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Death disarmed of its sting.

A

TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY

OF THE

HON. ROGER MINOTT SHERMAN,

BEING THE

DISCOURSE PREACHED AT HIS FUNERAL,

January 2, 1845.

BY

LYMAN H. ATWATER, PASTOR OF THE FIRST CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH IN
FAIRFIELD.


NEW HAVEN: PRINTED BY B. L. HAMLEN.

1845.




DISCOURSE.


     1 CORINTHIANS, xv, 55.--O death! where is thy sting? O grave!
     where is thy victory?


This triumphant ejaculation, which Christ hath made the property of all
dying believers, implies that death may lose its sting and the grave
its victory. And whence comes this change in the issue of the conflict
which man is ever waging with death, and in which death is the natural
conqueror? How shall we account for this transmutation so strange,
so wondrous, so heavenly, by which this most resistless, relentless,
unsparing conqueror, is itself made to die, is swallowed up in victory,
and at the very moment of seeming to crush its victim, translates him
to an endless life, gilds him with fadeless glory, transports him with
the fullness of joy evermore, and crowns him with an immortal diadem?

Our answer is found in that record which God hath given of his Son,
who hath brought life and immortality to light. "Thanks be to God who
giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ," who has made
the sublime annunciation on which all human hope depends. "I AM THE
RESURRECTION AND THE LIFE; WHOSO BELIEVETH ON ME, THOUGH HE WERE DEAD,
YET SHALL HE LIVE."

Since then, death, through the wondrous work of Christ, may be disarmed
of its sting, and the grave robbed of its victory, let us for a few
moments consider more precisely _in what way, to what extent, and with
respect to what persons_, this comes to pass.

1. In the verse following our text, the Apostle declares, "the sting
of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law." Hence it is
something wholly distinct from the mere physical pangs of expiring
nature, or the instinctive dread and abhorrence of its own dissolution
which it ever cherishes. This dread of self-annihilation is a property
of life itself, which is in its very nature a ceaseless effort to be,
and to avoid non-existence. Irrespective of sin or holiness, penalty or
rewards, whether the death of the body be, or be not regarded as the
only and certain passage to a perfect and blissful state of existence,
it is in itself what we instinctively dread and shun. Like pain, we
avoid it if possible. We never choose it as in the least desirable for
its own sake; although we may cheerfully submit to it as we submit to
bitter drugs and burning caustic, because without it, we cannot escape
the pains of earth, or reach the bliss of heaven. In this light the
Christian may desire death, because to die is gain, and he desires to
depart and be with Christ which is far better: but not because it is
in itself lovely, or otherwise than grim, ghastly and terrific. This
natural aversion to the physical pangs of death, therefore, is not its
sting, since it is a part of our sentient nature, and still cleaves to
Christians as to others.

But _the sting of death is sin_, i. e. the violation of the law of God
and consequent subjection to its tremendous penalties. Thus "the law
is the strength of sin," so far forth as it is a sting. Now death is
the penalty of sin, its wages, "it passed upon all men for that all
have sinned;" even death temporal and death eternal, the death of the
body and the death of the soul. And unless its nature and power as a
penalty be annulled by faith in him who conquered it, the sting of
death lies in this, that it is not merely a _natural_ but a _penal_
evil, not the mere dissolution of the body, but the entrance of the
soul upon the merited woes of the second death; not the mere end of
life, but a transfer to the pains of eternal retribution. It is the
law, the violated, threatening, immutable law, that invests sin with
this fearful power. Viewed in this light, the only light possible out
of Christ, death indeed has its sting, which no tongue can tell or mind
conceive.

We see then how this sting is removed by Christ. He took it upon
himself. Sin is its cause. He bore our sins, was made under the law,
became a curse, suffered and died, the just for the unjust. He thus
discharges the demands of the law against the believing. What then if
the wages of sin is death; is not "the gift of God eternal life through
our Lord Jesus Christ?" What though death in its original nature, be
the first, stinging, insupportable stroke of God's wrath revealed from
heaven against all unrighteousness? We are delivered from the body, the
substance, the sting of this death, thanks be to God, through our Lord
Jesus Christ. "His blood cleanseth from all sin." Whoso believeth on
him "shall not come into condemnation, but is passed from death unto
life," for he is "not under law but under grace."

