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 WILLIAM BLACKSTONE WILLIAMS, 
 
 LATE CAPTAIX IX THE SECOND KEGIMEXT OK 
 MASSACHUSETTS INFANTRY, 
 
 Sunday, August 17, 1862. 
 
 BY JAMES W. THOMPSON, D.D. 
 
Tn exfilumi 
 
 MAY 2 4 til^ ' 
 
FUNERAL TRIBUTE. 
 
 :h spolicit Ht tlje ^fecquics 
 
 AVILLIAM BLACKSTONE WILLIAMS, 
 
 LATE CAPTAIN IN THE SECOND REGIMENT OF 
 MASSACHUSETTS INFANTRY, 
 
 SuNDAf*AuG. 17, 1862. 
 
 BY JAMES W.- THOMPSON, D.D., 
 
 MINISTER OF THE UNITAKIAN CHURCH IN JAMAICA PLAIN. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 JOHN WILSON AND SON. 
 1862. 
 
J- 
 
FUNEEAL TRIBUTE. 
 
 Beloved Brethren and Friends, — 
 
 An unusual occasion, without precedent, I may 
 presume, in the history of this church, has opened 
 these sacred doors, and drawn us to the house of 
 prayer. The hushed and more than sabbath still- 
 ness of our village ; this vast assembly, of aspect 
 so grave and sad ; the sighs that escape from 
 heavy-laden hearts; the group that sit apart, fenced 
 in by thoughts and griefs into which none can 
 look but God only ; the mournful strains of the 
 choir, intermingled with the pathetic, beseeching, 
 but submissive lament of the organ, as though 
 itself felt an agony, and, at the same time, an in- 
 spiration from the Comforter, — all indicate that 
 a fearful calamity has fallen here ; that an over- 
 whelming sorrow has burst upon us, the waves 
 
of which can be rolled back only by Him 
 whom we are accustomed to invoke in this holy 
 place. 
 
 And it is even so. We are stricken of God, 
 and afflicted. For a man has fallen ; gifted, gene- 
 rous, honorable, brave ; a son of ours, a brother 
 too, in whom all the elements of genuine manli- 
 ness were mixed in due proportion, and compacted 
 into a stature — physical, intellectual, moral — of 
 rare beauty and completeness ; a soldier worthy 
 of his name, and worthy to be associated with the 
 accomplished and brilliant heroes — alas ! too long 
 a roll to be called in these fugitive moments — 
 whom the old Pilgrim State has freely offered to 
 the hazards of the Great Struggle, and whose blood 
 has been the price of her self-renouncing devo- 
 tion. 
 
 My friends, it is no altar of wood or stone, of 
 silver or gold, upon which we lay this costly sacri- 
 lice. Rather is it one which quivers through and 
 through with human sympathies ; which streams 
 with the bleeding affections of a fond and aged 
 parent, mingled with those, scarcely less tender 
 and scarcely less deeply wounded, of mourning sis- 
 
ters and brothers ; which is vitalized with the grief 
 and sprinkled with the tears of this whole com- 
 munity, and which palpitates and thrills with the 
 heart-throbs of a sorrowing and suifering, but 
 mighty and immortal, Commonwealth. I see in it 
 but another form of that altar which the Seer 
 of Patmos beheld in vision, whereof he said, "I 
 saw under the altar the souls of them that were 
 slain for the word of God, and for the testimony 
 which they held ; and they cried with a loud voice, 
 saying, How long, O Lord ! holy and true, dost 
 thou not judge and avenge our blood on them that 
 dwell on the earth 1 And w^hite robes were given 
 unto every one of them." 
 
 If such the altar, what must be the sacrifice ! 
 Of him whose empty tabernacle — emptied of all 
 that gave it comeliness and made it dear — lies 
 enshrouded before us, let me speak in but few 
 words, and those not in the style of impassioned pa- 
 negyric, as when the Athenian father pronounced 
 the funeral oration over his son who had died 
 valiantly in battle, but with -the soberness and re- 
 serve which become a frail mortal in the sanctuary 
 of God and in the presence of death. 
 
6 
 
 The sacrifice is no less than the hfe of this 
 man, — of William Blackstone Williams, — a 
 man of whom it is testified on every hand, that he 
 passed over the slippery paths of youth without 
 a fall, and came to his manhood, full-formed in 
 body and mind, without a stain upon his life to 
 make his father sad or himself ashamed. Born 
 to the prospective inheritance of ample wealth, he 
 scorned the indolent effeminacy which such a con- 
 dition too often induces, and successfully bent his 
 genius and energies to the carving of his own 
 fortune. Of a cultivated taste, with the delicate 
 eye and hand of an artist, which he employed for 
 the amusement of his leisure hours ; with a mind 
 enriched by study, by observation, by travel, and 
 by intercourse Avith refined- society at home and 
 abroad, — all the accomplishments that became 
 his position sat with an easy grace upon him ; and 
 so unconsciously, that they interposed no bar be- 
 tween himself and those less favored in their 
 advantages, — between himself and the humblest 
 man he knew. Cool, reflective, sagacious, resolute 
 in purpose, not daunted by difficulty ; executive, 
 courageous, decided, and withal gentle and pleas- 
 
