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YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY Gift of
Mrs. H. B. Gilman

lit M^morbm.

YALE UMI\
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DISCOURSE
PREACHED IN WORCESTER, OCT. 5, 1862,
•V. •¦ ON
LIEUT. THOMAS JEFFEESON SPURE,
Jiftttntfe p;B8S»tfe««rfts Ualanims,

Who, moktallt wounded at the Battle of Antietam, died in
Hagerstown, Sept. 27th following.

BY ALONZO HILL.

published by eequest.
BOSTON:
PRINTED BY JOHN WILSON AND SON,
5, Watek ,Street.
1862.

|it SJ^J^fli'iam.

DISCOURSE

PREACHED IN WORCESTER, OCT. 5, 1862,

LIEUT. THOMAS JEFFEESON SPUEE,
J^iftttnt^ g[n8Snc^U6elts ©olmttcKS,

Who, mortally wounded at the Battle op Antietam, died in
Hagerstown, Sept. 27th following.

BY ALONZO HILL.

published by request.
BOSTON:
PRINTED BY JOHN WILSON AND SON,
5, Water Street.
1862.

His soul to Him who gave it rose;
God led him to its long repose.
Its glorious rest:
And though the warrior's sun has set.
Its light shall linger round us yet, —
Bright, radiant, blest.
His life is bright; — bright without spot it was.
And cannot cease to be. No ominous hour
Knocks at his door the tidings of mishap.
Far off is he, above desire and fear.
Oh, 'tis well with him !

DISCOURSE.

Titus ii. 14: — " Who gave himself for us."
When the late Lieut. Spurr — whose body, brought
from the battle-field of Antietam, wrapped in his
country's flag, we have just bome to our garden of
graves — leamed that his wounds were fatal, and felt
the chill of death coming on, he expressed no dis
appointment and no regrets. He was fully aware,
he said, when he gave himself to the cause of the
Union, of the chances of war; that many must
fall ; that he had no right to claim exemption ; and
that he might as well be the victim of sacrifice as
any. And now, when all was over, and he could do
no more, he uttered the hope, that the example of his
devotion, and the influence of his early removal,
would not be lost ; but that our young men, sharers
of his own deepest thought, touched with sympathy,
and warmed by the love they bore him, would be

encouraged in all true and noble enterprises in serv
ing their country, their age, and their God.
It is, my friends, with the desire of interpreting and
giving emphatic utterance to the language which fell
from his lips in that sublime hour, and in that dimly
lighted chamber in which he died, that I have come
this morning with the consecrated words of Scripture,
than which I know of none more touching : " Who
gave himself for us." They are expressive of the
grandest act which one human being may do for
another ; for no man can do more, or hath a sweeter
death, than to lay down his life for his friends.
They are great and noble words, and appeal to the
very heart of humanity. They are upon the tongue
that would eulogize ; they are written in Italics on
the pages of books ; they are chiselled in marble :
but applied to our Lord, and significant of his ex
alted, unselfish devotion, as they originally were, or to
the young man, who yesterday, in the perfection of
manly vigor, died for his country's sake, they are full
of pathos and full of power : " He gave himself for
us." But in men's mouths they have been strangely per
verted. They have been used to garnish the character
of the mean, selfish, and sordid. They have been

uttered over the graves of the worthless. Let us
pause a moment, and analyze the spirit which they
are intended to express. Let us comprehend its
breadth and Hmitations. We shall then be able to
conceive of the amount of labor, hardship, and self-
oblivion, which it demands.
I urge, then, that the spirit of devotion, impHed
in the act of giving one's self up for others, is very
broad and comprehensive, and caimot be expressed
by any narrow, superficial observance. It goes down
into the very depths of the bosom ; it discards all
shallow inconsistencies and pretences, and consecrates
aU the faculties and aff'ections. Men vainly attempt
to put it on when it is not in the heart. They try
a poor counterfeit, and, for " old family diamonds,
give you false ; and for gold rings, but brass." How
many worthless claims to nobleness and disinterested
love there are ! how many wretched imitations of
the temper of the gospel, like the repetitions this day
of that formal act, expressive of profound sympathy,
tendemess, and goodness, which Christ performed in
Jerusalem! He taught the dignity of serving, by
being himself the servant of all ; and to set forth and
embody the true spirit of devotion, that wonderful
Being, whom the winds and waves obeyed, and who

