Mr. Marsden's ministerial pursuits and journeys--Love of the
Country and of Patriarchal story--His Old Age--Its mental
features--Anecdotes--Love of Children--Bishop Broughton--His
reverence for Mr. Marsden's character--Mr. Marsden's views of
Death, etc.--His Habits of Prayer--His Illness and Death.
Mr. Marsden had now passed the allotted span of human life, though his
days were not yet "labour and sorrow." Entering upon his seventy-second
year with stooping gait and failing eyesight and a decaying memory, he
had otherwise few of the mental infirmities of age. He was still a
perfect stranger to fear, as well as to that nervous restlessness and
susceptibility which wears the appearance of it, though often found, as
may be daily observed, in connexion with the truest courage. After his
return home from his last voyage he was attacked, when driving with his
youngest daughter, upon one of his excursions in the bush, by two famous
bush rangers Wormley and Webber, part of a gang who for a period of two
years kept the whole country in a state of terror. One of the ruffians
presented a loaded pistol at his breast and another at his daughter's,
threatening with horrid imprecations to shoot them both, if they said a
word, and bidding his daughter to empty her father's pockets into their
hands. Perfectly undismayed, Mr. Marsden remonstrated with them on their
wicked course of life, telling them at last that he should soon see them
again, he had no doubt, on the gallows. At parting, though charged, with
the usual threats, not to look behind him, he turned round, and
continued, while they were in sight, to warn them in the same strain of
the certain consequences of a life of crime. His admonition was soon
verified; the wretched men were apprehended for other outrages and
sentenced to death, and he himself attended them from the condemned cell
to the place of execution.
These excursions into the country around Paramatta, where he had gone
about for a period of nearly forty years doing the work of an evangelist
or home missionary, were continued to the last. To wind through devious
paths in the bush in his one horse chaise, where his good horse _Major_
seemed as if trained to penetrate, gave him the highest pleasure. The
way was often trackless, and he was obliged to ask his companion whether
the trace of a cartwheel could be seen. Yet there was an instinctive
feeling of safety in his company, and a refreshment in his conversation,
which always made the vacant seat in the gig prized by those who knew
and loved him. "As he drove along," says a Christian lady, the wife of
Captain B---- who was his companion on some of his last journeys,
"wherever he went there was always to be found some testimony to that
goodness and mercy which had followed him all the days of his life. Some
Ebenezer he could raise where helped perhaps in an encounter with a
bushranger, having only the sword of the Spirit with which to defend
himself and disarm his foe, or some Bethel, it might be, where like
Jacob he had been enabled to wrestle and prevail. With such a companion
no one could be a loser. On these excursions, no matter to what
distance, he seemed to think preparations needless, he would travel
miles and miles without any previous consideration for his own comfort
or convenience. Even a carpet-bag was an encumbrance. He had been too
long accustomed to make his toilet with the New Zealander, and take with
him his meal of fern-root, to be particular, or to take thought, what he
should eat, or wherewithal should he be clothed."
His love of the country and of rural scenes gave a strong colouring, and
great originality to his preaching as well as to his own religious
character. He called his estate "The plains of Mamre." This property we
may remind the reader had been presented to Mr. Marsden in the early
days of the colony, when land uncleared was absolutely worthless, to eke
out his insufficient stipend. It had now become valuable, and he was
exposed both in the colony and in England to many unjust remarks, even
from those who should have known him better, on the score of his reputed
wealth. His own justification of himself is more than sufficient. Being
told that he was charged with avarice, "Why," said he, "they might as
well find fault with Abraham whose flocks and herds multiplied. Abraham
never took any trouble about it, nor do I. I can't help their
increasing;" and he added, a remark so true and of such pregnant import
that it ought for ever to have put to silence this miserable carping;
"It was not for myself, but for the benefit of this colony and New
Zealand, that I ever tried to promote agriculture or the improvement in
sheep or cattle." Had he done nothing else for Australia, his
introduction of Merino sheep with a view to the growth of wool would
have marked him down upon the roll of her greatest benefactors.
