END OF HIS EARTHLY MISSION.
How shall we speak of the close of that life which we have so feebly
succeeded in portraying,--how depict the sunset of his soul upon
earth,--how describe the unfeigned and unbounded sympathy and mourning
of a whole denomination,--how refer to the appropriate ceremonies--the
funeral obsequies--that were so beautifully and tenderly performed by
the society over whom he had so long held such heart-sway, and whom he
loved better than all else on earth, save his family? How shall our
feeble pen portray these striking and long to be remembered scenes?
Throughout this entire subject we have written tremblingly, and with a
full realizing sense of the magnitude of the theme, and the humble
ability of our pen. But here we feel our hand indeed too feeble, our
sensibilities too acute, and shall call to our aid stronger minds and
abler pens.
In no more appropriate place than here can we refer to his parting with
the loved companion of his bosom. His wife had been confined to her
chamber for some weeks, by severe indisposition, just previous to his
own last illness, nor was she able to leave it until some time after the
last obsequies in honor to his memory. On the morning that Mr. Ballou
was taken ill, he came to her from his own dressing-room, kissed her
tenderly, and bade her adieu, with all the gentle and affectionate
solicitude with which a young husband might have left his bride; and,
passing down stairs to the parlor, was preparing to depart for the scene
of the convention at Plymouth, when he was suddenly taken in a fainting
fit. A couch was immediately removed to the room where he was taken so
suddenly ill, and he was not removed from it until he fell quietly
asleep in death. Little did the fond wife and companion of his bosom
think, when he bade her thus farewell, that it was for the last
time;--that it was the last time she should ever behold, on this earth,
that countenance that had never been turned upon her save in love and
tenderness,--that noble brow that had been her pride and glory in its
sublime truthfulness and purity of expression,--those eloquent lips that
had been such a well-spring of heavenly truths! But such it was. Herself
too ill to be removed from her chamber, she never saw him afterwards;
and she still cherishes his memory as associated with that fond and
endearing look that accompanied his last kiss and farewell!
In relation to the manner in which he had prepared the mind of his wife
for the event which he seemed so clearly to foresee, Rev. Mr. Miner, in
his farewell sermon, said:--
"He had often exhorted his companion to hold herself in readiness for
his departure, forewarning her that every separation from her might be
the last. But a few days previous to his death, he had renewedly
impressed this upon her mind. What a sublime spectacle was this! At more
than fourscore years of age, braving the rigors of mid-winter and the
extreme heat of summer, and regardless of the dangers that attend the
rapid conveyances of our time, this veteran preacher 'takes his life in
his hand,' and goes forth continually to promulgate the everlasting
gospel!"
We must not omit to give the reader a brief article which Mr. Ballou
left among his papers, relating to the close of his earthly career. It
was folded in with his accounts, will, and other important papers, and
was written in his usual legible hand. It was in the spirit of a preface
to the will which followed, and in which every matter had been plainly
arranged, with that regard for impartiality, strict justice and
completeness, that was in accordance with his nature, and all that he
did or said in relation to any subject in which he engaged.
"In view of that solemn event, which must unavoidably take place,
which will end my mortal days and close my labors on earth, I make
this serious and important declaration: I humbly and earnestly pray
that the Father of the spirits of all flesh may, in that mercy
which he has revealed in our Lord Jesus Christ, forgive all that in
my whole life he sees amiss in me. This prayer is offered in that
_faith_ for which I adore him who hath given it to me.
"I heartily regret that I have not been a better husband, a better
father, and especially a better and more useful minister of the
gospel of divine grace. For my faults in these particulars I ask
the forgiveness of the kind and faithful wife of my bosom, of my
dearly-beloved and dutiful children, and of the discerner of my
heart and thoughts, to whom I offer devout and unfeigned gratitude,
that, by his favor, I have been enabled to do as well as I have in
the relation of a husband, and father, and minister of the gospel
of Christ. I sincerely return thanks to all my brethren in the
common faith, for all their kindness to me. I sincerely thank the
great fraternity of Christians, united with me in the precious
faith in which we believe, and especially the church and society
with whom, for more than thirty years, I have lived in love, and
with whom I have labored in word and doctrine, for all their
numerous favors.
"Hosea Ballou."