6
might summon to his aid twelve legions of angels,
" took a towel and girt himself" Hke a menial, " and
washed the disciples' feet.'' The elder Church of
Christendom reads the lesson as one for aU time.
Worshipping the letter, she has preserved the form,
but with how Httle of the spuit ! The pope and car
dinals, followers of the lowly One, who had not where
to lay his head, observe the command to do as he
had done, and, on set days, repeat the rite ; but
they come forth from luxurious palaces in robes of
state, and wash poor men's feet with pomp and show
and in vessels of gold. In token of his affection,
Jesus took men to his palpitating bosom; went to
their lowly habitations and wretched retreats ; and
in tones of tenderness, and words of sympathy, and
acts of love, relieved them. But how many imitate
the outward deed, whUe they vdll not renounce a
single indulgence, or deny themselves a single gratifi
cation ! They will stand, Hke the old monks, at the
convent gate, and dole out alms m the garb of men
dicants ; but, when the gate is closed, wiU retire to
their refectory, and spend the night in feasting and
reveky. In a word, Jesus laid down his Hfe for
others; and there were no inconsistencies nor sad
failures in that life, but every act of it proclaimed

his tender regard for their welfare, and his cheerful
self-sacrifice for their sake. He bore the cross, and
bowed his sacred head upon it, and died ; andevery
step along the dolorous way, self-forgetful, he spoke
words of comfort, and scattered blessings as he went.
But how many mil bear pains as bitter as those of
the cross, and give themselves for objects as selfish
as ever touched the heart of man and turned it
into stone ! For sordid gain, they wUl rehnquish the
endearments of home, breathe the tainted atmosphere
and brave the perils of a distant clime ; for base plea
sures, they wiU renounce the life-long attachments of
wife and children, and aU that ennobles our exist
ence ; for the love of a brutal excitement, and the
gratification of a hideous ambition, they will choose
the tented field, plunge into the thickest of the fight,
and revel amid slaughter and bloodshed, as if it were
a joy. But, my hearers, what will aH this avail, if,
loose and unprincipled, they are false to their man
hood, and are a stumbHng-block to then brethren,
weak, tempted, and travelling, even as they are, on
their dim, shadowy way 1 They may be generous and
pubHc-spirited, impetuous and daring, the bravest of
the brave : but if their personal habits are adverse to
goodness ; if they are coarse, brutal, and self-seek-

8
ing; if they freely adopt the customs, at the table
and in social life, which are an offence and a snare ;
though they give their bodies to be burned, and half
their goods to feed the poor, and die in the very front
of the battle, — we cannot say of them, "They gave
themselves for us." They have given themselves a
sacrifice to their unhaUowed pride, their low ambition,
their selfish brutality; and can have no place in a
people's gratitude. They are mean men, and cannot
be named with honors ; for so sacred a thing in the
eyes of Heaven is each man's individual trust, and
the influence which he may exert, that, whatever else
he may be and do, if he cast away his sceptre, and,
by the falseness of his Hving, serve to tempt the weak
and seduce them into sin, it were better for him that
a millstone were hanged about his neck, and he were
drowned in the depth of the sea.
No, my friends : call not him heroic or noble or
self-sacrificing, whatever his public service may be,
who in private is self-seeking, self-indulgent, and dis
honest. Those great words are only for the sublime,
disinterested spkit, which, renouncing all selfish con
siderations, contemplates with a profound faith things
unseen, regards fidehty in the minutest as well as the
largest trust above aU things, and with prompt cheer-

9
fulness lays the dearest object upon the altar of sacri
fice. It is the spirit which seems to envelop us as
with a sacred atmosphere, when we reverently take
into our hands the New Testament, and strive to
comprehend the life and trace the footsteps of that
marvellous Bemg whose history it contains. It is the
spkit which artists have endeavored to embody in
marble and on canvas, when they have chiselled or
painted that strangely expressive face, with its look
of sweet trust, and its unsounded depths of love and
majesty ; the same which they strove to express in
the form and features of sainted heroes and martyrs,
so calm and still, and full of a divine beauty. It is
the spirit which stkred the bosoms of the old knights
in the ages of faith, when they chose, for instance, for
the motto on the escutcheon of the fierce house of
Douglass, " Tender, but true ; " or for that on the
crest of England's crown, " Shame to him who thinks
evil ! " — the same which moved over the souls of the
Sidneys and the Hampdens and the RusseUs, — men
of so noble a nature, so unselfish, so chivalric, so
thoroughly good, that, when they passed away, it -wiis
felt that a sudden eclipse had come on ; and the
whole land gave itself to mourning amid the excla
mations, " We shall never see thek like again." It

