Kitabı oku: «Biography of Rev. Hosea Ballou», sayfa 20
"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:
"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!"
CHAPTER XVI.
CONCLUSION
A modern writer says, after a visit to the splendid tomb of David Hume, at Edinburgh, "When I looked upon the spot, I could not forget that his best powers had been deliberately exerted to load the minds of men with doubts of their God."
"To poison at the fountain's source
The stream of life throughout its course."
Let us contrast the feelings thus naturally arising in the mind, as it contemplates the life of the English historian, with those that will spring up spontaneously in the heart of him who looks upon the last resting-place of the subject of this biography. His whole life was a practical plea for the glorious character of his Heavenly Father, and every power of his nature, both mental and physical, was entirely devoted to and expended in bearing witness of God's love and impartial grace. Who covets the world-wide fame of the infidel historian? Who would not leave behind him the glorious memory of the true Christian? Greatness may build the tomb, but goodness must write the epitaph.
"Only the actions of the just
Smell sweet, and blossom in the dust."
We have thus brought the narrative of Mr. Ballou's life down from its commencement to its close. In the execution of the task, it is feared that many imperfections and deficiencies will be detected; but we have the consolation of reflecting that, at least, we have not been guilty of exaggeration, and throughout have sought only to present the truth in the clearest light, and with the same simplicity that the subject of these pages would have commended. We have most ardently endeavored to make manifest the pure character, consistent conduct, the high intellectual ability, the unaffected piety, and laborious and unremitted services of the deceased to the great cause he espoused in early life. Had he placed a higher estimate upon his own labors, he would have left behind him a complete record of his toils, that would have interested the most careless and worldly reader. But, while he never spared himself, he appears to have seen no unusual merit in his unexampled labors; he was simply discharging his duty to his Maker and his fellow-men. The thought of challenging admiration for his sacrifices of comfort, for his exposures and trials, seems never to have occurred to him; and hence the minutes of his personal adventures are brief and imperfect. He has only given us enough to enable us to guess at the extent of his toil. For the result of his labors and travels, we have only to look around, – to behold the multiplied churches springing up where he first preached in school-houses, dwelling-houses, or even beneath the fruit-trees, to numerous congregations that have found faith and hope through his ministrations, who fondly regard him as the father of their order, and who rise up to bless his name. Though his lips are now sealed forever, yet his doctrine, a precious legacy, is left for us still, in his own language; and, with the example and influence of his pure life, we may find the surest guide to the understanding of the gospel as it is in Christ.
It is true that the bow is broken; but the arrow is sped on its message, and will pierce the heart of error. The subject of these pages was not a man for his own time alone; he has lived for all time. We find in the pages of history actors upon the stage of life peculiarly fitted for the immediate period in which they lived; men active, bold, successful, and ever ready for any emergency; men governed by principles and incentives peculiarly adapted to the day and hour, without whom it would have been difficult to realize the seeming destiny of man, and the results and history of the times. Yet those persons, if they were to exist now, would be out of their element; there would not occur the same exigencies to call forth their particular endowments of courage and endurance. They illustrated tangible matter, and performed deeds of personal prowess; but Mr. Ballou enunciated, defined, elucidated and illumined, a great principle, a fundamental truth, something that will live through all eternity, – not the ephemeral act of an hour, which, however timely and important at the moment, is forgotten with the casualty that gives it birth. No! Mr. Ballou was not for his own time alone, – he was for all time.
His advent in the religious world was the commencement of a new era in the church; and from that day and that hour the little glimmering of the light of truth which was seen as afar off grew daily larger, and brighter, and clearer, as, in the onward journey of his years and his understanding, he came to behold the gospel as it is in Christ, and to preach it to the world. Nature about him had taught this impartial grace and goodness of God for ages and ages, but the tongues of men had been fabricating and declaring another creed. It was no new truth that he illustrated and believed; but he gave it oral form, and depicted it before men's eyes.
