employed his last thoughts on dence, instead of degenerating earth, a happy adaptation to the inte craftiness, was accompanied circumstances of his death. The by the most perfect simplicity; sentence on which his eye would simplicity was tempered by meekseem to have cast its last look, ness, yet his meekness had, for its (Edwards' Works, Vol. 4, p. 201.) basis, strong decision of character, was one of the many in which Ed- and unbending firmness of princiwards is employed in heaping ple. He never insulted charity proof upon proof, and with all his by offering to sacrifice on her characteristic strength of collect- altar the truth as it is in Jeed argument, making "demon- sus," and yet he never hoped to stration doubly sure," in shewing advance the cause of truth by that it is possible to have strong bringing to her defence bigotry and deep feelings of the excellen- and intolerance. He loved the cy of the character of God, and image of the Saviour wherever he yet be wanting in the temper of found it, and it was not the bartrue christianity. Directly oppo-rier of his own sect, or the badge site was the situation of his mind. He had, in a large measure, the genius and spirit of true Christianity, although, at the moment, he probably felt no remarkable elevation of feeling. He proved what he read, and rose, in confirmation of the truth, to that Heaven, where the "affections" never wander. of another, that could prevent him from acknowledging his union in spirit with those whom the same Redeemer had purchased with the same blood. As a minister of the gospel, he lived the gospel. Charitable to the poor of his flock, profuse of his labours, and constant in his visits, it was his meat and his drink to do the will of his heavenly Father, in shewing mercy and kindness to the afflicted and the desolate. He carried the consolations of the gospel into the meanest hovels, and never shrunk from entering the deepest cellar, or the filthiest den, in which misery and grief had enshrouded themselves. It is believed, that in this employ it was, that he imbibed the contagion of that fever which had so nearly proved fatal ; and when, during the last winter of his life, he was confined by the weather to his house, his most feeling lamentations were, that he was prevented from seeing the poor and the afflicted of the flock. In hospitality, he always endeav oured to maintain the character of a primitive bishop, and the brethren from every part of the country were ever cheerfully welcomed to his table and his dwelling. In the meetings of the church, he is described as presiding with a moderation and calmness that never deserted him. His opinion 34 The was not given until all had spoken; || style in which he came forth, a dying man to dying men." event showed, that he had chosen the right path. He who confounds the wisdom of the wise of this world, made him an acceptable and useful minister of that gospel, which was first preached by fishermen and tent makers. The careless simplicity of his style, proved to the man of observation, that his spirit was set upon the substance of his min it was modest and brief, and moulded with the kindest deference for contending opinions, and therefore it was generally decisive. No man sought authority less. Never an action of his life assumed the character of "lording it over God's heritage." The peace of the church gave peace and comfort to him; when they were agitated he was distressed, and many a sleepless night testified the anxiety which preyed inistry, and like "the brave neglisecret upon his spirit, when con- gence of antiquity," delighted, tention and bitterness had sprung because it shewed a mind intent up among the household of faith. on higher thoughts than the pointIt was to this pacific, gentle, anding of a maxim, or the rounding forbearing spirit, that he was in- of a sentence. debted for much of his usefulness and much of his influence. His advice was the more regarded, because it was known to come from a mind unbiassed by passion. He never lent himself to a party, and all parties honoured him. In the pulpit, he was not invested with that eloquence which delights while it dazzles a polite audience. His language The foregoing observations, let it be remembered, are applied to the manner, not to the matter of his discourses. Let it not be supposed, that his sermons were the unstudied effusions of indolence and ignorance. He was in truth, a close student, given to much reading, well versed in theology, both practical, doctrinal, and polemic. He had attentively studied the most valuable divines of England and America, both controversialists and commentators. Of the latter, his favourite was Henry, and his pulpit exercises in their simplicity and earnestness, and their numerous and beautiful allusions to familiar occurrences, seem to have been partly formed on the model of that admirable writer. He made no pretentions to learning, but of theological learning he was certainly possessed in a high degree; and the size of a library, gradu was not at all times "furbelowed and flounced" with grammatical nicety, and his gestures wanted the gracefulness of practised oratory. But circumstances like these were overlooked in one who never seemed to enter the pulpit but under a view of the vastness and solemnity of his charge. His spirit was in the work. His exhortations and admonitions were earnest, simple, and frequent. He had about him, that fervour of feeling which is the very soul of true eloquence, and although he never ceased to feel the disad-ally