YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

3 9002 06447 2559

¦oog, nev. A. A.
A Sermon ....On the Death of
Mr. Benjarain Strong
New York, 1851.

YALE UNIVEESITY LIBEAEY

FORMED BY
James Abraham Hillhouse, B.A. 1749
James Hillhouse, B.A. 1773
James Abraham Hillhouse, B.A. 1808
James Hillhouse, B.A. 1875
Removed 1942 from the
Mcmor Souse in Sachem's Wood
GIFT OF
GEORGE DUDLEY SEYMOUR

$ tttt| — fefnhras — fim.

SERMON,

OCCASIONED BY THE

DEATH OF MR. BENJAMIN STRONG ;

DELIVEBED IN THE

PEARI STREET PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, NEW YORK,

FEBRUARY 9, 1851.

REV. A. A. WOOD,

PASTOB OF THE CHURCH.

NEWYOEK:
WILLIAM S. DORR, PRINTER, 101 NASSAU STREET.
1851.

S?ERMON

ACTS, XIII: 36.
"FOB DAVID, AFTER HE HAD SEBVED HIS OWN GENERATION, BT THE WILL OF
GOD, FELL ON SLEEP." 
Ik, the midst of a most triumphant argument for the
Messiahship and resurrection of Christ, the apostle
gives us in this sentence an account of the life and
, the death of David, the king of Israel.
While there are some things in the history of
this distinguished monarch, that may well cause us
to weep over the corruption of our nature, — things
that filled no heart with such bitterness and contri-
tion as his own ; there is that also in his character
which must cause him ever to be regarded as a
faithful servant of God. The Scriptures often speak
of hrm as a type of the Messiah, and we find much
in the comparative obscurity of his birth, his early
occupation,, his signal victories, his prophetical office,
and. his kingly, elevation and crown, which looks
forward to, and finds its counterpart in his divine
descendant and Eedeemer. His life was strikingly

8
tion,' as "peace like a river," pours itself" over the'
troubled soul.
Of him it is told us, that, " having: served his own
generation, by the will of God, he fell on sleep."
We may consider the words as illustratihg" a good
man's life. They point us to —
Its ruling principle :
Its useful course:
Its peaceful end.
I. The rul/mg prmcvple of such a life is set'
forth before us in the brief but comprehensive
words, " the will of God?
Christ, our Divine Redeemer, who came to earth
as the example and teacher of a sinning race, lived
in perfect obedience to the Father's commands and
in perfect submission to his will. The great rule
which governed all his conduct has been disclosed
by him in words whose spirit ever dwelt in his
heart ; " I seek not mine own will, but the will of
the Father which hath sent me." " My meat is to
do the will of him that sent me, and to finish Ids
work." And, if the sinless Son of God kept ever
before him the will of the Father as his rule of ac
tion, much more is such a rule necessary for all,
who, conscious of their ignorance and guilt, seek
to walk in his. steps. When a man is made to see
himself a creature of probation and an heir of im
mortality, called in his weakness to work out the

9
great problem of life or death, he feels the abso
lute, necessity of spiritual guidance. He finds him
self not only ignorant of many things which God
would have him do, and thus in darkness as to the
way of duty ; but, what must occasion still greater
solicitude, he is made painfully conscious of an ut
ter disinclination to duty. Notwithstanding all
his resolutions and efforts, he finds a " law in his
members warring against the law of his mind, and
bringing him into captivity." Discovering nothing
but darkness and weakness within, he is led to look
out of himself for wisdom and grace. He reads in
the word of truth the direction, " if any man lack
wisdom, let him ask of God," and he lifts up his
prayer for light. We see this in the monarch of
Israel. On the one hand, as he glances at the vast
extent of duty and obligation, we hear his prayer,
" Lead in me in thy truth and teach me ;" and, on
the other, looking over all his past short com
ings, and overwhelmed with a sense of guilt, he ex
claims in an outburst of penitential sorrow, " Hide
thy face from my sins, and blot out all mine iniqui
ties ; create in me a clean. heart, O God, and renew
a right spirit within me." When the revealed will
of God comes to such a man, it finds a heart dispos
ed to recognise its authority. It is something to
be understood indeed, but something also to be
obeyed and loved. It is received as a divine rule
of life, given by one who well knows the wants of'

10
his creatures, to lead them into all happiness, — all
holiness, all truth. Hence, there will also be an
earnest and faithful effort at conformity to its re
quirements. There will be not only a willingness,
but a wish to live under the Divine government,
and to submit to the Divine direction and disposal.
As there is a yielding up of self to God, so there is
a choosing of Him to reign in and over the soul.
This is ever a distinguishing characteristic of true
piety. The Christian commits his ways unto the
Lord; — at all times, and under all circumstances,
seeks to acknowledge Him. It is Abraham, sur
rendering himself to the leading and disposal of
the Divine Providence. It is Job, acknowledg
ing the hand of God in all things, and blessing
His glorious name alike in the giving and the
taking away of his earthly treasures. It is Paul,
going forward in the path to which God had called
him, knowing nothing of the final issue, save that
bonds and afflictions await him. If temptations
assail such a man, he is ready to say, " Thy word
have I hid in my heart that I might not sin against
Thee." If the array of duty staggers him, and leads
him to ask, " who is sufficient for these things ?" he
can yet exclaim, " I will run in the way of thy
commandments when thou shalt enlarge my heart."
Darkness may settle down upon his prospects, but
he still has the assurance that God's word is " a
light to his path." Yea, in the hour when sore trial

