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YALE UNIVERSITY LIB

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Memorial of I/Ers. Harriet Dutton, wife of
Samuel ,i.3. Dutton,
New Haven, 1864.

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Call Number
Cv77 l\0

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\ for tke faMj/iu^i^ if a. CoUegA ou ^^jOtloti

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From the Library of
SIMEON E. BALDWIN, Y '6i
Gift of his children
HELEN BALDWIN GILMAN
ROGER SHERMAN BALDWIN, Y '90
1927

M E MO RIAL

OF

Mrs. HARRIET W. DUTTON

MEMORIAL

Mes. HARRIET DUTTON

^/v IF Tl

SA-MUEL W. S. DUTTON,

PASTOR OF THE NORTH CHURCH,

NEW HAVEN, CONN.

I>E,I2TTE1ID :E'0H, THE ^ -A. I.I I L IT.

NEW HAYEN:
PRINTED BY THOMAS J. STAFFORD, 236 STATE STREET.
1864.

c-Tr-zio

Harriet "Waters, the daughter of Asa Waters, Esq.,
and Susan (Holman) Waters, of Milbury, Mass., was
born August 18th, 1814. She was married September
12th, 1838, to Kev. Samuel W. S. Dutton, who had
been ordained, in the previous June, Pastor of the
North Church in New Haven, Conn. ; and she died in
the noon of the Lord's day, July 3d, 1864, aged
(nearly ) fifty years.
Her body sleeps in Jesus in the beautiful Cemetery
at New Haven, (in a lot at its southeastern corner,)
and there will rest under the Redeemer's care till the
morning of the resurrection. " For if we believe that
Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which
sleep in Jesus will God bring with him."

ADDRESS

EUIS^ERAL OF MRS. DUTTON,

NORTH CHURCH, NEW HAVEN,

REV. S. G-. BUOKIlSrGHAM,

SPRINGFIELD, MASS.

Rev. Mr. Buckingham was Mrs. Dutton's Pastor, and officiated at her mar-
ri^e. He was the classmate, and has been for more than thirty years the inti
mate friend of her husband, who performed the same sad service for him at the
funeral of his beloved wife, Harriet (Taylor) Buctingham, in Springfield, eight
months before.

ADDRESS.

If we had no faith in Christianity, this would be a
scene of deep and unmixed sadness.
This lifeless form, which we never expect to see
again, animate with intelligence and kindness, and
moving among us as it has been ; these mourning
friends, who so leaned upon her counsels and found
such satisfaction in her friendship, but can never hope
for such a privilege any longer; this sympathizing
community, who have received for so many years her
ministrations of charity and piety, and are to appre
ciate their worth as they miss them beyond recovery ;
to know that " she shall return no more to her house,
neither shall her place know her any more," and that
" till the heavens be no more, she shall not awake, nor
be raised out of her sleep ;" this would fill us with in
consolable grief, did we not believe in the revelations of
Christ our Lord, and cherish Christian hopes concern
ing her.
We remember how our Lord once entered a com
pany of mourners like this, and bending over such a

lifeless and beloved form, comforted them by saying,
" Weep not — she is not dead, but sleepeth."
Christianity represents the death of the saints as
only sleep — " David, after he had served his own gene
ration by the will of God fell on sleep, and was laid
unto his fathers, and saw corruption." Stephen prayed
for his murderers, and commended his departing spirit
to his Saviour, " and when he had said this, he fell
asleep." When our Saviour was crucified, among all
the solemnities that attended that event, it is recorded
that "the graves were opened, and many bodies of
saints which slept, arose." They are not spoken of as
dead, but only sleeping. And if death is to be regard
ed as destruction — the extinction of being — the end of
all consciousness, and activity, and enjoyment, they are
not dead. They have, indeed, laid aside their cares, and
forgotten their griefs, and are resting from their labors,
as business men lay aside their cares, and children
forget their little troubles, and the laborer rests from
his toils, when they fall asleep. But they are still
alive, and as capable as ever of activity and enjoy
ment. And if you will wait till to-morrow comes, you
shall find this one at his business, and that one at his
sports, and that one at his toils, and all just as active,
and eager, and diligent as ever. So the pious dead
have not perished, but still live ; — live with Christ in
Heaven ; — live to enjoy his friendship there, and to
serve hira there ; — live a nobler and an immortal life,
aud one that is as holy and as blessed, as it is enduring.

