YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

3 9002 05350 0725

Arms, Hiram P.
A Discourse, occasioned by the Death
of Hon. Jabez W. Huntingdon,
, Norwich, 1847.

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From the Library of
SIMEON E. BALDWIN, Y '61
Gift of his children
HELEN BALDWIN GILMAN
ROGER. SHERMAN BALDWIN, Y '90
1927

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DISCOURSE,

OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF

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UNITED STATES SENATOR,

Delivered in the First Church in Norwich;

November 7, 1S-I7*

BY HIKAM P. ARMS.

NORWICH:
«. Dunham's press, siietccket street.
1847.

TO
Mrs. J. W. HUNTINGTON,
THIS DISCOURSE,
DICTATED BY SINCERE REGARD
" TO THE MEMORY OF A MAN OF WORTH,"
IS RESPECTFULLY AND AFFECTIONATF, LY
Inscribed

BY

THE AUTHOR.

SERMON

JOB, 37: 33, 34.
T%e Almighty — we cannot find him out : excellent in
power, and in judgment, and in plenty of justice ; he
will not afflict.
Men do therefore fear him : he respecteth not any that
are wise of heart.
The text is the conclusion of Elihu's speech, in reply. to
Job and his three friends. This young man had discours
ed with much good sense, on the ways of Providence, and
had better explained the sufferings of good men, than ei
ther of the speakers who preceded him. As he draws to
ward the close of his address, he seems overawed by the
tokens which he discovers of the divine presence. In the
29th verseof the precedin g chapter are intimations of a
rising storm. The dark clouds are beginning to overspread
the heavens, and the distant thunder is heard to utter its
voice. As Elihu proceeds, the tempest increases. The
clouds gather in deeper darkness ; the lightnings flash ; the
thunders roll ; until overpowered by these terrific indica
tions of an approaching Deity, he exclaims ; " At this also
my heart trembleth, and is moved out of his place."
Still he recognizes the good hand of God, controlling the
angry elements, and directing the lightning's bolt.
As he continues to discourse of the providence of God,
in the change of the seasons, and in the various operations
of nature, the tempest still raging in the darkened heavens,

suddenly the thick black cloud in the north is rent asun
der, and discloses to view a bright and dazzling light, in
appearance like burnished gold ; perhaps the Shekinah
which afterward filled the temple with the divine glory.
All this Elihu understood to foretoken the approach of
Jehovah ; and abashed at the divine presence, he exclaims :
« With God is terrible majesty. The Almighty— we can
not find him out ; excellent in power, and in judgment,
and in plenty of justice, he will not afflict.
Men do therefore fear him ; he respecteth not any that
are wise of heart."
To embody the sentiment of this passage in a single
proposition, While many of the dealings of God's Providence are to
us inexplicable, we know enough of his character to inspire
us with confidence in his government, and submission to
his will.
Two points in this proposition claim-our attention.
I. Many of the dealings of God's Providence are to us
inexplicable. " The Almighty, we cannot find him out."
We cannot grasp the infinitude of his being ; we cannot
measure the duration of his existence, or the extent of his
power ; we cannot fathom the depth of his knowledge, or
comprehend the complex scheme of his government. Eli
hu derives his illustrations of this point mostly from the
physical world. " Can any," said he, " understand the
spreadings of the clouds, or the noise of his tabernacle ?'*
Less was then known of the second causes which give
birth to storms, and engender the lightning, than is reveal
ed to us in the light of modern science.
* " Ezekiel, 1 ; 4, 27, 28." Barnes on Job 37 ; 22.

But with all our knowledge of second causes, who can
point us to the link in the chain, which connects those
causes with the great First Cause ? Who can demonstrate
the agency, by which the whole is put in motion ? We
can often trace events back through a long series of second
causes ; but at last we find ourselves enshrouded in dark
ness. We cannot see the hand which moves the first
wheel. To adopt an illustration of Elihu's, God says to the
snow : " Be thou on the earth, likewise to the small rain,
and to the great rain of his strength." Philosophy points us
to some facts in the formation of the snow and the rain j
she exhibits to us the beautiful and variegated forms in
which the vapor crystallizes to produce the snow. But
can she tell us why that vapor crystallizes in these, rather
than in a thousand other forms? or why it crystallizes at all ?
To all such inquiries philosophy is dumb. She has never
penetrated the secret laboratory, where God performs his
works ; and learned the hidden process, by which he
clothes the earth with beauty, and crowns the year with
his goodness. There is more mystery in a single drop of
rain falling to the earth, than all the philosophy, which
was ever dreamed of, can explain.
And if we are so incompetent to understand the simplest
matters, how can we expect to comprehend those, which
are more complex, and farther removed from our observa
tion. Animal life — who can tell us whence it comes, whither
it goes, or what it is ? Who can explain the higher life,
which pertains to man ? " There is a spirit in man, and the
inspiration of the Almighty hath given him understand
ing." But what is the essence of that living soul, which