* * * * *
"A great man has fallen," says the editor of the Trumpet. "There
have been but few such men as Father Ballou. We can truly say that
those who knew him best loved him most. Those who had heard him
preach the oftenest, and who had read the most thoroughly what he
had written, felt more than others the power of his mind, and were
more deeply convinced than others that he was intellectually, as
well as religiously and morally, a great man. His life was
protracted beyond fourscore years; he enjoyed a very large share of
health and strength through that whole time. He was never idle; he
worked, up to the last week of his life, in the harvest-field, and
actually died with the sickle in his hand. He was taken sick at his
own house; and, after six days of comparatively light suffering, he
gently fell asleep in death, quietly as an infant falls into
slumber, and at the moment when he seemed to be putting his body in
the posture for the coffin.
"It is in vain for us to attempt to give, in this brief sketch, an
account of the travels of Father Ballou; the small but interesting
and instructive incidents of his life,--his sermons, his
controversies, the different books he wrote, the judgment of
impartial men concerning him,--all these things must be left to be
described at a time and under circumstances when full justice can
be done to the illustrious man. His character, too, must be drawn.
For ourself, we say, most unreservedly, we never knew a better man.
We say this, after having lived in his family under his immediate
tuition, and since that time spent more than thirty years side by
side with him, 'in journeyings often,' in mutual consultations, and
in very frequent interviews. If we ever saw a person equally
amiable, kind, upright, gentle and true, it is the aged widow who
survives him. If he was more than a father to us, she was more
than a mother. She can never be honored too much for her goodness.
To her must be attributed much of the ease and quietness he enjoyed
in life, and without which he could not have accomplished the full
measure of the good for which he is now beloved and reverenced. So
much for the moral qualities of this venerable man and woman. There
remain yet to be described (but it cannot be done here) the
child-like simplicity of the man; his benevolence; his blindness to
the faults of others; his open eye to their virtues; his strong
sense of rectitude; his remarkable and long-continued habits of
justice; his wonderful mind, so clear, so strong, to the last; his
eagle-eyed sagacity; his strong faith in God and his word,--a faith
like a mountain for its towering height and firmness; his devotion
to the truth; his love of the work of the ministry; his truly
religious character; his susceptibility to deep devotional feeling;
his love of conventions and associations for the seasons of public
worship they gave him so many opportunities to enjoy; his love of
conference meetings; his power over the people; his closing sermons
at conventions; his prayers at the separation, when all, old and
young, male and female, clergy and laity, would be melted into
tears;--ah! who shall attempt to describe all these things?"
"For myself (for I will throw off the editorial style), I
acknowledge that I feel most deeply the loss of this steadfast
friend. I mourn, not for him, but for _myself_. To me he had been a
father. He found me in my early manhood, and drew me out from
seclusion. He taught my lips to pray. He turned my attention to the
ministry; and he sought and obtained the means to support me, when
I had not a cent with which to help myself. He was in the desk with
me when I stood up tremblingly (in the town-house in Roxbury) to
preach my first sermon. He introduced me to the society in Milford,
Mass., where I had my first pastoral charge, and where I formed the
tenderest relations of human life; and he was the cause of my being
invited, in the year 1822, to settle at Cambridgeport, where I ever
since have lived. For six years thereafter, I was associated with
him in conducting the 'Universalist Magazine;' and from that time
to his death he has been a constant contributor to the columns of
the 'Trumpet,' refusing for the last ten years all pecuniary
compensation, although repeatedly pressed upon him. He has been the
earnest, steadfast friend of my wife and children; my earthly guide
and counsellor, who has reproved me, but not too often; my teacher
to the end of his life; a man of whom I have learned more
concerning God and the divine word, and the relation between God
and man, than I have learned from any other human source. How can
the event of such a man's death transpire, without exciting in me
extraordinary sensations? And yet I am not inconsolable. When I
reflect upon what he was, upon the length of his life, upon the
great measure of good he accomplished, upon the fact that he was
permitted (although so much away) to die at home, surrounded by
his most exemplary and loving children, after a very brief
sickness, and to die so gently, almost in the act of binding
sheaves in the harvest-field,--I cease to mourn. I thank God for
what he was; and if I could call him back to earth, I should not
dare to do so. I thank God that I saw him within an hour of his
death, and that he knew me, and extended his hand, and that I was
permitted to take it and kiss it. And now, although there never
will be, for there never can be, another man to me like Father
Ballou, I will be reconciled. And I will close this brief sketch
with the words of Job,--'The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken
away; blessed be the name of the Lord.'"