Even these poor bodies, which are beginning to see cor
ruption, and will finally be mingled with the dust of
the earth, shall be recreated and made indestructible,
and adapted to a higher state of existence, and made a
fit residence for a sanctified soul, made " like unto
Christ's glorious body." Such are the blessed teachings
of our Lord, and of His Apostles. " I am the resur
rection and the life — He that believeth in me, though
he were dead, yet shall he live — And whosoever liveth
and believeth in me, shall never die." " I would not
have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them
that are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which
have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died, and
rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will
God bring with him."
1. The pious dead rest from their cares and labors.
Every Christian life has had more or less of anxiety
and toil in it. There have been duties to perform, and
responsibilities to meet, and they have often been per
plexing and burdensome. What a weary life many
have had of it! They cannot have lived so many
years, and been so faithful, and so useful, and been so
profited by their discipline, and so sanctified by their
privileges, without using carefully those privileges, and
submitting themselves patiently to that discipline, and
being conscientiously devoted to every work to which
God called them. And it would be strange, if they
were not sometimes weary in that work, though never
neglectful of it. They are like tired laborers, who toil

10
on through the long and sultry summer's day, and as
long as the daylight lasts, and the Aveather is favorable,
do their utmost to gather in the golden harvest ; — still,
who can blame them, if they watch the west, and some
times think the sun sets slowly, and are glad when it
sinks below the horizon, and they are called home.
And when death comes to the toil-Avorn saint, it is just
as welcome. There is rest now for the toiling hand,
and relief for the aching broAV, and peace to the throb
bing heart. What they have acquitted of goodness re
mains, and what they have accomplished of usefulness
survives them, and their influence will still live. But
their work and care cease at death : They '' rest from
their labors, and their works do follow them."
2. They also find relief from their sins and sorrows.
There is no sin in Heaven, where they have gone.
" There shall in no wise enter it anything that defileth,
or worketh abomination, or maketh a lie." There is no
wicked society there, and none of its corrupting influence.
There are no earthly temptations, and no such solicita
tions to sin. There are none of the bodily appetites
and passions to ensnare them. And, on the other hand,
there is the Divine Presence in all its glory, and the
Saviour's love in all its manifestations and attractive
ness, and in saintly and angelic society, and with the
discipline of life all ended, and the work of sanctifi
cation completed ; — and with the Saviour's promise to
keep them from falling, and let none " pluck them out
of his hand ;" — they have no more to fear from sin and
Satan.

11
Nor have they any more occasion to fear sorrow.
"And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes ;
and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow,
nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain ; for
the former things are passed away." That must be
heaven, where no one turns aside to weep ! There
can be no want there ; — no pain there ; — no remorse
there ; — no torturing anxieties, no blasted hopes, no un
requited love, no bitter bereavements ; — no accident, no
sickness, no dying — nothing to call for grief And if
the memoiy of the past should call up tears, the Saviour
stands ready to wipe them all away. Is there such a
home for those who endure such suffering here ? And
shall these pious souls, who now live here in poverty,
and suffer from sickness, and weakness, and infirmity,
and endure wrongs, and oppression, and persecution,
ever attain to such felicity? And will such felicity
ever be the result of such suffering? — the delicious
fruit of such bitter seed ? " What are these which
are arrayed in white robe;?, and whence came they?"
asked the angel, who pointed out to John that blessed
company. " And I said unto him — ' Sir, thou knowest.'
And he said unto me — ' These are they which came out
of great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and
made them white in th^ blood of the Lamb. There
fore are they before the throne of God, and serve him
day and night in his temple. And He that sitteth on
the throne shall dwell among them. They shall hunger
no more, neither thirst any more,, neither shall the sun
light on them, nor any heat. For the Lamb which is in