11

shall come, and his soul cleaves to the very dust, he
has it still to say, " 1 hope in thy word, hold thou
me up and I shall be safe." And though the deep
waters of affliction are ready to engulf him, it is yet
permitted him to look on God as his refuge and
strength, a very present help in trouble.
And with this recognition of the authority and
submission to the will of God, there is the spirit of
actiwe and universal obedience. With a devout and
solemn apprehension of the Divine presence, ma
jesty, and truth — with a faith which unites the soul
to Christ, the living and glorious Head — with a
hope which, as an anchor of the soul, " entereth into
that within the vail," — such a man has on earth an '
intimate communion with God, and holds his con
versation with things unseen. Regarding all the
requirements of duty as coming from the same
Divine source, sanctioned by the same authority,
and tending to the same blessed and glorious end,
he esteems God's "precepts concerning all things to
be right," and has respect unto all his command
ments. He knows the will of God to be everything
that infinite righteousness combined with infinite
goodness can prompt, and he would obey it, how
ever it may cross the desires of his heart, or thwart
the purposes he has cherished. Asking for no exemp
tion even from the hard service or the heavy bur
den, he is ready to say " Thy win be done." And
yet, he has often occasion to lament the imperfec-

12
tion of his obedience. There is much in every
retrospect which causes him to bow in the deepest
humiliation, and exclaim, " Have mercy upon me, O
Lord." But it is ever his purpose to obey God
rather than men— to live for eternity rather than
for time — to lay up treasure in Heaven rather than
upon earth. In the following out of this purpose,
you will find him making it the great business of
his life to " seek first the kingdom of God,"; — to live
for Him — for His honor and glory. He gives him
self indeed to the duties' of his station and his call
ing* At all times, and in all places, he seeks what
soever things are just and honorable, lovely and of
good report ; but it is mainly because such is the will
of his Heavenly Father, and he would in all things
'" adorn the doctrine of God his Saviour."
It is the " will of God," by the communication of
his grace, that implants the principle of holy hiving
in the soul. It is the same will which gives law to
the life thus implanted ; communicating the faith to
apprehend the truth, — the heart to love, and the
strength to obey it.
II. Let lis consider the Useful course of such a
life. While, as has been said, the great purpose of life
on earth is to do the will and promote the glory of
our God, the particular way in which the purpose
is to be carried out, will be modified by the condi-

13
tion and 'circumstances of each individual. This
is implied in the text, whether we take the words
as they stand, or adopt the marginal reading,
which speaks of David as having served the will of
God in his generation. In either case, we have the
same great rule of life, but a rule which finds its
particular application, according to the sphere in
which we are caEed to move. David was an illus
trious example of this, as the ruler of God's ancient
people ; and others, at whose graves we have wept,
have also shed the mild lustre of their virtues over
the more private stations which they were called to
fill* But whether he be prince or peasant, magis
trate or subject, the heir of wealth or the child of
poverty, the servant of God will aim to be actively
useful. He " seeks first the kingdom of God," by
making it the object of his life to promote the
Divine glory in the well-being of man. He lives in
a world over which sin has spread its blight, and
where suffering has its home. He has ever in his
eye the glorious example of Him " who went about
doing good." He would tread in his steps. He
would be a minister of consolation — a messenger of
mercy. He goes to wipe the tears of sorrow, to
cause the heart of the desolate to rejoice. The
friendless and the orphan find in him a father, and
the blessing of him that is ready to perish comes
upon him. God has appointed his servants their
sphere of labor on earth, that they may do good.

14
There is scarcely an expression in his word, with
reference to the Christian life, which does not im
ply this. It is " a work," " a warfare," " a service,"
" a holding forth of the word of life." It is bearing
the fruit, spreading the leaven, exhibiting the light
of which He is the Author. And the course of the
believer will be an actual carrying out of this ac
tive principle. It will be, in all holy and bene
volent effort, to toil in the vineyard, to £ght the
good fight, to be faithful in the service of his Lord ;
for it will be his to bring forth the fruits of right
eousness, and to " let his light so shine before men,
that they may see his good works, and glorify his
Father in Heaven."
And yet this course of usefulness will be modest
and unobtrusive. It is neither the spirit of Christ
nor of Christianity to sound a trumpet before its
alms deeds, or to do any of its good works to be
seen of men. It is not the noisy and ostentatious
philanthropist who is most useful. You shall see
the torrent chafing itself to foam, as it dashes from
rock to rock, filling all the air with its spray
and its brawl ; but you look in vain for the fields
to which it has given verdure and beauty. And
'you shall also see the gentle streamlet, fed by some
perennial spring, often hiding itself away from the
sight, but whose presence may be always known,
and whose course be always traced by the strip of
richer greenness above it, and by the flowers that

