evils that would have broken his heart and brought him in sorrow to the grave, came upon his family in overwhelming disaster. Dangers-spiritual dangers-are coming; domestic calamities draw nigh; national troubles are fermenting: God sees the clouds gathering, the elements brewing; and, while yet the cloud is as a man's hand, and the winds are murmuring afar off, he transfers his faithful servant to the repose of the blest. "In his hand are all my ways." Delightful thought! He directs. my steps, hears my sighs, chooses my allotments, numbers the hairs of my head, is about my bed and my path, and knoweth how and when to deliver: "Whether we die, we die unto the Lord."

But it may be asked, Why, if the righteous are so dear to Christ and so valuable to the world, are they doomed to death at all? Why does not religion, which saves us from a thousand other evils, release us from this law of mortality? In answer, I remark: The reasons are obvious on reflection. Exemption from death as a reward of piety would appeal so strongly to the love of life—the quickest, most enduring instinct of our being-as to override the freedom of choice, and thus make rational, voluntary piety impossible. We should adopt it as a starving man would clutch offered bread, or the man dying of thirst would seize the cup of cold water. And besides the violence done to our nature in making the propensities decide a question belonging-under the present economy, and in the proper fitness and adaptation of things-to the intellect, the heart, the will, the incongruity would follow of proposing a carnal, earthly motive for a spiritual life. On such a plan, Christianity must ap prove what she now repudiates; and the holy considerations by which she now seeks to win us from error to wisdom, from earth to heaven, would all be neutralized and lost, and the world to come be doome'l to borrow the forces of time to achieve its noblest victories.

The evil of sin can not be shown but by its punishment. This conclusion is legitimate from what is revealed of the divine administration, and from what we know of the processes of conviction in the mind of man. God hates sin. It is a blot upon his dominions. But he has not left the world to learn the fact even from the awful denunciations of his word, but he has written it in the catastrophe of nations. The deluge, famine, pestilence, fire and brimstone from heaven, have been the messengers of his wrath and the instruments of retribution. And where, save in the crucifixion of Christ Jesus and the damnation of the guilty, will you look for a more impressive demonstration of God's justice and his indignation against sin, than in the dying agonies of infant innocence, or the mortal convulsions of him who dies unto the Lord? It is written, "The body is dead because of sin," even when "the spirit is life because of righteousness." But death, with all its antecedents and consequents. -the mournful harbingers of its approach and its power-the loathsome desolations of its victory and its reign-to the saint of God is no longer death. It is but dissolution-departure. Sad in its aspects and accom

paniments, it is nevertheless a release. A pillar of cloud and fire, its shadows all fall on this side of the grave; beyond, all is light, and life, and glory. We die unto the Lord, and-may I not add ?—for the Lord. The death of the good preaches terror to the wicked. "If the righteous scarcely be saved, where shall the sinner and the ungodly appear ?" O! we ask not "Enoch's rapturous flight, nor Elijah's fiery steeds” to bear us away, if by dying we may help to convince the world of sin and judgment. We would do good even in death. As we wish to live to serve him "who loved us," so would we die to make his glory known—“ the justice and the grace."

"Mark the perfect man and behold the upright, for the end of that man is peace." "The chamber where the good man meets his fate” is a scene of glory. See his patience under suffering-the calm submission, and often the joy unutterable. Is this human fortitude-the stoicism of a blind philosophy-the outflashing of sentiment and fancy? No, no. It is the fulfillment of promise, grace abounds. It is the conviction that the Judge of all the earth will do right. "Though he slay me, yet will I trust in Him.” It is the knowledge of the Redeemer in his pardoning mercy-his purifying spirit--and in the glory soon to be revealed in its fullness and eternity. It is an argument for religion, that it ends well: "Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his.” The prophet's prayer finds an echo in every heart not lost to hope and heaven. Who that looks upon a dying scene where Christianity wreathes the pale face with smiles of rapture, and inspires the failing tongue to utter its last articulations in the dialect of heaven, does not breathe from his inmost soul the wish-even so may I meet the last enemy? In life, being strong in faith, we give glory to God; so in the final struggle He is glorified in us and by us. "These all died in faith”-immortal record! epitaph of the good, and interpreter of their doom. Living and dying, "we are the Lord's-his property-absolutely, in every change, walking upon the earth and sleeping in its bosom. He made us and he loves us. He is “not ashamed to be called" our God. Life, probation, and death are all ministers employed by him to do us good. If he prolong our days, it is that we may serve him and our generation by the will of God. If he afflict us, it is "for our profit-that we may be partakers of his holiness." If he call us hence, it is that we may "see him as he is, and be like him forever." Our bodies may inhabit the house appointed for all the living, and our very name perish from the records of time; but he looks down and "watches all our dust till he shall bid it rise." We are the Lord's-the jewels of his kingdom and the travail of his soul. He hath said it, and it shall stand fast: "they shall be mine." "Because I live, they shall live also." "We are the Lord's." Let us rejoice in our relationship, and walk worthy of our high descent. and our immortal destiny.