12
the midst of the throne shall feed them, and lead them
unto living fountains of waters. And God shall wipe
away all tears from their eyes.' "
3. The pious dead have also gone to be with Christ
and his saints in Heaven.
For a Christian to be " absent from the body," is to
be " present with the Lord." This was what made the
Apostle so " in a strait, to depart and be with Christ,"
which he regarded as " far better " than to abide in the
flesh, though it might be needful for himself or for
others, that he should remain longer here. But when
the hour of the Christian's release has come, and his
prison door is thrown open, he issues out of it as will
ingly as the prisoner goes forth from his gloomy cell
into bright sunshine and blessed liberty. He is like an
uncaged bird, that seems happy and sings sweetly Avhile
confined, but no sooner is its door left open, than it flies
out and mounts to heaven with fleetest wing, and in per
fect ecstasy, as if the blue sky and the broad earth were
its only proper home. Heaven is the Christian's home,
and he never will be quite satisfied until he arrives there.
This earth is as fair to him as to other men, but it is not
Heaven. Earthly friendships are as dear to him as to
others. But they are not the communion of saints, and
intercourse with Him whom his soul loveth, as it shall
be on high. And when he is called to go there, he will
not, on the whole, regret the change. There the Saviour
intends to gather all his saints. He will not be content
until he has them about him. " Father, I will that they

13
also whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am,
that they may behold my glory, which thou hast given
me." This was his prayer, and expressed the yearnings
of his heart, and in this he will be gratified. " He
shall see of the travail of his soul and be satisfied,"
when He has gathered about him the whole multitude
of the redeemed of all nations, and kindreds, and peo
ple, and tongues, and they stand before him prepared
to worship and serve him in that heavenly kingdom.
And they too shall be satisfied, when they have once
reached that presence, and joined that company. "I
shall be satisfied," says the Psalmist, "when I awake in
thy likeness." To be like God, and prepared to dwell
with him in his purity, holiness, and blessedness, to be
qualified to serve him without imperfection or weari
ness, and in that higher sphere, and through eternal
ages; to join that glorious company of prophets, apos
tles, and martyrs, and share their goodly fellowship, will
fill to its utmost capacity any soul. And yet the hum
blest saint who has fallen asleep in Jesus, has inherited
such glory and bliss.
In the catacombs that underlie Rome, where the
early Christians hid themselves from persecution, and
earned on their worship, and buried their dead, we have
a beautiful exhibition of the consolatory power of such
a faith. Above these tombs, are the monuments of
those classic Pagans, and they breathe nothing but cheer
less stoicism, or scoffing epicureanism, or unutterable de
spair. Their inscriptions are such as these : " O relent-

14
less fortune, who delightest in cruel death ! Why is
Maximus so early snatched from me ?" " To Secundus,
who lived fifty-seven years. Here he enjoyed every
thing. But baths, wine, and love, ruin our constitution,
though they make life what it is. Farewell, farewell !"
" While I lived," says another, " I lived Avell. My play
is now ended. Soon youi-s will be. FareAvell. Ap
plaud me." But the moment we turn to the inscriptions
over the graves of those humble saints, Ave find them
breathing a different spirit. They exhibit no culture,
and little taste. They are often in bad Latin, and the
spelling wrong. But they show firm faith in Christ,
and a sure hope of a blessed immortality. Perhaps it
is simply this : " Victorina sleeps ;" or, " Zoticus laid
here to sleep ;" or, "He sleeps in the peace of the Lord."
" Having left your friends," inscribes a husband upon
the tomb of his Avife, " you haA-e laid down to sleep in
peace, and you haA^e deserved such rest, but you will
rise again, for only a temporary repose will be granted
you." So does the Christian faith lift the humblest
soul out of the mire of sensuality, and the gloom of de
spair, and raise it to companionship with God, and to
heavenly aspirations and hopes.
When our friends leave us, cherishing such a faith, and
resting in such sure promises, we can hardly call it dy
ing. It is dying when one ends a wordly and unchrist
ian life, with no penitence for sin, or faith in the Re
deemer, and Avith no preparation for heaven. It is dy
ing when one lies doAvn in the grave unreconciled to

15
God, and under the full dominion of his sins, and incapa
ble of either loving or serving God, if he were admitted
into His kingdom. It is dying to lie down under the
wrath and curse of a righteous God, and encounter the
just abhorrence of all the redeemed, and be driven into
eternal banishment from such society, and such bliss.
This is death and destruction to such beings as we are.
But to lie down to rest after a busy and faithful life ; to
find relief from the cares and toils which at times are so
burdensome ; to be set free from our corruptions and
griefs, and sin no more, neither sorrow any more ; to go
up to Heaven to dwell henceforth with God and all the
good ; to have even these poor bodies re-created, and
made immortal, and fitted for a higher sphere of ser-
Adce and enjoyment : — this is not dying, but it is Life ; —
Eternal Life ; — Immortal Life ; — in the highest and full
est meaning of such language. And when our friends
enter upon such a Life, even though they leave us to do
so, shall we grieve immoderately and inconsolably ? We
may sorrow for ourselves, that we shall see their faces
no more in the flesh. We shall be lonely, as we miss
their companionship in all the places and paths of life.
We shall mourn the loss of their counsel, and sympathy,
and example, and prayers, and the burdens of life will
be doubly heavy without their aid. We shall regret
that the world, and the Church on earth, have lost such
worth and services, and wonder if any will be raised up
to supply their places. But we dare not mourn for
them. They are in Heaven. They are- with Christ.,