Passing over the feelings of sorrow, yet of calm resignation, that
exercised the aged widow and mother, and the large circle of devoted and
loving children, who have so fully realized the solemn character of this
bereavement, we wish to give here the series of resolutions presented to
the mourning family by the second Universalist society, over which Mr.
Ballou had presided for a period of so many years. They were
communicated to the family in the same delicate and feeling manner in
which all else relating to the melancholy event had been performed by
those engaged in it. They are as follows:
"Whereas it has pleased Almighty God to call to himself our
venerable father in Israel, Rev. Hosea Ballou, the senior pastor of
this society, who departed this life on the 7th day of June, 1852,
aged 81 years; and whereas, in recurring to the events of his long
and memorable life, we bring to mind the time when he first
appeared as the fearless advocate of what he then and ever
afterwards felt to be God's truth as revealed in the Holy
Scriptures; the moral courage with which he sustained that truth
amid all the assaults of learning, bigotry and tradition,
continuing faithful to the last in the path that was revealed to
him as the path of duty; therefore,
"_Resolved_, That the present prosperous aspect of the Universalist
denomination, and the gradual infusion of its principles into those
of other Christian denominations, are monuments of honor to its
pioneers, of whom Hosea Ballou was one of the chief.
"_Resolved_, That the denomination of Universalists have therefore
lost, in this dispensation of Divine Providence, a champion whose
latter days they have delighted to honor; a practical example of
the working of the faith once delivered to the saints; and one who
has most ably worn the breastplate of righteousness and borne the
shield of faith, and who has gone down to the grave 'full of years
and full of honors.'
"_Resolved_, That as sole pastor of this society during a period of
about twenty-seven years, and as senior pastor for about eight
years, his career has been uniformly marked by a wisdom and
kindness, in all his intercourse with its members, both
individually and collectively, which prevented even the approach of
any discord between them; and by a large and broad charity, which
made all mankind his brothers, and children of the same paternal
God.
"_Resolved_, That in the death of this venerable Christian, whom we
have so long looked up to as a pastor, yea, even as a father, this
society especially has met with a heavy loss; and while we feel
deeply the weight of this afflicting bereavement, yet we would
gratefully acknowledge the kindness of an all-wise Providence in
having spared his life and continued his usefulness in so signal
and uninterrupted a manner, during the protracted period of his
connection with us.
"_Resolved_, That in the simplicity of his daily life, which was
most truly a life without guile, we see a proof of his devotion to
principle worthy of all honor; and in his inflexible integrity he
has left an eloquent lesson, which all, young and old, may read
with profit.
"_Resolved_, That we sympathize most sincerely with the afflicted
widow, children and other relatives, of our deceased pastor, in
their bereavement; that we feel the poverty of language to
administer consolation, and can only point them to the sublime
truths of gospel grace which their departed relative spent his life
in teaching; that we fervently commend them to Him who 'tempers the
wind to the shorn lamb;' and, while we can hardly expect to assuage
their grief with the wound yet so fresh, we would bid them sorrow
not as those without hope, but remember how many a weary soul has
found rest from the teachings of him they now mourn, and direct
them to the glorious faith that he is 'not lost, but gone before.'
"_Voted_, That the foregoing resolutions be signed by the Moderator
and Clerk, and published in the 'Trumpet' and 'Freeman,' and that a
copy of the same be forwarded to the family of our deceased pastor.
"G. W. Gage, _Moderator_.
"Newton Talbot, _Clerk_."
It still remains for us to describe the funeral ceremonies; and here
again we copy from others. The description is as it appeared in the
Trumpet.
"The funeral of this venerable man, and faithful old Christian teacher,
took place on Wednesday, June 9th. Prayer was first offered at the
house, in the hearing of the widow, who had not left her chamber, and
scarcely her bed, for some thirty days. This part of the services was
strictly private. The corpse was then taken to the church, with the
members of the family in carriages.