Through life his choicest topics in the pulpit had been the patriarchs,
their lives and characters but as he grew old, he seemed unconsciously
to rank amongst their number; to fall into and become one of their own
body; himself a Christian patriarch. It was the frequent remark of his
friends that he spoke of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, just as if he had
lived in their times, heard their conversations, and been well
acquainted with them. It is much to be regretted that more full and
accurate reports of his sermons and conversations should not have been
kept. The truth and originality of his remarks would have made them
invaluable. When seated in his chair upon the lawn before his house,
surrounded by his family and friends, his conversations took the
prevailing turn of his mind, and he used to dwell on the incidents of
patriarchal life with a depth of feeling and a power of picturesque
description of which one would be glad that the memorials should not
have been allowed to perish.
At an examination of the King's School at Sydney, the headmaster having
requested him to ask the boys some questions upon Scripture history,
forgetting the business in hand, he broke out into a long and
interesting address on patriarchal life and manners. The end
contemplated by the headmaster was of course frustrated, "but we dare
say," says the colonial journalist who tells the story, "there are many
young persons now growing up into manhood, who, to this day remember the
pious and excellent observations of the venerable man."
His old age exhibited some traits not always to be found, even in good
men, after a long life passed among scenes of danger or amidst the
hardening warfare of personal animosities. Though to the last bold in
reproving sin his real character was that of gentleness and the warmest
social affection. None but the bad were ever afraid of him; on the
contrary, his presence diffused a genial light and warmth in every
company. Cruel savages and little children loved him alike; the wisest
men gathered instruction from his lips, while they found pleasure in his
simple courtesy and manly open heartedness. He brought home with him in
the Rattlesnake from New Zealand, several Maori youths; "they seemed to
love and respect their _Matua_, as they called him, more than any one,
or anything, besides. They used to run after his gig like joyous
children, and to attempt to catch his eye as if to bask in the sunshine
of his benevolent countenance." "They delighted;" says Mrs. B----, to
whose manuscript of Mr. Marsden's last years of life we are again
indebted, "to come to our barrack apartments with him, always making
their way to the bookcase first, take out a book and point upwards, as
if everybody who had anything to do with 'Matua' must have all their
books leading to heaven. Pictures pleased them next; when they would
direct each others' attention to what they considered worthy of notice,
with extraordinary intelligence; but when the boiled rice and sweets
made their appearance, digging their elbows into each others' sides,
with gesticulations of all sorts, and knowing looks, putting their
fingers to their mouths, and laughing with greedy joy, Mr. Marsden all
the time watching their movements, and expressive faces, as a kind nurse
would the gambols and frolics of her playful charge, saying with
restrained, but grateful emotion, 'Yes, sir, nothing like bringing the
gospel at once to the heathen. If "music charms the savage breast," sir,
why should not the sweetest sounds that ever met man's ear do more? Why,
sir, the gospel turns a worse than savage into a man, ay, and into a
woman too.' He then related to us the anecdote of a New Zealand woman
who, for the last remaining years of her life preached the gospel among
her own sex, having acknowledged to him, that before he had brought the
word of God to New Zealand, and the Spirit applied it to her heart, she
had killed and eaten nineteen children."
His last communication to the Church Missionary Society, dated December
10th, 1837, and received after his death, is full of hope for his
beloved New Zealanders. "I am happy to say the mission goes on well
amidst every difficulty. I visited many places in my last voyage from
the North Cape to Cloudy Bay. The gospel has made a deep impression upon
many of the natives, who now lead godly lives." The letter, which is
written in a large and straggling hand, as though the pen were no longer
under its usual firm control, concludes with these touching words: "I am
now very feeble. My eyes are dim, and my memory fails me. I have done no
duty on the sabbath for some weeks through weakness. When I review all
the way the Lord has led me through this wilderness I am constrained to
say, _Bless the Lord, O my soul, etc_,
"Yours very affectionately,
"SAMUEL MARSDEN."