16

They are blessed now. I seem to hear them say, as
their Master did, to his sorrowing friends : "If ye loved
me, ye would rejoice because I go unto the Father."
We do rejoice, and smile through our tears. We are
glad that they are safe home in Heaven, if we are not.
We praise God for the grace that led them thither,
and for this revelation and Christian faith, which assure
us of such a redemption and salvation.

It is with such consolations and hopes, that we bury
our dead to-day.
The wife of your Pastor has liA^ed with you long
enough, and been well enough known by you, to justify
you in assigning her a place among God's dear saints,
and in cherishing in regard to her such blessed hopes.
If reverence for God and submission to His will, are
marks of piety ; if faith in His revelation, and subjec
tion to His law ; if repentance for sin, and trust for sal
vation in the atonement of Christ ; if devotion to that
Saviour, and that Saviour's work, and the most scrupu
lous fidelity to religious duties and Christian services ;
if a humble hope in Christ, and a willing departure to
go and be with Him as something far better than to
abide in the flesh, however needful this last might seem
to us ; if these are graces of piety, and the fruits of the
Divine Spirit, then may we account her a saint, and
believe that " she is not dead, but only sleepeth."
Of her early life, you knew less than of these later
years. But her childhood and youth gave promises

17
that were realized in her maturity. The numerous and
sweet blossoms foretold the abundant and rich fruitage
that was to follow.
She belonged to a family that was characterized by
strong minds, and calm energy. She had been taught to
grapple resolutely with difficulties, and in the path of
duty always to expect to overcome them. She had been
taught to fear God and do right, and then have little
fear of any one else. She had been taught to pity the
poor, and sympathize with the afflicted, and take sides
with the oppressed, and minister to the needy and the
suffering, as a necessary part of all true religion. Hers
was a home of plenty, and there was always adminis
tered abundant hospitality and charity. Piety too was
almost hereditary in the family, and that thoughtful,
reverential, sturdy piety, which was so eminently Pu
ritan. Such were the influences under which she was
nurtured. In early life she devoted herself personally to Christ,
and began to put in practice what had been taught her.
In her girlhood, she was sensible and modest, calm and de
cided, sympathizing and kind, and helpful toward every
body ; while she was humble and conscientious, and de
vout and prayerful toward God, and always abounding
in works of piety and Christian charity. She was one
of several of her own age, who gave the most decided
promise of future worth and usefulness, and who in sim
ilar or in other spheres, are fully realizing all that was
hoped from them.

18
Of her life and influence here, where for twenty-five
years she has Avalked before you in all the ordinances of
the Lord blameless ; where you have been daily witness
es to her conscientiousness and fidelity to every duty ;
to her humility before God, and kindness to every hu
man creature ; to her discretion and prudence ; to her
prayerfulness and heaveuly-mindedness ; to her helpful
ness to her husband in all the duties of his sacred office ;
to her unwavering attachment to you, and untii'ing de
votion to your welfare — no stranger can tell you, as
you know it for yourselves.
Hers has been a happy life ; not so long as we could
have wished, but longer than manA" ; and few are more
useful. Happy in her early home ; happy in her mar
riage ; happy in your unwavering respect and affections ;
happy in her sphere of usefulness, which she loved
so much, and filled so well ; happy in the results of
such labor, and in the ripened virtues which such
labor and such a sphere had developed ; and happier
still in the friendship of her Saviour, and in the calm
and confident hope which she cherished of loving Him
more, and serving Him better in HeaA'en — we may
well moderate our grief, and comfort our hearts under
this bereavement.
" Blessed are the dead Avhich die in the Lord from
henceforth. Yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest
from their labors, and their works do follow them."