2. Let us consider briefly the extent of this deliverance. It is
perfect. It is co-extensive with sin and all its dismal fruits; if sin
abounds, grace doth much more abound. The destruction of sin, involves
the removal of all its direful effects, the whole ghastly retinue which
it brings with it. Christ the second Adam restores us to the primeval
perfection, glory and bliss, which we lost by the apostacy of the
first Adam. The parts of this restoration are successive and gradual,
so that it is not wholly consummated, till the body is raised and
glorified at the last day. But it is wholly and forever secured by the
first act of true faith. For we are "justified by faith." And whom God
justifies, them he also glorifies, and none shall be able to separate
them from his love or pluck them out of his hands. With respect to the
condemning or penal power of sin, deliverance is perfect at the moment
of our union to Christ by faith, and ever afterward: for there is "no
more condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus." Whatever sorrows,
sufferings or calamities visit the believer, they are not a part of the
curse and penalty of the law. They are chastisements sent in fatherly
love and faithfulness, and not in vengeance; not willingly, but for our
profit; for the very purpose of promoting our deliverance from sin. As
to sin itself, at the new birth, it receives a mortal blow, by being
subjected to a reigning principle of holiness, which is then born into
life, and is ever waxing stronger and stronger until death, when it
extirpates the last remnant of sin, and the spirits of the just are
made perfect in holiness. Although ever dying, sin is never perfectly
extinct in this life; it is the heaviest burthen under which the
believer groans in this tabernacle; its end is the sweetest part of the
deliverance which death brings with itself. With respect to the body,
it is not freed from the pains and infirmities in this life, which
belong to its frail and perishing nature. Nor does it escape death. It
is not renovated and glorified till the last day, when the archangel's
trump shall wake from the grave its slumbering tenantry, the dead shall
be raised incorruptible and we shall be changed; "our vile bodies
fashioned like unto Christ's glorious body, according to the working
whereby he is able to subdue all things unto himself." But at death it
sleeps in Jesus. Its pains are forever ended. The disembodied spirit
is already glorified with Christ in Paradise, awaiting its reunion to
the glorified body. Thus death has lost its whole sting: nay, it is the
birth-throe of an endless, glorious and blissful life. There the wicked
cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest, undisturbed by the
slightest annoying sensation. They shall hunger no more and thirst no
more, and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes. "Blessed are
the dead that die in the Lord from henceforth, yea, saith the Spirit,
that they may rest from their labors, their works do follow them."

3. And who receive this stupendous deliverance? To whom rightly belongs
this strangely rapturous outburst, which sheds a halo of glory even
over sepulchral darkness? I answer to those who die in the Lord; i.
e. to those who are joined to Christ by a living union. This union is
constituted by faith, which lays hold of and rests upon Christ as he is
offered to us in the gospel, and gives us an interest and participation
in all the benefits of his salvation. "He that believeth on the Son
hath everlasting life"--he shall not perish or come into condemnation.
The just are saved by faith through grace--they walk by faith--they
live by faith, and overcome and triumph by faith. Without this faith it
is impossible to please God. Unbelief is a rejection of Christ; he that
believeth not is condemned already.

But since there are divers sorts of faith on which men rely for an
interest in this inestimable boon, we must distinguish that which is
dead and spurious, from that which is living and genuine. Omitting much
that might be said on this topic, I will only observe that true and
saving faith shows itself in correspondent works, in a life of holy,
conscientious obedience to all the requirements of God. Without such
works, faith is declared by the Apostle to be dead. Ye are my friends,
says Christ, if ye do whatsoever I command you. And any other faith
than that which leads us to walk in all the commands and ordinances of
the Lord blameless, gives no warrant for the triumphant exclamation,
"O death, where is thy sting! O grave, where is thy victory!" But he
that truly believeth, though he were dead, yet shall he live, and in
his dying moments may with truth adopt the words of Simeon: "Lord, now
lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word, for
mine eyes have seen thy salvation."

The full and well-founded conviction that death has lost its sting
and the grave its victory, with respect to our deceased, beloved and
revered friend, whose breathless body now lies before us, chiefly
assuages the grief produced by this melancholy dispensation of divine
Providence. It has diffused a sensation of gloom, as wide-spread as
his honorable fame. But we sorrow not as those without hope. He ended
a consistent and exemplary Christian life, with a serene and peaceful
death. After a life in which his piety had been known by its fruits,
and when the signs of death were stealing upon him with an unexpected
and surprising rapidity, he assured me that in the prospect of a speedy
dissolution, he felt supported by the consolations of that gospel he
had long professed, and that he rested calmly on that Savior, who had
ever been, and now seemed peculiarly, his only hope. And when the
dying hour came, he seemed free not only from the mental sting, but
the physical agonies of death. There was not a pang, not a struggle,
not even a motion of a muscle, beyond the mere gasp of expiring
nature. So wholly had death lost its sting. It was good to be there
notwithstanding the gloom: to see the venerable servant of God calmly
and placidly falling asleep in Jesus, "quite on the verge of heaven."
"Mark the perfect man, behold the upright, for the end of that man is
peace."