God breathed into man, when he gave him being ? What
tie connects it with the body? and at what point? Why
is it, that when the soul leaves the body, that erect and no
ble form, with all its delicate and complex machinery, bear
ing upon its very front the impress of its Maker — why is
it that this splendid structure so soon falls into a heap of
ruins? All its parts remain. Its organs are all there. But
not one of them will perform its wonted functions. Not
a muscle moves; not a nerve retains its sensibility. Intel
ligence no longer beams from the eye ; the tongue is si
lent ; the ear is deaf to the sweetest tones of affection ; and
incipient decomposition admonishes us to remove that child
of mortality, and commit it to the bosom of its mother
earth. Whence goes the Spirit? But for the light of revela
tion, we should find it difficult to demonstrate that it does
not perish with the body. This blessed volume assures
us, that when the spirit leaves the body, it returns to God
who gave it. But a thousand questions may be asked re
specting the mode of its existence in a future state, which
we have no means of answering.
And if we are so ignorant of ourselves, how can we ex
pect to find out the Almighly to perfection, or comprehend
the laws which govern his conduct ?
We recognize him as the author of our life, and the Su
preme Arbiter of our destiny. He has fixed the limits of
our earthly existence, which we cannot pass. But who
can tell us by what rule he assigns these limits ? One just
opens his eyes upon the light of this world, and after a
few days of sorrow and of pain, closes them again in per
petual night. Another is arrested in the buoyancy of
youth, and consigned to what we term a premature grave.

Another, in the midst of his days, bound to earth by the
strongest ties known to affection, and occupying a post of
usefulness, which in our apprehension it would be unsafe
to vacate, is nevertheless struck down at a blow. When
we inquire for him in the domestic circle, of which he was
the soul, the deep drawn sighs of bereaved hearts tell us he
is not there. When we seek him in the public walks of
life, of which he was but yesterday the ornament, the
look of sadness which meets us on every side, tells us
he is gone. But who can tell us why ? Who can explain
the reasons which govern the divine mind, in thus extin
guishing the early dawn ? in thus blotting the sun from
life's zenith ? We may propound many hypotheses to ex
plain the mystery. But after all we are compelled to
acknowledge our incompetence to lift the vail. God giv-
eth to us no account of his matters.
The sages, who came to comfort Job in his affliction,
would ascribe such a dispensation to the superior wicked
ness of those, who are thus removed. But this hypothesis
has been long since exploded. It is contradicted by the
events which are constantly passing before us. Some of
the noblest specimens of humanity, which the world has
ever .known, men of talents, of learning, of high official
rank, and all these consecrated to their country, and to
their God, we have seen cut off in the midst of their use
fulness ; while " the wicked live, become old, yea are
mighty in power." Who can explain to us the deep mys
tery of this providence ?
That the veteran of four score years, worn out in life's
conflicts, should be permitted to unbuckle his harness, and
repose from his toils, we might reasonably expect. But
why discharge the vigorous, the active, the efficient ? —

Christian resignation may answer, " Even so Father, for sO
it seemed good in thy sight." But when we inquire for
the reasons, which made it seem good, we can obtain no
response. We know that God makes his providential dispensations
subservient to his moral government, to the promotion of
his purposes of love and mercy toward our world. But
this general principle sheds little light on the point now
before us. If God wishes to build up in this world a king
dom of righteousness, why does he cast away the very in
struments, which to us seem best suited to this work ?—
Are the laborers too many for the harvest ? Is there dan
ger that the work will be too soon accomplished ? But the
demand is for more laborers.
In this connection we might inquire, Why does God suf
fer infidelity and wickedness to overrun some of the fairest
portions of his heritage ? ' Why suffer so many gifted minds
to be poisoned with unbelief? Why not so arrange his
providential government, that all great men shall be good
men ? that all the talent, and mental resources of the world
shall be arrayed on the side of righteousness and truth ?
We can easily frame suppositions which will obviate
whatever objections to the goodness of God may arise from
this source ; but after all, we must confess that in this de
partment of God's administration, is much that is to us in
explicable. " He respecteth not any that are wise of heart" — he
takes no counsel of earthly sages. But whatsoever he
pleases, that he does in heaven and on earth. And who
shall presume to question the rectitude of his doings ? Is
he not competent to govern the world which he has made ?
All misgiving upon this point will be removed by a due