ADDRESS

REY. DR. BACO]^

ADDRESS.

I WOULD ask to be excused from saying a word in ad
dition to what has already been so fitly spoken. But
the desire of your Pastor, that I should take some part
in these funeral services, cannot but have with me the
force of a command which must be freely obeyed.
What, then, shall I, his elder brother in the ministry,
and for more than five and twenty years most intimate
ly associated with him in counsels and labors, say to
you, his people, mourning with him the death of one
whose death, though gain to her, is so great a loss to
you as well as to him ? I am a fellow-mourner with
him and with you ; and I can only utter, without pre
meditation, such thoughts as rise spontaneously to all
our minds.
The one feeling which pervades this assembly, is sym
pathy with him from whose house the wife of his youth
has passed away, and who is following her remains to
their interment. We may rejoice for her. After years
of infirmity and suffering endured with beautiful sub
mission to the will of God, she is at rest. Her work is
done. The discipline of this mortal life has had with

22
her its perfect work. Shall we not give thanks for her
who has entered into the joy of her Lord? Our sorrow
is for him whose life and hers were one — to whom the
separating blow is not less painful for having been so
long expected — who had no hope, no joy, no duty or ser
vice in which she was not a partner — and whose feeling
to-day is as if his life were a broken arch of which the
half has already fallen. You who knew what she was
in her relation to you, how gentle and faithful, how lov
ing and diligent, cannot but have, in the feeling of your
loss, a deep and tender feeling of his far greater loss.
At the thought that she will never more be seen in the
Church, in the Sabbath School, in the circles of charity
or of prayer, which she loved so well, and that her steps
will henceforth never cross your thresholds, you cannot
but remember him whose house is left to him desolate.
This common sorrow may become the bond of a stronger
and tenderer sympathy between you and your Pastor.
He will love you the more for the love you have borne
to her, and for her memory tenderly cherished among
you ; and you will love him the more for your sympa
thy with him in his great sorrow.
May we not say, then, that though gone from us, and
from earth, she is not lost to those whom she has left
behind ? Much of her influence, in the sphere which
she adorned, outlives her mortal presence. When she
came among you, long ago, you received her kindly and
loved her for your Pastor's sake, till, having learned her
worth by personal acquaintance with her, you learned

23
to love him the more for her sake. So, now that she
has gone, her saintly memory is a new bond between
you and him. Not only will he love his people the
more for her sake, but he will flnd a readier access to
the hearts and minds of those to whom her name is
dear. The children, whom she taught so wisely and
faithfully in the Sabbath School, will receive the word
of salvation from his lips the more attentively for their
affectionate remembrance of the lessons which she gave
them. In the dwellings of the poor, in the chamber of
sickness, iu every association of beneficence which she
adorned, in every family that knew her and loved her,
his presence will be the more welcome for her sake.
Nor in such ways only will she be helpful to him in his
.ministry. For these five and twenty years she has been
his most intimate and constant adviser. His habits of
thought have been modified by hers. Her feminine
tact and intuition have aided his judgment. He has
seen through her eyes as well as through his own. Her
loving criticism has encouraged and guided his public
labors. The books which he has studi(id, the questions
of doctrine or of duty which he has considered, the
movements of Christian enterprise in which he has had
a part, have interested her, and without her influence,
his entire activity and influence in his ministry would
have differed from what it has been. And how can she
be separated from his consciousness now? The home
in which she has presided so long, and which is dark
ened to-day by her removal, will yet be, to his thought

24
and feeling, full of her gentle influence. Her remem
bered sayings, her suggestions and counsels, incorporated
into his ways of thinking, the books they have read to
gether, or which one has read and reported to the other,
will guide and stimulate his mind not only in his priA^ate
studies, but here also in] his public ministration of the
Word. Such is always the influence of a thoughtful,
discreet, and loving wife upon and through a thoughtful
and loving husband. Her influence cannot die while he
outlives her.
When one so loved is taken away, how many are the
memorials at home Avhich bring back as it were the very
presence of the departed one ! So it will be in the
house which is desolate to-day. Sometimes the silence
in the rooms once so cheerful Avith the loved presence.
that is there no more, will seem to be listening for her
footsteps. Sometimes the most trivial memento Avill be
suddenly charged with an electric power. Not only the
treasured keepsake, valued long ago, will put on a new
value ; but that which was, last Aveek, only an uncon
sidered trifle, may be found to have become in\^ested
with memories that make it precious. Old letters are
redolent of the health and youth in which she Avrote
them. The traces of her industry aud skill — perhaps
in some piece of work AA'hich she left unfinished — tell of
the dextrous fingers that Avere once so busy. The texts
which she marked in her Bible — the hymns which she
loved best — the little snatches perhaps of fugitive poe
try, Avhich she had saved from the newspapers, are as if
her voice were lingering still this side of heaven.