It is due to the occasion, to present such a sketch of his life and
character as the time will permit.

The Hon. Roger Minott Sherman was born at Woburn, Mass., May 22, 1773,
and was the youngest of six children of Rev. Josiah Sherman, then the
Congregational minister of that place. His father was in the fourth
line of descent from Captain John Sherman, who emigrated from Dedham,
in England, to Watertown, Mass., about the year 1635. He was brother to
the Hon. Roger Sherman, who was one of the signers of the Declaration
of Independence, and raised himself from a humble condition to a
celebrity for statesmanship, that brightens with the lapse of time.
The mother of Judge Sherman was Martha, daughter of the Hon. James
Minott, of Concord, Mass., one of the distinguished men of his time,
and in the fourth line of descent from George Minott, who was born in
England, was one of the first settlers of Dorchester, Mass., and a
ruling elder in the church in that place thirty years. Owing to the
disturbances produced by the Revolution, Judge Sherman's father removed
in 1775 to Milford, in this state, and was for some time pastor of the
second church in that town. He thence removed to Goshen in this state,
and was pastor of the church in that place several years. He finally
removed to Woodbridge, near New Haven, where he preached the remainder
of his life, and now lies buried. Of his children, the four oldest were
daughters, the two youngest sons. They are all now dead, Judge Sherman
having been the last survivor.

In 1789, at the age of sixteen, Mr. Sherman entered the Sophomore
class in Yale College. Six weeks afterwards his father died, leaving
no property, since his income, like that of most ministers, had been
barely equal to his current expenses. He was thus deprived of the
means on which he had relied for defraying his college expenses. But
by the kindness of his uncle,[A] who received him into his family and
rendered him other important aid, together with his own exertions, he
was enabled to go through the academic course. He kept a school in New
Haven during a considerable portion of his two last college years, and
at the same time attended regularly all the exercises of his class, and
graduated with a high standing. He then took an academy in Windsor,
and commenced the study of law under the Hon. Oliver Ellsworth. He
afterwards took a common school in Litchfield, and continued the study
of law under the Hon. Tapping Reeve. In March, 1795, he was appointed
a tutor in Yale College, and instructed the class that graduated in
1797, at the same time pursuing his professional studies under the Hon.
Simeon Baldwin, who still outlives his pupil, and is here to attend his
burial. In his own class in college were several distinguished men.
The class which he instructed also numbers several eminent names. In
the office of tutor he was peculiarly successful. Instead of relying
on official authority or magisterial airs to gain an ascendency over
his pupils, he rather won their respect and esteem by the ability and
faithfulness of his instructions, the benignity of his manners, and the
justness of his discipline. His extraordinary power of disentangling
the intricate, mastering the profound, and making the obscure plain,
combined with a rare faculty of expression, must have rendered him a
most able and brilliant instructor.

After holding this office somewhat more than a year, he resigned it,
and in May, 1796, was admitted to the bar in New Haven. He then
established himself as a practicing lawyer at Norwalk. On Dec. 13, of
the same year, he was married to Miss Elizabeth Gould, daughter of
Dr. Wm. Gould, then of New Haven, previously of Branford, sister of
the late Judge Gould of Litchfield, who after a happy conjugal union
of forty eight years, near half a century, is still spared to mourn
his loss. They had but two children, twin sons of high promise; but
by an inscrutable Providence they were cut down, and as we trust, are
sleeping in Jesus. In 1807 he removed to this place, where he has since
resided for a term of near forty years; and has become so identified
with all our social and public interests, that there is no sphere in
which his loss will not be deeply and intensely felt.