10
is the spkit which animated the grim old warrior,
Frederic I. of Prussia. It was reported to him, in
the midst of the battle's fray, " Your son is killed ! "
" Woe is me ! " he cried. " My son is slam ; but
Christ lives. On, my men ! " placing principle high
above every personal consideration, fidehty to duty
above all present peace ; — the same, more than all,
which consecrated the Hfe and haUows the repose of
the hero who sleeps on the banks of the Potomac,
and whose sacred repose is invaded by the awful sounds
of conflicting armies. A noiseless influence goes from
that tomb, mightier than the din of battle, and more
moving than the eloquence of senates. Yes, it was
well that the great fight of freedom should be fought,
and the work which he began should be completed, on
the spot so dear to his great heart, where his awful and
majestic form, as it used to appear to our fathers in
the smoke of the battle, shall seem again to arise,
and check every emotion of unhaUowed ambition,
and breathe constancy and courage into the bosoms
of our brave young defenders, who, taught at thek
mothers' knee to revere his memory, can do nothing
inconsistent with that trust in God, that personal puri
ty, that love of liberty, and that supreme devotion to
country, which won for him his victory. He gave

11
himself for us ; and that is the reason why he wUl
remaui among us, a livmg power, as long as the na
tion shall stand.
I have dwelt, my friends, upon these thoughts,
because it seems to me I discern in om* people a
disposition to honor men who are unAvorthy of honor,
and to reward men with a nation's confldence who
seek power only for its own sake, court mUitary glory
for the distinction which it confers, hold office for
its emoluments, and accumulate trusts that they may
the more easily betray them. God save us, in this
great hour of the country's perU, from the foUy of
committmg its life to the keeping of those who are
faithless to others, and are not true to themselves !
I Hnger on this train of thought, because I would
bring before you, in Ulustration, the noble young man
who is iu aU our hearts to-day, and show you what a
great thing he did — none greater on this earth —
when he gave himself for us. I feel that he has a
claim on our especial mention here, because he was
a chUd of this parish, — honored, loved, and moumed ;
and affords a beautiful example of that self-sacrifl-
cing devotion which it is our prayer to God may be
formed, and which it is our labor, day by day, to form,
in the heart of this community.

12
Thomas Jefferson Spurr — a grandson of Gen. John
Spurr, and Dr. Dan Lamb, of Charlton, once widely
known in the south part of this county, the son of the
late Col. Samuel D. Spurr — was born in this city,
Feb. 2, 1838 ; consequently, had reached only the
immature age of twenty-four years. Early left an
orphan by the death of his father, he was committed
to the sole care of his mother. As we grow older,
the years come and go with ever-hastening step ; and
to my vision it seems but yesterday, when, a Httle boy,
he was led by her hand to this, our religious home,
to begin that course of Christian ti-aining, without
which all other influences are worthless. Then I have
the picture of a youth, true to his early promise, con
stant m his attendance on the Sunday school, the Bible
class, and the services of the Church ; always carrying
with him that look of seriousness and earnest thought
which we are wont to ascribe to those whom God has
chosen. I think of him as he appeared in the suc
cessive grades of your public schools ; careful and
painstaking in his studies, always foremost among his
companions, gentle and affectionate in his ways. Then
I thmk of him as passing on to om- neighboring Univer
sity ; simple and unaffected in his manners, genial in
his dispositions, warm hi his attachments, and wmnkiff

13
troops of friends, but never for an instant diverted
from the one great object of his ambition ; never for
saking his early habits ; term by term, pursuing a course
of quiet industry, and securing distmguished success
among his fellows. In the freshman year of his
coUege life, he was one of the leading scholars of
his class ; and with his good classical attamments, his
decided mathematical tastes, might confidently have
anticipated the largest share of coUege honors.
But, in the midst of his successes and anticipations,
he was interrupted by one of the sorest visitations that
can befaU the young student, — an affection of the
eyes, which compeUed him to close his books, and
retke from his college associations. He repaired to
the country. He made a voyage to Fayal, that beau
tiful island of the Azores ; and found rest and refresh
ment amid its tropical luxuriance and delightful
friendships, always so readily proffered to the sick
stranger there. He returned improved, but not re
stored. He went back to his coUege studies, but not
with his first fresh hope ; for, during his absence, his
class had left him behind, and he must now grope
his tangled and matted way by means of eyes not his
own. He was compelled to employ a reader. He
was thrown behind his companions in the career of