25
Two little fi-agments from newspapers were found in
her work-basket among the latest things on which her
hands were employed ; and they are so significant in re
lation to her life and her death, that I may be allowed
to repeat them here.
" So should we live, that every hour
May die, as dies the natural fiower —
A self-reviving thing of power ;
That every thought and every deed
May hold within itself the seed
Of future good and future meed."
Thus she lived, each day of mortal life connected by
ties of duty and of hope with the immortal life to come.
Knowing in whom she had believed, and that He is able
to keep that which she had committed to Him, she could
watch the slow approach of death, waiting in cheerful
patience for her hour. Most fitly might she whisper to
herself her own habitual thought, through those long
months of lingering disease, in words which seem as if
they had been prepared expressly for her use :
" Only waiting till the shadows
Are a little longer grown ;
Only waiting till the glimmer
Of the day's last beam is flown ;
Then, from out the gathered darkness,
Holy, deathless stars shall rise,
By whose light my soul shall gladly
Tresd its pathway to the sties."
Thus has she died. Be it ours to follow them who
through faith and patience have inherited the promises.

ADDRESS AT THE GRAYE

REV. PROFESSOR WILLIAM B. CLARKE,

PASTOE OF THE CHUECH IN TALE COLLEGE.

ADDRESS OF PROFESSOR CLARKE *

We pay the last offices of our respect to this dust.
We are very confident that our friend has already en
tered upon the higher, and to her more congenial life of
the heavenly world. That world was not unfamiliar to
her. She was deeply convinced of the reality and of
the nearness of the unseen and spiritual things, and it
is perhaps the noblest that can be said of her, that her
life seemed ever to be in accordance with this convic
tion. She was full of thoughtful an\ earnest love of
the truth. It is given to few to be able to approach so
nearly into the inner sanctuary of truth. She had
warmth of love for it, strength of mind to apprehend
it, and a peculiar singleness of mind to receive it with
out prejudice and in its simplicity. She was full of a
hearty sympathy with right, especially with the rights
of men. This sympathy expressed itself in action.
She loved duty, and even according to the great meas
ure of her opportunities, she filled her life with good

* Prof. Claeke was an intimate and beloved friend of Mrs. Ddtton, a member
in early youth of the North Church, and for years a pupil in the Sabbath School
of which she was one of the Superintendents.

30
deeds. She had a very true reverence toward God.
She lived not merely as in His sigM., but as seeing Him
who is invisible.
We shall no longer be animated by her example, in
spired by her conversation, or sustained by her delight
ful sympathy ; but we have one blessing which cannot
be taken from us. It has been permitted us to know
her. We have had the sight of this noble life. We
have felt its power* For one, I count the very childi'en
happy who are old enough to have come within her
influence, and to remember her. Let us cherish her
memory. Let earth be more sacred to us for this grave.
Let our faith be stronger in that world to which God
gathers home those whom He loves.

EXTRACT

A SERMON PREACHED IH THE HORTH CHDRCH

NEW HAVEN, JULY 1, 1864,

THE SECO>'D SABBATH AFTER

MRS. DTJTTOI^'S DE^TH,

BY HER HUSBAND.

JOHN XIV. 2 8.
" If te loved Me, te would kejoice because I said, I go unto the Fateee."
We should not understand these words of our Lord
as expressing any doubt of the reality and strength of
the love of his disciples. He knew that they loved him
as they loved no one else, and indeed that their love to
him was one great cause of their sorrow at the thought
of his departure from them. His meaning plainly is as
if he had said, " You may love me earnestly, but you do
not love me wisely. If your love was intelligent and
wise, you would rejoice because I said that I am soon
to leave this condition,'in which I have been, of poverty
and suffering and sorrow, to be with the Father, and to
possess the glory and felicity which I had with the
Father before the world was. For a wise love delights
in the improved condition and blessedness of the person
beloved." There is also, perhaps, this shade of meaning, as if
he had said, " If you loved me with entire purity, with
out any alloy of selfishness, you would forget your per
sonal loss in my exceeding gain."
There was also, undoubtedly, this additional mean
ing: "If ye loved me intelligently and wisely, you
would rejoice on your own account, because I go to the
Father : for I go to finish the gracious work undertaken