Mr. Sherman had not long pursued the practice of law, before his
powerful intellect and untiring industry raised him to that high
eminence in his profession, of which he had already given promise. He
realized the most sanguine anticipations of his friends. As a jurist
he had few equals, and scarcely a superior in the country. While
he most excelled in handling abstruse, mazy questions of law, he
maintained the very first rank in whatever belongs to his profession.
His legal knowledge, his logical skill, his high persuasive powers, his
commanding eloquence, his unwearied industry, his faithfulness to his
clients, gave him the highest success and celebrity in every department
of legal practice, attracted to him an overflowing business in this and
other counties of the state, and often led to a demand for his services
in great cases in other states. Seldom does the bar suffer the loss of
so distinguished an ornament.

From 1814 to 1818 Mr. Sherman was a member of the upper branch of our
state legislature, in which he distinguished himself by his thorough
knowledge of the laws, policy and institutions of the state, his
mastery of all subjects under discussion, his high power in debate, his
assiduous attention to business, his patriotic devotion to the welfare
of the people. Though among the younger members, he rose rapidly to an
ascendant influence.

In 1814, he was chosen by the legislature of this state a delegate to
the convention of the New England states, assembled at Hartford, for
the purpose of devising measures suited to the exigency into which they
were brought by the war. This is not the time nor the place to discuss
the merits of that convention. This however is undeniable, that New
England sent to it her choicest, most gifted, trusted, and honored
statesmen; and that whatever impartial history may say of the wisdom of
the movement, it will pronounce their intentions pure and patriotic.
It is proof of the estimation in which Mr. Sherman was already held,
that he was selected to bear responsibilities which New England would
confide to none but her most tried and able men. In this galaxy of
eminent statesmen he shone as elsewhere with his own peculiar lustre.
Of the nature, objects, and doings of the convention, he has given a
detailed account as a witness in court, under the responsibilities of
an oath, which has been published to the world.

From 1818 to 1839 he was almost wholly devoted to his profession, and
held no public office, except that he was occasionally a representative
of his own town in the legislature. He was not however without interest
in, or influence upon, the legislation of the state. He originated and
drafted many important laws, which have become inwrought into her fixed
policy. Most of these have reference to the administration of justice;
tend to abridge the cost and delay involved in vindicating our rights
at law; and to abolish cumbrous formalities, which defeat or embarrass
the attainment of justice.

In 1839, he was chosen Judge of the Superior Court, and Associate
Judge of the Supreme Court for the revision of errors in this state.
This station he was preëminently fitted to adorn. He brought to it
rare legal learning, logical acumen, expertness in the practice of
law, unbending integrity, untiring industry, a commanding person,
a dignified and courteous address. I need not say that he filled
the office with honor to himself and advantage to the state. His
written opinions in the Court of Errors, published in the thirteenth
and fourteenth volumes of the Connecticut Reports, will speak for
themselves; and, alas! are the most important monuments of his great
intellect which he has left to posterity. In May, 1842, he resigned
this office, on account of ill health. Since that period, he has passed
his time chiefly in domestic retirement, as increasing infirmities have
increased his need of those genial supports and solaces which can only
be found in the bosom of home. While his body has been gradually giving
way, his intellect has wonderfully retained its pristine clearness,
vigor and elasticity. It has scarcely been affected by the decays of
age. To the last, so far as he had the power of articulation, his mind
appeared to seize all subjects that came before it, with its wonted
grasp. After a short illness, which reduced him more rapidly than the
worst fears of his friends, he died, Dec. 30, 1844, at the age of
seventy one years and seven months.

I will now attempt a brief delineation of his character.

His intellect, as has been already implied, was naturally of
extraordinary power, invigorated by thorough discipline, sharpened by
constant exercise, well stored by laborious research, and polished
to a classical finish by the study of the finest models. To these
high inward endowments, he added a noble person, a voice of uncommon
compass, clearness and melody, a free and graceful elocution. Hence
he was not only a powerful reasoner, but a powerful orator. His mind
was clear, capacious, discriminating, comprehensive. Nor was it
fitful in its vigor, now breaking forth in meteoric brilliancy, and
then sinking into dullness and indolence; but it had an iron patience
and perseverance, and was ever active, ever buoyant. This trait it
possessed in a most extraordinary degree. It never seemed to flag or
shrink from exertion, or lose its elastic vigor under any degree of
bodily exhaustion or pain. There was no web of sophistry, no covert
flaw or labyrinthine maze in an opponent's argument, which it would not
readily detect and expose. And in constructing a positive argument, his
method was logical and direct. Starting with some principle or fact
which none could dispute, he would evolve from it link after link,
till the conclusion which he sought to establish, before it was looked
for, seemed fastened as by an adamantine chain. Above all, his mind
loved clearness, and abhorred all obscurity and mist. He delighted to
make things plain himself, and was impatient of all transcendental and
dreamy speculations in others. He had great confidence in the power of
truth and argument, and that what he felt to be true himself, he could
make appear so to others. This gave an ardor and enthusiasm to his
pleas, which was one great cause of his success. Nor were his studies
and attainments exclusively professional. He was largely furnished with
liberal knowledge. He was well versed in theology and metaphysics, and
peculiarly fond of the exact and natural sciences. He was familiar with
the science of government and political economy, and whatever it most
concerns a statesman to know. Nor did he neglect elegant literature.
This various knowledge he made tributary to his profession, in cases
that could be illustrated by it, and sometimes astonished and delighted
his auditors, as he poured forth its treasures.