Our task draws now to its close; we have recorded the closing incidents of that life on whose eventful record we have reverentially dwelt, and we must soon resign the pen with which we have feebly depicted the story of departed worth. It remains for us to give a rapid retrospective glance at the career we have traced, with a brief recapitulatory view of the subject. The author has made no attempt at fine writing, and has sought only to present a "plain, unvarnished tale," in keeping with the unostentatious simplicity of the subject of his pages. In these busy and stirring days, most readers crave an exciting book of thrilling incident. In preparing the life of a distinguished warrior, or a bold adventurer, startling incidents and scenes crowd upon the writer, till the task of condensation becomes both imperative and difficult. The turbulent stream, rushing from its mountain home, tumbling amidst rocks and dashing over precipices, affords a picture at every point of its progress; while the course of a river, that rises in some placid lake, and pursues its pathway noiselessly and tranquilly, till lost in the world of waters that swallows up its individuality, however pleasing an object of contemplation, is little fitted to figure in an elaborate personal record, or to minister to the restless eye of the lover of the bold and startling in nature.
The life of the subject of these pages may be compared to that of a quiet streamlet, making itself felt by the verdure and freshness it diffuses around it, but not startling the ear by the tumult of motion. Hence, those who merely take up a book for amusement or excitement, will find themselves disappointed with this biography. It was not, however, for such tastes that the book was designed. It is rather a medium of communication between filial affection, and that scarcely colder feeling of friendship and respect, shared by a large and increasing denomination of Christians, whose common love for the subject of these pages will secure indulgence towards the author.
They will rather follow the delightful traits of Christian character he evinced, will admire the truth and genuineness of his nature, the sweet simplicity of his soul, and the magnitude and glory of his doctrine, than pause to criticize the simple garb that has clothed these special and important matters. It will be the kernel, not the shell, that our readers will discuss; and if we have, in our humble way, succeeded in so portraying the life of our parent as to place it any more clearly and faithfully before men's eyes, then we have done a good work, and our labor has not been in vain. If, by the exhibition of his happy faith, and the application of his own arguments, we shall have succeeded in confirming even one soul in the sacred and cheering faith he advocated, we shall have sufficient reward in our own heart for the toil of this work. He would have labored continually and unceasingly to lead a soul in the straight and narrow way; no fatigue, no disappointment, was ever any hindrance in his path, when duty held the lamp. His eyes were turned onward and upward; they overlooked the rugged way, strewn with rocks and quicksands, over which he strode towards the great goal of his life, the promulgation of God's fatherly love to man.
More fortunate than many whose works have enriched the world, we have seen that Mr. Ballou lived long enough to enjoy an honorable fame. Long before he died the voice of calumny was hushed. He had accomplished what Burke had advised for the refutation of slander, – he had "lived it down." The shafts of malice fell harmless from the shield of his unspotted conscience. He had achieved a greater triumph yet than the surviving of the assaults aimed against his reputation as a man; he lived to behold the truth he had so advocated, in which and for which he lived, adopted by hundreds of thousands as the staff of their lives and the rock of their salvation. It would be difficult to find, in any age, the record of a greater victory of intellectual power.
As we have fully shown, Mr. Ballou started in life with no aids for the development of his mental energies. His circumstances were such as would have completely crushed a majority of gifted minds. Isolation, privation, the want of mental stimulus, surrounded him. The example and aid of elder scholarship was wanting. The steps to the temple of knowledge were hewn by his own hands out of the rugged and unyielding rock. He had no strong hand to grasp his own, and bear him up, and stay his tottering footsteps. Yet, with an iron grasp, he seized upon the rudiments of knowledge, and made them his own. And, while satisfying the cravings of his nature, he neglected no duty of life. Those who had claims upon his industry suffered no injury or loss from this source, for the hours devoted to his early studies were heroically subtracted from hours of repose. When others rested from bodily toil, he was wakeful and toiling mentally.
The energy displayed in his pursuit of knowledge, under such extraordinary difficulties, prepares us for the yet greater energy exhibited in his subsequent course. Accustomed to accomplish his purpose by severe labor, we find him continually proposing to himself questions of difficulties to be solved only by severe intellectual exertion. He cultivates his moral intellectual nature so rigidly, that he is not lightly satisfied on any subject. But we are most impressed with the beauty of his spiritual nature. Most energetic minds are, we think, prone to scepticism. They doubt, resolve their doubts, and then cling firmly and forever to the truths they have established.