15
adorn its water courses. It is the course of Chris
tian usefulness. You find it not so much in the
gathering cloud and the strong wind and the pouring
shower, as in the early dew, whose silent coming is
unheard by even the sharpest ear, and you only
know that it has come from the freshness and beau
ty with which it has new-spread the earth.
The full extent and value of such influence may
not be known until all the things of earth and time
are revealed in the light of eternity. And yet^
when such a man is suddenly removed from the
sphere which he so worthily filled — when the poor
miss their helper, and the inexperienced their guides
and all their friend — when the places of useful
ness and honor, of affection and confidence, which
he once occupied know him no more, then we begin
to appreciate the blessing by being made to feel
its loss.
It is a course of continued and mcreasmp useful
ness. There is an accumulation of all the elements
of usefulness with every advancing year of the
Christian life. You will find a ripeness of experi
ence, a largeness of practical wisdom, a soundness of
judgment, and a comprehensiveness of charity to
mark the progress that has been made in the school
of Christ. As, on the one hand, there will be a
stronger and more unquestioning faith in God, and
a more simple and absolute reliance on the merits of
Jesus ; so, on the other, mil there be more earnest

*r6
and entire engagedness in the work of doing good
on the earth. The one has prepared the way for
the other. The increased experience and the ma
tured wisdom of years, the habits of holy and be
nevolent activity, that have become only more in
vigorated by constant exercise, cannot fail to pro
duce their appropriate effect. You will see it in the
more steadfast devotion to duty, in the greater self-
denial, in the unhesitating obedience to every pre
cept which calls for the bearing of the burden and
the taking up of the cross after Christ. Every de
partment of benevolent effort feels the active co
operation of a more efficient helper, and the Church
finds him a strong and beautiful pillar in the earth
ly temple of her God. .
But we narrow the meaning of the word useful
ness quite too much, when wre confine it to the ex
ternal duties of religion. The great author of
Christianity often speaks of the peculiar work of
his disciples as being the easy and natural manifes
tation of the new principle which he has planted
within them. "Ye are the light of the world."
" Ye are the salt of the earth." The light is to be
seen. The salt is to be felt. There ever goes out
agentle and silent, but benign and powerful influence
from such a character. We are in danger of over
looking this indirect usefulness of the child of God.
And yet, it is a usefulness which not only continues,
but seems increasing even to the close of life.

17
When we hear the Psalmist lifting up his prayer,
" Now also, when I am old and grey-headed, O God,
forsake me not, until I have showed thy strength
unto this generation, and thy power unto every
one that is to come ;" when, as he looks over the
scenes of his past life to say, " O God, thou hast
taught me from my youth, and hitherto have I de
clared thy wondrous works," — and, casting the eye
of faith onward to the future, he exclaims, with re
ference to all that may be yet before him, " I will
go in the strength of the Lord God, "—we may
know that the season of Christian usefulness has
not passed when the ardor of youth and the vigor
of manhood have gone. It is the characteristic
and the privilege of the servants of God to be use
ful even to the close of their earthly course. " They
shall bring forth fruit in old age,"— yea the
richer and more abundant fruit, because they have
been so long " planted in the house of the Lord,"
and have flourished " in the courts of our God." The
example of one who has long held fast the profes
sion of his faith, and walked humbly with God
will exert an influence for good which you may look
for elsewhere in vain. The words that he utters
may be few, but his testimony for religion will come
with all the weight of years and wisdom. He lives
and moves before men, a practical demonstration-
of its reality, its excellence and its power. His exam
ple will be felt even to the latest hour of a consist*

18
ent and exemplary life. He has gone "from
strength to strength" in duty and in faithfulness,
until, leaning on the arm of his Almighty helper^
he is ready to appear before God in Zion. >
III. From the ruling principle and the useful
course of such a life, we come to consider its peace
ful end. The royal Psalmist, " after he had serv
ed his own generation by the will of God, fell on
sleep"
Thus beautifully and tenderly, does the Scrip
ture speak of the . saint's departure from earth.
And where could there be found an expression
which implies so much of the placid serenity that
is shed over the last hours Of the man of God ?
Much of beauty and of interest there is in the sight
of one, just awakened to a sense of his condition,
and a consciousness of his spiritual wants, giving
himself humbly and faithfully to the will and
work of God on the earth. But it is a spectacle of
deeper, sublimer interest, when it is permitted us
to behold one, who at the close of a life of humility
and prayer, of humble effort and faithful service,
can say, " I am now ready to be offered, and the
time of my departure is at hand. I have fought a
good fight. I have finished my course. I have
kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me
a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the
righteous Judge will give me at that day." Such
a man was " Paul the aged," a prisoner, waiting for

19
a martyr's crown, Such was Simeon, lifting up his
prayer for a peaceful departure, since his eyes
had seen the infant Redeemer. Such too are all that
have been followers of those "who through faith
and patience inherit the promises." The aged
saint has reached a point where he can say, the
world i3 crucified unto me, and J am crucified unto
the world by the cross of Christ,, The friends of
his youth have fallen by his side. - Many— possibly
all of his family circle have gone before him to the
grave, and he is left solitary in his habitation. . One
by one, have the ties which bound him to earth been
severed, and while its scenes become more distant
and dim, the heavenly world draws nearer. There he
has long since laid up his treasures. There he has set
his affections. There is his home. Calmly indeed
he may wait the hour of his . departure. It need
occasion him no alarm, when; he feels within him
tokens that his earthly tabernacle is about to be
dissolved, for it is permitted him to lay hold of the
rich assurance that he has " a building of God, a
house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens."
Active and useful to the last, claiming no exemp
tion from duty on account of age or infirmity,
anxious to consecrate even his latest strength to his
Lord and Saviour, he continues serving God in his
generation, until the evening of life brings its still
shadows around him. Earth has been his place of
labor and of service : he looks for repose only to
the " rest" that remaineth " to the people of God."