consideration of the second part of the proposition before
us. II. We know enough of God's character, to inspire us
with confidence in his government, and submission to his
will. The text affirms that in view of his power, his justice,
his goodness and his compassion, men have cause to fear
him, to demean themselves before him with reverence and
cordial submission.
1. He is excellent in power.
His dominion is absolute and unlimited. Whatever oth
er agencies exist, they all have their origin in him. And
we may be sure he would never give existence to an agency,
which he could not control.
He would never throw a creature of his beyond his
reach. Even the swift- winged lightning is subject to his
direction. " With hia hands he covereth the lightning,
And commandeth it where to strike.
He pointeth out to it his friends,
The collecting of his wrath is upon the wicked."*
He holds the bolt in his own hand, and launches it
whithersoever he will. It can alight on no head, however
defenceless, without his permission.
Nor is it at all inconsistent with his entire control of
these fearful agents, that they are all governed by fixed
and established laws : for it was he who instituted these
laws, and that, in view of all the circumstances in which
they would ever act.
Besides, these laws would cease to operate the moment
God should withdraw his hand ; for they are nothing more
than the uniform mode of his operation. There is no in-
*Job 36 : 32, 33. Barnes' Translation.

10
herent efficacy in a law of nature. But for God's all-per
vading agency it is perfectly inert and inoperative. It is
God who worketh all in all. There is not a point, within
the whole circuit of the universe where his powerful agen
cy is not exerted. " Behold he spreadeth his light upon his pavilion.
He also covereth the depth of the sea."
From the loftiest height to the lowest depth, he is ev
ery where present by his mighty power, directing and con-
troling all things according to the counsels of his infinite
wisdom. Such a God is able to protect us. No harm can reach
us without his permission ; no bereavement overtake us
but by his direction. And when he commands the rod to
smite us, all resistance is vain and presumptuous. Let our
trust then be in his mighty arm, and our submission to his
irresistible will, cheerful and confiding.
2. God excels in justice.
He can have no motive to do his creatures wrong. Not
only so, the maintenance of his own authority depends up
on the administration of. even handed justice. Should the
Judge of all the earth fail to do right, he would forfeit the
allegiance of every loyal subject. Besides, it is inherent
in the very nature of God to love and to exercise justice.
We have no occasion therefore ever to distrust the equity
of his conduct, or to hreathe the most secret suspicion, that
he can do us wrong.
In the darkest day of adversity, when our cup overflows
with sorrow, the language ofthe prophet still becomes us ;
" Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit
be in the vine, the labor of the olive shall fail, and the fields
shall yield no meat, the flock shall be cut off from the fold,

11
and there shall be no herd in the stalls, yet I will rejoice
in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation."
3. The goodness of God is fitted to inspire us with con
fidence in his government and submission to his will. — •
" The Lord is abundant in goodness and in truth." It is
by his benignity, his kindness, his beneficence that we are
admonished to trust him. " How excellent," says Davidj
" is thy loving kindness, O God. Therefore the children
of men put their trust under the shadow of thy wings."
Not only can God do us no wrong, but he loads us with
benefits. In adversity we are prone to forget his favors. —
Yet in the darkest day we are still surrounded with tbkens
of his loving kindness. How many and how rich are the
consolations, which he pours into the heart pierced with
the shaft of affliction. And how many are the blessings,
which he gives, compared with those which he takes
away. So that if we count up the number of our mercies,
we shall find them manifold more than our griefs, even
when those griefs flow in their broadest and deepest chan
nels. 4. The tender compassion of God is also brought to view
in the text. " He will not afflict." He will not oppress,
nor crush the loyal subjects of his government.
In one sense he afflicts ; he chastens his people for their
good. But " he doth not willingly afflict nor grieve the
children of men. Like as a father pitieth his children, so
the Lord pitieth them that fear him. His compassions fail
not." No man had ever more cause than Job to distrust the pa
ternal care of God ; and yet it is with special reference to
his trials, that James says : "The Lord is pitiful and of
tender mercy."

12
This attribute of Jehovah was most strikingly displayed
in the person of his Son, Jesus Christ. It marked the
whole course of his life. It beamed in the tears which fell
upon the grave of his friend Lazarus. The widow of Nain
felt its power, in the restoration of her only son from the
dominion of death. It spoke in the tones of his voice, as
he stood on Mount Olivet, weeping over the ill-fated Jeru
salem. It breathed in his prayer for his crucifiers. It was
heard in the words of comfort which he spoke to the dy
ing malefactor.
In scenes like these we can read the heart of our heaven
ly Father. For Christ is the brightness of his glory, and
the express image of his person.
Do we not owe submission, cordial, unreserved submis
sion to the will of such a Father ? May not the govern
ment of such a God command our confidence ? If our
lips are not opened in praise, let them be dumb.
These are some of the considerations suggested in the
text, fitted to inspire us with confidence in the government
of God, and submission to his will. Are they not suffi
cient ? What if there are some dark dispensations of his
providence, which we cannot satisfactorily explain ? We
know enough of his character to silence every rebellious
thought, and attract us to the covert of his arms. True,
he does not reveal to us all the deep counsels, which gov
ern his conduct. We are incompetent to understand them.
But he invites us to his bosom, where throbs a heart full
of kindness, tenderness, and compassion. He points us al
so to his mighty arm, which is able to execute the purposes
of his love. What can we ask more ? What more could
he give ?
This train of remark, I have no need to inform you, has