The innocent games of children pleased him to the last. When such
meetings were more rare than they have now become, the children of the
Paramatta school once a year assembled on his lawn, and then his
happiness was almost equal to their own. In his own family, and amongst
the children of his friends, he would even take his share in their
youthful gambols, and join the merry party at blind man's buff. Though,
as he said of himself, he "never sang a song in his life, for he
learned to sing hymns when ten years old, and never sang anything else,"
yet he was charmed with the sweet and hearty voices of children joining
in some innocent little song, and it pleased him better still if it
finished off with a noisy chorus. Yet all this was consistent with his
character as a grave, wise old man. Though mirthful, he was never
frivolous; in a moment, if occasion called for it, he was ready to
discuss the most serious subjects, or to give his opinion upon matters
of importance; and he had the enviable talent of mingling even pious
conversation with the sports of children.
It was observed that though always unembarrassed in the presence of
strangers whatever their rank or importance might be, he never seemed
completely happy but in the company of persons of true piety. He does
not appear to have spoken very freely in ordinary society on the subject
of personal religion, still less on the subject of his own experience;
but his emotions were deep, and out of the fulness of the heart his lips
would speak, in the midst of such a circle, of the loving-kindness of
the Lord. The sense of his own unworthiness seems to have been always
present. Of all God's servants he might have been, as he verily thought
himself to be, the most unprofitable; and when any circumstance occurred
which led him to contrast the justice of God to others who were left to
die impenitent, with the mercy shown to himself, he spoke with a
humiliation deeply affecting. With scenes of vice and human depravity
few living men were more conversant than he, yet to the last such was
the delicacy of his conscience that the presence of vice shocked him as
much as if the sight were new. "Riding down to the barracks one
morning," says the lady whose narrative we have already quoted, "to
invite Captain B---- and myself that day to dinner to meet the bishop,
he had passed what, alas! used to be too frequent an object, a man lying
insensible and intoxicated in the road. His usually cheerful countenance
was saddened, and after telling us his errand, we could not but ask the
cause of his distress. He gave us the unhappy cause, and turning his
horse's head round to leave us, he uttered with deep emotion--
'Why was I made to hear thy voice
And enter while there's room?'
Throughout the day the subject dwelt upon his mind; after dinner the
conversation turned to it, and he was casually asked who was the author
of the hymn he had quoted in the morning. He shook his head and said, 'I
cannot tell, perhaps it was Watts, or Wesley,' and several hymn books
were produced in which the bishop and others instituted a fruitless
search, the bishop at length saying, 'I can't find the hymn, Mr.
Marsden.' 'Can't you, sir,' was the reply, 'that is a pity, for it is a
good hymn, sir--says what the Bible says, free sovereign grace for poor
sinners. No self-righteous man can get into heaven, sir, he would rather
starve than take the free gift.' In the course of the day the
conversation turning upon New Zealand, the bishop expressed the opinion,
once almost universal though now happily exploded, an opinion, too,
which Mr. Marsden himself had regarded with some favour in his younger
days, that civilization must precede the introduction of the gospel; and
his lordship argued, as Mr. Marsden himself had argued thirty years
before, in favour of expanding the mind of savages by the introduction
of arts and sciences, being impressed with the idea that it was
impossible to present the gospel with success to minds wholly
unenlightened. Mr. Marsden's answer is thus recorded--'Civilization is
not necessary before Christianity, sir; do both together if you will,
but you will find civilization follow Christianity, easier than
Christianity to follow civilization. Tell a poor heathen of his true God
and Saviour, point him to the works he can see with his own eyes, for
these heathen are no fools, sir--great mistake to send illiterate men to
them--they don't want men learned after the fashion of this world, but
men taught in the spirit and letter of the Scripture. I shan't live to
see it, sir, but I may hear of it in heaven, that New Zealand with all
its cannibalism and idolatry will yet set an example of Christianity to
some of the nations now before her in civilization.'"