20
And when the last hour shall come, — though it
come suddenly^ and give no warning of its ap
proach,-^— though you begin to feel alarmed only
when death has already done its work,' — though
there is no answer when you call, and no look of
affection meets your weeping eye ; yet there is that,
in the hallowed serenity of such an hour, which bids
you, in eloquence more deeply impressive than
words can utter-, — " Mark the perfect man, and be
hold the upright for the end of that man is peace."
"So God giveth his beloved sleep." It is the
sleep of security-, for it is watched by the eye, and
guarded by the arm of Jesus, It is the sleep of
hope and of peace, for the sustaining grace of Him
who is the Resurrection and the Life enables the
departing saint to say, "As for me, I will behold thy
face in righteousness. I shall be satisfied when I
awake with thy likeness."
You will have already anticipated me, in the ap
plication of this subject to the life and character of
the revered and lamented friend, who has so recent
ly passed from among us. I am aware that I speak
to those, most of whom had the privilege of know
ing him longer and better than myself, but I am sure
there is not one who will not delight to bear testi
mony to the controlling power of his piety, to his
life of usefulness, and his end of peace.
As we think of his Christian character, though
I have known little of his personal religious expe
rience, and though he was not a man to speak often

21
of his religious feelings, yet there was enough in
his every day conduct to show an overruling re
gard to " the will of God." It has been my privi
lege to look over some memoranda, evidently in
tended for no other eye than his own, in which he
often expresses his sense of conscious unworthinesa, his
humble reliance on the mercy and merits of Christ,
and his ardent desire that God would enable him to
live more entirely to his glory. I remember that
in seasons of personal trial, and once, in particular,
on the occasion of general commercial embarrass
ment and disaster, when the whole city was filled
with distrust and gloom, — in the midst of which,
the house of God where he worshipped was destroy
ed by fire, — the record of each disastrous event con
cludes with some expression of unshaken confidence
in God, or some earnest prayer that " the Lord
would dispel the gloom, and good come from it to
the souls of men." And when I had these out-
breathings of the soul of our departed father and
friend before me, I could seem to see the hidden
spring of all that was so consistent and exemplary
in his Christian life, I had witnessed a cheerful
ness of piety that seemed ever to look up with filial
confidence to our Heavenly Father, — an interest in
religious things, and an activity in religions duty,
that knew no remission or coldness with the in
crease of years. — I had seen his seat in the sanctu
ary and at the prayer-meeting filled, when others,
younger and more vigorous than he, found occasion

22
to stay away. — I had known of his peculiar delight in
commemorating the death of his Saviour, and had
thought that, possibly, he might not have acknow
ledged to himself, or to others, any sense of physi
cal infirmity, which should prevent him, perhaps for
the last time on earth, from sitting at the Lord's ta
ble. I had heard from those who knew him in the
family circle, of his seasons of regular retirement
for religious exercise, — and from those who had
known him longest in the Church, of his zealous
and watchful care for , her interests' — his faithful
devotion to her service, his firm support and open
hahd in her hour of darkness and trial. And when
I have turned from these fruits of piety to the
principle that produced them, I have seemed to
see it in the grace and the love of God. Making
a public profession of his faith in Christ in the year
1811, he was ordained an elder of the Presbyterian
Church in Cedar Street, — the late Dr. Romeyn's, —
in 1819. He united with this Church in 1827, and
was installed elder in 1834.
If we have to speak of the power of his piety,
we have also to speak of his life of usefulness. It
was «his felicity to be endowed naturally with a pe
culiarly equable and happy disposition, that shed
its sunny radiance over every circle in which
he moved. He was affable and engaging in his
manners, and, to a remarkable degree, considerate
and attentive to all about him. He possessed, to a
rare extent, the faculty of winning the affection.

23
and confidence of others. The little child would
instinctively recognise iim as its friend, and feel as
sured of his kindly sympathy. And since he has
gone -to his rest, I have heard from more than one
of our citizens, a grateful testimony to the interest
he took in their welfare, and the important aid he
cheerfully rendered them in the early struggles of
their business life. As the spirit of kindness was
in his, heart, the law of kindness was on his lips.
Never have I heard him speak ill of any one, and
those who have known him many years, are ready
to say that they never heard any one speak ill of
him. And, yet, with all that was amiable in his
character, there was also an unwavering firmness
and decision in every thing which his convictions
of duty required. Coming to this city at an early
age, he evinced such capacity for, and attention to
business, that when only nineteen, he received an
appointment to office in the Treasury Department
of the United States ; a post which he resigned the
following year, and while yet a minor, commenced
business for himself. Such however, was the confi
dence in his integrity and efficiency, that his credit
from the outset was never questioned.
It would be interesting and instructive to go over
the whole course of his long and useful life. I might
speak of his many years of active service connected
with the Fire Department of this city, during
eighteen of which he acted as its Treasurer, and