13
been suggested by the events of the past. week. Nor can
I do justice to my own feelings, or meet the reasonable ex
pectations of a sorrowing community, without speaking
somewhat more in detail of the bereavement which is up-*
on us.
When a private citizen dies, grief is awakened within
the little circle in which he had moved, and we sympa
thize with his bereaved family. But when, as in the pres
ent instance, a public man falls, a member of the highest
legislative body in the realm, and falls too at a period in
our national affairs, when we have special need of wise and
upright men to administer the government, the calamity is
one in which a nation participates.
We should be inexcusable indeed, if we did not notice
the hand of God in such a dispensation. It is one of those
measures of his providential government, which are to us
inexplicable. We cannot tell why such a man should be
thus removed, and at such a time.' The solution of the
mystery is one of those secret things which belong to God.
However wise of heart we may profess to be, he will not
admit us to his secret counsels, nor explain to us all the
measures of his administration. It is enough for us at
present to know that "he causeth it to come." What we
know not now, we may know hereafter. At present we
walk by faith, and on the ground of what we do know of
God's character, we are bound to confide in his goodness,
and rejoice in his government.
No event, within my knowledge, has ever so deeply
moved the sympathies of this community, as the unex
pected and very sudden decease of the late Judge Hunting
ton. It is not his family alone, it is not those alone who
sympathized with him in his political preferences, but men

u
of ail parties, even strangers to him in person, pause td
drop a tear upon his grave, and express their heartfelt
grief at his removal. There is but one feeling in the
whole community. All seem conscious that the hand
of God is heavy upon us ; that the sad event which
has brought desolation to his own family, is a public be
reavement, which calls for an expression of public sorrow.
If there is any feeling different from this, its discordant
notes have not reached my ears.
The leading events in the life of our departed friend
have already been laid before you in the public prints.*
He was a native of our village, and descended from one
of its most ancient families. He bore a name heretofore
not unknown in the annals of his country. But so far
from being indebted to his name, he did much to add to it
new lustre.
It is not my purpose to pronounce his eulogy. I know
that his spirit would frown upon me, if I should desecrate
this day and this place to celebrate the praises of a mortal.
He would say : " Give God the praise, for it is by his grace
that I am what I am."
It were indeed no difficult task to delineate his charac
ter ; for it was so transparent as to be known and read of
all men. All however, which I shall attempt on the pres
ent occasion, will be to recal your attention to a few of the
more prominent traits in his character, for the instruction
and imitation of survivors.
By the hand of his Maker he was endowed with an in
tellect of superior order. And his native talents were im
proved by the hand of careful and diligent culture. He
had subjected his mind to rigid discipline. This was ap-
*See Note A. " ' ' ~

15
parent in all the productions of that mind. Whatever em
anated from his pen or his lips bore the impress of vigorous
and well regulated thought. He was a laborious student.
He seemed resolved that whatever he did, should be well
done. Industry was a prominent trait in his character. Wheth
er at the bar, on the bench, or in the halls of legislation,
those who have known him best, are ready to testify to his
untiring habits of application. Had he felt less regard for
the public good, and been more disposed to spare himself,
he might, perhaps still have been with us. But he was not
the man to shrink from personal sacrifice, where his duty
called him.
As a. public speaker, he laid claim to few ofthe graces of
oratory or the mere embellishments of rhetoric. His reli
ance was upon the strength of his argument, and the pow
er of his logic. He called to his aid an array of facts, and
by a careful induction of these bore conviction to the minds
of his hearers.
His language was chaste and simple ; abounding in the
good old Saxon, and expressing with great precision the ex
act image ofthe thought in his own mind. No one would
be at loss to apprehend his meaning. The transparency
of his language was a true index to the character of his
mind. It evinced the discipline, to which his thoughts
had been subjected. He was not educated in the school,
which teaches that " the design of language is to conceal
thought." He had no use for any such instrument. He
was a stranger to deceit and tergiversation. He was never
ashamed or afraid to express his real sentiments.
You have all known him as an upright man. In the
twenty years of his public life, when has he ever been con-