14
competition ; but not behind the foremost in the no
ble simpHcity of his character, the patient bearing of
his trial, his cheerful acquiescence, and unfaltering
resolution to do what he coiUd. He took his degree
at the Univer.sity in Cambridge ki 1858 ; and, as a
proof of the estimation in which he was held by his
associates, I need only say, that he was elected a mem
ber of the Phi Beta Kappa Society, the chief Hterary
association of the institution, admission to which is
the object of the young student's great ambition, and
whose honors are bestowed as a mark of distinction
on leadmg scholars : but, with a tendemess and gene
rosity most creditable to those concerned, he was
chosen, not for what he was, but for what he would
have been, except for the hea^y calamity which had
befaUen him, and which, in one of less stubborn wiU,
would have closed, without a struggle, aU the ave
nues to literary and professional success. On leading
coUege, Thomas entered the Law School at Cambridge,
and afterwards the law-office of the Hon. George
Frisbie Hoar of this city; always labormg imder a
sense of disadvantage from his inflrmitv, but uncom-
plainmg, cheerfuUy bearing, and resolved, as others
had done before him, to conquer success, though m
the face of difficulties aU but msurmountable.

15
But Providence was guiding; and another career
was openmg, in which, not soundness of sight, but
health of body, firmness of mind, energy, self-posses
sion, courage, and nobleness, alone are indispensable.
In the spring of the last year, he closed again his
studies, and sailed, with a young friend and relative,
for Russia ; retui-ning through Germany, England, and
France. It was there, on the shores of the Baltic,
amid scenes so novel, strange, and absorbing, that he
first heard the tidings of the great revolt which has
throAvn its dark shadow over a prospered and happy
land ; and, from that moment, I can well conceive of
the stk and tumult of his bosom. An awful calamity
had come to his country, and he in ease and safety,
and amid the fascinations of a foreign city ! she, the
kind mother of us aU, in perU, — she, at whose gentle
bosom he had been nurtured, and under whose ten
der nursing he had received all that makes Ike on
earth a blessing, — and he not there to strike for her a
blow ! I have looked upon our dear land from afar,
from mid-ocean and from foreign shores, where speech
is restrained by tyrant power, and the very ak is op
pressive and stifiing ; and I know what heart-yearnings
he must have felt, how the winds must have seemed
to linger that were to waft him over, and the days to

16
be tardy in their coming that should see him once
more in his now troubled home.
At length, he arrived. But for him, as for thousands
of our noblest and best young men, the choicest of our
youth, the very hope of our country, there was no rest.
Thomas sought and received a commission of first
lieutenant in the Fkteenth Regiment of Massachusetts
Volunteers, at the commencement of the present year,
— a year so eventful to the country, so tragical to him.
He was now to gkd on the sword and haversack, and
enter scenes where separation, hardship, exposure,
and danger from sickness and wounds, would grow
famUiar ; and how much it must have cost him to
sever again ties so intimate and tender as those which
bound him to his home ! But when he once felt the
bm-then of duty laid upon him ; when his ear had
once caught the soul-enkindlmg words, "Leave father
and mother" and the endearments of home for freedom
and country and Christ's sake, — he was not one to lin
ger ; and when I saAv him, on the eve of his departure,
tum from his heart's treasure to encounter the great
unknown of his future lot, he seemed to me as one, Avho,
havmg conquered in the inward strife, had thrown off
aU misgivmgs and fears, and was now gokig, under the
influence of a noble inspkation, to flght the battles of