34
for you ;" even as He afterwards said, " It is expedient
for you that I go away : for if I go not away the Com
forter (the Holy Ghost) will not come unto you ; but if
I depart I will send him unto you."
The principle, thus declared by our Lord with respect
to the feeling of his disciples concerning his departure,
is true when applied to us and to our feeling concern
ing the departure of our Christian friends by death.
They depart to be with Christ, and in the presence of
the Father, which, as the apostle says, is far better, or
as a more exact translation gives it, " better beyond all
expression." And so we may say, if our love for them
is intelligent, and wise, and unselfish, we shall rejoice
that they have gone to be with Christ and the Father.
It is well for us to dwell on this truth. For we are
sometimes inclined, so strong is the force of our senses,
to think of deceased Christian friends as in the dark
ness of the grave, bereaved of life and welfare. And
StiU more are we inclined in our self-love, so much is
our self-love mingled with our love for our friends, to
think of our loss more than of their gain.
The great reason why we should rejoice, when our
Christian friends leave us by death, is the great superi
ority of the state on which they have entered over the
state in which they were here.
(The body of the discourse, illustrating this general
truth by various particular truths, is omitted.)
Well, then, may we rejoice when our Christian friends
enter on that state, even according to the measure of our
love for them.

35
" If ye loved me ye would rejoice, because I said I
go unto the Father."
There is an additional and important shade of mean
ing brought out by placing the emphasis on the words,
" I said." If ye loved me, ye would rejoice, because I
said I go unto the Father." It indicates the assurance
which Christ had beforehand that he was going to the
Father, and to experience all the glory and the felicity
involved in that transition.
So it is a blessed thing for Christian friends to be as
sured before their departure, and in the hour of their
departure, that they go to be with Christ, and to enjoy
all that exceeding superiority of condition which we
have at this time contemplated. It is true, indeed, that
the great, infinitely the greatest matter, is the fact of
entrance upon the rest and joy of the Lord. But it is a
blessed experience to be assured beforehxmd of this, as
many are, and as some, who are real Christians, are
not. For, it takes away all the fear and sting of death,
and gives peace and triumph to the soul amid the trying
scenes of dissolution. And that peace and triumph is
reflected into the bereaved hearts of the surviving.
There is an application of this subject to our present
condition of bereavement, mine and yours, which I wish
to make, if I can sufficiently command my utterance.
I say mine and yours : for your sympathy, so generally
and effectually expressed, assures me that the bereave
ment is felt by you as well as by me.

36
A few days more than a year since, in preaching on
the occasion of the twenty-fifth anniversary of my ordi
nation in this church, speaking of the changes that had
occurred and are occurring, I said; "And over my
house has come of late a dark cloud in the threatening
illness of one dearer to me than my own soul, your con
siderate and liberal kindness to whom has bound you to
me in still closer bonds of affection." The event, which
cast that dark shadow before, has come ! Notwith
standing all our efforts for years to avert it ; notwith
standing that long and trying voyage to a distant clime,
and the dreary separation of nine months ; notwith
standing all that human skill and kindness could do, — it
has come !
In the experience of that event, we are happily di
rected how to command and exercise our views and feel
ings, by the subject which we have now considered.
1. Let us then rejoice because our beloved one has
entered on the infinitely superior heavenly condition — has
gone to be with Christ, which is better beyond all ex
pression than to be here. This is the dictate of our love
toher: for love, purely and wisely exercised, rejoices
in the improved and blessed condition of the beloved
one. It would be selfishness in us to think more of our
loss than of her infinite gain. For myself, I can say,
that by grace I am enabled to imitate the unselfishness
;and self-forgetfulness, of which she was in all things a
worthy example, so far as to rejoice continually that she
is experiencing the rest, the purity, the peace, the joy