The principle and spirit of the text were beautifully exemplified in the

*

** Duty was

afe and death of our beloved brother, Bishop Capers. nis law in life-his watchword at the gate of death. Partially relieved by the physician's skill and the power of medicine, he asked the hour. When told, he exclaimed: "What! only three hours since I have been suffering such torture? Only three hours! What must be the voice of the bird that cries 'Eternity! Eternity! Three hours have taken away all but my religion." Health gone, strength gone, hope gone, life almost gone, but religion abides steadfast and stronger! Retreating from the shore where stand wife, children, and friends, waving their last adieu, but my religion goes with me. All the foundations of earth are failing me, but my religion still towers amid the general wreck, securely firm, indissolubly sure! Glory to God for such a testimony from such

In the history of our honored, beloved brother, there is no vice to deplore, and no error to lament. I say not that he was perfect; but I do say, a world of such men would liken earth to heaven. I say not that he had no infirmities, no human frailties; but I do say that his selfsacrificing spirit, his humble, holy, useful labors, his unwearied zeal, and his spotless example, are to his descendants a noble patrimony, and to the church a priceless heritage. Alive, he was a demonstration of the power and truth of Christianity; being dead, he yet speaketh, proclaiming to all that God is faithful. He left all and followed Christ, but never lacked any good thing. Counting all things but loss that he might win Christ, God gave him friends and fame, honor and usefulness. A messenger of God, his visits were blessings. The country admired him and the church loved him. His death fell like a shadow upon many a hearthstone, and his native State became a valley of weeping. Cities struggled for the honor of his burial, and Methoasm, in mourning, repeats his funeral, to prolong her grief, and consecrate his memory. O, brethren! we have lost a friend, a brother, an advocate, an example, a benefactor. Earth is growing poorer. There is now less faith, less zeal, less love in the world. The righteous are perishing; the good are taken away. O, ye venerable fathers of the church, cotemporaries and fellow-laborers of the ascended Capers, your ranks are broken. The friends of your youth are gone, and, relics of a generation well-nigh past, ye still linger among us. God bless you: we love you much, but we can not keep you much longer. Your sands are running low; your change is at hand. You, venerable sir,* are almost the only bond that binds the preacher and his congregation to the pioneers of Methodism in this broad country. That bond, fretted and worn by more than three-score years and ten, is well-nigh threadless, attenuated, and ready to break. But God is with you. The raven hair, the ruddy cheek, the vigorous arm, the enduring strength, are gone-all gone; but your religion, too, thank God, is left you. Leaning upon that staff, you are waiting your summons. Heaven bless you with a smiling sunset, a

pleasing night, and a glorious morn. And you, hoary veterans of tl.c cross—one and all-heroes of a glorious strife, remnants of an army slain and yet victorious, if we survive when ye are gone, how bereaved and solitary our lot! But ye are going: the wrinkled brow, the furrowed cheek, the halting step, respond, "Yes, we are going." Pray for as while you live, and bless us when you die.

