worst terrors, that the spirit passed away in breathings of unutterable love and immortal hope. Thus died one of that seemingly forlorn, desolate, forsaken company; I hope, thus others died. But one such example mingles with the terrors and agonies of that night so much that is heavenly, soothing, cheering, that I can look at the scene without overwhelming gloom, and without one doubt of the perfect goodness of God.

The friend to whom I have referred was not only my friend, but most dear to several, who worship in this house. For their sakes, more than my own, I would say something of his character; though in truth I have a higher object than to minister to any private grief. This is not the place for the utterance of personal feeling. This house was reared not for the glory even of the best and the greatest of men, but for the glory of God, and for the spiritual edification of his worshippers. I feel, however, that God is honored and man edified by notices of such of our race as have signally manifested the spirit of the Divinity in their lives, and have left a bright path to guide others to a better world.

The friend of whom I speak was one of the few, who seem set apart from the race by blamelessness of life and elevation of spirit. All who have had opportunities of knowing him well testify, by a spontaneous impulse, that they knew no purer, nobler human being. Some think, that on the whole he was the best man whom it has been their privilege to know. Such a man may be spoken of even in the house of God, in that place where flattery is profanation, and God, not man, is to be adored. Our friend did not grow up among us. He came here an exile from a distant land; and, poor and unfriended, was to earn his bread with toil; and under these disadvantages he not only won friends and a home, but was adopted with a love and trust, which few inspire who have been known from infancy to age.

The character which secured such love it is not difficult to depict, because greatness is simple, artless, and lies open to every eye. It was his distinction, that he united in himself those excellencies, which at first seem to repel each other, though in truth they are of one loving family. This union was so striking, as to impress even those who did not enjoy his intimacy. For example, he was a Hero, a man of a Lionheart, victorious over fear, gathering strength and animation from danger, and bound the faster to duty by its hardships

and privations; and at the same time he was a child in simplicity, sweetness, innocence, and benignity. His firmness, which I trusted, perhaps more than that of any man, had not the least alloy of roughness. His countenance, which at times wore a stern decision, was generally lighted up with a beautiful benignity; and his voice, which expressed, when occasion required it, an inflexible will, was to many of us musical beyond expression, from the deep tenderness which it breathed.

As another example of seemingly incongruous virtues, he was singularly alive to the domestic affections. Who, that saw him in the bosom of his family, can forget the deep sympathies and the overflowing joyousness of his spirit? His home was pervaded by his love as by the sun's light. A stranger might have thought that his whole soul was centred there; and yet with these strong domestic affections he joined a love of his race far more rare. His heart beat in unison with the mighty heart of humanity. He did not love mankind as those words

are commonly used. He was knit to them by a strong living tie of brotherhood. He felt for all men, but above all for the depressed and the wronged. His mild countenance would

flash fire at the mention of an injured man; not the fire of revenge, or unkindness, but of holy indignation, of unbounded love and reverence for invaded Right.

I can mention another union of qualities not always reconciled. He was a man of refined taste. He loved refined society. His manners, courteous, sweet, bland, fitted him for intercourse with the most cultivated, and he enjoyed it keenly; and yet his deepest sympathies were given to the mass of men. He was the friend of the laboring man. He had a great respect for minds which had been trained in simple habits, and amidst the toils of life; and could he have chosen the congregation to which he would minister, it would have been composed chiefly of such members.

I will mention one more union of seemingly dissimilar virtues. He was singularly independent in his judgments. He was not only uninfluenced by authority, and numbers, and interest, and popularity, but by friendship, by those he most loved and honored. He seemed almost too tenacious of his convictions. But with all this firmness of judgment, he never gave offence by positiveness, never challenged assent, never urged his dearest convictions with unbecoming warmth, never in argument passed the limits of the most delicate courtesy, and from a reverence 3D S. VOL. X. NO. 1.

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of others' rights, encouraged the freest expression of opinion, however hostile to his own.

