village, a sudden shock was felt by almost every one, though the
event itself did not excite much surprise. He had lived so long
amongst his parishioners, and had endeared himself to them by so
many acts of kindness, that they wept for him, as an affectionate
child mourns for the loss of his father; and even the worldly and
indifferent concurred in paying a just tribute of respect to his
memory. On the day of his funeral, an immense concourse of people
assembled. The instructions which he had given to his friend, Mr.
Stevens, respecting his funeral, were minutely attended to; and they
were in strict accordance with the chaste simplicity of character
which he had maintained through life. There was no hearse with its
nodding plumes--no hired mourners; he had selected twelve of the
senior members of his church to carry his body to the tomb, and
fixed on the spot where the bier was to rest while they relieved
each other from the fatigue of carrying his mortal remains. The
procession moved from the rectory about ten o'clock in the morning,
preceded by the Rev. Mr. Guion and two other clergymen--followed by
a few of his relations and a long train of friends, walking three
a-breast, in deep mourning--many of his poorer parishioners, having
only a piece of crape on their hats, fell into the rear, which was
closed by the children of the Sunday-school, who wore a similar
badge of grief. Immediately as the procession began to move, the
bell, which had been tolling for more than an hour, ceased till the
bier stopped at the appointed resting-place, when it again commenced
to send forth its melancholy sounds.
On entering the churchyard, the Rev. Mr. Guion began the solemn
service by repeating the animating words of Jesus Christ--"I am the
resurrection and the life; he that believeth in me, though he were
dead, yet shall he live." The coffin was taken into the church,
and placed on an elevated platform before the pulpit, so as to be
distinctly seen by the whole congregation; and after a few minutes,
during which time the people were taking their seats, Mr. Guion
began reading, in a most solemn and impressive manner, the lessons
which are appointed for such an occasion. Agreeably to the custom
at funeral obsequies in former times, after he had finished the two
lessons, he ascended the pulpit, and delivered a discourse from the
following appropriate text--"Sorrowing most of all for the words
which he spake, that they should see his face no more" (Acts xx.
38). After a short and judicious introduction, he called attention
to the following remarks, which he illustrated and enforced with
great effect:--
"The decease of a minister is an event of great importance--
"I. In relation to himself. No class of men occupy a station so
important, or are called to discharge duties so momentous, as
ministers of the gospel. The eloquent advocate who pleads at the
bar, sometimes snatches the victim from the altar, against whose
life the foul conspirator has brought his charge, and he retires
from the scene of his labours amidst the plaudits of the people;
but in a few years they both sink into the same silent earth, and a
remote posterity remains ignorant of their anxieties and of their
triumphs. The fearless senator attacks iniquity in the high places
of its dominion, or rouses up the slumbering principle of justice to
vindicate her insulted honours; but he sleeps with his fathers, and
having received the honour of his country's applause he is conveyed
to the mansions of the dead. The effects of their labours terminate
with the occasion of their exercise; or if they should stretch into
a distant futurity, they are circumscribed within the boundaries
of time. From man they receive their commission, and to man they
resign it when it is executed; and though their conduct will undergo
a revision at the day of judgment, yet it is from man they receive
their official discharge. But it is not so with us. It is true
that we are under some degree of responsibility to our superiors
in the ecclesiastical hierarchy, and it is equally true that we
are under some degree of responsibility to the people of our cure;
but our chief responsibility relates to a higher tribunal, and a
more important decision awaits us than any which man can pronounce.
Fix your attention for a moment on a minister of the gospel, see
him tottering on the brink of eternity--he falls, we catch his
descending mantle, 'sorrowing most of all that we shall see his face
no more; but while we are making preparations to perform his funeral
obsequies, he is giving up an account of his stewardship. Then the
motives which induced him to enter the ministerial office, and which
induced him to continue it--the manner in which he spent his time,
and discharged the hallowed duties devolving on him--will undergo
a strict investigation, and the final sentence will be pronounced,
which will fix his doom in raptures or in woe, for ever. If he be
found faithful, he will receive the commendation of his Master; but
if unfaithful, he will be cast into outer darkness, 'where their
worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched.'
