auditory were at his command, and he well knew how to instruct the understanding, and touch the heart.

When the law was his theme, Mount Sinai was all in a smoke; the thunder and the lightning issued from his lips, and all was solemn as the grave. On the contrary, in the most melting strains, would he describe the sufferings of Christ, his matchless love for sinners, and, in persuasive eloquence, invite them to be reconciled to God. With what amazing terror, would he represent the torments of the damned! And in what lively pictures, lay open the glories of heaven, and paint the joys of the paradise of God! He was truly a workman who needed not to be ashamed.

But after all, it was the will of heaven that he should share the common lot of mankind, and cease to be a sojourner on earth. Death, inexorable death, hath ended his long and useful life; it hath removed him far away from all transitory things.

In his last illness, when he most possessed himself, he appeared to enjoy great serenity of mind, and to look forward with pleasing, nay, almost impatient expectation, of the glory that should be revealed. His mind was much engaged in the contemplation of the perfections and government of God, and of the issue to which things would be brought under the direction of the wise Governor of the world. He was satisfied as to the truth of the religion he had professed, and derived great comfort from the evidence he had of his experimental acquaintance therewith. He anticipated the joys of heaven; he longed to be there. The manner of his dying was not such, as, had it been left to his choice, would have been most agreeable to him, having repeatedly said, he could wish to drop dead in his pulpit, at the close of public exercise. But it was not the pleasure of God to gratify him herein. He was continued upon the threshold of eternity for more than three years. Though it was contrary to his expectation, to be thus long suspended between the earth and heaven, he acquiesced in the wisdom of Providence. The welcome messenger hath at length arrived, put a period to his troubles, and crowned his wishes.

Behold, there lies the remains of that eminent servant of

God, wrapped in a winding-sheet, and dressed for the grave! Mourn, ye inhabitants of Bethlem! let the town of Woodbury join in the lamentation! Let the neighbouring hills echo the sound, and the waves of the sea roll the tide of grief to distant regions. Let the Church of God in every realm take a sympathetic part, and bewail her loss. O Zion, one of thy strong pillars is removed; one of thy gapmen is no more !

But not to pursue these reflections, I shall proceed to some addresses, and so close the subject. And,

1. This solemn occasion dictates the propriety of saying a few words to her whom God hath bereaved of the nearest friend in life.

Much respected Madam,

Divine Providence hath realized to you, the truth of man's mortality, by removing your affectionate husband from your embraces. This is not the first nor the second time, in which lover and friend have been removed far from you and your acquaintance, into darkness*. We desire to sympathize with you in your affliction, and to bear a part with you in your sorrow. In the death of the deceased, you have lost a compassionate husband, a faithful friend, an able guide, whom, had heaven seen fit to spare, and spare in health, might have been a rich blessing to you. His tender regard for you was conspicuous, and to render you happy was an object of his attention and care. The footsteps of divine providence in his removal, seem somewhat mysterious. Why is it, that he should become helpless so soon after you had formed those connexions which, by his death, are dissolved? Why, when you had so newly began in matrimonial endearments, to taste the sweets of domestic happiness; and when you had a prospect of living some years in a family state, must he be seized with that fatal disease, which put a period to his life? God's way is sometimes in the sea, his path in the mighty waters, and his designs unfathomable. Yet, from

* She had before lost two husbands, the Rev. Mr. Leavitt, of Somers, and the Rev. Mr. Storrs, of Northbury.

VOL. I.

4

the perfections of his nature, we are bound to believe, that justice and judgment are the habitation of his throne.

It must afford you sensible satisfaction, that you discharged the duties of your relation to him with fidelity; as you have neglected nothing to lengthen out a life so valuable and dear. But his day was come to fall; the unchanged decree of heaven must bring forth. His death is the result of unerring wisdom, and perfect moral rectitude. Therefore, instead of finding fault with God's administrations, hush every rising murmur, quietly acquiesce. Eye with attention the hand which smites you; patiently submit to the rod by which you were chastised. Then shall meat come out of the eater, and sweetness out of the strong; your afflictions shall be your blessings. We wish you the light of God's countenance, the support of his gracious spirit. He is able to comfort you in all your tribulations. He can administer abundant consolation. You have lost but a stream, God is a fountain. In him all fulness dwells. To him we invite you to look, and under the shadow of his wings to seek refuge. May this afflictive providence be sanctified to you; may it be the happy means of preparing you to follow your departed consort into the world of spirits; that you may be happy with him in the enjoyment of God for ever. This, dear Madam, is our ardent wish, and with this, we must close our address to you.

