by the glow of Christian hospitality; and never was a happier circle gathered than met there, almost nightly, for years. Our intercourse was intimate at once, and we never had a feeling or a thought to part us. His contributions to the Watchman were chiefly poetical. The following sonnet was the first.

“Oh, THOU, whom slumber reacheth not nor sleep,
The Guardian God of Zion, in whose sight
A thousand years pass like a watch at night,
Her battlements and high munitions keep,

Or else the WATCHMAN waketh but in vain !
Him, in his station newly set, make strong,
And, in his vigils, vigilant; sustain

His overwearied spirit in its long

And lonely round, from eve till matin song;

And of Thy charge remind him,—'WATCH AND PRAY!'
So, whether coming at the midnight bell,

Or at cockcrowing, or at break of day,

Thou find him faithful, and say—' All is well!
"How rich is the reward of that true Sentinel!"

Could it have been any better, or any different, if he had been premonished of his course through life, or if he had written it on the day on which his life was closed? His poetical contributions to the Episcopal Watchman were numerous, in addition to his invaluable services as editor; and they won for him a high and honorable place among the very few to whom the name of Poet can be given. Everything that he ever wrote in verse was strictly occasional. It was so much of his heart-life set to music. He lived it, every line. And it was all inspired at the hearth-side, or at the altar-foot. It was domestic often, always sacred.

He fulfilled, in every verse, that beautiful suggestion of the sky-lark to the mind of Wordsworth,

"Type of the wise, who soar but never roam,
True to the kindred points of heaven and home."

In that incomparable modesty, which set off, in its mild opal light, his virtues and his graces, he thought very poorly of these admirable productions, and has half suggested the desire that they remain still fugitive. But this must not be suffered. They are part and parcel of his nature, and of his office. As he lived them, so he preaches in them, and will while the Gospel shall be preached. What could more clearly vindicate for him the name of Christian Poet, than his lines, entitled "The Ordinal," written on the day of his ordination by Bishop Brownell, in his father's church, at New Haven, Saint Paul's day, 1829.

"Alas for me if I forget

The memory of that day

Which fills my waking thoughts, nor yet

E'en sleep can take away!

In dreams I still renew the rites,

Whose strong but mystic chain

The spirit to its God unites,
And none can part again.

How oft the Bishop's form I see,
And hear that thrilling tone

Demanding with authority

The heart for God alone.
Again I kneel as then I knelt,

While he above me stands,
And seem to feel as then I felt

The pressure of his hands.

Again the priests in meet array,
As my weak spirit fails,
Beside me bend them down to pray
Before the chancel rails;
As then, the Sacramental host
Of God's elect are by,

When many a voice its utterance lost,
And tears dimmed many an eye.

As then they on my vision rose,
The vaulted aisles I see,

And desk and cushioned book repose

In solemn sanctity,—

The mitre o'er the marble niche,

The broken crook and key

That, from a Bishop's tomb, shone rich With polished tracery.

The hangings, the baptismal font,

All, all, save me, unchanged,

The holy table, as was wont,
With decency arranged;
The linen cloth, the plate, the cup,
Beneath their covering shine,

Ere priestly hands are lifted up
To bless the bread and wine.

The solemn ceremonial past,

And I am set apart

To serve the Lord, from first to last,

With undivided heart;

And I have sworn, with pledges dire

Which God and man have heard,

To speak the holy truth entire

In action and in word.

Oh THOU ! who, in Thy holy place,
Hast set Thine orders three,

Grant me, Thy meanest servant, grace
To win a good degree :

That so replenished from above,

And in my office tried,

Thou mayst be honoured, and in love

Thy Church be edified!"

I had come to Boston in 1828, and in 1829 he came here, to Christ Church, as successor to the Rev. Dr. Eaton; who, spared in providential love to wend his patriarchal way among the children's children of his first parishioners, was strangely called to commend the parting spirit of his son and brother in the faith and ministry of Christ, into the hands of Him who gave it. He was ordained a Priest, and instituted Rector of Christ Church, on Saint John Baptist's Day, 1829, by the venerable Bishop Griswold. How he loved the very dust that generations had gathered upon that ancient edifice; how faithfully he did his Master's work there, for eleven years; how much he attached to him the affectionate confidence of his parishioners; how many feet he gathered within the fold; how many souls he knit into the faith of Jesus Christ, there are those here, who know and can bear witness. How deeply his heart yearned to leave its time honored walls, when called to another scene of pastoral labor, his

* A mutual friend, who knew him thoroughly and loved him even more, reminds me that my first remark after being established here, was, "Now, we must have Croswell!" On his first appearance in Christ Church, another of the three who were to me as Noah, Daniel, and Job, said to him, "How do you like Mr. Doane's friend? "Oh," was his prompt reply," he looks as amiable as Dr. Watts!"

† He took with him, to the Diocese of Western New York, the following dismissory letter:

DEAR SIR: The object of this, is to transfer from the State of Massachusetts to your Diocese, the Rev. William Croswell. Merely to say, that, for three

loving spirit has borne testimony in one of his own most beautiful and touching lyrics. How warmly he had cherished, and how faithfully he had kept alive the feeling of his ordination, another of them, bearing date at noon, on the sixth anniversary of that event, and apparently written while alone, within its hallowed walls, most fervently declares.

"How swift the years have come and gone, since on this blessed day, A victim at the altar's horn, I gave myself away

And, streaming through the House of God, a glory seemed to shine, Invisible to other eyes, but manifest to mine.

Oh! father, mother, brethren, friends, no less than brethren dear,' Who promised, at this solemn hour to be in spirit near,

Say, is it not your influence in blended prayer I feel,

As now, before the Mercy-seat, from many shrines we kneel!

I would my heart might ever thus dissolve with fervent heat,

As here, fast by the oracle,' the service I repeat,

That ever, in my inmost soul, the same rejoicing light

Might burn, like Zion's altar flame, unquenchable and bright.”

Four years he ministered as Rector of Saint Peter's Church, Auburn, earnestly, faithfully, most acceptably, and most successfully. But Boston had been the scene of the labors of his earliest love. His tastes

years last past he has not been justly liable to evil report, for error in doctrine, or viciousness of life, though eminently true, seems, in his case, very unnecessary. He will leave behind him no clergyman more highly, more justly, or more generally esteemed, for those qualities which constitute and adorn the gentleman, the scholar, and the faithful minister of Christ. While, with many hundreds of others, I deeply regret his loss to this Diocese, I may well congratulate you on such an accession to yours. That, in his new situation, he may find friends as numerous and as cordial as those he leaves, is the prayer of your friend and brother, A. V. GRISWOLD.

To the Right Rev. Dr. DeLancey."