its almighty author. I shall never forget the delight which illumined his countenance a short time ago, as he told me, that he had just been reading the history of the coral, the insect which raises islands in the sea. 'How wonderfully,' he exclaimed, is God's providence revealed in these little creatures.' The last subject to which he devoted his thoughts, was slavery. His mild spirit could never reconcile itself to the methods in which this evil is often assailed; but the greatness of the evil he deeply felt, and he left several essays on this as on the preceding subject, which, if they shall be found unfit for publication, will still bear witness to the intense, unfaltering interest with which he bound himself to the cause of mankind. I have thus given a sketch of the history of a good man who lived and died the lover of his kind and the admiration of his friends. Two views of him particularly impressed me. The first was the unity, the harmony of his character. He had no jarring elements. His whole nature had been blended and melted into one strong, serene love. His mission was to preach peace, and he preached it not on set occasions, or by separate efforts, but in his whole life. It breathed in his tones. It beamed from his venerable countenance. He carried it, where it is least apt to be found, into the religious controversies, which raged around him with great vehemence, but which never excited him to a word of anger or intolerance. All my impressions of him are harmonious. I recollect no discord in his beautiful life, and this serenity was not the result of torpidness or tameness; for his whole life was a conflict with what he thought error. He made no compromise with the world, and yet he loved it as deeply and constantly as if it had responded in shouts to all his views and feelings. The next great impression which I received from him, was that of the sufficiency of the mind to its own happiness, or of its independence on outward things. He was for years debilitated and often a great sufferer; and his circumstances were very narrow, compelling him to so strict an economy, that he was sometimes represented, though falsely, as wanting the common comforts of life. In this tried and narrow condition, he was among the most contented of men. He spoke of his old age as among the happiest portions if not the very happiest in his life. In conversation his religion manifested itself in gratitude more frequently than in any other form. When I have visited him in his last years, and looked on his serene countenance, and heard his cheerful voice, and seen the youthful earnestness with which he was reading a variety of books, and studying the great interests of humanity, I have felt how little of this outward world is needed to our happiness. I have felt the greatness of the human spirit, which could create to itself such joy from its own resources. I have felt the folly, the insanity of that prevailing worldliness, which in accumulating outward good, neglects the imperishable soul. On leaving his house and turning my face toward the city, I have said to myself, how much richer is this poor man than the richest who dwell yonder. I have been ashamed of my own dependance on outward good. I am always happy to express my obligations to the benefactors of my mind; and I owe it to Dr. Worcester to say, that my acquaintance with him gave me clearer comprehension of the spirit of Christ, and of the dignity of a man. And he has gone to his reward. He has gone to that world of which he carried in his own breast so rich an earnest and pledge, to a world of Peace. He has gone to Jesus Christ, whose spirit he so deeply comprehended and so freely imbibed, and to God, whose universal, allsuffering, all-embracing love he adored and in a humble measure made manifest in his own life. But he is not wholly gone; not gone in heart, for I am sure that a better world has heightened, not extinguished, his affection for his race; and not gone in influence, for his thoughts remain in his works, and his memory is laid up as a sacred treasure in many minds. A spirit so beautiful ought to multiply itself in those to whom it is made known. May we all be incited by it to a more grateful, cheerful love to God, and serener, gentler, nobler love of our fellow-creatures. NOTE. FROM A LETTER OF ONE OF DR. WORCESTER'S CHILDREN. My father was blessed with pious ancestors. His grandfather was reputed a devoted minister. Both his grand-parents took a deep interest in his welfare, and, with his pious parents, no doubt, offered fervent supplication that he might early devote himself to the service of God. He often remarked, that he could not remember, when he had not a love for divine things. A few days previous to his death, he mentioned a circumstance which deeply interested me. He said, that, in the absence of his father, his mother and grandmother were in the habit of conducting family worship, until he arrived to the age of twelve. From that period, he said, that he, being the oldest child, was called upon to perform this service. The sacredness, which, from early life, he attached to the observance of this delightful duty, may thus be accounted for. Even when there were strong indications of mental aberration, as there often were in the lethargic turns with which he was afflicted for several years previous to his death, he would call the family together at the customary hour, and address the throne of grace in an affectionate and collected manner. “He had no advantages for an education, excepting what the common public schools of that day afforded. He was industrious, and very economical of time, and having a thirst for knowledge, improved all his moments to some good purpose. At the age of twenty-one he was married, and removed to Thornton, N. H. At what time he made a profession of religion, I cannot tell; but the deep interest which he took in the spiritual welfare of the people, and the affection manifested on their part, suggested to their aged minister the idea, that his own services could be spared, and that my father should prepare himself to be his successor. With the care of a family, dependent entirely upon his labor for support, and with few books except his Bible, he commenced. The minister above alluded to, I think, afforded him such assistance as he was able; but it was very evident, that the Great Teacher was his principal instructor, as he possessed much of his spirit. "He was in the habit of speaking of his death with perfect composure for many years, and calculated to have all his affairs arranged and settled daily, and appeared to be constantly waiting for the coming of the Bridegroom. If there was one grace, which shone more particularly in his character than another, I think it was gratitude; and surely no family have greater reason for gratitude than we have had. The debt is great to earthly benefactors, but how immense our obligations to our Divine benefactor. During my dear father's last illness, when he was relieved from distress, or after refreshing sleep, he would exclaim, Give God the praise; help me to praise him.' For the last few weeks of his life, he was too weak to converse much. He appeared to take great delight in hearing the Scriptures read, and in uniting with Christians in prayer. His precious spirit returned to God who gave it, twenty minutes past nine in the evening of October 31, 1837. When the clock struck seven he inquired the time, and whether it was seven in the morning or evening. On being told, he expressed his surprise that it was no later, and said, 'I hope that I shall be in Heaven before seven in the morning.' A friend replied, I trust you will.' He was asked if he should like to have prayer again. He answered very cheerfully, and with a smile upon his countenance turned to a friend present, and said, 'O yes, do.' A little before nine he requested that the death of Christ might be read to him. He was asked where. He replied in Matthew. A turn of distress prevented this request being complied with for some minutes, after which he was asked if he could now listen; he said 'Yes,' and appeared to attend with interest. This was his last request, and these were his last words." "The venerable Dr. Worcester, (as stated in a letter from the Rev. Mr. Austin of Brighton,) lived to see the fourth generation, and died aged 79. A few days before his death, he told me, that his religious views were unchanged, and that he derived from them peculiar comfort; and to the Rev. Mr. Lamson, who also prayed with him more than once, he said, Pray that I may have no will of my own."" |