16
victed of a mean or dishonorable act ? When has he ever
been known to sacrifice principle to personal advantage ? or
the good of his country to the interests of a party.
Strict integrity in our public men is a jewel, the price of
which is much enhanced by its scarcity. All, who have
known the subject of these remarks, how widely soever they
may have differed from him on questions of political econ
omy, will unite in testifying that he was an honest man,
that the sentiments which he avowed were his real senti
ments, adopted from a conviction of their truth and impor
tance. He was a man of moral courage. Not indifferent to the
opinions which men entertained of him, still he would nev
er yield what he believed to be just and right, to win the
favor of any man, or set of men. Not hasty in forming an
opinion, when, from honest conviction, he had assumed a
position, he stood firm, even if he stood alone. No matter
if the popular voice was against him, no matter if his friends
deserted him ; before he could be moved, he must be con
vinced that he was wrong. The moral sublimity of such
a course can be best appreciated by those who know the
powerful influences which tempt our public men to swerve
from their own convictions of right.
He was distinguished for his conscientiousness. With
all his courtesy, and all his kindness, he would not trample
upon the dictates of conscience to oblige his best friends.
He had great reverence for the Sabbath. He observed
it with all the strictness with which it was wont to be re
garded, in New England's palmiest days. Whether at"
home or abroad, these sacred hours he devoted to the high
purpose for which God gave them.
Senator Huntington was a patriot. If there ever was a

17
man who aimed at the good of his country it was he. Love
of country predominated above the love of party. If at
times he expressed himself strongly in disapprobation of
public measures, or of public men, it was because he be
lieved their policy was injurious to his country. I have
heard him converse frequently and freely upon the admin
istration of public affairs ; never have I heard him allude
to the bearing which any measure was to have upon his
private interest, or upon the interest of his party, any
farther than he considered that party identified with the
welfare of his country. He was ever looking to the good
of his country, not this or that interest or section, but his
whole country. This was the pole-star which guided
his course through all the intricate topics pertaining to po
litical economy. His affection for his country was not that
of a sycophant, or a demagogue, but of a dutiful son. In
losing him, she has lost one of her brightest ornaments. —
And well may she mourn his departure ; for, in a day like
this, she has need of all her true hearted sons, to extricate
her from the perils of her present position.
But while he is lost to earth, he is not blotted from being.
He still lives, a citizen we trust of a better world than this,
where all his excellencies will be appreciated and perfected ;
and where he will be known by a name, which, in its
brighter splendors, will eclipse all the honors of this world.
All his earthly distinctions are there merged in the Chris
tian. And this reveals to us a trait in his character, which
we love to contemplate above all others. Without this, his
talents, his learning, his mental endowments, and the hon
ors which a grateful country bestowed upon him, would all
have been of little worth.
They would not all have given him the victory over

IS
death, nor entitled him to the heavenly rest. It is his piety,
more than his honors, which now affords consolation to his
bereaved friends.
He made a profession of religion just as he was entering
upon his public life. And his subsequent course has evinc
ed the sincerity of the vows, which he then assumed. —
His mind seized upon the religion ofthe gospel with a firm
grasp. He felt his need of its hallowed influence in the tur
moil of political life. Living and dying, he has found it a
precious boon. It was a light to cheer his heart in the day
of sadness, and to guide his steps in the high places ofthe
earth, where God in his providence called him to walk.
His religion was in keeping with his general character.
It assumed very much of that intellectual cast, which we
should expect in a mind disciplined as his was. It was
with him more a matter of principle than an impulse of
feeling. He was not destitute of deep emotion, as those
can testify who have listened to his devotions in the fami
ly, and in the social circle. But his religion lay deeper
than the passions. It underlaid the whole superstructure
of his character,; controlling not only his emotions and di
recting them heavenward, but forming the very principles
of his conduct, and shaping the whole course of his life.
There was a childlike simplicity in his religion, which
invested it with peculiar loveliness. He was averse to all
ostentation, and display of his religious experience ; yet
was he ever ready to converse freely upon topics of practi
cal and experimental piety.
Humility was a prominent trait in his religious character.
He loved the place of social prayer. After occupying, and
honorably filling his seat in the Senate of the United States,
after there coming in conflict with the mightiest intellect