acquired, witnessed his fondvantage of preaching a language ness for books. The truth is, acquired late in life, his devoted that he devoted much labour and zeal, his willingness to be as study to his pulpit ministrations, nothing in the hands of Him and at his death, he left behind "who is the fulness of all things," set him above the fear and beyond the reach of puny criticism. Provided he was but understood, he seemed careless of the garb and him more than two thousand manuscript skeletons of sermons. His studies were mingled with prayer. In prayer, he steeped the seed of the word, which with prayer he scattered. Prayer was his grand weapon; but there were certain times, in which, rising as it were beyond himself, he seemed to wield it with more than human strength. Those who have kneeled for any length of time around his family altar, cannot but remember with what peculiar unction and earnestness he came among them to the duty of family prayer, on the evening preceding the Sabbath. Always fluent and vehement in his petitions, on Saturday night, his spirit seemed to glow with warmer feelings, and in his preparations for the exercises of the coming day, his lips seemed to have been touched as with a live coal from off the altar. It was, in general, late before he descended from his study into the room where the family was assembled. His countenance, his air, and conversation, all bore marks of his having enjoyed communion unutterable, that the world knoweth not of." There was a burning urgency, an emphasis of humility in every petition that trembled on his lips, and his words came seemingly too slow and too weak to give utterance to his feelings. "When one, that holds communion with the skies, On the evening of the Sabbath also, when the labours of the day were closed, he seemed to enjoy unusual happiness. In the services of the morning, he would often complain of constraint; but with the number of his exercises, (for he generally preached three times a day,) his freedom and zeal seemed to increase, "One Sabbath nearer the end," was his usual exclamation before retiring on that evening to rest, and he always seemed to speak it with the tone of a labourer delighted in the employ that fatigued him, looking forward with pleasure, but without impatience, to the rest of the weary and the home of the way-worn. A man The strength of his mind has been underrated by those far his inferiors in intellect. He had received from heaven a strong natural understanding. He had much of what Locke has somewhere styled, "large, sound, round about sense." In early life, he had, from principles which we cannot but honor, even while we lament their application, declined availing himself of the advantages of a classical education. of less good sense would have affected to despise the critical learning he was conscious of wanting, but such was not John Williams. He spoke often of neglected opportunities, and spoke always with the deepest regret ; while, to the last of his life, he was a supporter and promoter of Education Societies for the instruction of pious young men for the ministry. His own case was a strong instance of the truth, that the Head of the church often gives to intellect and piety the success and graces which he denies to mere human learning; but he was never encouraged by success to act upon the principle of making himself a blockhead, in the hope that God would make him an apostle. He sought learning eagerly and constantly, and by diligent study, acquired a mass of general information, far from common. In the structure of his discourses, he exhibited great judgment. His divisions were few and natural, yet his sermons were always copious. The allegorizing taste, which finds every doctrine in every text, he disliked too heartily to imitate. The grand feature of his mental as well as of his moral character, was simplicity. He was less anxious for what was novel, than for what was true. He sought rather the useful than the pleasing. He did not profess to hold forth the truth as the result of a train of elaborate reasoning, but he stated the doctrine with the simplicity of one perfectly convinced of its truth, proved it briefly, pressed it warmly, and left the rest to Heaven. In his ministry, his temper, perhaps, led him to dwell rather on the beauties of the gospel, than on the terrors of the law; to hover rather around the milder graces of Zion, than amid the darkness and thunders of Sinai; but he delivered few sermons, perhaps none, in which the ungodly were not pointedly addressed. In the discussion of a controverted point in the social circle, his good sense was exhibited in the same unpretending manner. It accorded neither with his habits nor his wishes to discuss the argument at length. Some well put question, some pithy maxim, when others had ceased to speak, expressed at once his wisdom and modesty. He might perhaps, have been unable, from the defects of his early education, to give a regular account of the series and connexion of the steps by which he arrived at an opinion; but good sense in general fed him to the right and true one. It was enough, that he reached the port, without recollecting each tack and bearing of the voyage. His sentiments, on what has been called the modern question, and on most others, perhaps on all debateable points, agreed with those maintained by Fuller. Edwards, Owen, and Fuller, might be called his triumvirate in doctrinal theology. He had studied all, deeply and repeatedly. A favourite class of writings with him, was the works