"The church had been very appropriately put in mourning for the
occasion. The large portrait in the vestry was shrouded in crape,
showing nothing but the figure of the aged preacher, as he stood in the
pulpit. In the great chapel, the pulpit, and the recess back of it, were
dressed in drapery of black crape. The entire front of the gallery, all
around the house, was festooned with black. The organ, also, was
appropriately dressed in mourning, in good keeping with the other
arrangements.
"The house was thrown open for the public at two o'clock, at which time
large crowds were waiting at the doors; and for a full half-hour before
the services were commenced, every seat and foothold upon the floor,
aisles, window-sills and recesses, excepting reserved pews, were
occupied. At three o'clock the corpse arrived. The clergy, numbering
somewhere between sixty and a hundred, proceeded from the vestry to the
pews assigned them. The members of the Second Universalist Society also
had their appropriate places. The corpse was borne to the position in
front of the pulpit, the bearers proceeding in the following order:
Rev. Dan'l Sharp, D. D., THE BODY. Rev. Edward Turner,
Rev. S. Barrett, D. D., Rev. S. Streeter,
Rev. S. Cobb, Rev. T. Whittemore,
Rev. L. R. Paige, Rev. Josiah Gilman.
"During the entrance, the organ gave forth a mournful prelude. The sight
was a most affecting one,--so vast a multitude with such an expression
of sorrow upon their countenances.
"1. The services were introduced by a funeral chant, after which
"2. Scriptures were read by Rev. O. A. Skinner.
"3. The following hymn was sung, many of the congregation joining their
voices to that of the choir.
HYMN.
"On Zion's holy walls
Is quenched a beacon-light;
In vain the watchman calls,
'Sentry! what of the night?'
No answering voice is here;
Say,--does the soldier sleep?
O, yes,--upon the bier,
His watch no more to keep.
Still is that heaven-touched tongue,
Pulseless the throbbing breast;
That voice with music strung
Forever put to rest
To rest? A living thought,
Undimmed, unquenched, he soars,
An essence, spirit wrought,
Of yon immortal shores.
Peace to thee, man of God!
Thine earthly toils are o'er;
The thorny path is trod,
The Shepherd trod before.
Full well he kept his word,--
'I'm with thee to the end;
Fear not! I am the Lord,
Thy never-failing friend!'
We weave no dirge for thee,--
It should not call a tear
To know that thou art free;
Thy home,--it was not here!
Joy to thee, man of God!
Thy heaven-course is begun;
Unshrinking thou hast trod
Death's vale,--thy race is run!"
"4. Prayer, by Rev. Thomas Whittemore.
"5. Hymn, 'Vital Spark of Heavenly Flame!'
"6. Sermon, by Rev. A. A. Miner, junior pastor, from 2 Cor. 5: 1,--'For
we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we
have a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the
heavens.'
"7. Hymn, 'Unveil thy Bosom, Faithful Tomb.'
"8. Concluding Prayer, by Rev. Sebastian Streeter.
"9. Benediction.
"During the singing of the last hymn, persons began to press around the
coffin, to get a last view of the departed. Notice was therefore given,
at the close of the service, that the coffin would be placed in the
entry, and all would have an opportunity to see, as they passed out;
but, on account of the great number, each must content himself with a
brief farewell view. The funeral procession was formed in the following
order: 1st. Bearers, in carriages. 2d. The body. 3d. The committee of
the society. 4th. The clergy of the Universalist denomination, amounting
to nearly a hundred. 5th. The members of the Second Universalist
Society. 6th. The friends from the neighboring towns. 7th. The mourners,
in carriages.
"This procession extended from the head of School-street to the corner
of Boylston-street, being nearly half a mile.
"An immense body of people had arrived at the ground previously to the
funeral procession. The corpse was borne to the temporary
resting-place, in the burying-ground at the foot of the Common, where it
was deposited. The lid of the coffin was raised, and those who desired
passed by once more, and then the solemn scene was closed."
The last Sabbath that Mr. Ballou preached was on the 30th of May,
1852,--eight days before his death,--at Woonsocket, R. I. The texts were
the following:
"FORENOON.--Ecclesiastes 12: 13, 14. 'Let us hear the conclusion of the
whole matter: Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole
duty of man. For God shall bring every work into judgment, with every
secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil.'
"AFTERNOON.--Titus 2: 11, 12. 'For the grace of God that bringeth
salvation hath appeared to all men, teaching us that, denying
ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously and
godly, in this present world.'"
