The late lamented Follen, in speaking of the death of his father in Germany, which occurred sometime after the son's residence in this country, says, "He seems nearer to me now than ever since we parted in Germany." The same faith quickens the soul, whenever the good are removed. It is thus the heart refuses to regard the dead as gone. This same feeling came home to my heart, when recently hearing of the last illness of the friend of whom I have been speaking. He could not die. And now, with the rich assurances of Scripture in confirmation of the soul's desire, one feels nearer than ever to the spirit-the spirit that is not dead-the spirit that, though the body be dead, yet speaketh. The memory of such a man is embalmed, and cannot decay.

"Their works do follow them." The stream of light, which shines forth from such a soul, will penetrate many dark places of earth. The ripple, which this character has caused on the ocean of life, will gradually extend itself farther and farther. And even now, many of our churches are already blessed by their connection with pastors whose hearts had been transformed by communion with him. No good seed thus sown will ever be lost. Blessed is such a memory! Rich legacy to a bereaved family!

My brethren, we must see in these remarks the great truth they are designed to illustrate. It is not merely to speak of a friend in the way of encomium, that I have called your attention thus. There is a certain life in the Lord here displayed, which proves to what the human heart may attain in its legitimate growth. There is also the assurance of a death in the Lord, when the oneness has been thus completely established in life. And the sense of blessedness which hangs about the pious dead is an inducement and an encouragement to holiness, which can hardly fail to recommend itself to the best affections.

But we hardly know whether most to enforce the obligation drawn from the success of a soul in its work, or to urge the inducements which the conclusion of the life may extend. "Oh! let me die the death of the righteous, let my end be like his," is the natural voice of the heart. But they who would die in the Lord, must be willing to spend a life of devotion to the interests of truth and love in the world-must be ready to live with constant reference to the spirit of the Lord-must be brave and vigorous in

every struggle with sin. And what man has accomplished, man may again accomplish. If we learn the duty from the contemplation of a Christian's life, we learn also the ability of the spirit for its work.

As then the standard of Christ's character is before our eyes, let us strive to present to the world correct imitations. And when, oppressed with difficulty and doubt, weary with unsuccessful striving, the spirit is almost ready to sink, encouragement may be drawn from some nearer and newer illustration of the same great lesson, though in less completeness. If the life be devoted to God, if the inclinations be given to duty, and if the soul be filled with religious aspirations, there is no ground for fear or doubt. All the satisfactions of conscience, here and hereafter, lie in this path. It is a glorious promise, that gives us such an assurance for the future. We have heard a voice from heaven, saying, "Write, Blessed are the dead, that die in the Lord, from henceforth: Yea, saith the Spirit, for they rest from their labors; and their works do follow them."

MONODY.

In the holiest temple of memory let us enshrine the names of the departed great and good. Within a few brief years how many watchmen in Israel have laid aside their great commission, to stand before the Judge of all the earth! Though taken from among us, they speak in the persuasive eloquence of their written words. Let us treasure these as a sacred legacy, and point to them as the mature fruits of Christian wisdom and a high and holy faith. Let us live as they, alike by word and deed, taught us to live, that we may with them inherit a higher life.

How rapidly from Zion's holy wall

The watchmen pass away!

The reaper, death, sweeps o'er them, and they fall

Like leaves in autumn day.

Not for the sleepers-for ourselves we mourn;
A darkened lot is ours;

Their sainted names the book of life adorn,
Wreathed with unfading flowers.

Our chosen guides have left us, and we fear
To tread life's paths alone;

We trusted in their strength and love sincere,
And claimed them for our own.

But one by one they turned aside to rest—
Life's toilsome journey done;

We know how fully are their spirits blessed,
How rich the crown they've won.

We mourn, as children of their sires bereft;
But oh! the precious dower,

The fruit of love and wisdom, they have left,
To cheer the darkest hour.

We bless thee, Father! 'Mid earth's glorious things These shone with purest light;

Thou hast removed them, and they taste the springs Of unalloyed delight.

