1848.]

66

Mr. Shepard continued in the midst of an attached and affectionate people, honored and beloved by his contemporaries, until his death, which took place August 25, 1649, in the forty-fourth year of his age. It is thus noticed by Morton, in his New England's Memorial." "This year, 1649, August 25, that faithful and eminent servant of Christ, Mr. Thomas Shepard, died, who was a soul-searching minister of the Gospel, and pastor of the church of Christ at Cambridge. By his death not only that church and people, but also all New England, sustained a very great loss; he not only preached the Gospel profitably and very successfully, but also hath left behind him divers worthy works of special use in reference unto the clearing up the state of the soul to God and man; the benefit thereof those can best experience who are most conversant in the improving of them, and have God's blessing on them therein to their soul's good."

The writings of Shepard, which had much reputation in his own day, and are quoted with great respect by succeeding authors, Edwards, as we have mentioned, among the rest, are now very little known, and scarcely to be met with, except in some of our public libraries or in the collections of the antiquarian. This oblivion of the works of one who, but a few generations since, stood in such high estimation in the churches of New England, both as a preacher and as a writer, is a striking commentary upon the uncertain and evanescent nature of popular fame. With the changes that are perpetually going on in forms of style, and modes of thought, and subjects of discussion, it is not to be expected that any works but those of the rarest genius should long outlive their own time. Shepard's, having served their turn, must share the common fate. Newer tongues, uttering his thoughts, must clothe them in words of a newer shape and more modern arrangement. Shepard's sermons and treatises would probably fail to interest the general reader of the present day, even though a Calvinist; certainly they would not please those whose sentiments and views of religion on many points differ from his so widely as ours. Making allowance, however, for this difference of taste and opinion, and putting ourselves in the situation of those who agreed and sympathized with him, we may find in the dead voice of his writings enough to show what the living voice of the preacher must have been. There is a serious, earnest tone of thought and language running through them, much familiar illustration, and great di

rectness and simplicity. His style of preaching, according to all the accounts which have come down to us, was remarkably penetrating, impressive, and affecting; so that, though he is described as "a poor, weak, pale-complexioned man," he had great power over the feelings of his audience. We have often likened him in our thoughts to our own Henry Ware." Of Mr. Shepard, I have been told," says Prince, "that he scarce ever preached a sermon but some or other of his congregation were struck with great distress, and cried out in agony, ‹ What shall I do to be saved ? Though his voice was low, yet so searching was his preaching, and so great a power attending, as a hypocrite could not easily bear it, and it seemed almost irresistible."

He was a close student, and diligent in his preparations for the pulpit, which he usually finished by two o'clock on Saturday afternoon. We commend his rare, but praiseworthy, example to his brother ministers, few of whom, we suspect, finish their sermons even by the sunset of Saturday. "God," he once said, "will curse that man's labors, that lumbers up and down in the world all the week, and then upon Saturday in the afternoon goes into his study; when, as God knows, that time were little enough to pray in and weep in, and get his heart into a fit frame for the duties of the approaching Sabbath."

Notwithstanding his faithfulness and his success, it appears from his diaries, that he, like every teacher in every age, was often dissatisfied with himself and discouraged in the work of his ministry. It may be a consolation to some doubting and half-disheartened brother, to know that even one so highly esteemed and admired as Shepard often had fears and misgivings like his own. The following is one of his occasional meditations.

"I saw on the Sabbath four evils which attend me in my ministry. First, either the Devil treads me down by discouragement and shame, from the sense of the meanness of what I have provided in private meditations; and unto this I saw also an answer; to wit, that every thing sanctified to do good, its glory is not to be seen in itself, but in the Lord's sanctifying of it: or from an apprehension of the unsavoriness of people's spirits, or their unreadiness to hear in cold or hot times. Secondly, or carelessness possesses me, arising because I have done well, and been enlarged and been respected formerly; hence it is no such matter, though I be not always alike. Besides, I have a natural dulness

1848.]

Character and Influence.

343

and cloudiness of spirit, which does naturally prevail. Thirdly, infirmities and weakness, as want of light, want of life, want of a spirit of power to deliver what I am affected with for Christ; and hence, I saw many souls not set forward nor God felt in my ministry. Fourthly, want of success in me, when I have done my best."

That he was a man of most fervent and childlike piety, penetrated with a deep and constant sense of his accountability to God, — of great single-heartedness and devotion in his work, a meek, humble, conscientious Christian, no one can doubt. Like the rest of the early Puritan clergy of this country, he was a Trinitarian and a Calvinist. He did not attempt to throw a veil over the peculiar features of his creed. He preached it in all its terrors, yet with an affectionate zeal for the salvation of those whom God might call to himself through his ministration of the word. "When Mr. Shepard comes to deal with hypocrites," said Ward of Ipswich, "he cuts so desperately, that men know not how to bear him; he makes them all afraid that they are all hypocrites. But when he comes to deal with a tender, humble soul, he gives comfort so largely, that we are afraid to take it." Whatever, we may think of his theology, there can be but one opinion of the preacher and the man.