The fact of Mr. Ballou's having preached his last sermon in Rev. John
Boyden's desk, a brother who had once been an inmate of his family as a
student of divinity, has elicited the following letter, which seems
particularly appropriate here:
"DEAR SIR:--
"I rejoice most sincerely to learn, as I do this day, that you are
so soon to give us a memoir of Father Ballou. And, if it be not
asking too much, I should be glad of a little space, that I may
record my tribute of filial affection. He was to me a father,
indeed; and to him I owe more than to any other man,--and, perhaps,
all others,--for the little good I may have accomplished as a
minister of Christ. He was my teacher when he knew it not.
"When I was about fourteen years old, I heard him preach, in the
town of Brookfield; and I am sure the impression that sermon made
will remain to the end of my life. It was designed to unfold the
riches of Christ Jesus. As the theme opened, the audience became
intensely interested; and, as the preacher gathered and arranged
the sacred testimony, to unfold the gracious purposes of our
Heavenly Father as manifested through the Redeemer, we seemed like
hungry children, watching the maternal hands that feed them. And
when he laid the precious burden before us, he would exclaim, in
all his wonted earnestness, '_Do_ you _see the unsearchable riches
of Christ?_' Again he would go forth, gathering other fruits of the
divine love, and again repeat, as a part of his text, 'Do you see
the unsearchable riches of Christ?' This was the conclusion of each
division of the discourse; and it served not only to rivet it in
our minds, but, by the involuntary mental response which it
induced, made us almost co-workers with the speaker, and thus gave
us growing interest in the theme.
"From that hour, and from the influence of that single discourse, I
had a strong desire to aid in unfolding the 'unsearchable riches of
Christ' to my fellow-men. My young heart felt, for the first time,
that there was a fulness in the provision which our Father had made
for us that the world had not known; and it seemed to me I _must_,
some time, preach that blessed gospel. Not more than three or four
years after that time, I heard him preach one of his masterly
sermons, in Charlton, which fired my soul anew with a desire to
enter the ministry. His text was, 'For we preach not ourselves, but
Christ Jesus the Lord,' &c. After reading the text, he carefully
folded his glasses, put them in his pocket, as was his custom, and,
while the audience were waiting with breathless attention, that
they might secure the first word that should fall from his lips, he
began thus:--'The text _supposes_ that there _is_ such a thing as a
man's preaching _himself_.' The audience _breathed_,--a token that
they already possessed the key to the sermon. But it was a
remarkable characteristic of his sermons, that, though you might
early anticipate the conclusion to which he was coming, yet you
could not foresee the _process_ by which he was to lead you, since
that was peculiarly original. That sermon strengthened my
conception of the glory of the gospel as we understand it, and
especially when he contrasted with it the fading and sickly glory
of all forms of partialism. He made us understand how easy and
agreeable a duty it was to preach Christ; because in him there was
neither inconsistency, partiality nor cruelty. A sermon from this
text, I know, has been printed; but _that_ sermon I have never seen
on paper, nor can my poor pen describe the heavenly glow of
feeling expressed by the countenances of that assembly. Perchance
the record is in heaven.
"On the fourteenth day of May, 1829, I entered his family as a
student; and let me here say it was _home_. There were my adopted
father and mother, brothers and sisters; and never were the
beautiful relations indicated by these endearing words in a single
instance marred. God bless them, for the words of sympathy and
encouragement that fell upon the ear of the timid young man! The
recollections of my experience in that family tell me that no man
knows the good he is doing, if his heart be right. There is a world
of power in a single word, when it falls on a needy and congenial
soil.
"During the last week of that month, and when I had, as yet,
written but one sermon, Father Ballou engaged with Father Leonard,
of Gloucester, that I should supply his desk the following Sunday.
I remonstrated. I had never spoken in public, except to declaim as
a school-boy; and it seemed to me I _could_ not stand up alone and
preach all day, and especially so soon after formally commencing my
studies. But to all this his reply, in substance, was, that the
gospel was very easy to be understood; that the matter of it was
all furnished to my hands; that I was only a _steward_ of God's
grace, and had only to give to the people what was given to me in
the divine word. Well, I told him I would go, if he said so; but he
would have to bear the responsibility, if I failed.
