DISCOURSE.

[Delivered at the Interment of the Rev. William Emerson, May, 1811.]

THE circumstances, in which we assemble here, to pay our last respects to this departed servant of God, are too mournful and extraordinary not to be distinctly remarked. Within a very few weeks,* a greater number of ministers have been called away from their mortal service in the churches of New-England, than was, perhaps, ever known before, in the same interval of time. In this town, there still vibrates on the ear the funeral bell of one of our beloved brethren. The earth has not yet settled on his remains; the footsteps of the mourners have hardly turned back from his grave, ere another waits for admission, and the bereaved meet and mingle their lamentations. In the meanwhile, it is not to us, nor was it to him, whose remains are before us, merely a fanciful satisfaction, to think that the beloved Dr. Eckley will hardly have left these

* Within the last two months, there have departed this life, the Rev. Dr. Hemmenway, of Wells, a man of extraordinary learning, of apostolical simplicity, and venerable worth; the Rev. Dr. Barnes, of Scituate, the Rev. Mr. Parker, of Provincetown, and some other ministers, whose deaths have been mentioned in the newspapers. Dr. Eckley, senior pastor of the Old South Church, in Boston, was buried on the 3d of May, nine days before the decease of the Rev. Mr. Emerson, whose dissolution was then daily expected by himself and his friends.

regions of mortality, these confines of his former existence, ere this kindred spirit, long waiting to be dismissed, will follow in the still lingering light of his upward track, with the hope, if God so please, of being reunited with him forever.

For those, who have so long been seeking "a better country," even a heavenly, " to depart and be with Christ is far better." But, though we weep not for them who have finished their course with joy, we may weep for ourselves, who are left to keep the faith, and contend in the trials of this uncertain life, with fewer friends, counsellors, and companions.

HELP, LORD, FOR THE GODLY MAN CEASETH; FOR THE FAITHFUL FAIL FROM AMONG THE CHILDREN OF MEN!

These words are to be found in the twelfth Psalm, at the first verse. They have presented themselves to my mind, not as a topic for discourse, but as a faithful expression of the feelings of every good man among us, upon hearing that he shall behold our departed brother Emerson no more with the inhabitants of this world. Help us now, Lord, to lay his death to heart, and to keep him always in worthy remembrance!

Though one of the most common, it is still one of the sweetest rewards of acknowledged and respected virtue, to leave the minds of survivors turning involuntarily toward the contemplation of that worth which they are no longer to enjoy. Then the excellences of the departed take full possession of our imaginations; and we find ourselves engaged in calling up their merits, which, because we had

so little fear of losing, we had, perhaps, undervalued, or not fully regarded. Then, when we find them no more in the places which once knew them, recollection is busy about the spots which they frequented, and there start up a thousand affecting remembrances of their character and manners. When we are called upon to supply their places, the task is found more painful and difficult than we had imagined ; and we begin to wish that we had valued them more, and loved them better, as well as enjoyed them longer. The void, left by the death of good men, time does not fill, indeed, but only throws farther back into the retrospect. We come to their last obsequies with unwonted fondness; our lips are ready to show forth their praise; our affections linger about their graves; we feel, more than ever, that we strangers and pilgrims on the earth," and wish more than ever to "die the death of the righteous," that our "last end may be like his."

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This sentiment of posthumous regard, so tender, and yet so strong, is the reward only of genuine worth, and is entirely different from those demonstrations of respect, which are paid to men who have enjoyed the more distinction during life, the less intimately they were known, and whom we consent to bury with honor, to avoid the further expression of our real opinion. He, whose remains are now before us, has left many bowed down with unaffected grief, who come prepared and willing now to dwell awhile on his character. Affection and faithful memory, therefore, will supply whatever may be wanting in the following remarks, which are made with something of that restraint which would be felt, if the departed were now capable of listening to the speaker. For there is something sacred in the presence of his remains, to which reverence and modesty are due, no less than truth and affection.

"The godly man ceaseth." The Reverend William Emerson gave early indications of devotedness to the service of God. He was a descendant of pious ancestors, through many generations; and the only son of one of the most popular and promising ministers of New England, who died early in the American revolution. The mother, who survives to mourn over the death of her son, saw him, with delight, soon giving his attention and studies to the word and ministry of that God to whom the prayers and wishes of his parents had directed his first thoughts. They, who knew him best, during the most trying period of youthful virtue, bear witness to the singular purity of his mind, tenderness of his conscience, devoutness of his feelings, and strictness of his manners; qualities which, by God's blessing, age and experience did not diminish, and which his Christian profession afterwards secured and improved.

In one of the longest conversations which I was permitted to hold with him, a few days before his death, when his mind seemed to be lighted up anew, and his faculties to collect fresh vigor, he expressed the most grateful and pious satisfaction in the circumstance, that he, with all his father's family, had so early felt the obligations of the gospel as to give themselves up to Jesus Christ, by a profession of his religion. The privilege of being a Christian then occupied his thoughts; and he continued to talk, with unusual animation, of the benefits of early communion; and to express his wishes, that his eldest son, then at his bedside, might not forget early to seek, nor be so unhappy as ever to forfeit, this Christian privilege. That great article of the Christian dispensation, the resurrection from the dead, was the frequent theme of his meditations, and of his public instructions; so that his faith was not vain, nor his preach

ing vain for his faith was always strong enough to render his preaching the expression of his own intimate persuasions, and the cheerful employment of his life.

Of the practical strength of his faith and piety he was permitted to give us a memorable example, during that sudden attack which he sustained a few years since, in all the fulness of his health and expectations, when he was busily preparing for a public service. Those, who then saw him brought down, in an instant, and without any previous warning, to the gates of death, can never forget the steadfastness with which he received the alarm, and the singular humility and composure with which he waited during many days, doubtful of life, and expecting, every hour, to leave all that was dear to him on earth, to present himself before God.* Next to the satisfaction of behaving well ourselves, in an hour of trial, is that of witnessing the tranquillity of our friends, and finding that we need not fear for their example, while flesh and heart are failing, for God is the strength of their heart, and their portion forever.

The same steadfastness, and tranquil foresight of his dissolution, God has enabled him to exhibit, through the whole of the distressing and lingering disorder of which he died. A few hours before his death, he overheard some

* It was in the year 1808, that he was attacked with a profuse hemorrhage from the lungs, from the effects of which he never completely recovered. But the disease, of which he died, had not, probably, the remotest connexion with this bleeding. It appeared, upon examination, that the lower orifice of the stomach was almost entirely closed by a scirrhous tumor, or hard swelling, which on the inside was ulcerated. So completely was the passage of the pylorus obliterated that a drop of water could hardly be pressed through it from the stomach, which was full.