19
in the nation, after giving his voice and his vote to decide
questions of grave national import, on his return to his na
tive village, he delighted to occupy a humble seat in the
place consecrated to social prayer. Those who have been
accustomed to meet us on such occasions, will not soon
forget the deep interest which he always manifested, or
the appropriateness and comprehensiveness of the prayers
which he offered.
On the last occasion of this kind which preceded his
death, it was remarked that he prayed with more than his
wonted fervor and spirituality ; as though he had a pre
sentiment that he was doing his last work. When we met
in the same place on the evening subsequent to his depart
ure, we seemed to be very near to heaven, for one of our
number was already quite within its sacred precincts.
Other indications pointed to the same increase of spirit
uality and heavenly mindedness.
While he was not an indifferent spectator of the events
which are transpiring in our nation's history, (how could
he be, occupying the high and responsible post which he
did ?) yet he was evidently more and more desirous to retire
from the conflicts ef party strife, so far as the claims of duty
would permit. An unusually large portion of his time, dur
ing the present recess of Congress, has been spent in the
bosom of his family. Where else should a christian spend
the last hours of his probation ? Besides, he was peculiar
ly fitted to enjoy and to diffuse happiness within the do
mestic circle. As a husband he was tender and affection
ate ; as a son, the respect and deference, which he paid to
an aged and worthy father, approached almost to religious
veneration. As a brother he was all that a brother could
be. And when he was about to leave these dear objects of

20
his affection, he seemed desirous to draw them still nearer
to himself, and bind them more closely to his heart.
He was evidently detaching himself from the cares of
earth, and preparing for his final departure. His affairs had
long since been so arranged, that no matters of business were
permitted to disturb the tranquility of the closing scene.
When he saw the approach of the fatal messenger, nothing
remained but to bid adieu to loved ones whom he was
leaving, and commend his departing spirit to the hands of
One, whom not having seen he loved. Why should he
shrink from the summons, which called him home ? True,
he was bound to earth by many strong and tender ties. —
But the will of God was that he should go ; and he had
long since learned submission to that will. He bowed
therefore with the resignation of his Savior, when he said :
" O my Father, if this cup may not pass from me except I
drink it, thy will be done."
His mind remained unclouded to the last ; perfectly con
scious that he was passing the dark valley, yet with a hope
so full of immortality, that he feared not the dark waters,
which intervened. He saw that it was a narrow stream,
while faith pointed him to the bright fields of living green,
which lay beyond. This is not death, it is the entrance
upon life.
" Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright ; for the
end of that man is peace."
Such, my hearers, was the man whom we mourn, such
his life, such his peaceful, tranquil departure. 1 will not di
lute the force of such an example by any protracted remarks
of my own.*
I cannot forbear however to say in conclusion, that the
*See Note B.

21
subject before us points to the worth, the indispensable ne
cessity of personal religion. To this it points as the true
end of life, an object to be sought as hid treasure. Noth
ing is worthy to come in competition with it.
When we stand around the grave of departed worth, we
can form a sober and rational estimate of life's " pursuits. —
What are its choicest treasures, what its brightest orna
ments ? What are the honors which the world bestows ?
Not to be despised, unless they impede our progress heaven
ward. But what can they all avail us in life's great crisis ?
What support do they give the sinking spirit, as the night
of death closes around us ? The man of titles and honors
needs, in that trying hour, the same consolations, and the
same hopes, as the humblest citizen. All the honors with
in the gift ofthe world, cannot ease a single pain, or stay
the process of dissolution. The lowest degree of Christian
faith outweighs them all. Destitute of this, the dying man
*is indeed poor and miserable. With this he may triumph
even as he sinks to the grave. For however strong
the inducements which ^make him desire to live, it is still
gain to die. The honors of heaven are worth more than
those of "earth. Its joys are brighter, its treasures more en
suring. But these are the rewards of faith. They are to
him, who overcometh.
For illustration of this truth I point you to the illustrious
man, whose sudden decease has occasioned these remarks.
In the trying hour, the world, with all its fading honors,
was to him nothing— -his hope in Christ, every thing.
I commend his Christian example especially to his con
temporaries, to those who have known him from his
'youth up. I commend to you his testimony in favorof
experimental, practical religion.

22
You have known him too well to harbor a suspicion that
he was acting a part, which did not belong to him. You
believe that he was honest in his professions. The senti
ments which he avowed on this, as on other subjects were
his real sentiments. You also know that there was not in
his character one element of superstition or fanaticism. He
was not the weak minded man to be borne away by blind
impulse. The structure of his mind, his habits of thinking,
the very profession to which he was trained, all led him
carefully to weigh the evidence on which he was to found
an opinion. Besides, when he took upon him a profession
of religion, the powers of his mind were matured. He was
competent then, if ever, to form a correct decision. Under
these circumstances, and with every facility for under
standing the subject, he embraced the religion of Christ,
and ever after governed his life by its precepts. He en
trusted his eternal interests to its safe keeping. Nor does
his example stand unsupported and alone. Other men of
gifted minds, and members of the same bar, were with
him. Of whom it is sufficient to name to this audience the
late Judge Wolcott, who has also finished his course and
entered into his rest. These men have testified, and sealed
their testimony with their dying breath, that the religion of
the gospel is a glorious reality ; that it lays the only foun
dation for hope beyond the grave.
My dear hearers will you not heed testimony coming from
such a source, from men whom you have known and re
spected, and to whose opinions you would listen on any oth
er subject. And their testimony, in the present instance, is
not mere matter of opinion. It respects their own personal
experience. They speak what they do know, and testify
what they have proved by actual experiment. Why should