But our venerable friend and brother was not only a great, he was also
a good man: good, not merely according to the standard of worldly and
fashionable virtue, but according to the Christian and evangelical
code. His extraordinary gifts and endowments, the great fame and
influence which they won for him, were strictly subordinated to moral
and religious principle. "What things were gain to him, those he
counted loss for Christ: yea, doubtless, and he counted all things but
loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus our Lord."

He united with the church of Christ in Yale College at the age of
twenty two, when he was tutor, and for nearly half a century has
adorned the doctrine he then professed. As to his religious principles,
they were those of our Pilgrim Fathers, in which he had been educated.
He loved and revered the Puritan doctrine and the Puritan character.
Nor did he adopt his principles merely from traditional authority or
hereditary attachment. His great mind could receive nothing for truth,
without inquiry and evidence. So thorough had this investigation been
on his part, that there were few abler theologians than he, even among
the clergy. Hence he was intelligent, earnest and steadfast in his
religious opinions. Without bigotry, with the most catholic spirit,
with hearty love for all of every name who love the Lord Jesus Christ
in sincerity, he was himself a Congregationalist and a Calvinist of the
school of Edwards, Dwight and Scott. These views he adopted because he
believed them to be taught in the Scriptures, and to accord with his
own religious experience. He felt that by the grace of God he was what
he was. He was a man of prayer; and he prayed with all prayer, in the
closet, the family, and the Christian assembly. He had great confidence
in its efficacy, and believed the promises made to it.

He was clothed with humility, that most fundamental of Christian
virtues. Indeed his modest, unassuming, unobtrusive spirit and manner,
impressed all who became acquainted with him; it made his greatness
still greater, and lent to it its peculiar charm, its crowning glory.

He maintained the strictest integrity and uprightness in all his
public, private and professional transactions. He scrupulously adhered
to truth, fulfilled his promises, abstained from any which he could not
fulfill, would not sell his conscience for office or emolument, and
discouraged what seemed to him to be groundless litigation.

He was remarkably kind and benevolent in his disposition, and free
from the malevolent passions. He was mild, courteous, and benignant
in his deportment, compassionate and tender towards the unfortunate
and distressed, condescending and affable to all--not appalling even
the humblest. He lent a charm and a dignity to the society in which he
moved--of which he was always fond--which he illuminated and enlivened
by his capacious mind and his high conversational powers. Nor will it
be deemed an improper invasion of the sacredness of domestic grief, if
I say, that he was a model of parental and conjugal love, tenderness
and fidelity.

Mr. Sherman always cherished the strongest interest in promoting the
cause of pure religion and sound morals. He gave to it the benefit
of his extended influence, his persuasive powers, his liberal
contributions. The cause of evangelical missions received his ardent
and constant support. He plead with great frequency and eloquence
in behalf of home missions, being persuaded that the welfare of
our country and the permanency of its government, depend more on
Christianizing the people than on the devices of statesmen. He was
among the earliest and most powerful advocates of the temperance cause.
He was deeply interested in the welfare of the colored people of this
land, and their relations to the well-being of this country and of
Africa. He believed the Colonization Society to be the best medium of
blessing the African race in this country and their own. He was grieved
that it received so feeble a support from the Christian community. He
had of late deeply interested himself in the cause. He had called the
attention of clergymen to it, as he had opportunity. He was exceedingly
anxious to attend the recent meeting of Consociation in Southport, for
the purpose of laying the subject before the ministers and delegates.
He had prepared himself to start; but found himself so ill that he
was obliged to desist. From that time he sunk rapidly, and before the
lapse of a fortnight, was released from all further earthly toils and
responsibilities.