"It is an event of importance in relation--
"II. To the people of his charge. They lose their spiritual teacher,
their counsellor, their friend, and their example. Yes! and some
of you who are now looking on that coffin, if permitted to give
utterance to your sentiments, would say, 'There lies the holy man of
God, who met me in my mad career of folly and of crime, and was the
means of turning my feet into the way of peace.' 'There he lies,'
another could say, 'who, when I was perishing for thirst, opened
my eyes, and showed me the well of living waters.' 'Alas!' another
would exclaim, 'I shall now see his face no more; who, when I was
sinking into despair, under the virulence of my moral malady, told
me of the balm of Gilead, and of the great Physician there, who
healed and comforted me, giving me renovated health and a deathless
life.' Farewell, holy man of God; we shall see thy face no more,
till we see thee the express image of thy Lord's person.
"It is an event of importance in relation--
"III. To general society. No man, saith the apostle, liveth to
himself. While we are individually pursuing our separate interests,
we are advancing the general good, and not unfrequently serve
others, while intent only on serving ourselves. If this be true of
men in general, it is more emphatically true in relation to the
ministers of the gospel. While they are discharging the functions
of their office in relation to the people of their charge, they
are diffusing principles abroad in society which will be found to
operate more widely than is generally imagined. When they die, the
influence of their example, of their character, of their precepts,
of their individual exertions to promote private happiness, and to
support public institutions--and of their prayers--is a loss which
is felt not only in the immediate circle in which they moved, but to
a much larger extent; though it may not be felt so instantaneously
nor so deeply.
"But, my brethren, it is not in my power to calculate the loss which
you have sustained by the decease of the venerated man whose corpse
is now before us; and who, for more than forty years, has preached
the gospel of peace in this pulpit.
"When he first entered on the duties of his office, he found a
barren wilderness; but he has left a fruitful field. The church,
which was mouldering to ruins, he repaired and enlarged; the
congregation, which was scattered, he has gathered together; and
many who have preceded him through the dark valley, and many whom
he has left to follow him, he has been the means of saving from the
impending wrath of the Almighty. It is now many years since the
person who is now addressing you went, under the most unfavourable
impressions, to hear him preach; but the word that fell from his
lips came with power, and I, who went to scoff, returned to pray.
From that hour I revered him as my spiritual father in Christ; and
an intimacy soon after commenced, which continued unbroken and
undisturbed till death. If I were now to give full scope to my
feelings, I should probably be censured by some for pronouncing
an extravagant eulogy on his character; but I am conscious that
while he owed all his excellence to the renewing and purifying
influence of Divine grace, he uniformly displayed, both in public
and in private life, a degree of excellence which has been rarely
surpassed, if equalled, in modern times. As a preacher, he excelled
no less in the descriptive than in the argumentative style of his
address--combining in all his discourses strength of reasoning with
the most happy modes of illustration--equally capable of awing his
congregation by the solemnity of his manner, and subduing them by
the tenderness of his appeals; compelling them by the ardour of
his feelings, and energy of his utterance, to lose sight of the
messenger who was speaking, in a devout contemplation of the message
which he delivered; and giving to things unseen such a power of
impression, that those which are visible seemed to dwindle into a
state of absolute insignificancy.
"As a man, he was courteous in manners, and amiable in
disposition; as a friend, he was disinterested and faithful in
his attachments; as a Christian, he was devout and catholic in
his spirit; as a minister, he was independent, yet attentive and
affectionate--uniformly endeavouring to incorporate in his character
the moral qualities which his Lord and Master developed in the
progress of his history; and though a nice observer might discover
a few shades of imperfection falling on it, yet they were scarcely
perceptible. He approached the nearest to the perfect man of the
Scriptures of any one I ever knew; but that which gave a distinctive
peculiarity to his character, and which made him the object of
general esteem and veneration, was his catholic liberality, his
ever-active benevolence, and his amiability--combined with a
chastened seriousness and sportive playfulness of disposition,
which exhibited the gravity of religion untinged by the gloom of
superstition, and its cheerfulness free from the levity of folly.