2/4
¦where his efficient aid and conciliatory course had
the happiest influence. I might point you to the
different monetary institutions with which he was
connected— to which he brought the , same strict
integrity, — the same activity and skill which mark
ed his whole life ; and from the offices. of which,
now that he is gone, have come the highest testi
monials to his character and worth. I might tell
you of the different and responsible trusts commit
ted to his keeping, which he managed with a wis
dom and fidelity that ..reflected . the* greatest ho
nor upon his character 5 while in all he proved a
father to the fatherless,— a guardian and friend to
the helpless and infirm.i ' I might remind you of
his long and faithful service as one of the earliest
Managers of the American Bible Society, and his
active participation in the great work of supplying
our whole country with- the word of God. And I
might also speak of his 'connection, both as Trustee
and Director, with the ^'Princeton Theological Se
minary, to the permanent endowment of which he
contributed both by his influence and his means.
And then I might bid you remember the numbers
who gathered at his funeral, and followed his coffin'
to the tomb, all of whom felt that they had lost a
benefactor and friend.
But we must turn from the spheres of usefulness
which he filled to the closing scenes of his earthly
course. I need not remind you of the impressive

2S
exercises of that Sabbath when we last met him in
the sanctuary, and sat with him at the sacramental
table. The season is fresh in your memory. Per
haps the thought was in his heart, as he moved
from seat to seat, bearing the memorials of the
Saviour whom he loved, that when he should next
drink of the fruit of the vine, it would be with Him
in His kingdom ; — perhaps he rejoiced, even then, in
the hope that his next Sabbath might be spent in
heaven. The day of God passed away ;— the morn
ing brought him almost his usual vigor, and the
hour of business found him at his work. It seemed
but a slight indisposition that called him ' to his,
home, and laid him on his bed. The eyes of affec
tion which had so closely watched him, were quick
to notice any change, and the heart to take the
alarm ; and yet, with perhaps something of restless*
ness and something of pain, there was little to
awaken apprehension. Calmly and cheerfully he
said his last " good night," and requesting his son
who watched beside him, to read to him from the
word of God, he composed himself to sleep. It was
the fourteenth chapter of the Gospel of John. " Let
not your heart be troubled." — It was in beautiful
unison with the Sabbath service in which he had
just been engaged. And, as those sweet words of
Jesus went on, "In my Father's house are many
mansions — I go to prepare a place for you — I will
come again and receive you unto myself, that where
I am, there ye may be also,"— may we not believe

26
that the mind was already, away among those sublime
realities — and though the eye of sense was closed
to earthly things, the eye of faith was opened
to the glories of those ," mansions" which were so
soon to be his everlasting home. A moment more,
and the reader came to, the words, "At that, day
ye shall know that I am in my Father, and ye in
me, and I in you." Wonderful union of the Chris
tian with Christ— of Christ with God ! — " At that
day" — It was the hour of night, but the day had
come— the day which knows no darkness and no
sorrow. There was a struggling breath — a gentle
sigh — and the silver cord was loosed — the golden
bowl was broken, and the spirit passed from listen
ing to the words of Jesus on earth, to abide for
ever in his presence on high. " After he had served
his own generation by the will of God, he fell on
sleep." God has spoken in His Providence. He speaks
to the bereaved. On the one hand, he holds up
before you the example of the departed, and calls
you to walk in his footsteps, so far as he was a fol
lower of Christ ; and, on the other, he is telling you
that all that you revered and loved has only passed
from a scene of sorrow and of sin, to a world of
light and of glory ; while even the body 'which you
have laid so sadly in the grave,' is in the care of
Him who is the " Resurrection and the Life." He
speaks to the aged. One of your number, whose
1*-*"° had seemed a happy exemption from the in.

27
firmities and decay of fourscore years, has passed to
the grave before you. O, that ye may live ready
for the coming of your Lord; that "the hoary
head, found in the way of righteousness," may be to
you also " a crown of glory." He speaks to this
Church. One of her strong pillars has been torn
away. A standard bearer has fallen. We look to
the seat which he so regularly occupied in the
sanctuary, but we miss his beloved and venerable
form ; we go back to the place where we laid him,
and we mourn that we shall see his face no more.
God grant that, in the removal of the earthly
prop, we may lean more fully on the everlasting
arm; that we may so profit from the religious
character and useful life of our friend and father,
that it may be ours also to pass from the table and
service of God on earth, to His presence in heaven.
He speaks to all. He tells you of sudden death. He
warns you that you know not the day nor the hour
wherein the Son of man cometh. " Whatsoever thy
hand findeth to do, do it with thy might, for there
is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom
in the grave, whither thou goest." We hear the
voice ; we would heed the teaching.
Tearfully, hopefully, we lift up the prayer, " Let
me die the death of the righteous, and let my last
end be like his."

MEMOIR.

As a memorial to his friends — as the best legacy to his
descendants, as a faint expression of their reverence and
love — the children of Benjamin Strong offer this slight
sketch of his Life and character.
He was born on Long Island,on the 14th of April, 1770,
at Mount Misery, (now Oakwood) the homestead of his
family for more than one hundred years. He was the
second son of the Hon. Selah Strong, of Setauket, who
was the sixth in descent from elder John Strong of North
ampton, Mass., one of the early Puritans who came to
New England in 1630. Reared in the seclusion of an
isolated farm, his early education was only such as could
be afforded by a country school — and to obtain even
these advantages, for several winters, he was obliged to
walk ten or twelve miles every Monday, and return in
the same way on Saturday. But the memory of his
school days was always pleasant to him, and he often
dwelt upon the kindness of an old couple with whom he,
and a younger brother boarded, although their excessive
caution denied even the indulgence of a candle to light
them to bed.
At the age of thirteen he came to New York and en
tered the Counting House of his brother-in-law, Mr.
James Woodhull, in whose family he was domesticated.
He arrived in the city in July 1783, and in November
witnessed the evacuation of the British troops, and the
entrance of General Washington and his officers. His
description of General Washington's grave and dignified

