was in health, though the body was wasting to a shadow. From Sabbath to Sabbath his emaciated form was seen in the house of God, and there, like the patriarch of old, he literally "worshipped, leaning upon his staff." His walk daily became narrower, until at last he was unable to use his limbs or to go abroad at all. He resigned himself to the will of God and was confined to his sick chamber, and there for months he was constrained to suffer. But his faith did not fail him, he still trusted in that Being who to the pious is "a diadem of beauty," a refuge in trouble. It gave him pleasure to peruse religious books, and to converse with his friends, when his pains would permit. Nor did these always restrain him ; such was his disinterested kindness, that he would sometimes struggle against his sufferings and continue cheerfully to talk when, as he afterwards said, every nerve in his frame seemed laid bare with anguish. Especially did he always welcome any one who would speak to him on that great subject over which he continually mused and prayed.

There were hours when his soul seemed too full for utterance; he was grateful for every token of the goodness of his God,-for momentary relief from pain, for refreshing sleep, and for the little mementos of love his kind neighbors would send him. If his patience was sometimes tasked to the utmost, he experienced also very happy moments. Perhaps no topic more awakened his thankfulness, than the consciousness of having early devoted himself to God. 'How,' he would ask, 'could I have done it, had I neglected it until now? What could support me, but my long established faith?' On this subject-the necessity of youthful piety, and of consecrating the freshness of one's strength to the Saviour— he was always eloquent. With power did he thus teach. No one could leave him without feeling that the one thing needful should never be deferred to hours like these. And most amiable too did religion appear, as manifested through him; bright shone the gem in that frail casket.

He was reminded at one time by a friend, that although his sufferings were very great and his life protracted in pain, yet he might do much good, more than one in health could, by an example of Christian patience; he might attract by his faith others to the cross of Christ. 'Can I?' he answered, 'then I am

6

willing to suffer on: yes, if I may save but one soul, I will not
complain.' Is there in the wide world a sight more lovely than
disinterestedness like this? Who would not die in the bloom of
his being, might his last hours be crowned with such noble self-
sacrifice? Some months before his death, and when that event
seemed very near, he arranged all his temporal affairs and gave
parting advice to his friends. Bid the young especially,' said he,
'from me, to live not unto the flesh, but unto the spirit.' He was
accustomed during his sickness to sing, as he had when in health.
There were three hymns especially in which he delighted, and I
name them here because they each illustrate traits of his character.
When meditating on the past, he felt the value of practical good-
ness, and he would then pour forth his feelings in the psalm which
commences thus:

"Lord who's the happy man, that may
To thy blest courts repair?

And whilst he bows before thy throne,
Shall find acceptance there?

'Tis he, whose truly honest heart

By rules of virtue moves.'

Again, he often felt anxious to draw others to the feet of Jesus, and in this frame of mind he would sing,

"Come, said Jesus' sacred voice;

Come and make my paths your choice."

At other moments of great pain, of which he had so many, he could not but take up the touching strain,

"O where shall rest be found,

Rest for the weary soul?"

There were seasons when his reason was somewhat disturbed, and at one of these I was present. I was desired to pray for him and did so, and though his thoughts at first wandered, he soon, as I was told, fixed his eye upon me and bowed in response to each petition for his soul; when the prayer had closed, he was gazing earnestly upon me and was restored apparently to a perfect consciousness of his condition. I can never forget the holy joy, the exaltation of feeling, he then exhibited. It was a testimony to the value of prayer and the power of religion which I would the world might have witnessed.

It sometimes gave me great pain to see him suffer; but at my last visit a few hours only before his death-nature seemed

wholly exhausted, and the spirit was pluming its wings for an upward flight. In the evening it was that he returned to his God; and when I looked on the body he had left behind him, so still and composed, I rejoiced that he was at rest. A smile seemed yet to linger on those beautiful features; it was, I imagined, a welcome to the angel who accompanied him on high. Peace to his spirit! As he did not live unto himself, so may it prove he did not die unto himself. May the young especially, like him, give themselves early unto God in the beauty of holiness.

A. B. M.

ENGLISH SERMONS ON DR. CHANNING'S DEATH.

WE proceed to complete our purpose of laying before our readers extracts from the printed discourses occasioned by the death of Dr. Channing, which we have received from England. They not only show in what estimation he was held, but may be regarded as specimens of the style of preaching in Unitarian pulpits abroad.