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And you, brethren, middle-aged and young, let us imitate the example, catch the spirit of our glorified brother and fellow-laborer. He felt himself a debtor to the wise and the unwise. The White man, the Indian, and the Negro, all shared his counsel, his labors, his sympathy, and his prayers. The white fields are yet ungathered, and the strongest reapers are falling. The mournful event we commemorate cries: Go work to-day in the Lord's vineyard." This is our duty, and ought to be our only business. We are here, as officers and ministers of our branch of the church, to inaugurate our great missionary and publishing interests under new auspices. But the cold shadow of death falls darkly upon our council-chamber. Its presence is a warning. We have homeinterests we may not live to supervise; there are plans of usefulness we may not help to execute; for we too are passing away. What we do must be done quickly. Let us live unto the Lord-let us live unto the Lord more than ever; let us be more prompt, self-denying, and laborious. Let us be steadfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as we know that our labor is not in vain in the Lord. What we lay out he will repay. Amid our toil, inconveniences, and trials, be this our consolation: "We are the Lord's.' If we live till our physical powers decay, the dim eye may still read our title clear. On Jesus' bosom we may learn the hoary head, and in death's sad struggle feel our kind Preserver near. God will not love us less because the strong men bow themselves," and "the keepers of the house tremble." His love endureth forever. His claim is undeniable, his title indisputable. The grave's effacing fingers can not mutilate the handwriting. Time's ponderous wheel, as it grinds the world to dust on its march to judgment, can not destroy the record. "A book of remembrance is written before him," safe beyond the desolations of earth, and the triumphs of the sepulcher. Heeding, then, the solemn providence which bids us weep a brother deceased, let us go forth bearing precious seed, sowing beside all waters-we shall rest, and stand in our lot at the end of the days. "Whether we live, therefore, or die, we are the Lord's." Living and dying, dead and buried, we are his-his when we rise, his when heaven and earth are fled and gone, his in the New Jerusalem, forever and forever!

* Bishop Soule.

DISCOURSE XXXV

RICHARD S. STORRS, JUN., D.D.

SOME thirteen years ago, on an inclement winter's night, a small company of mer might have been seen consulting together in a lawyer's office in Brooklyn, as if upon matters of grave interest. The theme was the practicability of commencing a new church enterprise; and the project was determined upon. It was the initiative measure in the organization of "The Church of the Pilgrims," which took place in the year 1844. In July of that year the corner-stone of their costly and unique church edifice was laid; and when, nearly two years later, the house was dedicated, and a minister was desired, the choice fell, after considerable consultation and some delay, upon the young pastor of the Harvard Congregational church, Brookline, Massachusetts-R. S. Storrs, Jun.-who came to their ministry in the month of November, 1846, and who still continues to fill the pastorate with eminent

success.

Dr. Storrs represents the younger preachers of the American pulpit; having been born August 21st, 1821, at Braintree, Massachusetts. His ancestry is emphatically ministerial. The father, still living-the Rev. Richard S. Storrs, D. D.-has been pastor, since 1811, of the first church (Congregational) in Braintree. His father was the Rev. Richard S. Storrs, of Long Meadow, Massachusetts; and his father, the Rev. John Storrs, of Southold, Long Island. The subject of our sketch was graduated at Amherst College, in 1839, under the presidency of Rev. Dr. Humphrey; and, three years later, made a public profession of religion, in connection with the church of his native town. After graduation he read law for some time, with the purpose of entering that profession; but subsequently entered the Andover Theological Seminary, where he completed his course, in 1845, and the same year took charge of the Congregational church in Brookline, Massachusetts. A year later, as before stated, he came to Brooklyn, New York; and the young society has so increased, as to number at the present time about 430 communicants.

In personal appearance, Dr. Storrs is tall, rather athletic, and slightly inclined to stoutness, with a countenance ruddy but intellectual. His voice is remarkable for depth and power, his enunciation rapid but distinct, and his whole delivery forcible and impressive. His sermons are, in the main, carefully prepared; but he is said to discourse sometimes without notes, and with great acceptance.

He has published some eight or ten occasional sermons and addresses. His principal published work is a volume of "Graham Lectures," on the "Wisdom, Goodness, and Power of God, as manifested in the Constitution of the Human Soul;" which is a fine example of the possible combination of broad philosophic, and scientific discussion, with apt llustration, and the various embellishments of a cultivated taste.