30
deportment, and the worn appearance of the American
soldiers, made this one of the most interesting reminis
cences' of his life. He always spoke with indignation o f
the English, who on quitting the city, greased the Flag
staff, and cut the halyards, so that it was only with much
labor, and after a delay of several hotirs, that the Ame
rican flag could be displayed ; while from the decks of
their ships, by the aid of their glasses, our ancient ene
mies witnessed the many ineffectual attempts, and the
final success. <
He soon gained the confidence of all who knew him,
by his capacity for business, his great regularity, and his
devotion ; to the interests of his employer. ' In the year
1789, by the influence of his father, then a member of
our State Senate, a clerkship was obtained for him in
the Treasury Department, just established, with Alexan
der Hamilton as Secretary of the Treasury, and Oliver
Wolcott as Auditor. He entered on this employment in
compliance with the wishes of his father, and (residing
part of the time in Philadelphia) remained in it until the
year 1791— -when at the earnest solicitation of his brother-
in-law, hfe returned to New York. In March 1791, he
commenced business on his own account, although still
uhder the age of twenty-one, which circumstance he al
ways mentioned when buying goods on credit.
In February 1792 he married Sarah Weeks, of Oyster
Bay, L. I., with whom he lived more than fifty-one years ;
during the whole of which time, the love and confidence
of each were unshaken. Of remarkable sympathy in dis
positions, the respect and love which she ever evinced for
him, and the tender regard he manifested for her, while it
made the earlier part of their married life, one of -entire
confidence and harmonious effort, rendered the evening of
their years, a season of blessed repose and enjoyment.
Of eight living children born to them, seven survive, to
bear witness to the beautiful example of every domestic
virtue, so constantly exhibited.
He continued in active business on his own account

31
until the year 1809, when he accepted the Presidency of
the New- York Sugar Refining Company, , whose affairs
he conducted until 1831, at which period the Company
was dissolved; having under his management paid a
good interest on the investment, and a final dividend re
turning the original subcription with a large advance;.
¦ After the dissolution of this Company, he was solicited
to aecept the office of President of the Dry Dock Com
pany, which he held from 1833 until near the close of
1837, when he resigned. During his connection with this
Company, which was also a Banking Institution,, the finan
cial difficulties of 1836 and 1837 occurred, and his anxi
eties had been so great during this disastrous period, that
he resolved in future to confine his services to institu
tions of a benevolent character. Having been, one, of
the founders of the first Bank, for Savings (in Chambers
Street) and actively engaged in its management* he was
elected President of the Seamen's Bank for Savings, and
continued in this office for sixteen years, until the time of
his decease. The estimation in which he was held' by
the Trustees of this Institution is strongly shown in the
reliance always placed upon his judgment, and the warm
personal attachment manifested towards him, by every
officer, connected with the Bank. In both these Institu
tions he took the deepest interest, never absenting' himJ
self from bis post, and serving in his turn of duty until his
death. He was for the greater part of this period, an
ex-officio member of the Board of Trustees of the Sea
men's Retreat, and gave to that also, his untiring and
conscientious attention.
In the early part of his residence in the city, he enrolled
himself in a militia company, and was on duty on the
day of General Washington's Inauguration as President.
But when on occasion of the 'Doctor's Mob,' he was order
ed on service with ball cartridges, he determined never
again to expose himself to the risk of being called upon
to shed the blood of a fellow-creature, and he accordingly
entered the Fire Department in March 1791. He served

32
as Fireman, Foreman of Company No. 13, and Engineer
for thirty- one years, long after the legal term of service
had expired. Ever active and energetic, from bis long
service, and the popularity gained by his pleasant and
kind demeanor, he was able on many occasions to exert
a most beneficial influence upon this rather excitable
corps. Through his means principally, the Charitable
Fund of the Fire Department for the relief of the wi
dows of deceased Firemen, was originated, and he held
the office of Treasurer for many years. The war with
England occurring during his connection with the Fire
Department, and the Sugar Refinery, he aided in person
at the erection of the fortifications on Long Island, in
1814, both at the head of a body of Firemen, and with the
German laborers employed at the Sugar House.
In the year 1798, by the death of his brother-in-law,
Mr. Woodhull, he became the guardian of his two chil
dren, and also, of a posthumous son by a second mar
riage, who was hopelessly idiotic. To the children of bis
sister, he became a second parent, receiving them into his
family, watching over their settlement in life, and at their
death regarding their offspring with a like tenderness and
affection. The unfortunate imbecile was placed under
his particular care by the Committee appointed by the
Chancellor, and to his watchfulness he owed all the com
fort his unhappy situation permitted. The care of his
estate also devolved upon him, and on the death of the
idiot about forty years afterward, the slender portion of
$9,000 had augmented to beyond $110,000. During the
whole management of the estate, he never lost one dollar
by a bad investment. He never failed in frequent visits
to the idiot, and watched over his comfort and health
with conscientious solicitude, which the unfortunate re
paid by evident manifestations of pleasure in his pre
sence. He was educated in the Presbyterian belief, and attend
ed the Brick Church, then in connection with the (First)
Wall Street, and Rutgers Street Churches. He was for