"In the morning, before leaving for Gloucester, I read my last
sermon to him; and then it was that he gave me a word of
commendation, that was like a generous shower upon the parched
ground. And this was followed by the well-remembered injunction:
'Brother Boyden, I have only one word to say in reference to your
labors, and that is, _be in earnest_. Don't speak one word without
making the people understand and feel that you believe it with all
your heart.' This was the only charge he ever gave me, till, at my
ordination, in Berlin, Ct., in 1830, he enjoined it upon me to
carry the spirit of our holy religion into all my labors, and
especially when I should go to the chamber of sickness, and to the
house of mourning. The tremulous words, as they fell from the lips
of the father upon his son, stirred the whole audience with
emotion. They were treasured in many hearts, and often repeated,
both by the old and young, who waited on my ministry.
"For myself, I must say they made a lasting impression on my mind;
and often, since that time, as I have visited the sick and dying,
has that venerable form preceded me, renewing the tender
injunction, 'Come in the spirit of the blessed Redeemer.' I trust
those words were not thrown away. And when, as will happen with
most men, my wearied frame has imparted languor to my speech, I
have sometimes been aroused by the sudden recollection of that
stirring appeal--'Be in earnest.' I know it has often quickened and
warmed my zeal; and when I remember that it was the motto of his
life to the last, I pray that it may be to me as a live coal from
the altar.
"_Punctuality_ is another of the sterling virtues that cluster
around that name, and his example has been of special service to
me. It characterized all his labors. I have known him much for
twenty-three years, and I never knew him to be late in fulfilling
any engagement, and he always took time, so as not to be in a
hurry. On the occasion of the installation of Bro. A. Bugbee, of
Charlton, some years ago, he delivered the scriptures and gave the
charge. In the course of his address, he dwelt upon the above-named
virtue with no little feeling. 'Bro. Bugbee,' said he, 'when you
come to church, _come in season_. Don't let the people come here
and wait, and wonder within themselves, saying, Where is Bro.
Bugbee? Is Bro. Bugbee sick? And O, don't forget to take time,
before you commence your services, to put up a silent prayer to
God, that he may aid and assist you in the discharge of your sacred
duties.'
"I know that that occasion was one of peculiar joy to many hearts,
and it was as the blessing of God on my soul. The religious spirit
within us was quickened; and many a time since, in my humble
efforts to preach the gospel, that 'silent prayer' has brought
celestial fire from heaven, and imparted new life to my spiritual
being. Doubtless there are many in the ministry whose experience
accords with my own in these things, and whose usefulness may be in
a good measure attributed to the personal influence of that great
and good man, who, great as he was, could not have comprehended
the vast results of which his unostentatious life was the agent.
And may we not all be encouraged to hope, that, if we live good
lives, the harvest will extend beyond the ken of the sower?
"But the most interesting fact, to me, in the life of my spiritual
father, is, that he closed his public services in my own pulpit, in
the presence of a delighted congregation, and, as I believe, of an
approving God. His last sermons are well remembered, even by
_children_. He has never preached here with greater zeal, power,
and comprehensiveness. We accept his services as the blessing of a
dying hour, and our veneration for the man is mingled with
gratitude to the everlasting Father, for so great a gift to our
world.
"Fraternally yours,
"J. BOYDEN, JR.
"_Woonsocket, July 6, 1852._"
The following is taken from the report of L. W. Ballou, superintendent
of the Sabbath-school attached to the Woonsocket Universalist Society,
which school the subject of this biography visited and spoke before on
the day referred to. It is especially interesting as being connected
with his last public efforts.
"On the thirtieth of May it was our privilege to be visited by, and to
receive the last public instructions of, our venerable Father Ballou;
for in one week from the time he left us 'the golden bowl was broken,'
and that voice to which we had so recently listened, and which had
breathed life and joy into so many souls, was hushed forever. But in his
works, in his example, in the glorious doctrines which for more than
sixty years he labored to establish, he still lives and speaks, and will
live and speak for ages to come. Long, I trust, shall we remember that
venerable form, that cheerful and benevolent countenance, and the words
of encouragement and hope with which, for the last time, he addressed
us, rejoicing that we were no longer taught as in times past, and as
some are even now, that by nature we are children of wrath, and under
the curse of God; but that God is our father, our benefactor, our best
friend,--that he cares for and is blessing us always. Thus did our aged
father close his public ministrations, in proclaiming the same great
doctrine which he had spent his life to establish,--the unbounded,
universal, and unchangeable love of God to man.