n
freedom and humanity, — going under the shelter of a
protecting Prpvidence, and ready to accept, with equal
cheerfulness, whatever that Providence for him andfor
his might send. He seemed to dwell apart in his
thought from the great croAvd, and commune with the
spkitual and unseen, to walk in close companionship
with sainted heroes, to live in distant ages, and to hear
the voices of approval and holy cheer from those whom
his self-sacrificing devotion would bless ; and he stood
before us as one transfigured, in manly beauty, and with
an almost visible glory around his head.
Lieut. Spurr immediately joined his regiment on the
Potomac, and earnestly applied himself to the strange
tasks that were before him, — tasks we little know
how formidable, untU we remember his rare con
scientiousness and his severe interpretation of duty.
He was fresh from the scenes of civil Hfe, — the home,
the office, and the leisure of travel, — and was placed
over men who had stood in the face of battle, and
grown famUiar vsdth the detaUs of the soldier's work.
Besides, his senior officer, from whom he might have
received help, was away ; and alone, performing a
double service, he encountered every embarrassment
of his untried post. And much is it to thek honor as
weU as his to be able to say, that, in a very difficult

18
position, — a position in which subordinates jealously
watch and readUy censure, — he acquitted himself with
such skUl and tact, that he overcame every obstacle,
and not only secured the respect, but won the affec
tionate attachment, of his men. " He was universaUy
beloved," is the unvarying testimony of his companions
in arms. " We loved him as a brother." " All of us
were in tears who stood around the spot where he lay
in his agonies." Nor is it difficult to understand why
they loved him so weU. He loved them, and gave
himself for them. He devoted himself unreservedly
to his duties as a soldier, and to the welfare of the
men of his command. He was asked if he were ac
quainted with the officers of another regiment ] He
replied, " A soldier who does his duty has no time to
make acquaintance." His own, the war-worn Fk
teenth, a part though it was of the consecrated host
enrolled for the country's redemption, was his especial
trust. They saw and bare witness to the disinterested
ness and fidehty of his service ; how true and manly
and devoted he was ; how he bore them on his heart,
spared them as he Avas able, shared in their toUs, and
spoke words of encouragement. For he loved them
with that intensity of affection which only they knoAV
who have encountered common perUs and borne com-

19
mon sufferings together. They had participated in the
discomforts of the camp m the swamps of the Chicka
hominy, had kept picket-guard, and stood before the
enemy at Fak Oaks and Savage's Station. They had
moA^ed side by side in the seven-days' retreat, fighting
from daAvn to evening tAvUight, marching from twUight
again tiU dawn ; and well might they speak kindly and
gently and Avith honest pride of thek young Lieutenant,
so refined, so soldierly in his bearing, and so quick in
his sympathies. For, I repeat, he Avas loving and ten
der, and brave and heroic. At the close of the weari
some reti-eat, when one more blow was to be struck,
and his command were summoned to Mah'ern HUl, and
he was too sick to lead them, I am told by his chaplain
that he was altogether unmanned, when, left behind,
he saw them going up to the post of danger, and he
could not be there to share it with them. When he
had received the fatal wound of which he died, his
sole thoughts were of his officers and men. They
rushed to carry him from the fleld ; but the enemy
pressed. " Do not stay for me," he cried in that
awful moment; "take care of yourselves:" and in
the next instant he was a prisoner. Found again, two
days after, by a party of skkmishers, his fkst words
were, " For God's sake, send a surgeon here at once.

20
not for my sake, but for the sake of these poor men,
who are suffering terribly." In his troubled sleep, he
would seem to be issuing orders for thek comfort and
refreshment : and, in his waking hom-s, he said, " he
hoped his company would be satisfied with him, and
that he had earned their confldence ; for he was not
conscious of having a single thought of himself after
the fkst voUey Avas flred." No: not of yourself did
you think, young hero, brave soldier, soldier also of
the cross, in that agonizing hour, but of the absorb
ing cause, and of the men by whom, under God, you
were to wki it.
But I hasten on. The 17th of September wUl be
marked as a dark day in our New-England history, like
the " sorrowful night" m Mexican story ; for, on that
day, whole platoons of our troops were cut doAvn, and
the brave and beautkul feU in their high places. The
regiment to AA^hich Lieut. Spurr was attached had been
removed from the James River, Avith the division under
Gen. Sedgwick, to the Heights of Maryland ; and were
drawn out in the fleld of battle, occupying the fore
most Hne, and exposed to the deadliest fke of the half-
concealed enemy. They stood upon a rising ground,
not far from the rail fence which enclosed the field of
standing com, henceforth to be famUiar to our Ameri-