It will not be out of place to offer a passing remark upon Mr. Marsden's
conduct to Dr. Broughton, the first bishop of Sydney. As an
Episcopalian, sincerely attached to the church of England, he had long
desired the introduction of the episcopate into the colonial church, of
which, as senior chaplain, he himself had been the acknowledged leader
for so many years. When the appointment was made it was a matter of just
surprise to his friends that he was passed over in silence, while an
English clergyman was placed over him to govern the clergy, amongst whom
he had so long presided, and whose entire respect and confidence he had
gained. There is no doubt that his integrity and fearless honesty had
rendered him somewhat unacceptable to men in power, and that to this his
exclusion is, in a great measure, to be ascribed. But this slight
brought out some of the finest features in his truly noble character. He
had never sought either honours, wealth, or preferment for himself. If
a disinterested man ever lived it was Samuel Marsden. The only remark
which his family remember to have heard him make upon the subject was in
answer to a friend, who had expressed surprise at the slight thus put
upon him, in these words--"It is better as it is; I am an old man; my
work is almost done." And when Dr. Broughton, the new bishop, arrived in
the colony, he was received by Mr. Marsden not with cold and formal
respect but with Christian cordiality. When the new bishop was installed
he assisted at the solemn service; the eloquent author of the "Prisoners
of Australia,"[K] who chanced to be present, thus describes the
scene--"On a more touching sight mine eyes had never looked than when
the aged man, tears streaming down his venerable cheek, poured forth,
amidst a crowded and yet silent assemblage, the benediction upon him
into whose hands he had thus, as it were, to use his own metaphor,
'yielded up the keys of a most precious charge;' a charge which had been
his own devoted care throughout the storms and the tempests of a long
and difficult pilotage. And now like another Simeon, his work well nigh
accomplished, the gospel spreading far and wide over the colony and its
dependencies, and the prayer of his adopted people answered, he could
say without another wish, 'Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in
peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation.'" Though differing from
him, we may add, on some points, Mr. Marsden retained to the last
sincere regard for bishop Broughton, who in return fully appreciated the
high and lofty character of his senior chaplain. "Well!" said he one day
when he heard of his last illness, breaking out after a thoughtful
silence, "if there ever was a truly honest man, Mr. Marsden certainly
is one;" and after his death he publicly expressed his "deep sense of
the loss he had experienced, and the painful void he felt in the absence
of his aged and faithful companion who had so often stood by his side,
whose genuine piety and natural force of understanding," said he, "I
held in the highest esteem while he lived, and still retain them in
sincerely affectionate remembrance."
[K] London: Hatchard, 1841.
Conscious that in the course of nature his decease could not be far
distant, death was now his frequent meditation. He viewed its approach
without levity and without alarm. Familiar through life with death in
every form, his feelings were not blunted; he still felt it was a solemn
thing to die, but he had experienced the love of Him who had tasted
death for every man, and was no longer "subject to bondage through fear
of death." He continued his pastoral visits to the sick and dying to the
last, and some of those who were raised from a bed of languishing, and
who survived their pastor, speak of the affectionate kindness, the
delicacy and tenderness, as well as the deep-toned spirituality of mind
he showed in the sick chamber, as something which those who had not
witnessed it would be backward to credit. One of the last letters which
he penned filled three sides of folio paper, addressed to a friend who
had met with a severe accident in being thrown from a carriage; it
contained the most consoling and Scriptural aids and admonitions; it was
unfortunately lost by its possessor on a voyage to India, or it would
have proved, we are assured, an acquisition to our memoir, of real
interest and importance.
As he stepped out of his gig, his family easily perceived from his
manner if he had been visiting the chamber of death, and never presumed
to break a sacred silence that was sure to follow his deep-drawn sigh
till he was pleased to do so himself. This he did in general by the
solemn and subdued utterance of a text from Scripture, or some verse of
a favourite hymn. The tears often fell down his aged cheeks while slowly
articulating, in a suppressed voice, "Blessed are the dead which die in
the Lord;" or from one of Watts's hymns.
"Oh could we die with those that die," etc.