23
you not receive their witness. The religion which govern
ed their lives, and which gave them the victory over death,
is not less needful to you than it was to them. The hour
is at hand when you will feel this need. But would you
have the support of religion in that trying hour, when
all other supports will fail, you must embrace it be
fore the tide of life is ebbing, and your frail bark is about
to be stranded upon the shores of a dark eternity. To fur
nish you rational support it must be inwrought into the
very structure of your soul. It must govern your life, and
then when you meet the final conflict, you will be prepared
to triumph. That conflict may be nearer than you sup
pose. The messenger of death often gives little warning
of his approach, as we are loudly admonished in the pre
sent instance.
And to meet death unprepared, at the close of a prayer-
less life, with no faith in him who is the resurrection and
the life, with sin unrepented of, and unforgiven ; to die
without hope, and leave to sorrowing friends no consola
tion from this source ; the very thought of it " maketh one's
heart tremble, and move out of its place." What then must
be the reality ? My hearers, your honest convictions on
this subject, I doubt not, are correct. Act upon these con
victions. Choose ye this day the Lord to be your God.
Lay your treasures, your talents, your honors, your influ
ence, yourselves upon the altar of Jesus Christ, and he will
remember you in the day of your trial, with the favor which
he bears to his chosen. You too shall rest in hope. And
while you are tuning your harps above to the high praises of
God and the Lamb, your example shall remain on earth, a rich
legacy to sorrowing friends, and an encouragement tosurvi-
vors to secure for themselves the same glorious inheritance.

24
NOTES. A.
The following sketch of the leading events in the life of Senator Huntington ap
peared in the Norwich Courier of Nov. 2, the date of his decease.
Jabez Williams Huntington, son of General Zachariah Huntington, was born
at Norwich, Nov. 8th, 1788, consequently was 59 years of age, wanting six days, at
the time of his decease. Educated at Yale College, where he was graduated in
1806, he pursued his professional studies at, the Law School in Litchfield, from Feb.
1806 until the latter part of March 1810, at which.tirne he was admitted to the bar in
Litchfield County, and immediately thereafter entered upon the practice of law, at
Litchfield. He represented the town of Litchfield in the General Assembly of Con
necticut in the Session of 1828. In April, 1829, he was elected a Representative in
Congress for the 21st Congress. In April 1831, he was elected for the 22d Con.
gress ; and in April 1833, was elected for the third time, to a seat in the 23d Con
gress. Having received in May, 1834, the appointment of Associate Judge in the
Superior Court and of the Supreme Court of Errors, he resigned his seat in Congress
at the close of the 1st Session of the 23d Congress. In October 1834, he removed
from Litchfield to Norwich, where he continued to reside till his death.
In May 1840, he was appointed a Senator in the Congress of the United States,
for the unexpired term of sis years from the 4th of March 1839, to fill the vacancy
occasioned by the death of the Hon. Thaddeus Betts. Accepting this appointment,
he immediately resigned his judicial office ; and in 1845 he was re-elected to the
United States Senate for another term.
Thus it will be seen that the last twenty years of his life have been spent almost
wholly in the public service. And at no period of his life has he been every way so
well qualified, whether by long experience in legislation, or by his thorough and in
timate- acquaintance with the wants, the interests, and the general condition of the
country and the operations of the Government, to make his influence tell in the Na
tional Councils, as at the moment of his death. B.
The funeral, which was attended on the day of his death, is thus noticed in the
Courier of Nov. 4.
The funeral obsequies of the deeply lamented Judge Huntington were attended
by a large concourse of his fellow-citizens of Norwich and of towns adjacent, at
3 o'clock on Tuesday last. The Rev. Dr. Bond officiated in the opening services at
the residence of the deceased, and the deep seriousness which pervaded the assem
blage during the solemn address to the Throne of Grace, attested how fully the sym
pathies of those present mingled with the tears of stricken and bereaved friends.
The following was the order of procession to the grave : Clergy— Hearse, with
the Body— Relatives of the Deceased— Attending Physicians— Gentlemen of the
Bar— City Authorities— Town Authorities— Officers of the Norwich Bank— Officers
of Norwich Savings Society— Citizens. Pall Bearers,— Hon. J. A. Rockwell— Hon.
Chas. J.' McCurdy— Edward Whiting— Daniel W. Coit— Gen. Wm. Williams—
Chas. Coit.