21
can youth, as the rye-fields of Waterloo are to those of
England ; and about nine o'clock in the morning came
that voUey aU along the opposing army Avhich has sent
such anguish into so many of our NeAV-England homes.
Our young friend was standing a little in advance of
his company, engaged in forming the broken front ; and
there received his fatal wound, and fell where he stood.
Almost in an instant, there was confusion, — the rush
of the enemy and a short retreat, — and he was left to
thek tender mercies, bleedkig on the ground, whUe
the battle aU day raged around. But, in the midst of
common sufferings, how speedUy are foes changed into
friends ! But a moment ago, they were in opposing
ranks, sending at each other the missUes of death,
attended with smoke and carnage ; but now the
heart of humanity is touched, and they gather around
the wounded soldier. Among them are the famUiar
countenances of those who studied with him in the
haUs of coUege, bearing no longer the grim visage of
Avar. They speak to him words of sympathy ; they
place to his fevered Hps cooling drinks ; they remove
him from the heat of the sun to the shade of a tree ;
they shelter him from the cold night air with their
blankets. Those who were present tell of the awful
stUlness which foUowed that day of terrors. I am

22
sure, k, during these weary hours of suffering for
him, of rest for man and for beast, he had intervals
of consciousness, he would be reminded by those
kmdly faces, and the sUent stars that were looking so
tranquilly doAvn, that there was an eye of inflnite
compassion fixed upon him, and the arms of mfinite
tenderness stretched over him. God was there. He
had done a soldier's duty, and God's peace was his.
The battle was on AVednesday. Two days after (on
Friday), he was seen, by a party of skkmishers of the
New-York Thkty-first, — having been removed from
the spot where he feU, — lyhig on a bed of straw, in a
yard a few rods distant, in the midst of a host of
wounded fellow-soldiers of both armies. On Satur
day (the next day), he was found by friends who had
been sent in search of him. His wounds were
dressed, and he was carried two or three mUes to a
large Union hospital. On Monday, he was removed
agaui, by the aid of the mayor of our city, to Hagers-
toAvn, the distance of some twelve mUes from the
field of battle ; where, at the private residence of one
of its citizens, kindly throAvn open to him, he received
all the aid and solace which unbounded Christian
sympathy and the best medical skUl could bestow.
Thither his own famUy — through a series of events

23
which seem providential, and which they can never
cease to remember Avith heartfelt gratitude — Avere
conducted, on Wednesday evening, to the house
where the sufferer lay; and there, Avith poAvers un-
impaked, the memory clear and exact, and a con
sciousness of duty done, and weU done, with intense
affections gushing out from his lips and a look of in
effable SAveetness on his countenance, he was spared
to them two days longer.
It would be invading the sanctity of private grief,
k I were to relate to you aU that was said and done
in these sacred hours. One who was present has told
me that he never witnessed such scenes of composure,
such tenderness of love, such serene trust, such readi
ness to go. As he has recalled ckcumstance after
ckcumstance, I have been reminded of those ages,
when faith, k not more real, awakened more enthu
siasm, and found vent in more vivid expression, than it
now does, — those great times, when the martyr, gaz
ing upward, seemed to see the heavens opened, and
sainted forms bending over, and smUing, and beckoning
him to come. I am reminded of the death-scenes of
the hero of Lucknow, — aU calm and buoyant and
cheerful in his lonely tent, whUe the sounds of the
cannon were stiU heard in the distance, — wom with

24
sicknesses and the waste of war, and yet exulting in
the exuberance of his kindred and home affections
and the thoughts of heaven, exclaiming vdth his
last breath, " Now I am ready." Our dear young
friend, though he had just come from the battie's
strke, had brought with him no earthly passion, no
bitterness towards those who had taken his young
Ike, but forgiveness and gratitude instead for those
who had pitied and succored him in his great distress.
He spoke of heaven as famUiar to his thoughts, and
of one who is an angel there. He spoke of the mo
tives which had prompted him to give himself to the
service of his country. He spoke as a soldier, and
thanked God, that, though a few hours a wounded
prisoner, he was spared the humiliation of delivering
his sword into the hands of her enemies. It had been
struck from his grasp, and it was only the empty scab
bard which they bore away as a trophy. He spoke as
a son, a brother, and friend. He remembered all,
he forgot none; and when he had said and done
aU, as if conscious that his hours were numbered, just
before the daAvn of a new day, his last on earth, he
asked her, who sat by the djing bed of her son, to join
him in one more prayer before he should go. He
offered a prayer, which they who heard can never for-

