he ate, exercised and studied, as usual. Un
til! nearly the close of that day, nothing different in the state of his
mind or body was noticed, except that, in the morning devotions of
the family, he appeared to be uncommonly copious and moved in the
confession of sin, and that, at noon, he just mentioned a shooting
pain in his breast, which was supposed to be a rheumatic affection,
with which he had for several months been troubled in other parts
of his body. About, 4 o'clock P. M. his wife having occasion to step
into his study; and to ask him. a question, observed that he made no
reply. The question Was repeated, and no answer was returned.
Hastening to him, and perceiving that he was uniible to speak, she
withdrew the chair in which he was sitting, to a greater distance
from the fire, supposing him to be faint. Help being soon obtained,
'he was laid upon a bed ; and after speaking a few times in short sen
tences, of great difficulty in respiration, and finally of Universal
numbness, he ceased to breathe. From his having ^been heard to
leave his study and enter other rooms but a short time before his
alarming situation was discovered, it is concluded that nothing un
common ailed him, till within little more than an hour of his death.
Thus suddenly, but not till after a long life of piety and useful
ness*, departed this eminent servant of Christ, in the 77th year of
his age, and 53d of his ministry. The funeral solemnities were
performed on the following Sabbath, in the presence of a numerous
and feeling concourse of people, of whom a large proportion were
from the neighbouring towns. And on every countenance seemed
to be written, A great man is fallen in Israel.
Many are eager to ascertain the last words of the dying, as if
these were peculiar indications of the previous character, and the
future allotment. But generally nothing can be more uncertain as
a ground- of judgment. For, independently of a regard to what the
principles and the life have been, nothing is to be certainly known
respecting the moral state of a person, frpm either the hopes or th$'
fears, the joys or the miseries, he may express in his last moments.

41
At best they can be no more than probable evidences. But even if
it were otherwise, — if the remarks of the dying were quite decisive
of the state 'of their hearts, it can scarcely be considered as a mat
ter of regret that the subject of this memoir left the world without
being able to disclose the exercises of his mind. His character as a
child of God was previously established to the entire satisfaction of
all who knew him. All that his dearest friends could have desired
him to say in the final hour, to indicate his preparation for death,
had bee© impressively uttered iu his daily practice, during the peri
od of nearly sixty years. As to the necessity of any additional evi
dence of piety to be furnished on a death bed, no matter how silently
or suddenly, those are separated from, theiearth, whose lives partake
as largely as his did, of the spirit of his 46th resolution:— "I re
solve to esteem this life a pilgrimage state; to grow in grace, lean
ing wholly on Christ ; to live in continual preparation for death,
that when God calls I may be ready to enter joyfully into the mar-
-riage supper of the Lamb."*
To fulfil such a resolution m the manner he appears to have done,
is an achievement which not only renders, death, at any moment, a
blessing; but involves infinitely more dignity and worth of charac
ter, than is possessed by any of those whom the men of this world
denominate wise and great. And whoever has done this, has dis
played a higher species of heroism than was ever exhibited by the
most renowned of fhe Ptolemies and Csesars ; because in the strength
of Israel's God, he has gained a moral victory over himself, which
they never achieved, and therefore has nothing to fear beyond the
grave. Their memory shall rot, but he shall be had in everlasting
remembrance. * It may perhaps l>e a matter of regret to his bereaved people, that he left no
writing indicative of his religious exercises, while connected with them; for his
private papers do not extend even to the time of his separation from his, former
charge. This deficiency would unquestionably have been supplied, had he been
able, in his last years, to finish a narrative of his life which he began, but which,
owing to infirmities, he did not pursue to any great extent. But the whole ten
or of his life during his residence with them, showed how fully he was under the
influence of principles and feelings so clearly developed in the copious extracts
which have been submitted to their inspection. 6

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