Nathan Bangs · 22 of 29

Chapter 14. From the Close of the General Conference of 1836 to the Commencement of the General Conference of 1840. · 1839

The general interests of the Church were this year promoted by the simultaneous and energetic action of the different branches of ecclesiastical regulations, all of which were brought to bear upon the understandings and hearts of the people under our influence. But the most important accession which was made to the work was the reinforcement sent to the Oregon mission. After the arrival of the last-mentioned family, and holding a general consultation, it was finally agreed that brother Jason Lee should return to the United States, with a view to strengthen the mission by procuring the aid of additional missionaries, farmers, mechanics, etc. Being remote from all civilized society, except the small settlement at Williamette, and the members of the Hudson Bay Company at Fort Vancouver, it seemed essential to the prosperity of the mission, that it should be furnished with means to itself with food, buildings, and all necessary apparatus for carrying on farming, and the needful mechanic arts. Accordingly, arrangements were made for sending an additional family; and, on the 9th of October of this year, a company, consisting of fifty persons, including six missionaries, with their wives and children, a physician, wife and child, a missionary steward, wife and two children, two farmers, wives and children, two carpenters, a cabinet-maker, and a blacksmith, their wives and children, together with five female teachers, sailed from the port of New York for the Oregon territory, by way of the Sandwich islands. They all arrived in safety, after a voyage of about ten months.

But, what was most cheering to the friends of missions, before the arrival of this company a most glorious work of religion had commenced among the Indians of Oregon, which terminated in the conversion of not less than one thousand of these degraded natives to the Christian faith. A reformation so sudden, deep, and wide, among such a people, had not been known in modern days, and it tended mightily to revive the missionary spirit among us, which had, indeed, begun to languish in many places.

A short account of the manner in which this marvelous work commenced and spread among the people will naturally be expected.

It had been adopted as a maxim from the beginning of our Indian missions, that Christianity must precede civilization. Hence our missionaries among the aborigines of our country were always instructed, first of all, to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ to them with all simplicity and plainness. This was especially charged upon the missionaries who went to Oregon. And though the circumstances with which they found themselves surrounded compelled the Lees to attend so much to secular things as to engross most of their time for the first year, so that they could give but a very small portion of their attention to religious instruction, yet, on the arrival of additional laborers, they applied themselves to the work with great assiduity, and soon saw the fruit of their labors in the conversion and salvation of souls.

The manner in which this work commenced evinces the truth of our remark, namely, that the Indians must be reformed in heart and life by the gospel of Jesus Christ, before we can hope to reclaim them from barbarism to the practice and blessings of civilized life. How could it be otherwise? Ministers of the gospel are not sent primarily to teach human science, or to train people in domestic and political economy. Their message is of a different character. It is to inform the understanding and reform the heart and life, by the application of divine truth to the conscience and to the judgment. When this reformation is effected, the rest follows as a consequence. Their minds become flexible, their hearts tender, and they nay then easily be led on to perceive and to appreciate the blessings of civil and domestic economy, and finally to attend to farming and mechanical pursuits. The experience of more than twenty years, among a variety of Indian tribes, has demonstrated the truth of these remarks.

So it was in Oregon in the present revival. The missionaries became convinced that they must be more holy in order to be more useful. That they might become so they set apart seasons for prayer and mutual edification. First one Indian and then another, beholding the fervency and frequency of their devotions, requested to be instructed in the nature of these things. Their request was granted. Convictions followed in the same manner, attended with the same circumstances of spiritual distress, and earnest prayer for deliverance, as are seen among civilized people who are impressed with gospel truth. When one and then another were delivered, their joyful hearts led them to say to their heathen brethren, “Come and hear, and I will declare what God hath done for my soul.” Their words, uttered from the fulness of their hearts, took effect: others were brought under conviction for sin, sought by faith and prayer, and found “redemption through His blood, even the forgiveness of sins.”

In this way the work begun, and in this way it went on and spread, and is still spreading, so that, as before said, not less than one thousand of these people have been “brought from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God.” And by the use of the same means we have no doubt that it will continue its saving and hallowing influence until all the hills and valleys of Oregon shall echo with the songs of redeeming love.

The other missions upon our western frontiers were this year prosecuted with vigor and perseverance, and with various degrees of success.

Another occurrence of this year exerted very general interest, and was attended with many blessings: — I allude to the Centenary of Methodism. As the first Methodist society was formed in London in the month of November, 1739, so 1839 became properly the one hundredth year of Methodism. Accordingly, our brethren in Europe and America prepared to celebrate the event with all due solemnity and religious fervor. The 25th of November was fixed upon as the day for this religious celebration. That it might be made a season of spiritual improvement, and at the same time yield an increase of means for extending the work of God on every hand, it was determined to blend together, as far as might be, religious exercises and the making collections for missionary and educational purposes, and for the support of the worn-out preachers, and the widows, children and orphans of preachers. A very general pulsation was felt throughout the entire Methodist community in favor of the celebration, and the several annual conferences adopted measures for its observance on the day appointed. As nearly as can be ascertained, the amount collected was divided as follows: About one half was to be devoted for the benefit of superannuated preachers, the widows, children, and orphans of preachers, two-tenths for the support of missions, and the remainder for the promotion of education.