25
get. It was the last breathing of affection for those
nearest and dearest, — the utterance of the heart's
gratitude for the presence of kind physicians and
friends who had soothed his hours of terrible anguish,
and especially of her who had been kindest and ten
derest. For, my heai-ers, there is one image which
years and leagues and the rough usages of the camp
can never erase from the memory ; there is one name
which the New-England soldier, in his sicknesses,
wounds, loneliness, and desertion, takes upon his lips,
— the same image on which Jesus gazed from the
bitter cross, the same name which he uttered with his
dying breath. At nine o'clock on Saturday moming,
the eleventh day after the battle, it was perceived that
Thomas's strength was failing ; that he was fast pass
ing away. He fixed his eyes in one last gaze on a
famiHax countenance ; he spoke in tones of cheer ;
he uttered the word " Mother ! " he crossed his
hands upon his bosom, and fell asleep.
And so he gave himsek for us, that you and I
might enjoy the pleasant heritage which our fathers
left us, and that we might transmit the venerable
institutions which are the Ike of our Ike to our
children's chUdren. He offered himself, that he might
avert the nation's last dread calamity, and that there
4

26
might still be hope for man. He laid himself doAvn
on the altar of sacrifice for our sakes, and has gone
as a mUk-white lamb Avithout blemish and garlanded.
He has gone to join the croAvd of young Christian
heroes who have won thek battles, and already wear
the crown. He has gone to SAveU the roU of mar
tyrs offered by oiu" venerable University ; to join Pea
body and Dwight, his predecessors by a few years ;
Putnam, Avith whom he studied ; and LoweU, his class
mate and friend. He has gone to join the saintly
company, the pure, the gentle, the devoted of aU ages
and climes, the companions of his youth, and the in
timates of his maturer years.
And, k he has given himself for us, shall Ave not
give ourselves for one another'? Alas for us, k, with
these rich examples of Christian fidelity before us, we
can forget our high calling, forego a noble enthusi
asm, and give ourselves to an all-absorbing selfish
ness ! Better a thousand times suffer privations and
hardships, wounds and imprisonments, and the car
nage of the battle-fleld, than be guUty of one hour's
unfaithfulness to duty, and one act of disloyalty
to country and to God. For how stands the case'?
What is the lesson of religion? " Greater love hath
no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his

27
friends." To be able to do this is the principal thing.
It is the triumph of kiAvard might over outAvard vicis
situde ; the victory of faith over the soul's instinctive
apprehensions, the pains of the body, and the bitter
ness of death. It is a ti-ansformation of feebleness
into strength; and a Hfting-up of the creatures of
earth, even whUe the clod cHngs to them, into those
regions AA'here angelic natm-es dwell, and the mini
stries of loA-e and the bhss of heroic devotion are
complete.

29

APPENDIX.

FUNERAL.
The body of Lieut. Spurr accompanied the family on their
return to NeAv England, under the especial charge of Isaiah,
a faithful body-servant, who had been in his employ from
the beginning of the campaign. He was a freeman of color,
born among slaves, of more than common intelligence, de
votedly attached to his young master, who, he said, " had
been mighty good to him." He had waited in his tent, fol-
loAved him in his marches, and hung around the field in all
his battles. He was of the party that bore him from
within the enemy's lines ; the others being Dr. Haven,
and Capt. Baldwin and Lieut. Washburn of Gen. Devens's
staff. He stood by his bed in all his hours of terrible suf
fering, and ministered to his wants. The remains were
buried on Thursday, Oct. 2, from the residence of his
brother-in-law, Hon. Mr. Hoar. Although it was in the
midst ofthe severest autumn storm, the house was thronged ;
and, while the heavens were weeping as in sympathy, none
were unaffected. Not least touching was the spectacle of
the humble friend, who stood like a bronze statue beside
the coffin through the Avhole service, while the tears 8ilen1>
ly stole down his cheeks. Set to guard the sacred relics,
he did not leave them, from the hour of quitting Hagers
town, until they were deposited in the place of their rest, —
the beautiful cemetery in Worcester. In order to complete

30
the picture, it may be added, that the cofSn was decorated
Avith the folds of the American flag ; while there rested on
it a large cross, made of fresh floAvers, — the cherished gift
of young companions of happier days, — the emblem of that
sustaining faith, without which such scenes of agonizing
grief could never be borne.