2. The children of the deceased, next claim our attention.

Afflicted Friends,

Considering the heavy loss you sustain, and the keen sensibility it must occasion, I feel myself at a loss, in what language to address you. The near relation which subsisted between the deceased and you, together with the paternal tenderness he exercised toward you, must necessarily cause his death to be greatly lamented. By his removal, you have experienced the loss of a father, nay, more than a father, a kind parent and a faithful minister. Should I dwell upon the dark side of this dispensation, it would but open the springs of grief; it would but enlarge the tide of sorrow. I wish not to give you pain, but rather administer comfort, to your sorrowful

hearts. Though your dear parent is gone, never more to be an inhabitant of this our world, you have this source of consolation, that his death is his eternal gain. He has exchanged worlds infinitely to his advantage. Methinks there was a crowd of angels who surrounded his dying bed, commissioned from the court above, to take the charge of his departing spirit, and see it safely lodged in the embraces of his Redeemer. Charity forbids us to place him, but in the bosom of Abraham, surrounded with kindred spirits, solacing himself at the fountain head of delight, and drinking full draughts of the river of pleasure, which flow at God's right hand. He died but to live, and to live in a more happifying and exalted manner, than when here on the earth. You have no reason to lament his death, as a loss to himself; for while for him to live was Christ, so for him to die, was gain.

The calamity is yours, and great indeed is it, in every view. While you feel the pain, forget not the hand which caused it ; but remember that submission is your duty. Let God be your refuge, and his name your strong tower. In this day of adversity, repair to him for protection. Let it be your chief care, to have a sanctified improvement of this providence. Then may you say, it is good for you that you have been afflicted. You will never more be blessed with the private counsels or public instructions of your father. Remember the past; let them enter into your hearts, copy them in your lives, and you will be wise for yourselves. We commend you to God, who is able to sanctify this dispensation, and over-rule it to your everlasting good.

3. Let me in the next place, address myself to the bereaved church of Christ, and congregation in this place.

Men, Brethren, and Fathers,

You have occasion to sing of mercy and of judgment. Of mercy, in sparing the life of your worthy Pastor for so many years to you; of judgment, in that he is called away, leaving you as sheep without a shepherd. Your loss, it is probable, is in some respects irreparable. It is scarce to be expected, that you will ever be blessed with another so able, faithful,

skilful instructor. I have in time past viewed you as one of the most privileged people on this side heaven. O, what a price have you had in your hands to get wisdom! what a blessed chance for a glorious immortality! But, alas! the labours of your Minister are over with you. He has done his work, and is called home to receive his reward. Your eyes will see him no more; his voice will no more be heard among you. He will no more set before you the character of Jehovah, and delineate his glorious perfections. He will no more bring into your view your natural depravity, or your ill desert for sin No more unfold the riches of God's grace in the gift of his Son, display the banner of his cross, and invite you to take shelter there: No more explain the god-like, glorious doctrines of grace contained in the gospel; point out the necessity of regeneration, and saving conversion, and show wherein they consist: No more vindicate the doctrine of imputed righteousness against gainsayers; or urge the importance of true holiness, exhorting you to follow peace with all men, and holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord. He will no more reprove the vicious, detect the hypocrite, or perform any branch of the ministerial office. You, who are heads of families, will no more hear the solemn counsels of his mouth, and his pathetic entreaties, to take care of your own souls, as well as those of your children. You, who are young, will no more be called upon by him, to remember your Creator in the days of your youth, to forsake the foolish and live, and go in the way of understanding. He has bid a final adieu to this desk, to this house, to this people of his charge. He will never give you another warning to flee from impending danger, nor another invitation, to hasten to the mountain of safety. Lo, his tongue cleaves to the roof of his mouth, and his lips are sealed in death. Never forget his past labours among you; his prayers and tears, his cries and entreaties, with and for you. Be humble under the mighty hand of God. Consider the ground of this sore bereavement. Reflect upon the improvement you have made under the ministry of this eminent teacher, whose labours you so long enjoyed. Take the warning gvien you by the providence, and be quickened thereby