ONCE more, my beloved and mourning friends of this Christian Society, once more ^* are you called to visit the house of prayer. When last you trod its courts, your de­votions were led and your minds elevated and in­structed by the amiable and excellent man whose remains now lie before us. Then too you wit­nessed the arrest of the king of terrors upon him; and while the pulpit was his dying bed, you sur­rounded it and wept bitterly over him!

Now—another melancholy duty is to be per­formed. We are to commit the sacred remains to the silent grave, and leave them there, not again to return "till the heavens be no more." We have visited the house of prayer in our way to the house of death, not merely to shew our respect to him, but recal to our minds those considerations of [Page 6] reason and religion which are alone competent to support them under such trying scenes. Now, then, recollect how often you have heard him from this sacred desk, expatiate with ardor on the per­fect wisdom and unbounded goodness of the Deity, and shew the fitness and propriety of an absolute submission to the divine will, a full confidence in the divine mercy. Recollect these things, my brethren, and you will hear him comforting you as it were for his own loss, charging you not to of­fend God by complaining of his ways, or indulging to excessive grief.

You surely can adopt the language of David in the text, where he laments the death of Jonathan, the friend and brother of his soul. Their friend­ship commenced in early life, and was cemented by numerous instances of kind and faithful attention. The cruelty and injustice of Saul could not dissolve it, nor induce Jonathan to forsake the man whom he esteemed with reason and loved with warmth. When therefore he suddenly fell by the hands of his enemies, the sweet Psalmist embalms his mem­ory with tears, and over his untimely grave recites the melancholy but pleasing ode from which the text is taken. Let us consider its meaning and de­sign, and endeavor to find the consolation which our present circumstances demand, and religion, the religion of Christ alone, can furnish.

DEEPLY are we distressed when it pleases God to take from us those whom we highly love and esteem. Death is at all times awful. God has been pleased for wise purposes, to implant a dread of it in human nature. When we witness its [Page 7] ravages upon strangers, upon those with whom we have no immediate connexion, we feet a shud­dering horror. But how much more deeply are we affected when it comes near to us, when it dis­solves the tenderest connexions, when it takes away those who were our guides, our friends, our stay and staff; when it cuts down the useful, the learned, the wise and the good, to whom we were tenderly attached, and from whom we expected that we and our children should derive much ben­efit. This is indeed the most distressing ingredient in the bitter cup.

SUCH was the virtuous and good character of Jonathan as that David was not distressed with any anxiety or apprehension as to his happiness in a future state. Of this he could have no doubt. His tears were a tribute to the holy, ardent friendship which he bore to this excellent young man. They flowed because his friend fell in battle before his enemies; because "the beauty of Israel was slain upon the high places;" because he could not visit and support and minister to him in his last mo­ments, and because death had put a period to their friendship in this world forever.

Now, we are distressed for the loss of our pious friends, not because we have any doubts of their felicity; not because we hesitate in believing that they are far happier than this world can make them, nor because we scruple the right which God has to take them away, or his wisdom and good­ness in doing so: But, we mourn because we loved them while they lived, and they are gone away forever; because we have lost the benefit of their [Page 8] prayers, their counsels, their sweet and amiable con­versation; and because a connexion which formed the solace of our lives is dissolved. We do not "weep for them:" We "weep for ourselves and our children." Their deaths occasion a loss to us, but to them they afford unspeakable gain. They are placed safely beyond the reach of all the trials, the temptations and sorrows of life; while we still navigate its stormy sea and encounter all its dan­gers. Their characters are fixed and determined. There is no danger of their forfeiting them; while we are taught to "fear always," and distrust our own resolutions. Their work is ended. Their warfare is accomplished. Their race is run. But we are still toiling in the conflict, and may fall by the hands of our enemies. Surely then, "the day of death is better than the day of one's birth."

WHEN we are distressed with the loss of our dear and respected friends, let us "comfort one another with these words." Let us remember that they are gone to a glory beyond our conception; that they have ascended to "their Father and our Father, to their God and our God;" that their triumph is begun, and shall endure forever. Let us remem­ber that they have lived so long as God saw to be best for them and for us; that he who cannot err has ordered every event concerning them; and that "though they cannot come to us, yet that we shall go to them."

IN proportion as our friends were pleasant and agreeable to us in their lives, are we affected and distressed by their deaths. We can see the weak, the wicked and the worthless leave the world, and [Page 9] feel something more than resignation: But when we see virtuous and good men, who were tenderly beloved and eminently useful, taken away in the midst of their days, then are "the ways of Heaven dark and intricate," and then are our faith and patience tried.

THERE are many circumstances which render men pleasant to us, or amiable in our view. We may know that every thing excellent in them "comes down from the Father of Lights:" But still we cannot avoid esteeming and loving them, because what God has given them becomes a part of themselves, and because they improve well the advantages with which they are favored.