LETTEES.

The following extracts of letters will serve more than
to confirm the statements made in the body of the dis
course : — ¦ From Brig.-Gen. Devens.
WiLMAMSPOKT, Md., Sept. 23.
Our dear Tom Spurr is very dangerously wounded. Yesterday,
I went oyer to Hagerstown (nine miles from here) with the medi
cal director of the division, Dr. O'Leary. Tom had just been
brought there. He has been examined by the doctor, who thinks
our dear boy has a chance, but only a chance, to live ; but that he
will survive a week or two. He is calm and courageous. He
said nothing ; but I think his situation is fully understood by him.
The wound is in the upper part of the thigh. Amputation would
be useless. God grant that the dear fellow may go through in
safety ! for he is brave as he is tender and affectionate.
C. D., Jk.

From Lieut.-Col. Kimball.
Head-quarters Fifteenth Reg. Mass. Vol.,
Waeeenton, Va., Nov. 18, 1862.
The death of Lieut. Spurr was a sad blow to the regiment.
His place cannot be fllled. He came among us a stranger to us

31
all ; but by his manly traits of character, his kind, noble, and gene
rous nature, he won the esteem of all, — officers and men. He
was ever faithful to his trust ; and his courage and bearing were
undoubted. His memory will be most dearly cherished by his comrades ; and
they will ahvays point with pride to his private virtues and his
mihtary career, as such as it would be alike honorable and manly
to follow. His noble bearing on the battle-field of Antietam, where he
refused to be carried to the rear when mortally wounded, was
worthy of the man, the hero, he was, and won the praise of all his
companions. J. W. Kimball, Lieut.-Col. Commanding.

From Dr. Haven, Surgeon Fifteenth Massachusetts Volunteers.
Bolivar Heights, Oct. 10, 1862.
Being, as I am, the only one in the regiment with whom his
acquaintance dates back from boyhood, and he holding the same
relation towards me, a double tie brought us together.
Were private friendship, even, set aside, I should still feel a
strong desire to express my great admiration for his many virtues,
his earnest devotion, and his manly fortitude ; for a character
developed by the events of the last year, of which you may well
be proud. Joining the regiment, as he did, at a time when the
opposition to strangers was strong ; when much was to be learned ;
when the duties of every officer were severe ; and when, in addi
tion, the entire management of the company was thrown upon him,
— it is no small meed of praise to say that he overcame all these
obstacles, and that no one in the regiment was more esteemed and
respected by the men and his brother-officers.
At the battle of Fair Oaks, I chanced to be in close proximity
to him during the severest of the engagement, and can bear per-

32

sonal testimony to his cool bearing and undaunted courage. It
will never cease to be a source of regret to me, that chance did not
place me near him at the moment when struck by the fatal bullet ;
for although the result could hardly have been different, and
although all efforts at immediate removal might have been unavail
ing, yet at least the attempt would have been made. It grieved me
much, too, that military duty forbade my accompanying Thomas
away from the hospital, even as far as the nearest city ; though I
felt grateful for the opportunity afforded to be with him, more or
less, during several days, and to do that little which my office and
the circumstances allowed.
I have been expressing only my own private feelings. The
frequent scenes of suifering and death, and the constant necessity
for action, naturally blunt, for a time, the sensibilities ofthe soldier ;
but, in the season of rest, the better feelings return. Among those
who remain of this crippled regiment, the memory of Thomas,
brave and faithful, will ever be hallowed. It cannot be unwelcome
to you to know how much we all feel our great loss ; how many
of us are conscious that we could better have been spared; and how
deeply all sympathize with you in your severe affliction.
S. Foster Haven, Jk.

From Dr. Sargent, of this city, who hindly accompanied the family
to Hagerstown, and was present to the close.
Worcester, Thursday Mormng,'TS^ov. 20, 1862.
I shaU consider myself as more than compensated for any sacri
fice I have made, by the elevating and purifying influence of that
death-bed, — the death of the Christian patriot, of the excellent
son and brother, whose translation in the clearness of his intellect,
and even the fulness of wisdom, was such as I never before wit
nessed. Joseph Sakgent.