ing in address ; copious and instructive in conver- 
 sation, — he seemed designed by Heaven to fill a 
 not inconspicuous sphere of activity and enterprise, 
 private and public, in his day and generation. 
 And he has filled it, though in a difierent service 
 from that which the hope of his friends and his 
 own forethought had marked out for him. He 
 has filled it all round, though his career is so early 
 ended. When the Nation s hour of peril came, 
 and the alarm-trumpet was sounded through the 
 aisles of her cities, over her hills and plains, and 
 along her rocky shores, it fell upon his quick ear 
 as an imperative summons. Though opposed to 
 the political party which brought the administration 
 into . power, and though stanch in the conviction 
 that the success of that party, following the long 
 agitation at the North of the disrupting question of 
 slavery, had precipitated the Rebellion, yet he saw 
 at a glance, he felt in a moment, that there was 
 but one course for a patriot like himself to take ; 
 and that was, to devote his energies and his life, 
 without reserve or stint, to the defence and pre- 
 servation of the national existence thus audaciously 
 imperilled. Accordingly, he did not wait to see 
 
 ^ 
 
who would go first ; but, obedient to that high 
 necessity imposed by his sense of duty and honor, 
 he resolved at once to go himself. Breaking from 
 his quiet leisure, from the pleasant and genial 
 home of his father, with all its attractions and 
 endearments, he threw himself promptly, diligent- 
 ly, laboriously, into the task-work of preparation ; 
 and here we saw him early and late, driving from 
 town to town, recruiting the gallant company which 
 marched away with him to join the noble army 
 of the country, and in which he soon gained such 
 honorable distinction as led to his promotion to 
 the command of that, not less gallant, at the head 
 of which, while bravely leading them in the terrific 
 encounter of the 9th of August at Cedar Moun- 
 tain, he fell. 
 
 My friends, his best eulogy cannot be spoken. 
 It is the silent homage to his worth, of which this 
 immense concourse of sorrowing friends is the ex- 
 pression ; it is the unbounded confidence, respect, 
 and love of his companions in arms, and their pa- 
 thetic testimony to his extraordinary merit as a 
 man and a soldier ; it is the eternal debt which 
 the American Nation owes to his memory, and the 
 
9 
 
 enrolment of his name in the grand historical obi- 
 tuary of the peerless defenders of her institutions, 
 her liberties, and her life. 
 
 If such is the sacrifice, — a single sacrifice mul- 
 tiplied by the scores and hundreds of equal and 
 superior military rank, and by the thousands of 
 every grade, who have fallen on the field, or whose 
 lives have slowly ebbed away in sickness and 
 from wounds, — what is the corresponding cause? 
 AVherefore these priceless off'erings ? What is the 
 good, so vast and inestimable, of which they are 
 the equivalent, or of which their blood is the sym- 
 bol of value and the seal of perpetuity ? 
 
 By the cause, I mean the interest, the object. 
 Complex, it is yet very simple ; wide as the ages 
 to come in its compass, yet touching every man's 
 bosom to-day as though it concerned him alone ; 
 comprehensive as the law of human development, 
 yet narrowed down, to him who will view it so, to 
 the question of his own personal prosperity, com- 
 fort, and welfare. That object you know better 
 than I can state it. It is, in a word, the pre- 
 servation OF THE American Nation, with all that 
 aflSuence of blessing — civil, social, religious — 
 
10 
 
 with which it has pleased the Creator to endow 
 it ; with all that it is to us in the present, and all 
 of hope we have derived from it for our children 
 and children's children ; with all its memories of 
 the heroic and sainted fathers who laid its founda- 
 tions and reared its walls by their wisdom, their 
 valor, their prayers, and their blood ; with all that 
 it has been to the millions who have already found 
 it a refuge full of promise, of gladness, of abun- 
 dance, of inspiration to manly efforts and noble 
 ambitions, from the want, the restrictions, and the 
 oppressions of the Old World ; and Avith all the 
 encouragement and stimulation it was, and still is, 
 to other millions, panting, with arms shouldered 
 or at rest, for those rights which belong to every 
 man, as a son and heir of the Infinite Father. 
 Name any interest of man, material or moral, any 
 dear possession or cherished promise, and it will 
 be found included in this object. Property? — that 
 is at stake. Popular education % — what becomes 
 of it in the general impoverishment and ruin % 
 Freedom? — when the nation dies, that disappears; 
 and after an age of anarchy, of frightful convul- 
 sions, with homes divided, and neighborhoods em- 
 
11 
 
 broiled in angry strifes, and States rent asunder, 
 an iron-heeled despotism lifts its bloody sceptre 
 over our children. Religion 1 — ah ! with anarchy 
 comes godless delirium of mind and soul ; with 
 despotism, enforced uniformity and abject servility 
 of worship. It is, therefore, I venture to say, a 
 cause the most momentous, the most august, the 
 most sacred, that has ever eiilisted the interest 
 and awakened the enthusiasm of any people, since 
 Christianity, under the Captain of our salvation, 
 began its war with " the powers of darkness" for 
 the dominion of the world. 
 