How natural is it for us to honor and love those who possess a mild, affectionate and benevo­lent natural temper; who seem to have no gall in their constitution; who, without suppleness or cringing servility, prove by their deportment that they feel malevolence to none, but wish to make all about them happy. When such a temper is joined with strong and vigorous faculties of mind, faculties which render the possessor superior to the greater part of mankind, and qualify him for emi­nent usefulness, then we adore the goodness of God towards him, and then we take delight in his ac­quaintance.

IN domestic life, where our character appear most truly and without disguise, who does not love the dutiful son, the tender husband, the wise and affectionate parent, and the kind master? When we see a man walking through this sequestered path of life, with true goodness in his heart, and [Page 10] "the law of kindness on his lips," we "rise up and call him blessed." When he is taken away, the unfeigned grief of those who survive him is a richer testimony to his virtues and a greater men­ument of his worth than marble or brass can erect for him.

THE friendship of David and Jonathan did not arise from natural relation. It was founded on esteem and affection, and established by that mu­tual intercourse of virtuous and affectionate offices which can alone support friendship. How strong are the bands of such an attachment! How awful the shock when death crushes and dissolves it! Such friends, who were "lovely and pleasant in their lives," do hardly wish "in their deaths to be divided."

IT is pleasant to see a man discharging, with care, fidelity, and diligence, the various duties which he owes to society; increasing the stock of human knowledge and happiness; mitigating the calamities and relieving the wants of the sick, the poor, and the needy; contributing his utmost aid in furthering every humane institution, and accel­erating every scientific pursuit; active in the ser­vice of mankind, and yet "guiding his affairs with discretion." When such a man is taken away, we may say, with more propriety than it can be said of any of the heroes and conquerors whom past history or the present time make known to us, "A prince and a great man is fallen this day."

BUT there is nothing which so conciliates the affections of good men as goodness. The image [Page 11] of Christ is dear to his disciples, let it be instamped on whom it may. How delightful is it to see the marks of true piety, of christian integrity, of the mild spirit and temper of Jesus Christ! When we observe a man daily walking with God in the per­formance, the cheerful performance of the duties which he owes to his Maker, his fellow-men and his own soul: When we see him afraid of doing the least thing which may offend God, and desir­ous of discovering what is right, in order that he may punctually do it: When we see him produc­ing rich clusters of the fruits of righteousness; what christian can refrain from loving him?—Although he may differ from us in some sentiments, and may not entertain precisely the same ideas of the doctrines of the gospel as we do, yet dare we with­hold from him not only our charity but our es­teem and affection? If we can—we want the spi­rit of Christ ourselves, and prove that our loudest religious professions are a "founding brass and a tinkling cymbal."

God is pleased to give to different men different opportunities of improving the faculties with which he endues them. But he is peculiarly kind to any one, whom by his grace he furnishes with a pious heart and discerning head, a learned edu­cation, and a facility in communicating his ideas; and then places him in the work of the ministry. This is an employment most grateful to a man of piety and learning; and it is excellently calculated to make a good heart better. This employment also endears him, who faithfully discharges it, to all the wise and the good. The minister who [Page 12] takes pains to find out "the truth as it is in Jesus," and then clearly delivers what he believes to be so, although it may expose him to censure and inconvenience, proves his integrity and "de­serves double honor." If he is diligent in his studies; if he is constant in his attention to all the private and public duties of his profession; if his compositions discover a fund of knowledge, and he is master of a chaste, classical and elegant style; if his public performances are grateful to his people; if in "all their afflictions he is afflict­ed," and under them, like the angel of peace, he pours balm into their wounded spirits; then will he be dear and pleasant, beyond description, to them; and like the Galatians of old, "they will be ready to pluck out their own eyes and give them unto him."

A MINISTER of this character not only conciliates the esteem and love of the people with whom he is immediately connected but of all those who know his worth, in the place where he lives, or in more distant countries. His brethren, particu­larly, will feel themselves drawn to him with the strongest cords of affection, and will rejoice in his gifts, his graces, his usefulness, and his acceptance. Are there any literary honors or distinctions to be given? He will receive them, and will have the satisfaction of hearing every one agree that they are worthily bestowed. He will live beloved, and will die universally lamented.

You, my brethren of this society, know that the description, which has now been given of the man and the minister who is pleasant, useful and accept­able, [Page 13] applies exactly to your late excellent Pastor. The picture was drawn from the life, and it must be a likeness. I am sure you will not charge me with flattering his memory when I make this as­sertion. We are not surprised at your grief on this heavy loss. You who knew his private and public worth, and who sat constantly under his ministrations; you in whose welfare, spiritual and temporal, he was so deeply interested, could not but highly prize this precious gift of our ascended Saviour, and you cannot but weep now he is no more.

THE manner in which death arrested him, engag­ed in your service and in your presence, must have deeply wounded your feelings. Yet you should console yourselves with the thought, that this is the best mode of dying for one who lives habitu­ally prepared for the coming of his Master. He escaped the severe pangs of dissolution, and the agony of parting with his friends. From the im­mediate service of his Master upon earth, he was translated, we trust and believe, to the sublimer services of Heaven.