After this touching relief he seemed to feel more at liberty to speak on
future events connected with his own decease, when he should be sitting
down, as he frequently said, with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, in the
kingdom of God. Indeed his happy, social spirit led him to connect the
joys of heaven with the society of saints and patriarchs and his own
departed friends. Sitting at dinner with the bishop and others as his
guests, his mind abstracted itself from the surrounding scene, and he
addressed the Christian friend to whose notices of his last days we have
already had recourse: "You know, madam, you and I are to take an
alphabetical list some day of all the names of the good men I expect
soon to meet in heaven; there will be (counting them up upon his
fingers) John Wesley, Isaac Watts, the two Milners, Joseph and Isaac,
John Newton and Thomas Scott, Mr. Howels of Long Acre, and Matthew
Henry----" Here the conversation of the party broke off the solemn
reverie.
Yet all this tranquillity was consistent with that natural fear of death
which for the wisest purposes God has implanted in man, and which Adam
must have known in paradise, or else the Divine prohibition and the
threatened penalty, "in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt
surely die," could have had no force and appealed to no motive. "In the
month of September, after his last voyage, he called at the house of his
friend, the Rev. Mr. Cartwright, with a young lady from New Zealand, to
introduce her to Mrs. Cartwright. The door was opened by his aged and
now deeply afflicted friend and brother in the ministry, for Mrs.
Cartwright had expired in the night, after a few hours' illness. Mr.
Marsden, with his usual cheerfulness of manner, said, 'Well! I have
brought Miss W. to introduce her to Mrs. Cartwright.' 'Stop! stop, my
friend,' responded the mourner, in a solemn manner, 'don't you know that
Mrs. Cartwright is dead?' 'Dead? dead?' replied Mr. Marsden. 'Oh no; oh
no. You must be in joke; it is too serious a matter to make a joke of,
Mr. Cartwright.' 'Indeed,' responded Mr. Cartwright, 'it is too true.
Come, and I will convince you,' and then led him to the room where the
remains of his departed wife lay. Mr. Marsden approached the body,
saying, 'Oh! she is not dead; no, no, she is not dead;' (the bright
complexion remaining unchanged), 'she is not dead;' and then, passing
his hand over the face, the cold chill of death dissipated the delusion.
'Yes, she is dead, she is dead,' and leaving the room, he hurried away
to give vent to his feelings."
As he contemplated his own near approach to the eternal state, a few
chosen passages of Scripture fell often from his lips; and it was
remarked they were almost the only repetitions he made use of; for his
mind was richly stored with Scripture, which he seemed to bring forth
with endless variety, and often in the happiest combination; but now he
often repeated the words of Job, "He cometh forth like a flower, and is
cut down; he fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not," chap. xiv. 2.
And those of Zechariah, "Your fathers, where are they? and the prophets,
do they live for ever?" chap. i. 5.
Like Cornelius, he had been a devout man, a man of prayer through life.
He believed in the promises of effectual aid from God the Holy Spirit,
to carry on the work of grace in his own soul. Nerved with this faith,
he waged a ceaseless war against corruptions within, and temptations
from without. And while he viewed the promises of assistance from the
Holy Spirit, as given not to supersede our own exertions, but to animate
them, he simply trusted to Him to become the author of his complete
sanctification. And all the blessed fruits of faith were found richly
clustering round his character. It was his constant habit, after his
return from a journey, to spend some time in his room alone, engaged, no
doubt, in holy communing with God. When he prayed in the family, or
before his sermon in the pulpit, where he seldom used a form, the rich
and fervid unction, the variety and copiousness of his supplications and
thanksgivings, seemed to intimate how closely he had been wont to
commune in secret with his heavenly Father. The fifty-first Psalm now
often supplied the words for many a humble confession of sin, and many
an earnest aspiration for larger supplies of the Holy Spirit's
sanctifying influences, both in the pulpit and elsewhere. He appears
always to have held frequent communion with God in ejaculatory prayer
throughout the day. To one whose engagements were so many, and whose
interruptions were necessarily so frequent, the practice was no doubt
most beneficial. Thus the lamp of God in his soul was always trimmed,
and the light went not out as age and infirmities drew on. His friends
now remarked his frequent abstraction from the scenes around, while his
moving lip and solemn gesture significantly intimated the direction of
his mind, and the occupation of his thoughts. His mind became daily more
spiritual, and even when in the midst of visitors he seemed often to be
absorbed in silent prayer.