of the Puritans and Nonconformists of England. From the more familiar beauties of Henry and Bunyan, up to the sublimity and grandeur of Owen and Charnock, he had attentively perused the most distinguished works produced by that venerable race of confessors, "men of whom the world was not worthy." Of his own acquirements, he thought most humbly. A sermon delivered before the New York Missionary Society, at a time when that body was composed of various denominations, was, with the exception of a few Association Letters, his first and last effort as an author. Of Missionary and Bible Societies, it is almost needless to say, he was a firm supporter from the first moment of his acquaintance with them, to the last of his life. As a man, a relative, and a friend, to know was to love him. The unaffected benignity of his manners, his sincerity, and his kindness, gained him friends; and probably, no one who had once been his friend, was ever entirely alienated from him. Indeed, the manner in which he carried the temper of christianity into the duties of every day life, gave an uniform beauty to his character which was irresistibly pleasing. With acute natural feelings he combined great fortitude. Christianity taught the one to flow out in continual out goings of love towards mankind, and heightened the exercise of the other, into the most uncomplaining, childlike resignation. His ministerial path had been strewed with many mercies, but it had had also its thorns and its roughness. He spoke often and feelingly of the one, scarcely ever of the latter. the walks of publick and the shades of private life, he exhibited the same spirit of dependance, and faith. He was always, in all places, and through every change, and at every period, the same mild, meek, and patient christian. He had, in a great degree, what may be called oneness of character. Above disguise and free from change, jealousy never clouded the warmth of his friendship, passion never obscured the wisdom In delighted themselves with ridiculing the religion of others as hypocrisy, have been known to eulogize him. Their eulogy was not bought by unmanly concessions and cowardly disguise. He spoke earnestly and feelingly on the subject of religion, it mattered not where or before whom; but there was no attempt at display, and they who hated his principies, were awed by the evident purity of his motives. His gravity was as free from all tincture of morose He levity. The gentleness of his temper seemed to beam from his countenance, and words of kindness distilled from his lips. In the church and in the world, he was eminently a man of peace. sacrificed feeling, convenience, interest, and every thing but principle, to this darling object of affection. And among the frailties, which must ever attach themselves to humanity, it was perhaps the leading one in his character, that he yielded too tamely to the will of others. of his judgment. Not that this uniformity of character was owing to a stagnation of intellect and feeling, to a cold and heartless nature. Few excelled him in warmth of relative and religious feeling. But the zeal which ever marked him was enduring and equable. Its movements were not the occasional ebulitions of heated passions, or the effect of strong external excitement, the bubblings of a summer brook, noisy and evanescent; but they were the gentle and the continued overflow-ness, as was his mildness from all ings of a living spring of charity, ever fed by the love of God "shed abroad within his heart." It came down, not like a violent storm sweeping away all before it, and levelling the weed and the flower in one common ruin; but it was a calm and steady shower, fertilizing as it fell, and witnessed in its effects by the beauty and freshness of the scenery it watered. He possessed, in a great degree, perseverance of character, not the obstinacy which disgusts, or the sternness which awes, but a settled adherence to a plan cau- Humility seemed inwrought into tiously and deliberately formed. the very texture of his mind. He It was never his unhappiness to feel displayed it, not in loud and nauthat restless vacillation, that con- seating professions of self abasestant change of object, motive, ment, but in a reluctance to speak and pursuit, which ruins all in- of his own feelings and his own fluence and all happiness. He doings; in a willingness to be the did not venture rashly on every least in greatness and the last in splendid speculation that present-honours. This was not assumed, ed itself; but when he had once because it was displayed more in embarked with serious and prayer- deeds than in words. When he ful deliberation, it was not a not a would occasionally mention himslight tempest or a passing cloud self, he always spoke with the that could drive him back. deepest lowliness; but it was a temper may, in some cases, have subject on which he did not often assumed the appearance of obsti-touch, on which he seemed unnacy, but it was the stubbornness willing to waste a thought. He of an upright mind too strong to scarcely mentioned even the sucbend, too well rooted to be shaken. cess in his ministry which had deSuch a character could not but lighted his heart. To all the vacommand respect, even from those ried duties of the pastoral office, who thought differently. Men, he seemed anxious to apply the proud of their infidelity, have precept first spoken of almsgiving, done homage to his transparent Let not thy left hand know sincerity; and scoffers, who have || what thy right hand doeth." Dur This |