"Let us be as faithful to the truth, and in the performance of our duty,
in the sphere in which we move, as he was in his, and the same rich
blessings will attend us."
The subject of this biography entered most heartily and sincerely into
the spirit of Sabbath-schools; and since their general introduction in
our societies, throughout the order, he has taken peculiar satisfaction
in improving every suitable occasion for addressing and encouraging both
teachers and scholars in the object which engaged them, wherever he was
called to preach. In his own society he had seen the great good to be
derived from such an institution, as it regards the rearing of the
tender mind in the garden of the Lord; and he often mingled
professionally with children and teachers. The able and feeling remarks
of the superintendent, Mr. Goddard, as given above, will show the
appreciation in which the members of the school had been taught to hold
their pastor, and the spirit that actuated the hearts of the teachers
towards him, under whose Christian teachings they had, most of them,
been brought up from childhood.
The following verses, an invaluable legacy to Mr. Ballou's family, and
to all those who really loved him, were written by him in anticipation
of the closing hour of his life. The date we cannot give, as the
original paper bears none; but, from accessory circumstances, and
remarks which he made to his wife, that he felt he was "nearly worn
out," and that she must be prepared to hear of his decease at any
hour,--perhaps, even, away from home,--they may be supposed to express
his feelings more particularly within a very few days of the close of
his life. They require no dedication from us. They are priceless, and
beautiful in the extreme.
The verses are thus introduced:--
"A minister, experiencing certain infirmities of body which
strongly suggested to him that he might be suddenly called away,
wrote the following
FAREWELL ADDRESS.
I.
No more thy beams mine eyes delight,
Thou golden sun! the shades of night
Are o'er my vision cast.
Adieu to thy bright, cheering rays,
Thy morning light, thy noon-tide blaze,
Thy settings in the west.
II.
And thou, sweet moon, whose silver beam
Did on my evening rambles gleam,
I need thy light no more;
And you who twinkle in the skies
No more shall set, no more shall rise,
To me, as heretofore.
III.
Ye waves of ocean, fare you well;
Adieu to mountain, hill and dell,
Rich fields and gardens too;
Your flowery robes and fragrance sweet
No more my peaceful walks shall greet;
I bid ye all adieu.
IV.
Ye murmuring streams, whose winding way
Through flowery meads and woodlands lay,
And every limpid rill,
And all ye feathered tribes of air,
With voices sweet and plumage fair,
Accept my last farewell.
V.
Adieu, sweet Spring, the time of flowers!
Thy zephyrs soft, thy falling showers,
No more have charms for me;
Maternal Summer, too, adieu!--
These eyes no more thy beauty view,
Nor thy rich treasures see.
VI.
Autumn and Winter's social glee
Afford their charms no more to me,--
They but a moment last;
For life's short season now is o'er,
I taste its joys, its griefs, no more,--
The transient scene is past.
VII.
Ten thousand friends, and more, farewell!
With gratitude affections swell
Within this breast of mine;
And you, my foes, although but few,
Do share in this, my last adieu,--
May mercy on ye shine!
VIII.
Thou sacred desk, where oft I've stood
To plead the cause of truth for God,
To you I say farewell;
That I've been faithful to my Lord
I call for witness on his word,--
His word he will fulfil.
IX.
And you, my congregation dear,
Kindly regard the farewell tear,
So freely shed for you;
For all your favors to your friend,
May Heaven blessings to you send,
And every grace renew.
X.
One struggle more shall end the strife;--
My children dear, my loving wife,
Ye dearest joys of earth,
Accept this last, this fond adieu;
While I have lived I've lived for you,
But now resign my breath.
XI.
That Power which does for birds provide,
And clothes the grass in all its pride,
Much more shall nourish you;
On that kind arm in peace recline,
Submissive to the will divine,--
Believe his promise true.
XII.
And now my work on earth is done,
To thee, my Lord, my God, I come,
Still trusting in thy grace;
As earth recedes may I arise,
To be with Jesus in the skies,
And see his lovely face!"