"An incident which seems to show that he had a presentiment of his
approaching end occurred on the last Sunday on which the holy communion
was administered before his death. Although in his usual health, he did
not assist in the service, as he always had done for a long period of
forty-five years in the same congregation; and when the officiating
minister was ready to distribute the bread and wine, he remained in his
pew, apparently overcome by his feelings. A pause ensued, when, as he
still did not attempt to move, the Rev. Henry Bobart, his son-in-law,
thought it advisable to take the elements to him. Many of his
congregation were affected to tears, impressed with the belief that they
might not again receive from his venerable hands those emblems of the
Saviour's love. He had never yet been present at the church without
assisting at the solemn rite. Such fears were but too truly and sadly
realized. On the Sunday evening, at the parsonage, it was the custom, at
family worship, to read one of a course of sermons. The Sunday before
his death, when he was still apparently as well as usual, he requested
that the one in course for that evening might be laid aside and
Bradley's sermon the 'Morrow unknown,' from the text 'Boast not thyself
of to-morrow,' substituted. Some slight objection was made; but on his
again expressing his wish, it was of course complied with. The remarks
made by him upon the subject during the evening excited the
apprehensions of his family that the coming week might be one of trial,
but they little thought that ere the next sabbath one so loved and
revered would be removed from them."
On Tuesday the 8th of May, 1838, a few of his friends visited him at his
own house; he wore his usual cheerfulness, and they wished him, as they
thought, a short farewell as he stepped into his gig on a journey of
about five and-twenty-miles. In passing through the low lands contiguous
to Windsor, the cold suddenly affected him, and he complained of illness
on his arrival at the house of his friend, the Rev. Mr. Styles, the
chaplain of the parish. Erysipelas in the head broke out, and a general
stupor followed, so that he became insensible. His mind wandered amongst
the scenes to which his life had been devoted, and he uttered a few
incoherent expressions about the factory, the orphan school, and the New
Zealand mission. "Though he spoke but little," says his friend, Mr.
Styles, in his funeral sermon, "yet in his few conscious moments he said
quite enough to show that the Saviour whom he served through life was
with him in the time of trial. A single remark was made to him by a
bystander on the value of a good hope in Christ in the hour of need.
'Yes,' said he, 'that hope is indeed precious to me now;' and on the
following evening, his last on earth, he was heard repeating the words
'precious, precious,' as if still in the same strain of thought which
that remark had suggested. Soon after, inflammation having reached the
brain, his spirit was released. On Saturday morning, the 12th of May, he
entered--who can doubt?--upon the enjoyment of his 'eternal and
exceeding great reward.'"
* * * * *
He was buried in his own churchyard at Paramatta. Upwards of sixty
carriages formed the mourning train, and a numerous assemblage of
mourners, including most of the public functionaries in the colony,
followed him to the grave. Of these, some who had in years long past
thwarted and opposed him came at last to offer an unfeigned tribute of
deep respect. A few had been his early associates in the ministry, and
in every good word and work. The majority were a youthful generation, to
whom he was only known as a wise and venerable minister of God. His
parishioners had been most of them brought up under his instructions,
and had been taught from their infancy to look up to him with respect
and love. The solemn burial service was read by the Rev. Dr. Cowper, who
first came out to the colony at Mr. Marsden's solicitation. He stood
over the grave and addressed the mourners on the early devotedness of
their departed friend and pastor to the great work of the ministry, told
them how solemnly he had dedicated himself to God before he left England
in his youth, and reminded them of the fidelity with which through evil
and good report he had endured his Master's cross, despising the shame.