The saddened heart its tribute pays to Thee,

Who hath done all things well;

They were thine own, and knew thee, nor would we

Recall them here to dwell.

Suns were they, giving to the world of mind

Their pure and changeless light;

They have gone home, with kindred souls to find
The realms that know no night.

'Tis meet for us above their sainted dust

To shed the mourner's tear;

Be thou, oh God! our light and hope and trust,
And to our souls draw near!

H. J. W.

THE LATE REV. HENRY WARE, JR.

WE are again called to mourn the removal of an honored and beloved minister of our faith,-one, who more perhaps than any other was connected with the interests of religion in our denomination. At the time of his death he was not in the charge of any particular pulpit, nor of any ecclesiastical or academical office, for illness, with whose various attacks he had long contended, had driven him for the last year into retirement. But he was still asso

ciated in our minds with much of the activity which was going on among us and around us, a large part of which derived its early impulse from him, and our hopes connected his influence with the future progress of what we account sound theology and true philanthropy. It is not invidious towards either the dead or the living, to say that, with the exception of Dr. Channing, no one in our day has done more for the promotion of the interests of truth and piety in our churches, whether regard be paid to his services in the pulpit or to his labors out of it. In this community he was respected and trusted, to an extent in which no one else can be compared with him. There is probably no institution designed to advance the cause of religion, to which he could consistently give his support, that has not enjoyed the benefit of his wise counsels or generous efforts. The Unitarian Association, the Evangelical Missionary Society, the Book and Pamphlet Society, the Sunday School Society, the Ministry at Large, our Theological School, our periodical journals, our various public or private associations besides those which we have named, all received his ready and efficient aid. What scheme was there that contemplated the diffusion of religious knowledge or the promotion of the Christian character, on which he did not bestow kind consideration? What undertaking for the spread of truth, love or holiness, to which he did not lend cordial assistance? So long as he could preach, he preached, day and night, at home and abroad. When he could only write, he wrote letters, articles, books, all with the same great purpose of bringing men to understand and value the religion which filled his heart and gave its character to his whole life. A Unitarian whose opinions no one could mistake, every one of whatever

sect acknowledged him to be a Christian. Some of our best doctrinal tracts came from his pen. Yet he was unsurpassed in the facility with which he could mould spiritual truth into every form of practical application. Modest almost to a fault, and humble as a Christian should ever be, he was yet always found among the leaders in every good work, regardless of personal consequences and desirous only to benefit his fellow-men and serve his Master. Great as was his activity, and various as were the channels in which it flowed, his equal temper and calm judgment made him most valuable in the relations which he filled, and gave him that influence which all confessed, but which he never abused or misapplied. With intellectual powers of more than ordinary character, whether we regard their versatility or their force, it was not common to speak of him as a man of talents, for we lost sight of his mental endowments in the higher qualities which inspired esteem and confidence. Men reverenced him for his goodness. Hence much of his power in the pulpit. Hence, still more strikingly, his power in society.

There was one circumstance in regard to Mr. Ware, of which I have often thought as indicating the impression which his character had made upon the community. His social habits were not of the most winning kind. His manners rather held you at a certain distance than invited you to a free cordiality. And yet I know not the person towards whom multitudes, many of whom had never seen him, appeared to feel such a nearness. They had read his writings and heard of him from those who were familiar with his daily life, and they seemed to have acquired a sense of personal connexion with him, as if they recognized in him a benefactor and friend. It was not as Dr. Ware or Mr. Ware, that he was spoken of, but as Henry Ware, by hundreds who entertained for him the most entire respect, and who in his presence were affected as by the influence of a superior being. It was a sense of obligation, delightful, not painful, which established between themselves and him a feeling of kindred, as if an elder brother had instructed or helped them in their progress towards a better world.

Mr. Ware's great success in life-for if success be measured by the accomplishment of cherished purposes, the word pre-eminently belongs to his history-seems to me to have resulted from two