IT will be your solicitude to make a profitable improvement of this affecting event. You re­member the wise counsels, the faithful reproofs, the excellent instructions, which your minister gave you from time to time. You remember in what a striking light he set before you the evidences of our holy religion, the excellency of our divine Re­deemer, and the necessity of virtue, piety, and be­nevolence to our happiness here and hereafter. You cannot forget how he pressed upon you the [Page 14] observation of the Sabbath, an attendance upon public worship, and especially an obedience to the dying command of Christ. "By these things, al­though he is dead before you, he yet speaketh." Let me conjure you, by your regard to him as well as to your own souls, to "think on and practise these things." "Remember how you have re­ceived and heard," and God grant that "your [...] may appear unto all men"!

[...] was Dr. CLARKE interested in the prosperity of this society, as that nothing could give him more pleasure than to observe its growth and unanimity. Let this be a motive with you to avoid all division to cultivate a spirit of kind­ness and condescension towards each other. You will not "forsake the assembling of yourselves to­gether." You will "continue in breaking of bread and in prayer." You will "study the things which make for peace, and whereby one may edify another," and in due time we trust that "God will give you another pastor after his own heart." Let not your feelings be wounded by this suggestion. You and I are following our dear brother fast into the world of spirits, and it is our duty to provide religious instruction as well as other good things for our children. What we can do for them, and for the church of God, we ought to do at once, because "the night cometh, when no man can work." Besides, [...] genera­tion passeth away and another cometh." The or­der of succession must not be violated. Could our lamented friend now address you, I doubt not he would urge you to peace and union, and advise [Page 15] you not to remain "as sheep without a shepherd." We commend you to God and the word of his grace, which is able to build you up, and give you an inheritance among all them that are sancti­fied"!

THE grief, the exquisite grief of the immediate connexions of Dr. CLARKE, renders it improper for me publicly to address them. "God hath taken away the desire of their eyes with a stroke." But, let them bow submissively to the divine will, and place their trust in him who "liveth and abid­eth for ever," and who will never leave nor for­sake them.

THE church which has for many years been closely connected ^* with this, feels sensibly an event so distressing. They experienced his kindness and attention when they were themselves vacant, and they "esteemed him highly in love for his work's sake." Were it proper to introduce any thing personal on this occasion, I should say, that God hath taken away one of the dearest of my friends, and one of the highest enjoyments of my life. But the will of God is done. He is "holy in all his ways, and righteous in all his works."

WE, my brethren in the ministry, have many good lessons to learn from this solemn event. We see that neither great talents, real piety, nor the warmest affection of those whom we serve, can se­cure us from the lot of all men. We see how soon [Page 16] and how suddenly we may be called to our ac­count; and we are taught so to perform the sol­emn offices of religion as that we may not be afraid to be summoned from them to the bar of our Judge. Such an idea must raise us above "the fear of man, which bringeth a snare." It must render us careful to "deliver the whole counsel of God"; and so to "keep our hearts" when we serve him in his house, as that we may have the blessedness of the man whom "the Lord, when he cometh, shall find so doing."

THE members of the literary and benevolent as­sociations, with which Dr. CLARKE was connect­ed, will feel themselves deeply affected by his loss. His exertions to promote the important views of their institution were never wanting. While he shared the honors of office. ^* in some of them, he was careful to perform the duties which were an­nexed to it. It becomes those of us who survive to imitate his industry and exertion, so that when we shall follow our departed brother and associ­ate to the world of spirits, those who survive may "rise up and call us blessed."

LEARN, my brethren of this great assembly, learn all of you, the vanity and uncertainty of life. Here you see the end of all flesh. At this goal, every man, who runs the race of life, must, sooner or later, arrive. Learn, that "in the midst of life you are in death," and that you "know neither the day nor the hour when the Son of Man shall [Page 17] come." Listen to the voice which addresses you from the sable urn of this minister of God, and speaks loudly, "Be ye also ready." While life and health and reason are granted you, improve them to secure an interest in "the better part which can never be taken from you." We are fol­lowing each other rapidly into the world of spirits. We shall soon pass through the valley of the shad­ow of death. "The eye of him that hath seen us, shall see us no more. We shall return no more to our houses, neither shall our places know us any more." Let us now then "give diligence to make our calling and election sure." The blessings of the gospel are offered to us, and urged on our ac­ceptance. Let us not delay our attention to them, but "seek the Lord while he may be found, and call upon him now he is near."

And now—Farewell! Farewell forever! SWEET SHADE OF OUR DEPARTED FRIEND!—Thy pre­cious dust we will reverendly commit to the "house appointed for all living"!—Thy memory we will cultivate with warm and tender affection!—Thy desolate family, thy widowed wife, and thy fath­erless children, we will counsel, assist, and protect!—Soon shall we follow thee where "the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest." There will we sleep in peace till "the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised." Then will we spring together to a new and eternal life!—"Then this mortal shall put on immortality, and this corruptible shall put on incorruption, and death shall be swallowed up of victory!"

AMEN.