Such were some of the traits of this good and great man; and of these traits, which bore rule? Not a few, who saw him cursorily, remember most distinctly his singular sweetness and benignity. But had these predominated, I might not perhaps think myself authorized to pay him this extended tribute in a Christian congregation. I should confine the utterance of my grief to the circle of private friendship. It was his calm, enlightened, Christian Heroism, which imparted to his character its singular glory. His sweetness threw a lustre over this attribute, by showing that it was no morbid enthusiasm, no reckless self-exposure; that he was not raised above danger and personal regards by vehemence of emotion. His heroism had its root and life in reason, in the sense of justice, in the disinterested principles of Christianity, in deliberate, enlightened reverence for human nature and for the rights of every human being. It was singularly free from passion. Tender and affectionate as his nature was, his sense of justice, his reverence for right, was stronger than his affections; and this was the chief basis and element of his heroic character. Accordingly, the love of freedom glowed as a central, inextinguishable fire in his soul; not the school-boy's passion for liberty, caught from the blood-stained pages of Greece and Rome, but a love of freedom, resting on and blended with the calmest knowledge, growing from clear, profound perceptions of the nature, and destiny, and inalienable rights of man. He felt to the very depth of his soul, that man, God's rational, immortal creature, was worth living for and dying for. To him, the most grievous sight on earth was not misery in its most agonizing forms; but the sight of man oppressed, trodden down by his brother. To lift him up, to make him free, to restore him to the dignity of a man, to restore him to the holy hope of a Christian, this seemed to him the grandest work on earth, and he consecrated himself to it with his whole soul. I felt habitually in his presence, that here was a man ready at any moment to shed his blood for truth and freedom. For his devotion to human rights, he had been exiled from his home and native country; he had been hunted by arbitrary power in foreign lands, and had sought safety beyond an ocean. But peril and persecution, whilst they had tempered his youthful enthusiasm, had only wrought more deeply into his soul the principles for which he had suf

fered, and his resolution, in growing calmer, had grown more invincible.

His greatness had one of the chief marks of reality; it was unpretending. He had no thought of playing the part of a hero. He was never more himself, never more unstudied, spontaneous, than in the utterance of generous sentiments. His greatness was immeasurably above show, and above the arts by which inferior minds thrust themselves on notice. There was a singular union in his character of self-respect and modesty, which brought out both these qualities in strong relief. He was just to himself without flattery, and too single-hearted and truthful to seek or accept flattery from others. He made no merit, nor did he talk, of the sufferings, past or present, which he had incurred by faithfulness to principle. In truth, he could hardly be said to suffer, except through solicitude for what he might bring on those who were dearer to him than himself. It was a part of his faith, that the highest happiness is found in that force of love and holy principle, through which a man surrenders himself wholly to the cause of God and mankind; and he proved the truth in his own experience. Though often unprosperous and often disappointed, his spirit was buoyant, cheerful, overflowing with life, full of faith and hope, often sportive, and always open to the innocent pleasures which sprung up in his path.

He was a true Christian. The character of Christ was his delight. His faith in immortality had something of the clearness of vision. He had given himself much to the philosophical study of human nature, and there were two principles of the soul on which he seized with singular force. One of these was "the Sense of the Infinite," that principle of our nature which always aspires after something higher than it has gained, which conceives of the Perfect, and can find no rest but in pressing forward to Perfection. The other was "the free will of man," which was to him the grand explanation of the mysteries of our being, and which gave to the human soul inexpressible interest and dignity in his sight. To him, life was a state, in which a free being is to determine himself, amidst sore trials and temptations, to the Right and the Holy, and to advance towards perfection. His piety took a character from these views. It was eminently a filial piety. He might almost be said to have no name for God but Father. But then God was not to his view a fond, indulgent father, but a wise parent, sending forth his child, to be tried and tempted, to

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suffer and contend, to watch and pray, and amidst such discipline, to approve and exalt his love towards God and man

kind.

Such were the grand traits of our departed friend. He was not good as most of us are, faithful to duty, when duty is convenient, loyal to truth, when truth is shouted from the crowd. He loved virtue for herself, loved her when her dowry was suffering, and therefore I deem him worthy to be spoken of thus largely in Christ's church. The world has its temples in which its favorites, the powerful, the successful, may be lauded. But he only is fit to be commemorated in a Christian church, who has borne the cross, who has left all for duty and Christ. Not that I mean to speak of our friend as perfect. He fell below his standard. He was a partaker of human infirmities. He carried with him human guilt. He has gone not to plead his merits, but to cast himself on the mercy of his Creator.

My thoughts have been so attracted to his moral qualities, that I have neglected to speak of his intellectual powers. These were of a high order. His intellect had the strength, simplicity, and boldness of his character. Without rashness, it shrunk from nothing that bore the signature of truth. He was given chiefly to the higher philosophy, which treats of the laws, powers, and destinies of the human soul. He hoped to live to complete a work on this subject. I presume that, next to the discharge of all duty, this was the object he had most at heart; and though I differed from him as to some fundamental doctrines, I shared in his strong desire of giving his views to the world. His theory stood in direct hostility to Atheism, which confounds man with nature; to Pantheism, and Mysticism, which confound man with God; and to all the systems of Philosophy and religion, which ascribe to circumstances or to God an irresistible influence on the mind. The Free-Will, through which we create our own characters, through which we become really, not nominally, responsible beings, and are fitted to sustain, not physical, but moral relations to God and the universe, this was his grand principle; and he followed it out to all its consequences, with his characteristic decision. But he was not confined to abstract subjects. He had studied moral science, history, and the civil law profoundly. He had given much thought to Christianity and the Church. His acquisitions of knowledge were various, his taste refined, and