"He thought and judged for himself on every part of revealed truth,
and maintained the doctrines which he held with the most determined
firmness; yet he never suffered his mind to be soured by the spirit
of controversy, nor was he ever known to treat those who differed
from him with contempt or with indifference. He loved the catholic
spirit of the gospel, no less than its sublime doctrines; uniformly
condemned that arrogance of spirit which leads the bigot to say
of the members of his own communion, 'The temple of the Lord! the
temple of the Lord are we!' and demonstrated by his conduct that he
was as anxious to preserve the bonds of peace unbroken amongst the
different denominations of Christians as to keep the unity of the
faith entire. And while he gave a decided preference to the Church
of which he was so bright an ornament, yet he felt a deep interest
in the prosperity of every other religious community which contends
earnestly for the faith which was once delivered to the saints; and
admitted to his friendship and intimacy the pious Dissenter, with as
much cordiality as he embraced an Episcopal brother.
"But his catholic liberality did not degenerate into
latitudinarianism. He was willing to cultivate Christian fellowship
with all who love our Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity, and was
anxious to narrow rather than widen the ground of difference between
them; but he felt no inclination to compromise any essential
doctrines of the gospel as a compliment to the semi-sceptical spirit
of the age--choosing rather to run the risk of incurring the charge
of bigotry, than sanction a popular opinion that there is no danger
in speculative error, if the person who imbibes it be sincere in his
belief, and display an exterior amiability of temper and conduct, in
accordance with the laws of practical righteousness. His charity was
not of that deceptive cast, which places a human being who rejects
the leading doctrines of Christianity on a level, in the Divine
estimation, with the humble disciple of Jesus Christ who implicitly
receives them, as he was convinced 'that the charity which the
Scriptures so earnestly inculcate, consists in a real solicitude for
the welfare of others, not in thinking well of their state;' and
thus, while he gave ample scope for the exercise of his compassion
in aiming to promote the salvation of all his hearers, he felt awed
by that authority which separates the believer from the unbeliever,
and which marks, by a palpable line of distinction, the essential
difference between those who admit, and those who deny the truth as
it is in Jesus.
"Some men are benevolent, but the principle of their benevolence
lies embedded in their mental constitution, like fire in the flint,
and it is only by hard and reiterated strokes that it can be
elicited. This principle, when exerted, may produce all the effects
of a spontaneous flow of feeling; but it looks so much like that
sullen selfishness which is absorbed in its own gratifications, that
its occasional exertions are regarded only as a novel tribute to its
own capricious taste.
"Others are benevolent, but the principle of their benevolence is
associated with so much finesse and self-adulation, and with so
many disgusting and offensive requirements, that while it relieves
the wants of a sufferer, it inflicts a deep wound on his spirit,
and makes him feel such an oppressive weight of obligation, that
he cannot enjoy the comforts which have been administered to him.
But the benevolence of our deceased friend was the master-passion
of his soul, and it was ever wakeful--ever active; which required
no qualifications for its exercise, but misery in some of her
multiplied forms; it prescribed no bounds for its exertions, but
the limits of his own means; and he bestowed his bounties with so
much delicacy, that no other emotion was ever excited in the breast
of the recipient than that of the purest gratitude to his kind
benefactor.
"His kindness of disposition led him to feel great tenderness for
the reputation of others; and though no one could reprove vice more
keenly, yet he never sanctioned that habit of depreciating the
character of absent individuals, which may be regarded as one of
the most besetting sins of human nature. Hence, few men possessed
more friends, or fewer enemies; it may be doubted whether among the
numerous list of the former he lost the esteem of one.
"Perhaps no man ever united more closely in his private character
the dignity and the cheerfulness of religion--preserving unimpaired
the sanctity of his station with a lively and playful disposition;
and maintaining the reputation of a holy man of God, while hailed in
general society as the amiable, the intelligent, and the interesting
companion. The line which separates the harmless from the
pernicious he was never known to pass, so that he never injured the
sanctity of his public character by any levities in his demeanour,
but inspired a greater reverence for it, by the dignified ease of
his manners, and the uniform placidity and agreeableness of his
temper.