25
Arrived at the grave, and the bady committed to its last repose, (he Rev. Mr.
Arms, of the First Congregational Church, made an address, substantially as fol
lows :
ADDRESS AT THE GRAVE.
" The mourners on this occasion are not restricted by lines of kindred. The grief
which this sudden stroke of a mysterious Providence has awakened, will indeed be
most keenly felt in the domestic circle of the excellent man, whose remains we are
now committing to the dust. For within that circle he was best known. And
where he was best known he was most beloved. But this stroke falls upon the
whole community ; and they claim the privilege of mingling their tears with those
of the afflicted family.
Seldom are we called to perform these sad offices for one who has a deeper,
¦stronger hold upon the respect of the public mind, and the affection of the public
heart. We are all bereaved, and the unexpected quarter from which the bereave
ment comes renders it the more painful. We were not prepared for it. We were
taken by surprise. The announcement fell upon our ears like a sudden peal of thun
der from the clear blue sky whioh is over us.
But yesterday he was one of us. And though in the bosom of his family some
anxiety was felt on his account — for affection is quick to take alarm — yet no serious
apprehensions were entertained of such a result as we have witnessd. On Thurs
day last he walked home from the city. On Friday he was slightly indisposed. Oa
Saturday he took medical advice. On the Sabbath was no material change. Oa
Monday, as the day advanced, his symptoms assumed a more alarming type ; and
between twelve and one o'clock this morning, his spirit took its upward flight.—
Truly, in the midst of life we are in death.
If this numerous auditory wish to know how he met the final conflict, I have only
to say, he met it as a Christian. To those who were acquainted with his mental
habits, and his religious experience, it would have been strange if he had not thus
met it. He was not taken by surprise. Death was an event to which he had fa-
.miliarized his mind, especially for the last two years of his life. It found him rea
dy. He had no preparation to make. Nothing remained but to commit bis beloved
-friends, whom he was leaving, to the care of his Heavenly Father, and his own
-departing spirit to the hands of Him whom not having seen he loved, and on whom
iall his hopes for eternity were hung.
Let others, more familiar with his career of usefulness in public life, speak of the
well earned honors which were bestowed upon him. Let them speak of him as he
-deserves ; as the able and honorable advocate, the upright and impartial judge, the
¦enlightened and patriotic statesman. But it was my privilege to know him by a
brighter name than these. He was a Christian. All the honors which he had won
ihe brought and laid upon the altar of Jesus Christ, and there with the temper of a
flittle child sat down at the feet of this divine Teacher, to learn from His lips how a
dinner could be just with God.
Those who have known most of the operations of his mind, have marked of late
;an increase of spirituality and heavenly mindedness, by which the Master was^y-

26
idently preparing him for the approaching change. The last two years of his life
have been to him like the fifteen years which God added to the life of Hezekiah.
Two years ago he was raised up from the borders of the grave, and allowed the
intervening time to perfect his character for the heavenly state. And well did he
improve it. His attachments to friends in this world were tender and ardent ; but
it was evident that the attractions of heaven were fast gaining upon those of earth.
He has at length yielded to those attractions, and the last tie which bound him to
earth is severed. He is gone : and while we are bedewing Iris grave with our tears,
we trust he is mingling with the spiritsof just men made perfect, attuning his harp
to the high praises of God. He is gone — for it is not he who lies before us ; it is
only the frail tenement, which for a few fleeting years he inhabited, and which is
destined to sleep in the dust till the voice of the archangel calls it forth, a. spiritual
body, refined and fitted to be the everlasting abode of his glorified spirit.
And now as we turn in sadness from the grave of our departed friend, (for he was
the friend of us all,) what one trait of his character do we most approve — what one
regard most worthy of our emulation ? It is his piety — his humble, unaffected piety.
This was its brightest gem, its most precious jewel. This it was which shed such
a mild lustre around the closing scene of his life. This was the dawn of heaven to
his soul. Here is treasure which moth and rust do not corrupt ; here is honor
which never fades.
That we may secure the like precious boon to ourselves — that at last we too may
rest in hope, may the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with us all, amen."
Thus closed a drama which has filled our community with deep and sudden grief:
and while it utters another lesson of the uncertain tenure by which the honors of
this world are held, it speaks, too, in language not to be mistaken — in language
which we are sure will be ever cherished by his surviving, sorrowing friends— of
the value of a christian's hope and the peaceful, calm beauty of a christian's death.

s