Australia seemed at length fully to appreciate his worth. It was quite
fitting, and indeed an additional tribute to his integrity, that some
mutterings of calumny should be uttered by ungodly men, even as the
grave closed over him, and that a priest of the apostate church of Rome
should catch them up, and gladly give expression to them. With this
exception the colony was unanimous, as were the friends of religion in
England, and throughout the world, in mourning for him as for one who
had been great as an evangelist in the church of Christ, and as a
philanthropist second to none who have ever devoted their lives to the
welfare of their fellow creatures. It was proposed to erect a monument
to his memory by public subscription; the proposition was warmly
approved on all sides, and subscriptions were offered to a considerable
amount. Whole families became subscribers--parents, and children, and
domestic servants, all ready thus to testify their reverence. On further
consideration, it was thought better to erect a church to his memory on
a piece of his own land, which he himself had devised for that purpose,
to which the name of Marsfield should be given; and the design, we
believe, has been carried into effect, at the cost of about six thousand
pounds.
The public press, not only in Australia but in England, published
biographical sketches of his life and labours, with articles on his
motives and character. The great missionary societies recorded his death
with becoming feelings of reverential love. The notice of him in the
minutes of the Church Missionary Society, the reader will not be
displeased to find in these pages. It was read at their annual meeting
at Exeter-hall, and published in their thirtieth report.
"The Committee of the Church Missionary Society record the death
of the late Rev. Samuel Marsden with feelings of deep respect for
his personal character and gratitude to the Great Head of the
church, who raised up, and who so long preserved, this
distinguished man, for the good of his own, and of future
generations.
"In him the Committee recognise an individual whom Providence had
endowed with a vigorous constitution, both of body and mind,
suited to meet the circumstances which ever attend a course of new
and arduous labours. Entering upon the duties of his chaplaincy
forty-five years ago, at a time when the colonists of New South
Wales were, for the most part, of abandoned character and
suffering the penalty of the law, he, with admirable foresight,
anticipated the probable future destinies of that singular and
important colony, and never ceased to call the attention of both
the local and home governments to the great duty of providing for
the interests, both temporal and spiritual, of the rapidly
increasing population by a proportionate increase in the number of
colonial chaplains.
"In the discharge of his diversified duties, the native energies
of his mind were conspicuously exhibited in the undisturbed
ardour, public spirit, and steady perseverance, with which his
various plans of usefulness were prosecuted; while his high
natural gifts were sanctified by those Christian principles, which
from his youth up, he maintained and adorned, both by his teaching
and by his life.
"But it is to his exertions in behalf of Christian missions that
the Committee are bound especially to call the attention of the
Society. While he omitted no duty of his proper ministerial
calling, his comprehensive mind quickly embraced the vast
spiritual interests, till then well nigh entirely unheeded, of the
innumerable islands of the Pacific Ocean, whose 'inhabitants were
sitting in darkness, and in the shadow of death.'
"Under the influence of these considerations, Mr. Marsden
zealously promoted the labours of the different societies which
have established missions in the South Seas. And it is to his
visits to New Zealand, begun twenty-five years ago, and often
since repeated, and to his earnest appeals on behalf of that
people, that the commencement and consolidation of the Society's
missions in the Northern Island are to be attributed.
"In calling to mind the long series of eminent services rendered
to the Society by Mr. Marsden, the committee notice with peculiar
satisfaction the last visit made by him, in the year 1836, to the
Society's missions in New Zealand--a visit justly termed by the
Lord Bishop of Australia 'Apostolical.' With paternal authority
and affection, and with the solemnity of one who felt himself to
be standing on the verge of eternity, he then gave his parting
benediction to the missionaries and the native converts."
And thus was the man honoured in his death, whose life had been one long
conflict with obloquy and slander. With few exceptions his enemies had
died away, or been gradually led to abandon their prejudices, and many
of them now loved and revered the man whom they had once hated or
despised. This, however, is but the usual recompense of a life of
consistent holiness. God often allows his servants to live and even to
die under a cloud of prejudice; but sooner or later, even the world does
homage to their virtues and confesses its admiration of the Christian
character, while the church of Christ glorifies God in the grace which
made their departed brother to shine as a light in the world.