"The closing scene of his life was no less beautiful than
impressive; and forces from us the exclamation of the worthless
prophet, 'Let me die the death of the righteous! and let my last end
be like his!' He is gone! That face on which you have looked with so
much pleasure, you will see no more; that voice to which you have
so often listened with mingled emotions of awe and pleasure, you
will hear no more, till you meet him before the judgment-seat of the
Son of God; and, brethren, permit me to ask you, whether you think
you are prepared to see him, and hear him there? He has preached
to you the gospel of peace, with great fidelity, and with equal
affection; but have you received it, not as the word of men, but,
as it is in truth, the word of God? He has watched for your souls
as one who knew that he must give an account; but have you, by your
submission to the truth which he proclaimed, enabled him to do it
with joy and not with grief? Is there no one in this congregation
who has remained insensible to his moral danger, though that danger
has often been pointed out to you in the most awful and impressive
manner? Is there no one who has remained impenitent, notwithstanding
the various efforts which the venerated deceased employed to bring
you to repentance, and to a belief of the truth? Is there no one who
has forced the aged pastor to retire from this pulpit to his study,
and there to weep and to mourn, and to say, in the bitterness of
his mental agony, 'When I speak they will not hear: but put from
them the words of life, and the way of peace they will not know?'
He is gone to enjoy the reward of his labours, and ere long you, my
brethren, will follow him. But are you prepared to give an account
of the manner in which you have improved his faithful services
amongst you? If you are, you will again meet and again intermingle
your social feelings and affections in a world where you will enjoy
an endless duration of bliss; but if not, let me beseech you to
retire, and on your knees implore mercy and forgiveness, lest you
should be taken off in the midst of your sins, and be cast out with
the workers of darkness, where there will be weeping, and wailing,
and gnashing of teeth for ever."
When this discourse was finished, the corpse was removed to the
vault; and when placed in it, the remaining part of the Burial
Service was read. When the earth fell on the lid of the coffin, as
the impressive words, _ashes to ashes, dust to dust_, were uttered,
there was a spontaneous burst of audible weeping from the whole
assemblage, which, for a few moments, so overpowered the feelings
of Mr. Guion, that it was with some degree of difficulty he could
proceed. At length the service was concluded; but on returning from
the church the order of the procession was deranged, for while some
few walked back to the rectory, others pressed round the tomb; and
many stood about the churchyard in detached groups, recalling the
various incidents in their history connected with their deceased
pastor. "O!" said one athletic youth, who wept while he spoke, "I
was a bold transgressor till I heard him preach." "I went to laugh,"
said another, "but I returned to pray." "He was my friend," said
many voices; and all expressed their opinion that they should never
see a successor equal to him.
After the concourse of people had dispersed, Mr. and Mrs. Lewellin
continued wandering amongst the tombs, reading the epitaphs which
surviving friendship had engraven on the head-stones of their
departed relatives and friends. The place of sepulture in which they
were now walking, was one of the neatest of rural burying places.
The walks were free from weeds; there were no gaps in the hedges;
the graves bore no marks of being trodden by the foot of beast or
of man; the yew trees luxuriated in their native growth, without
assuming those fantastic shapes and forms which a capricious taste
sometimes compels them to take, and the green ivy overspread the
walls of the venerable church. Many of the inscriptions on the
earlier tombstones were nearly effaced, and those which were still
legible, like too many of the "good old times," recorded sentiments
and expressions which are no less offensive to a refined taste,
than to a scriptural faith. But in the later stones, which had been
erected during the lifetime of the venerable pastor, a striking
difference was observable. The inscription bore the name and the age
of the occupant of the tomb, and beneath it some appropriate text of
Scripture--recalling the words of an elegant writer, "It is meet,
pleasant, and soothing to the pious mind, when bereaved of friends,
to commemorate them on earth by some touching expression taken from
that book which reveals to them a life in heaven."
