more time at a place than is strictly necessary.' I fear there is altogether a fault in this matter, and that few of us are clear. Which of you spends as many hours a day in God's work as you did formerly in man's work?” We must, absolutely must, cure this evil, or betray the cause of God!"* Williams was a man very much after the heart of Wesley; in many points he was another Alexander Mather, a man whose virtues and zeal strongly commended him to the confidence and love of the great reformer. John Williams was a beautiful model to the youthful missionary in every clime, but especially in the South Seas. It may be truly said, that whatsoever his hand found to do, he did it with all his might. His " Enterprises" form a lovely commentary upon his career. Even the Commentaries of Cæsar, which in all ages have been the admiration of scholars, do not give a more vivid picture of sleepless vigilance, indomitable courage, and unconquerable perseverance, than the work of Williams. The physical power of both was of signal service in enabling them to bear up under their amazing toils. A bodily vigour less robust than Williams possessed, had not sufficed for his house-building and ship-building operations, and for the varied toils and hardships of his arduous vocation. But in this and every thing else he was admirably fitted for the work assigned him. Yes, Sir; and if, in many things, we cannot imitate, we can at least admire him, and say, with Propertius,

"Quod si deficiant vires, audacia certè

Laus erit; in magnis et voluisse sat est."

Such, Sir, is a faint outline of the character of your much loved son and my much lamented friend. The

* Large Minutes, Q. 31, 32.

churches of Christ congratulate you on the signal, the inexpressible honour of having been the instrument chosen by God to bring this great man to the knowledge of the truth. What are all honours, civil, military, or academic, when compared with this honour? Had the discourse to which he owed his conversion been your first, and had you dropped into eternity and returned to God, after leaving the pulpit, on that memorable night, your life would still have been an event of unutterable importance-an event for which angels, could such a passion enter their hearts, might be tempted to envy you! Every other circumstance in your history apart, you will receive an immortality on earth from your now glorified son. Your names will go down together to the remotest posterity. You will meet in the world of spirits and of bliss. Before the throne of joy, when all secrets shall be disclosed, he will claim you as his father, and you will embrace him as your son! He will not be your only child. I know others who will, on that occasion, stand by his side, and proclaim themselves equally indebted to your instrumentality; but he will be your chief joy, and the choicest gem in your crown of rejoicing. The day of judgment alone will reveal the full measure of the effects which will have flowed from causes that he put into operation for the conversion of our world. Is "he that winneth souls wise?" Will

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they who turn many to righteousness shine as stars for ever and ever?" What, then, must be the glory of John Williams! As his father in Christ, what prospects are yours! In his honour you are deeply interested, for you will share it. Through you came the light of life to his soul, which he, in turn, will there be found to have imparted unto millions! Such facts, and such

thoughts, amid all the trials and disappointments of the pastoral life, are full of encouragement and comfort. May you, my dear Sir, always continue to enjoy such rich and satisfying consolations!

Now comes the end. After all, the recollection forces itself upon my soul that I am speaking of a murdered man! He was, I believe, somewhat my junior, and yet his course is finished; his work is done, and he is now reaping his reward. He is mingling with prophets, apostles, and missionaries, of all ages and countries. Oh! could he again descend among us for a brief space, and have the privilege of once more addressing us on the claims of Christ, the cruelties and horrors of idolatry, the miseries and wants of the heathen, the duty and privilege of the churches, what a movement would he excite in our land! How en

larged, now, are his views of the gospel salvation! How improved his perceptions of the evil of sin! With what depth would he teach! With what tenderness exhort! With what love entreat! With what solemnity warn! With what force and feeling urge the saints to the diffusion of the truth! But it cannot be! His commission is closed! He will not be heard pn earth again till the heavens be no more!

In addition to that which is common to me with all Christians, I feel a peculiar interest in Mr. Williams' death, in consequence of the connexion which obtained between him and my flock, of which he and his dear partner were both members. I had conceived an intense affection for him. On the night when his farewell services were held in the Tabernacle, and when, in the name of my flock, I addressed him, I little thought that I should so soon see you, in the same pulpit which

was that night occupied by him, preaching his funeral sermon! So unwelcome, indeed, was the intelligence of his death, that I rejected the evidence, and withheld credence as long as possible. But unbelief was compelled to give way to a sorrowful conviction of the sad reality, and I was at length reduced to the necessity of proclaiming to my charge, that he was indeed no more! To me, I can truly say, the occasion was one of I felt as a man who had lost an elder, and an only, brother. Even now, I cannot recur to the tragical subject without emotion; neither, I am sure, can you.

"Multis ille bonis flebilis occidit:

Nulli flebilior quam tibi."

agony;

In your Funeral Sermon, you urged the duty of cherishing a spirit of forgiveness; you expatiated on the attributes of the great missionary, and on the extent of our loss, urging us to follow it up by redoubled prayer and activity, exhibiting Christ and his apostles as patterns of the conduct which you recommended. Such were the main points of the first part of your discourse: you next descanted on the probable effects which this melancholy occasion for the exercise of a spirit of forgiveness, might produce in furtherance of the gospel. These effects you thus exhibited: it might tend to correct errors, and to improve the spirit of surviving advocates; -it might ultimately be attended with the happiest results upon the hearts of the inhabitants of Erromanga;-it might be productive of highly beneficial effects on the surrounding islanders;-it might induce men to come forward in larger numbers to promote the glorious enterprise of missions; and it might contribute to make the subject itself more seriously pondered by a

thoughtless world. There is reason to believe, that, to a considerable extent, all these anticipations will be realized. The shock has passed away, but the substantial lessons thus taught are not forgotten. Williams "being dead yet speaketh," and his voice will be heard throughout these realms for ages yet to come. I look upon his death as an event of great importance to the cause of missions; and, in conclusion, I beg to lay before you some of the views which have occurred to me in revolving the sorrowful dispensation.

It is enough to say, at the very outset, The Lord hath done it! The violent death of Williams was part of the system of Divine arrangements adopted by the All-wise God, respecting Polynesia. There has been disappointment here, but none in heaven. Had it been left to you and me to order the rest of his lot on earth, we should have brought matters to a very different conclusion. We should have doomed him to at least some thirty more years of exile from his Father's house and his elder brothers' society; and, to complete our erring kindness, we should have supplied him with a bed of down to die upon, a parting look of his family and friends, a splendid funeral, and a copious epitaph. How different from all this was the plan of his Master! We can be at no loss to divine which of the two is the better way, in the estimation of our friend, now in glory.

The laws of harmony require the end to be in accordance with the way. The history of true greatness ought, therefore, like itself, to form a climax. Thus hath it been with the bulk of this world's illustrious