37
of our Lord, and to think little comparatively of my
loneliness and bereavement. She is blessed. And
that is to me a continual and sustaining joy, which over
bears my sorrows. Indeed, I feel moved to rebuke my
self for all consideration of my personal loss, as an im
pertinence in the presence of the thought that she is
infinitely blessed in the beatific vision of God and the
Lamb. So let it be with you.
2. And then, in the second place, let us soften our
sorrow by continual thankfulness for God's grace to her
and to us through her. This I am enabled to do habit
ually. First of all, I thank God that by His grace He made
her meet for the inheritance of the saints in light ; and
by His grace and power has introduced her to the bless
ed experience of that inheritance.
Then I thank Him that by his grace He gave her be
forehand the assurance, that whenever she passed away
she would enter into the heavenly rest : so that she felt
no anxiety about the future, either as to the result of
plans for recovery of health, or as to the time or ex
perience of death, and when it was announced to her
that death was near, she was full of peace, saying, " I
have committed myself in faith to Christ, I believe I
am accepted — and there I rest."
I am thankful for the beautifully appropriate time
of her death. She passed from a Sabbath on earth to
a Sabbath in heaven. Her sun went down at the noon
of life. It was noon of the Lord's day when she died.

38
And she passed to the fellowship of the saints in light
when you, the company of saints whom she specially
loved, were expressing your fellowship with Christ, and
with each other, at His table ; and she breathed her last
just as you were singing for your closing hymn, " Kock
of Ages, cleft for me, * * *
" While I draw this fleeting breath.
When mine eyelids close in death,
When I rise to worlds unknown,
And behold Thee on Thy throne,
Roclt of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in thee."
The Sabbath, the Lord's Supper, that Christian hymn,
will be all the more precious to me hereafter.
I thank God for all the benefits which He has
given me through her. It is a great boon to have
experienced such a blessing for twenty-six years. I
need not tell you that her counsel, and her silent in
fluence, more powerful than spoken counsel, always
moved me toward what is right and good — to integrity,
to Christian industry, to prayerfulness, to humanity, to
self-denying benevolence, to pious fidelity. It is more
necessary to say (what you could not fully know) that
she was very helpful t,o me in my ministry intellectually.
She was a diligent and successful student of religious
truth, especially as found in the word of God. And
her conversation and suggestions were very helpful and
valuable. Indeed, if I had a difficult subject to think
out, there was no one to whom I had access from whose
conversation I could receive so much aid as from her.

39
In the power of insight into moral and religious truth,
and the power to discern its bearings on life and con
duct, I have for years reverently regarded her as my su
perior. I thank God for her helpfulness to me in my
ministry for twenty-six years.
I am thankful, too, for her Christian activity and use
fulness among my people and the community. She was
enabled, by her comparative freedom from maternal
cares, to devote herself, more than ministers wives usu
ally can, to works of Christian influence and benevolence
outside of my family. Only a general reference to
these works is necessary, for they are well known to
many. She superintended the Sabbath School, as to its
female department, for twenty-five years. For the
greater part of that time she habitually attended the
Teachers' meeting on Saturday evening. Many, and not
a few who are now in the Christian ministry, have ex
perienced, and have gratefully acknowledged, the bene
fit which they have received from her views of scriptu
ral truth, presented by her on these occasions, in the
study of the Sabbath School lesson. For many years,
when she had strength for it, she habitually visited a
district ui the extreme eastern part of the city, benefit
ing a large number of families there by the distribution
of Christian books and tracts, and still more by her
Christian conversation and her deeds of kindness. Many
in that district, after years have passed away, remember
her with gratitude and affection. She presided over
our Benevolent Society, or Social Circle, from the time

40
of its foi-mation, ten or twelve years ago. For many
years, while her strength allowed, she was an habitual
attendant on one or two meetings, of Christian women
for social prayer, and a leading participant in the ser
vices. And in all those numerous works of goodness
which are so gracefully and effectually done by Christian
women, she was ever ready to bear a part. I know that
you will thank God with me, for this service rendered
through so many years to your spiritual interests, and
the interests of this community.
I thank God, also, for the memory of her example,
her instructions, her counsels — the influence of her
whole character and works. They are with me still.
Death cannot take them away. So let it be with you.
And, finally, I thank God for the assurance that our
separation will not be long. Heaven is nearer to me,
as well as dearer, on account of her presence there.
And I pray for grace to be faithful and patient, till the
fellowship, now sundered, shall be restored, and made
pure and blessed as Heaven.
So let it be with you.

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