The manner in which the celebration was conducted had a hallowing influence upon the Church generally, and tended very much to increase the spirit of devotion, to give more enlarged views of the divine goodness in raising up such a man as John Wesley, and in blessing the world with such a system as Methodism. Sermons were preached, and addresses delivered in almost every society throughout the connection, both on the 25th of November, the day on which the foundation of Methodism was laid by forming the first class, and on previous days for the purpose of taking up collections for the objects specified. The exact amount subscribed I have not been able to ascertain, but it must have been in the neighborhood of $600,000, though it is not likely that the whole will be collected.

It was indeed a sublime spectacle to contemplate the assemblage of more than one million of people, joined by perhaps three times that number of friends, uniting to offer up thanksgiving to God for his boundless mercy to a lost world, manifested in the gift of his Son! And as one of the many rivulets which flow from that exhaustless fountain of eternal love ran through the channel opened by Wesley, it seemed right and proper for his numerous sons in the gospel to commemorate the day which gave the first impetus to this flowing stream of grace and mercy. Some, indeed, affected to call it a species of idolatry. But why is it any more an act of idolatry to praise God for raising up, and blessing the world with such men as John Wesley, than it is to praise him for any other blessings, whether temporal or spiritual? We praise God for the heavens and the earth, with all their much and varied productions. We praise him for the gospel, and all its attendant blessings. Why should we not also praise and adore him for those human instrumentalities by which the world has been enlightened and reformed? It is indeed marvelous that many of those whose tender consciences will not permit them to render honor to whom honor is due, do not scruple to defame the character of those men, who, like John Wesley, have rendered the most important services to mankind, merely because they have dissented from them in opinion on some unimportant points!

Did we ascribe that glory to man which is due to God alone, and detract from the merits of Jesus Christ by ascribing the glory of our salvation to human wisdom and righteousness, we might well be accused of idolatry. But we do no such thing. We honor John Wesley because God honored him, and because he, by his preaching and his whole life, reflected the honor and glory of God on his fellow-men.

By thus distinguishing between God and his servant, making the one dependent on the other, and yet so connecting them that the servant cannot act and move, nor bring any thing good to pass without the direction and aid of the Master, we secure the glory which is due to God alone, while we permit his servant to shine in those borrowed rays reflected upon him from the “Sun of righteousness.”

Nor do we fear any thing from the pride of sect. It is not sectarianism which mars the beauty of gospel holiness. A man may be as proud, as vainglorious, and as much sectarian in his feelings, while pleading against all sectarianism, as if he were the most bigoted sectarist in the universe. All these things are mere accidents of the Christian character. They may or may not exist injuriously. It depends altogether upon the state of the heart. If the heart be humbled and purified by grace, by the energetic working of the Holy Spirit, pride of all sorts is expelled, and love to universal man takes its place. This alone is destructive of that exceptionable sectarian spirit by which the religious bigot is actuated.

We humbly trust that this love was excited and diffused by this centennial celebration. It gave us an opportunity of reviewing first principles, of estimating anew the numberless blessings bestowed upon us as a people, of praising God for the past, and of clustering together motives for future trust and diligence.

Nor is it doubted but that the thank offerings which were poured out upon the altar of God, from so many pure hearts, had a tendency to enkindle and increase the gratitude of thousands of devoted souls, as well as to nourish the spirit of pure benevolence and charity. With these views and feelings, the event was commemorated, and so long as they are cherished, so long shall we continue to bless God for giving to the world such a man as John Wesley.

The Indiana conference had taken measures for the establishment of a literary institution within its bounds as early as 1837, by the appointment of agents to solicit funds for its endowment, and for erecting suitable buildings, etc. In 1838 it went into operation by the appointment of professors, and receiving students. This year, the Indiana Asbury University, as it was called, received its president and faculty, and has taken its place and rank among the rising stars of literature and science, which were appearing in our hemisphere, to enlighten the rising generation.

Two colleges had been commenced under the patronage of the Holston conference, and were now in successful operation. And St. Charles College was rising into being, under the patronage of the Missouri conference.

Besides the Emory College in the bounds of the Georgia conference, there were under its auspices the Georgia Female College, the Georgia Conference Manual Labor School, Collingwsorth Institute, and the Wesley Manual Labor School, all of which are exerting an enlightening influence upon those portions of the population for whose benefit they were especially established. The Cokesbury Manual Labor School was founded by the South Carolina conference, and was now beginning to shed its light upon the rising population of that region of country.