As an upholder of good public objects, a counsellor and adviser in
private and public affairs, Mr. Sherman was much resorted to from this
parish, town and vicinity, and indeed from a still greater distance,
and from wider spheres. In this respect his loss will be, to human
view, irreparable. But in his own church and society, it will be most
directly and intensely felt. They were dear to him as the apple of his
eye, for he preferred Jerusalem above his chief joy. He was ardently
devoted to its peace, welfare, and enlargement. While he gave it a
large pecuniary support; yet this was not the most important of the
services he rendered to it. He was an invaluable counsellor. By the
amenity of his temper, the suavity of his manners, and his persuasive
eloquence, he gave a strong support to all important measures, and did
much to preserve peace and unity. He delighted to attend and sustain
all our social meetings. And when the aid of the brethren was needed,
he was a powerful helper. In expounding the Scriptures and giving the
word of exhortation, he was mighty. And how shall the void be filled?
Of late he often expressed his grief to me, that his feebleness
disabled him from attending our evening meetings. May his mantle fall
upon his surviving brethren! If beyond the sanctuary of domestic grief,
one place more than another feels an aching void, it is the sanctuary
of God! If any beyond his own desolated fireside have cause of weeping
and lamentation, I more! He was peculiarly fond of the society of
ministers, and far and wide enjoyed their confidence and esteem. His
influence and opinions were highly valued by them. To his own pastors
he was ever a stay and helper, doing his utmost to promote their
usefulness and salutary influence, as my brethren who have preceded
me will bear me witness. And in these things, with which a stranger
intermeddleth not, they alone can fully appreciate my meaning.

For the bereaved and estimable lady, who is now suddenly left solitary
after having been so long cheered by his presence, and the helper of
his joy, this occasion has the deepest, tenderest interest. It is our
hope and prayer, that in this sorrowful crisis she will be supported
by that gospel which she has so long received, and which was the
sufficient stay of her departed husband in the still more trying hour
of death; and that she will be enabled so to improve this melancholy
dispensation, that it shall work out for her a far more exceeding and
eternal weight of glory; and that when her summons also shall come,
she may go to her rest as a shock of corn ready in its season. Great,
peculiar mercies are mixed in this cup of affliction. Indeed, all
that in the character of her bereaved husband which renders his loss
peculiarly great, is of God's peculiar mercy.

Let me exhort this church and society, together with his public
associates, professional brethren, and personal friends, particularly,
and all this great assembly generally, to lay this dispensation to
heart. It is a great, a solemn, a mournful event. How are the mighty
fallen! The fathers, where are they? One of our strong pillars is
shattered and torn from underneath the temple. He must be scarcely a
man who is not softened and humbled by it. As human helps fail, let
us go to the Lord Jehovah, in whom is everlasting strength. Although
men die, he ever liveth; and because he lives, his church shall live
also, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. Let us then
be moved to especial and extraordinary prayer, that God would supply
what he has taken from us. "Help, Lord, for the godly man ceaseth, for
the faithful fail from among the children of men." It is exhibited as a
sign of a degenerate and sinking race, to be unaffected by the deaths
of God's servants. The prophet sounds the alarm, because the righteous
perisheth and no man layeth it to heart. Let then those that survive,
ponder these things, and be subdued and chastened. Let them consider,
that to them are now passed the burdens and responsibilities hitherto
borne by God's servants, whom he has taken to their eternal rest.
Let them manfully, and in dependence upon God, meet the crisis, and
discharge the high trust he has confided to them. Let them put their
two talents to use, and he shall give them other two. Let them come
up to the help of the Lord, the help of the Lord against the mighty.
And the set time to favor Zion will come, because his servants take
pleasure in the stones and favor the dust thereof.

Let me speak a word to those who are without that faith, and rejecters
of that Savior, which were the support and solace of our venerated and
deceased brother, in his dying hour. With all his vast endowments and
resources, his possession of all worldly good to which human ambition
aspires, he counted all but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of
Jesus Christ. He deemed man in his best estate to be altogether vanity.
If he then dared trust no other foundation but Christ crucified,
received by faith, and honored by a holy life, HOW SHALL YE ESCAPE, IF
YE NEGLECT SO GREAT A SALVATION!

FOOTNOTE:

[A] Hon. Roger Sherman.





End of Project Gutenberg's Death disarmed of its sting, by Lyman H. Atwater