Mr. Lewellin and his wife now entered the church, resolving to go
and indulge their solemn meditations beside the uncovered tomb of
the deceased pastor; but on passing down the aisle, were suddenly
startled by the deep sounds of sorrow. On looking towards the vault
where Mr. Ingleby's remains were deposited, they saw an aged couple
leaning on their staffs, looking into the grave, but they appeared
too much oppressed by grief to give any other vent to their feelings
than by sighs and tears. "Come, Dame, let us be gone," said the old
man to his wife; "it won't be long before we see him again." As
they turned round from the grave, Mr. and Mrs. Lewellin advanced
and kindly endeavoured to mitigate their sorrow. "O! Sir," said the
old man, "he was a good man, and a faithful minister of Christ; and
many will have to bless God for ever, for sending him amongst us.
We thought we loved him while he was with us; but we did not know
that we loved him so much till he was taken away. But it won't be
long before we shall see him again." "Then," said Mr. Lewellin,
"I presume you have received the gospel which he preached amongst
you, not as 'the word of man, but, as it is in truth, the word of
God.'" "Yes, Sir, we have been enabled to receive it. Before he
came to preach in this village we very seldom attended church,
and never thought about the salvation of our souls; but, blessed
be the name of the Lord, we were both called to the knowledge of
the truth through the instrumentality of his honoured servant; and
have, for the space of near forty years, been walking together as
heirs of the grace of life. It was a great shock to our feelings
when we heard of his death, though we expected it; but now he is
gone, it is our duty to be resigned to the will of God. But, Sir,
resignation may feel its loss; and the Saviour won't condemn us if
we weep at the grave of our departed pastor, as He once wept at the
grave of Lazarus. He was one of the most excellent of the earth. He
preached well, and he confirmed the truth which he preached by the
unblameableness of his life. He was a most benevolent man. He obeyed
the words of the Scriptures, and did good to all, especially to the
household of faith. We shall never see his like again."
My friend and his wife felt so deeply interested by the affection
and piety of this aged couple, that they walked with them to their
little thatched cottage. "This little cottage," said the old man,
"was built for us by our pastor, who gave it to us for our life.
This is the chair in which he used to sit, and this is the Bible
which he gave us, and here is his picture, which we have had for
these thirty years--and this is his walking-stick, that he gave me
when I took my leave of him at the door of the rectory, the Sabbath
before he left us." "And when," said the old woman, "I could not
see to read my Bible, he gave me these spectacles; and he used to
come, and sit with us, and talk to us of Him who lived and died for
sinners, and made us forget the trials of the way, by discoursing to
us about the joys of the end of it. But it won't be long before we
see him again."
Mr. and Mrs. Lewellin were much affected by this touching account
of their old friend, whose charity and benevolence formed a theme
of grateful remembrance in the minds of those poor cottagers.
Perceiving that their circumstances were much straitened, they
presented them with a trifling sum, and then, amid the blessings of
the aged couple, took leave and proceeded on their way to Rockhill.
THE NEW RECTORS.
Soon after the death of the venerable Ingleby, the Rev. Mr. Cole,
the Rector of the adjoining parish of Aston, whose health had been
gradually declining, was taken very ill. He had accompanied several
of his friends to a concert in a neighbouring town, and on his
return caught a violent cold. No danger was apprehended for several
weeks; but having imprudently accepted an invitation to spend an
evening at a friend's, where he was detained to a late hour at
whist, his favourite amusement, his indisposition gained a fresh
accession of strength by exposure to the night air. He now began to
entertain apprehensions of a fatal termination to his complaint, and
said to his wife, when she was consulting him on the propriety of
putting off a party which had been fixed for the following week, "My
dear, I shall never appear amongst you again."
"Don't say so, Edward. You are getting low-spirited and
unnecessarily anxious. You should keep up your spirits, and
anticipate the pleasure which you will yet enjoy amongst your
friends."
"I have no _wish_ to die, Emily, but I _must_ die. The doctors can
do nothing for me. I should like to see my old friends again, but I
have no spirit to entertain them."