We cannot better conclude this notice of one of the chief fathers of New England than in the language of his biographer :

"When we consider the rich Christian experience which Mr. Shepard attained, the sacrifices which he cheerfully made for the sake of Christ and his Gospel, the great amount of ministerial and other labor which he performed with feeble health and manifold hindrances, the attainments which he made in sanctity and the knowledge of divine things, the able theological works which he produced, and the influence, felt even now, which he exerted in building up the churches of New England, — and all this ere he had passed the meridian of life, we must regard him as one of the brightest ornaments of the Church, and hold his memory in profound and grateful remembrance."

W. N.

Cunt.

ART. II. INDUCTION OF CHRIST'S NATURE FROM THE UNIVERSE.

THE great eternal body of truth, binding in its embrace all worlds, and extending its sway unchangeably through all time, must be in every part consistent with itself; else were it no more truth. The universe were unworthy to be the creation of that God who changeth not, if unbroken harmony and selfconsistence prevailed not through its whole extent. Truth being but a name for that which is, distinguishing it from that which is not, its very conception is, to the believer in a just and omniscient Deity, blended with the assurance that it harmonizes throughout all its parts. Amid the perplexities and apparent contradictions which sometimes crowd upon the inquiring mind, tending to shake its confidence in the unity of truth, the thought of what we are, of the lowness of our point of vision, and the infinite exaltation of God, must reassure its wavering faith. He alone who made, and whose laws sustain, all things, sees them divested of every mystery, and, glancing through all that has been, is, or shall be, perceives the whole scope, meaning, and harmony of the universe. Inferior intelligences, seeing but in part, vainly strive to reconcile creation's many mysteries; and some, alas ! in their weakness, have declared them irreconcilable.

Let a figure show the relation in which we all stand to truth's eternal whole, and to each other. The earth on which we live is, in many points, its fitting image, complete, diversified, harmonious, beautiful, seen but in part. Climb to earth's highest mountain-top; the part thou seest is but a point of its vast expanse, yet is that part most lovely. So, man! when thou hast reached the pinnacle of human intelligence, the portion of all knowledge thou hast attained is but as nothing to what thou knowest not; yet pleasant and glorious is thy little. From a thousand hill-tops may earth's beauties be enjoyed, which, though differing widely, are all real and consistent. So from a thousand mounts of vision mayst thou survey truth's fair realm, and though the scene be ever changing, still is it truth. Men there are, whose steps. have only scaled the little hillock behind their native home, who listen incredulously to the traveller's narrative of Alpine wonders, and, with malicious smiles, quote their dead fathers to bolster up their ignorance, while some will even drive the

1848.]

Harmony of Nature and Revelation.

345

harmless stranger from their doors. Those, too, there are, who, having excavated for themselves narrow wells in the body of truth, and walled them around with cold, hard creeds, strive to cast all men therein, claiming that they alone are right, and that heaven can be seen only from their own depths of dogmatism. Others there are, also, who, casting off the galling chains of authority, earth's slave king, and walking in the light of the divine fire within, and the bright radiance of Christ's teachings, have reached a lofty point of vision, where, as far as mental eye can reach, lies spread out the world of truth, spanned by the calm, clear heaven of enlightened hope.

From all this flows the practical inference, that whoso loves truth and comprehends its vastness will look with no hollow charity on what he may esteem the errors of others; never assuming the thunders of denunciation, save against those who, with ruthless hand, would tear from man his rights of thought, and doom him to the dismal vaults of hypocritical profession. Whoso knoweth himself saith not to his neighbour, "Thou art wrong"; but rather, "Friend, I think thou art wrong. "" He uses the language of a man, not the dictation of a God. Unroll the bloody scroll whereon man's history is written; thou wilt find stain after stain recurring ever, in melancholy witness that man trusteth not in the silent, resistless power by which truth vindicates itself. Persecution, with all its ghastly train, has been evoked to expel from the human heart the heresy which God himself there planted, that reason and evidence alone can claim the right to control belief. Nor even yet is the spirit whence sprang all these enormities banished; for day after day do self-elected saints still, by word and deed, declare, "I am holier than

thou."

The train of investigation on which we propose to enter may subject us to the censure of some sincerely pious minds. Yet an honest conviction of the correctness and importance of our conclusions urges us to speak decidedly, and should at least disarm criticism of all personal bitterness. Fain would we exercise and experience the charity we have inculcated. The proposed theme is, to deduce, as far as practicable, the nature of Christ from the acknowledged constitution of the universe.

If truth be one, the volumes of nature and revelation must harmonize. Firm in this belief, our sympathies go not with those whose distrust of the self-vindicating power of reveal

VOL. XLIV. 4TH S. VOL. IX. NO. III.

31