 To this cause, with clear perception of its mag- 
 nitude, its intrinsic grandeur, its unspeakable worth, 
 and with singleness of aim, our lamented friend 
 devoted his life. In the perilous work to which it 
 called him, he lost it ; but, in losing, has he not 
 indeed found it? Could he have fallen in a more 
 glorious service, or won immortality by a more 
 honorable fate? And is it not some mitigation 
 of the profound sorrow of this hour, to believe 
 that the disaster which brought him and so many 
 of his brave compatriots to the dust was but an 
 inevitable incident of that great providential move- 
 
12 
 
 ment for the purifying of this nation, into which 
 he and they had entered with heart and mind and 
 strength ? And shall it not comfort us concerning 
 them who are still far away on fields where the 
 hattle rages, and those others who are enrolling 
 themselves to join our invincible hosts, that, if they 
 fall, they will not have died in vain, but their blood 
 will have been poured out for an object worthy 
 of such a sacrifice 1 
 
 There is highest authority for saying, that " al- 
 most all things valuable, are, by the law of God, 
 consecrated by blood;" and the testimony of uni- 
 versal history verifies the saying. All enduring 
 civil polities have been cemented by blood ; all 
 the great landmarks of modern freedom — Magna 
 Charta, Reformation Protest, Declaration of Eight, 
 Declaration of Independence — have been sealed 
 with blood. Philosophy and science have pined in 
 dungeons and bled under the axe before putting 
 on their immortal robes and ascending to thrones. 
 Religion, in its humbler forms, has " sweat great 
 drops of blood, running down to the ground," and 
 in its highest expression is crimsoned and warmed 
 with the heart-blood of the Son of God. Where- 
 
13 
 
 fore, " beloved, think it not strange concerning the 
 fiery trial which is to try you, as though some 
 strange thing had happened unto you ; but rejoice, 
 inasmuch as ye are partakers of Christ's sufferings; 
 that, when his glory shall be revealed, ye may be 
 glad also with exceeding joy." 
 
 My friends, like our life on earth, our stay here 
 must be short. We only pause to slake our thirst 
 by that river which flows fast by the oracles of God, 
 and then pass on, in solemn procession, to that 
 other house, which, equally with this, is none other 
 than the house of God and the gate of heaven. 
 We stop here at the cross, on our way to the 
 sepulchre, to kindle our faith by looking on Him 
 w^ho died that we might live, and who left the 
 world to prepare a place for all who endure unto 
 the end. We stop here to consecrate, by prayer 
 and holy song, the death we mourn to the uses of 
 our spiritual life ; to seek instruction and support 
 in the Book that contains them ; and to bow our 
 heads together in lowly devotion before Him who 
 "for our profit doth chasten us, that we might be 
 partakers of his holiness." Then we bear the 
 fallen soldier away to the burial. Yet not him, 
 
14 
 
 but only that flesh-garment in which his immortal 
 being was clothed ; not Am, for the soul, ofiEpring 
 of the Eternal, cannot die. The image of God, it 
 lives for ever. 
 
 Thank God, my friends, we live in the religion 
 not only of the Redeemer, but of the Comforter. 
 We live in the light of a gospel which bridges 
 over the dark gulf that separates the seen from the 
 unseen, and unites us by faith with that multitude, 
 which no man can number, who stand before the 
 throne, and Avhose triumphant song for ever is, 
 " Salvation to our God which sitteth upon the 
 throne, and unto the Lamb !" With the consola- 
 tions of this religion may you all be comforted! 
 And may they be felt in all the strength of their 
 gracious eflicacy wherever to-day the mother sighs 
 her long and deep lament ; wherever the father 
 bows his head for the gushing fountains to flow ; 
 wherever the sister sobs her tender anguish ; 
 wherever the brother looks with regretful memo- 
 ries on the " vacant chair ; " wherever the friend 
 sends forth the solemn wail for riven ties ; wher- 
 ever there is weeping and mourning for the beauty 
 of our Israel slain upon the desolate places of bat- 
 
15 
 
 tie ! " Who is among you that feareth the Lord ; 
 that obeyeth the voice of his servant ; that walketh 
 in darkness, and hath no light ? Let him trust in 
 the name of the Lord, and stay upon his God." 
 
LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 
 
 013 703 378 1 ^