33
many years the Treasurer of these Churches, and was
regular on the first day of every month in the payment
of £50 to each of the three clergymen, Drs. Rogers,
MacKnight and Miller. In 1808 he aided in the estab
lishment of the church in Cedar Street, which was placed
under the pastoral charge of the Rev. Dr. Romeyn. To
the communion of this Church, both himself and his
wife were admitted, on confession of their faith in the
year 1811. He held the office of Treasurer during the
whole period of his connection with the Church, and was
ordained as Elder in 1819. In 1827 he left the Cedar
Street Church, and connected himself with the Pearl
Street Church, in whose communion he remained until
his death. He was installed as Elder in the latter
Church in 1834. During his connection With the Cedar
Street and Pearl Street Churches he was frequently a
delegate to the General Assembly. He was also both a
Trustee and Director of the Princeton Theological Semi
nary, and one of the first Managers of the American
Bible Society, of the Executive Committee of which latter
body, he was for many years an active member.
In 1843 he lost the partner of his long course of joys
and sorrows. Although it bore'heavily upon him, he sus
tained himself with his usual equanimity, seeming only
to attach himself still more closely to his children and
family, and taking to his heart with all the warmth of
tenderness which had characterised his earlier years, each
new claimant on his affection. He delighted to gather
all his descendants frequently around him, under the old
roof which for nearly forty years had been his home, and
even the youngest crowded around his knee, with the
same pleasure as his children had done in former days.
In April 1850, by the request of his children he celebrated
his 80th birth-day, on which occasion he received the vis
its and congratulations of a large circle of. relatives and
friends, and although but few of his contemporaries were
left, he found he had not outlived the respect and affec
tion of the present generation. The memory of this day

34
will always be fondly cherished by his family. He retain
ed his powers of mind and-iody in an astonishing degree,
and was as regular in attendance at Church or at his
place of business as the youngest. His only dread of
advancing years, was lesfei his life might be prolonged
beyond his activity and usefulness. During the last five
or six years of his life, he had several severe attacks of
illness, but, on the whole, enjoyed excellent health. The
week preceding his illness, he had suffered somewhat
from a cold, although not apparently a severe one. He
had gone as usual to his business, every day save one,
and on Friday dismissed his physician, considering him
self free from illness. On Friday evening he attended
the preparatory lecture, and on Sunday assisted at the
Communion Table, but was observed by some to move
more feebly than usual. On Monday morning he declared
himself quite well enough to go to Wall Street, but re
turned between one and two o'clock, complaining of pain
in the chest, a sensation of weakness in the arms, and
great prostration of strength. A timely application of
stimulants seemed to revive him, and he rallied so much,
that neither his physician or his family saw any cause
for anxiety. At half past eleven o'clock he desired to be
left to the care of his son, and while listening to the words
of the Saviour, whose precepts had been the rule of his
life, passed peacefully into the land of spirits. He ex
pired at ten minutes before 12 o'clock, on the 27th of
January 1851, at the age of 80 years and nine months.
From this sketch of the life of Benjamin Strong, it
will be perceived that its course was unmarked by any
extraordinary incident or startling vicissitude, a career
singularly fortunate and peaceful, when it is considered
that it extended over so long a period of time, and that
too, one of the most eventful in the world's history. But
the qualities of mind and heart, which while living ob
tained for him, universal admiration and respect where-
ever he was known, and have embalmed his memory in
the hearts of his kindred and friends, were indeed remark-

35
able. The hand of affection falters, when it attempts to
portray his character, but it is believed that nothing will
be said of him, which would not be approved by the most
impartial observer.
In person, he was above the ordinary stature, in early
life measuring six feet, well and finely proportioned, of
an erect carriage and firm step. The well developed and
noble outline of his head, with its silver locks, its expand
ed brow and fine features, all -softened and beautified by
an expression of mingled benignity and intelligence, have
marked him for many years in this community, as one of
the valuable relics of our earlier times, whom all desired
to know, and loved to contemplate. His manners partaking
Somewhat of the precision of the old school, without its
formality, were singularly pleasing. Attractive to the
young, from the entire absence of austerity ; deferential
to the aged, but especially to, , the good; courteous and
encouraging to those who sought him for aid or counsel ;
and affectionate and playful in the family circle. No
dread of want of sympathy ever deterred either the young
or the humble from approaching him ; and no fear of re
pelling severity ever silenced mirth or repressed innocent
enjoyment. Habitually serious. in character and purpose,
he was yet equally cheerful and even tempered ; and in
deed the frequent relaxation into not only a quiet partici
pation in social pleasures, but' the hearty indulgence of
mirthful good humor, were marked features in his tem
perament. The admirable equipoise of his powers, moral and intel
lectual, was that which most distinguished him from his
fellow-men. In his character there were no inconsisten
cies to be reconciled, no glaring defects to be offset by
splendid virtues, but a symmetrical and harmonious
whole, so delicately blended, that the ordinary observer
was in danger of overlooking its intrinsic beauties from
the exquisite proportion of each part. But on a closer
scrutiny there were exhibited these prominent traits, a
sound judgment, an ardent patriotism, an unobtrusive