The Discourse" delivered in the Great Meeting-house, Coventry, and re-delivered at Northampton and Warwick, by John GORDON," discovers more careful preparation than most of the other sermons which we have noticed, and is marked by such uniform soundness of thought and propriety of expression that we should be glad to transfer large portions to our pages. We must however have regard to our narrow limits. The latter clause of Luke, i. 14. is selected as the text. Mr. Gordon is led, by the circumstances under which he repeats these words, "to review the character of Dr. Channing, and to recal to mind the principles to whose advocacy he devoted his life." Of his private character he does not feel himself qualified to speak. Of "the character developed in his literary productions" he proceeds to "mention what seem to him some of its most prominent features." We will not attempt to express the writer's thoughts in other language than his own.

"The first mental characteristic which I shall notice as attaching to him is, the disposition he had to concern himself mainly, if not exclusively, with the principles of a subject. His mind grasped the essential points on the questions with which he had to do, and

he invariably endeavored to resolve those questions by an appeal to the cardinal truths with which they might be identified. He troubled himself but little with arguments which merely suited the case in hand, but addressed himself to those arguments which would equally apply to all other similar cases. He was not careful to meet each separate detail of his subject, but contented himself with enforcing the great ideas to whose law all such details were subservient. He put aside the considerations which immediately related to party interests, and dwelt only upon those interests which were of universal bearing. * *This mental tendency

*

affords the chief reason for that frequent repetition of important truths which we meet with in his works. It will be found on examination, not to be a repetition of mere sentiment, but a new application of an essential principle."

"Another mental characteristic belonging to the subject of my remarks is, the great strength and fulness of thought by which he was distinguished. There was nothing like feebleness in his utterance of the principles to which he directed his attention. As delivered by him they possessed a clearness of substance, and definiteness of form, which proved that they stood to him in the relation of truth. They breathed a vital freshness which showed that the truth he had embraced was his own, being animated by the original exercise of his mind upon it; and they assumed a weight and enlargement of sentiment which indicated the more than ordinary intellectual force with which they were conceived and applied. *** All this is especially evident when he has to insist upon common truths-truths universally known and acknowledged. In his hands they appear new and original, and are armed with a strength which they were not seen to possess before. If, as it has been said, if it be the highest prerogative of genius to produce the strongest impressions of novelty, while it rescues admitted truths from the neglect caused by the very circumstance of their universal admission,' Channing possessed such genius in its greatest degree."

"Another feature of Dr. Channing's character is, the great mental activity which he displayed. *** He seems to have neglected no opportunity of delivering and enforcing the great truths with which his mind was fraught. And yet he was as far as possible removed from a hackneyed writer-one whose busy temper would lead him to concern himself with every question as a matter of course. He never stepped forward but when he had sentiments of high importance to communicate, or when there was some pressing want which he only could supply. He appears to have been forced to what he did, either by the fulness of his own mind, or the emergency presented by the circumstances around him. His intellectual activity was, in fact, produced by a deep sense of

moral duty, impelling him to say that with which his heart was charged, and which the condition of his country and the interests of humanity required should be said. Each effort was, therefore, animated with spiritual life, and aimed at some wise purpose which he had in view."

“A fourth feature in the mental character of Dr. Channing is, the intrepidity with which he carried out the principles he adopted. He never shrank from consistently and resolutely applying the sentiments he embraced to the utmost extent to which he deemed them capable of application. He never shrank from acting up to the rules of conduct which he recommended. He did this in the face of dangers to character and fame, and influence, and even to person, of no ordinary kind, and under circumstances in which nothing but a faithful devotion to the interests of what he deemed to be truth could have formed the inducement to his conduct."

"The only other mental characteristic to which I shall refer as distinctive of this great man, is the moral sympathy by which he was influenced. * * * Dr. Channing was as remarkable for the affectionate manner in which he appreciated all that was true and good belonging to those who differed from him, as he was for a faithful adherence to his own principles. * * * His love to man and the great interests of humanity was superior to any love which he entertained for his own party, or for any purposes with whose advancement he himself had immediately to do. That love showed itself in merciful regards towards all the miserable among men. The same love appeared in the deep and tender friendships. which he cultivated, and which dictated those melting tributes to the memory of his departed associates by which he has endeared them to our hearts. Perhaps the finest passages in his works are those in which these varied affections are displayed. *** For moral beauty in all its forms it seems to have had a more than common affinity, and especially to have connected itself with all that was gentle and kind and benevolent in morality. Hence arose the extraordinary power which the character of Christ appeared to exercise upon his mind, and the elevated views he entertained of the nature and influence of the love which Christianity regards as the foundation of virtue."

Referring, as he passes, to "the eloquence which distinguishes Dr. Channing's writings," he thus speaks of his style.

"Like most eloquent men, he had a style of composition in a great measure peculiar to himself-a style in which his thoughts were broken up into separate sentences, instead of proceeding in a continuous flow, and which was eminently distinctive of the character of his mind, being that which is usually adopted under the influence of powerful sensibility. To him that style was but the