THE SACRED SYMPATHY OF SORROW.

THE

DISCOURSE COMMEMORATIVE

OF

THE REV. WILLIAM CROSWELL, D.D.

PREACHED IN THE

CHURCH OF THE ADVENT, BOSTON,

(OF WHICH HE WAS RECTOR,)

ON SUNDAY, DECEMBER 7, 1851,

AT THE REQUEST OF THE WARDENS AND VESTRY.

BY THE

RIGHT REV. GEORGE WASHINGTON DOANE, D.D. LL.D.

BISHOP OF NEW JERSEY.

Printed by Request.

BOSTON:

CHARLES STIMPSON,

106, WASHINGTON STREET,

1852.

DE GULIELMO MEO, MORTUO, SUSPIRIUM.

"Ah, my brother !"

ALAS! HOW LIFE DIVIDES ITSELF,

THE LEFT AND THE DEPARTED;

LIKE FUNERAL FILES, IN DOUBLE ROW,

THE DEAD, THE BROKEN-HEARTED!

BOSTON:

WILLIAM CHADWICK, PRINTER,

EXCHANGE STREET.

WILLIAM CROSWELL:

POET, PASTOR, PRIEST;

ENTERED INTO LIFE, SUNDAY, 9 NOVEMBER, (TWENTY-FIRST AFTER TRINITY,) MDCCCLI.

I DID not think to number thee, my Croswell, with the dead,*

But counted on thy loving lips to soothe my dying bed,
To watch the fluttering flood of life ebb languidly away,
And point my spirit to the gate that opens into day.

My

more than brother" thou hast been for five and twenty years, In storm and shine, in grief and joy, alike in smiles and tears ; Our twin-born hearts so perfectly incorporate in one,

That not the shadow of a thought e'er marred their unison.

Beside me, in life's highest noon, to hear the bridegroom's voice
Thy loving nature fondly stood, contented to rejoice;
Nor boon, that ever bounteous heaven bestowed on me or mine,
But bore, for thee, a keener joy than if it had been thine.

Thy fingers, at the sacred font, when God my hearth had blessed,
Upon my first-born's brow the dear baptismal rite impressed;
My second-born, thine own in Christ, our loving names to blend,
And knit for life his father's son in with his father's friend.

And when our patriarchal WHITE, with Apostolic hands,
Committed to my trembling trust the Saviour's dread commands,
Thy manly form† and saintly face were at my side again,
Thy voice, a trumpet to my heart, in its sincere AMEN.

The Friday before was his forty-seventh birthday.

“In person, Dr. Croswell was a very pattern of manly beauty."-Boston Ev. Traveller.

Beside thee once again be mine, accepted Priest, to stand

And take with thee the pastoral palm from that dear Shepherd's hand.

As thou hast followed Him, be mine in love to follow thee,

Nor care how soon my course be run, so thine my rest may be.

Oh! beautiful and glorious death, with all thy armor on ;‡
While, Stephen-like, thy placid face out, like an angel's, shone.§
The words of blessing|| on thy lips had scarcely ceased to sound,
Before thy gentle soul with them its resting-place had found.

Oh! pastoral and priestly death, poetic as thy life,

A little child to shelter in Christ's fold from sin and strife,¶
Then, by the gate that opens through the Cross for such as she,**
To enter in thyself, with Christ forevermore to be !

RIVERSIDE, 10TH NOVEMBER, 1851.

G. W. D.

The Epistle for the Day contained St. Paul's graphic description of "the whole armor of God." His last words, in giving out the hymn, were :

"Soldiers of Christ, arise

And put your armor on.”

"He never looked so heavenly. His smile upon the infant was ineffable in sweetness." -MS Letter,

|| Unable to rise, after the closing Collect, he said the Benediction on his knees. He died in two hours. A blood-vessel was ruptured in his brain.

THe had just baptized an infant; and his sermon was addressed to children.

**"Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of Heaven."