36
piety, a disinterested and ever active benevolence, a most
conscientious discharge of every duty, and a glowing
Warmth and tenderness of affection combined with a
cheerful and happy demeanor in the highest degree at
tractive to all.
Gifted with an instinctive sagacity, which enabled him
to grasp all subjects presented for his decision with
singular promptness ; he became early in life proverbial
for the vigor and maturity' of his judgment, and as he ad
vanced in years, this quality of his mind, combined with
his well known integrity, gave an almost judicial sanc
tion to his opinions. His advice, in difficult emergencies
Was eagerly sought by those who knew him, and always
freely given, and so unerring were his judgments that in
all his associations With his fellow-men in the various in
stitutions of a commercial, benevolent, or religious
character, with which he was connected, though never
seeking himself to lead, his wisdom was ever the guide of
the others. His decisions* once formed, were adhered to
With a firmness that was not obstinacy, but the result of a
rigid sense of right and wrong, that would not allow him to
deviate from a course once chosen. Yet with all these ele
ments of true greatness, there was a singular modesty and
simplicity in his character. He complained of none who
opposed his judgments ; he found fault with none who
could not be persuaded to think with him.
He was devotedly attached to his country. The pure
flame of patriotism kindled in the times of Washington*
burning steadily through a long life, was only ex
tinguished by his expiring breath ; with an unbounded
confidence in our institutions, he always, even in the
darkest times, expressed an unshaken reliance on their
stability. Though a Federalist in the early days of the
Republic, and a Whig of the present times, he never
allowed his judgment or his feelings to be biassed by
mere party views, but in the great questions of the day,
showed the same moderation and freedom from preju
dice which characterised his other decisions ; and in a

31
spirit of enlarged patriotism, regarded ever the general
good of his country as paramount to the advancement of
particular interests.
His pure disinterestedness was one of the most beauti
ful traits of his character ; the evidence of this is to be
found in the records of the various benevolent institutions
with which he was connected. Never seeking office, he
did not shrink from the most arduous and responsible
duties, which, when assumed, he discharged with the
strictest fidelity. No business or pleasure of his own was
ever allowed to interfere with an engagement of this
nature, and although proverbially reluctant to ask aid of
any, yet ever prompt to officiate in the discharge of an
other's duty. His life was one of continued action, not a
busy restlessness, impatient of repose, but a quiet, steady
appropriation of his time to all the demands upon it, and
whether in business or pleasure, in religious duties or
benevolent engagements, he was methodical and punc
tual to a degree rarely excelled.
But it was in the family circle, when surrounded by
his children, even to the third generation, and his kindred
however remote, he looked and moved like a patriarch of
©Id, that his virtues shone brightest, and his affections
found their sweetest exercise. " How," to use the lan
guage of one who knew him well, " instead of retiring
into himself did he delight to go and see this daughter
and that, and to keep the chain of family ties all bright
by the watchfulness and sympathy of incessant inter
course. Alas ! alas ! the ' silver cord is loosed, and the
golden bowl' of family joys broken !" Ever ordering his
household in a manner suited to his station, he yet avoid
ed everything bordering upon display, and with a warm
and generous hospitality welcomed under his roof all
who had any claim to his attentions. Simple in his ha
bits, and self-relying, he preferred to sacrifice his own con
venience, rather than impose upon others any service in
volving his personal comfort, though grateful and tender-

38
ly sensitive to acts of kindness and loVe from those who
found their highest pleasuretin rendering them.
His religion was fervent, unobtrusive, liberal. Making
Christ his model and exemplar, he was a daily suppliant
at the throne of divine grace, for aid to enable him td
follow in his footsteps. Reading of the Scriptures at re
gular periods, was at all times a most pleasing duty, and
during his later years, never omitted, except from ill
health, and then, nothing could be more gratifying to him,
than to listen to them, when read, evincing a tenderness
of feeling, and susceptibility to the truth, touching and
beautiful in the extreme. While his energy and sound
judgment were remarkable in all he undertook, in matters
of religious interest, these qualities seemed to be charac
terised by an unwavering firmness, a devoted persever
ance and an abiding faith, which no discouragement nor
difficulty could baffle or subdue. Still in the language
of a friend — " He was one of the very few who rested in
the consciousness that goodness and integrity would soon
er or later work out their own satisfying results, so that
however others might be filled with fear, lest the ark
should be taken, he doubted not, but that ' all things
would work together for good — to them that love God.'
How much freedom this gave him in council ! and how
much generosity in action ! It was true faith in the go
vernment of God — true faith exemplified in the life."
But although the religious sentiment was so deeply inter
woven, as it were, with his very being, he was entirely
free from any thing like austerity or asceticism. With an
unwavering faith in his own form of belief, he never ques
tioned that of others, but taught by that " Charity, which
thinketh no evil," h^ extended the hand of sympathy and
fellowship to all who bore the name of Christian. Guided
in his charities by the injunction not to let the left hand
know what the right hand doeth, his many acts of kind
ness and sympathy were only known through the recipi
ents of his bounty.
In conclusion, it may be said that the single aim of

39 HI
his life was, to achieve— not greatness — but goodness.
To be a good man was his highest ambition.
And if this faint and imperfect tribute to his memory
shall inspire any, with a desire to look to his example
and walk in his footsteps, it will not have been written
in vain.