The New Jersey conference also had succeeded in establishing two academies within its bounds, one for male, and the other for female students. They both promise usefulness. Two academics had been recently commenced in the bounds of the New Hampshire conference, called the Newbury Seminary, and South New Market Seminary.

From these facts it would appear that the Methodist Episcopal Church was determined to redeem her character from the imputation thrown upon it from time to time, not without some show of reason, that she was indifferent to the cause of learning. If her liberality in collecting funds for the purpose of endowing and sustaining her literary institutions shall be in proportion to her zeal in founding and getting them into operation, she will deserve the thanks of the community, and will confer untold blessings upon her sons and daughters. Otherwise, however, these institutions will but linger out a sickly existence, and perhaps perish for want of that nursing care which she is abundantly able to afford them.

Ninety-eight preachers were this year returned on the Minutes supernumerary, — two hundred and sixty-one superannuated, one hundred and ten located, thirty-two had died, eight withdrawn, and six had been expelled.

Death had this year thinned our ranks, by taking away some of our oldest and most useful ministers, without, at the same time, sparing some of the younger class.

Among the most aged, and by no means the least able who had gone to their reward, was Thomas Morrell, of the New Jersey conference. He was born in November, 1747, and during the revolutionary war served in the continental army in the capacity of a captain, under the command of Washington. In this service his patriotism and courage were equally manifested, in encountering the difficulties and sharing the dangers of that protracted struggle for our national independence. In the battle on Long Island, which terminated so disastrously to the continental troops, Captain Morrell fell under a severe wound he received from the shot of the enemy, and was taken a prisoner. On being exchanged, and recovering from his wound, be resumed his place in the army, and continued to render important services to his country during the remainder of the war. At its termination, however, like most of his fellow-soldiers, through the poverty of his country, he was thrown upon his own resources for a livelihood, but he succeeded in procuring a competency for himself and family, and at his death bequeathed a valuable legacy to his widow and orphan children.

In 1783, the year in which the war ended, and the independence of the United States was acknowledged, Mr. Morrell was brought into the glorious liberty of the children of God, through the instrumentality of the Rev. John Haggerty, a Methodist preacher. In 1787 he was admitted into the traveling ministry, and he soon gave evidence of those eminent talents which distinguished him as an “able minister of the New Testament.”

On the death of Washington, in 1799, Mr. Morrell was one among the many who paid their respects to that illustrious chief by preaching a funeral discourse on the occasion. In this he gave vent to his own feelings of veneration for the general who had led the armies of America to victory, while he commemorated the virtues which adorned his character, and the valorous deeds by which he achieved the liberty and independence of his country.

After filling some of the most important stations, such as New York, Philadelphia, and Baltimore, where he acquitted himself alike honorably to himself and us fully to the people, in 1803, on account of physical debility, he was compelled to restrict his ministerial labors; he accordingly located, and settled in Elizabethtown, in the state of New Jersey, where he continued to reside, respected and beloved, until his death. Some years before his death, at the request of those brethren who loved and honored him as a fellow-laborer who had once “borne the heat and burden of the day,” he was readmitted into the Philadelphia conference in the relation of a superannuated preacher, his income being amply sufficient for his support without drawing upon the funds of the conference.

It is no small evidence of his uniform piety, of his integrity, and of his talents as a preacher of righteousness, that the people of Elizabethtown always heard him with pleasure and profit, and looked up to him as a counselor in whose wisdom they reposed entire confidence. Here, therefore, he continued his ministrations with edifying delight, and his sermons were always characterized by accurate arrangement, by deep thought, and minute analysis, bearing equally upon the understanding and affections of his hearers. Equally removed from fanaticism on the one hand, and a cold, lifeless formality on the other, his sermons partook neither of passionate exclamations nor of dull metaphysical speculations, but of a happy mixture of sound argument and moving appeals, addressed alternately to the judgment and to the passions. Temperate in all things, and equally removed from idleness and excessive labor, he preserved the vigor of his constitution to a good old age, being, at the time of his death, ninety-one years old. Such was the strength of his intellectual and physical powers, that he continued to occupy the pulpit generally once every sabbath, until within about three years of his death, when the feebleness of age obliged him to desist. To this, however, he submitted with the same cheerful acquiescence which he had exemplified in the more active duties of life. During three years of passive submission to the divine will, he bore the marks of the mature Christian, waiting patiently until his allotted time came, and finally glided peacefully into the ocean of eternity, where he no doubt drinks from its perennial waters with unceasing delight.

He was only partially known to the writer, and then mostly near the close of his life. But he appeared to unite in himself those graces, and those moral and intellectual qualities, which rendered him every way companionable, fitted him for usefulness in the sphere in which he moved, and enabled him to derive enjoyment from every lawful source, whether purely religious, or from those creatures of God which are sanctified by the word of God and prayer. His good common sense, sound understanding, fervent piety, and a zeal characterized and guided by discretion, enabled him to meet in a becoming manner the various exigencies of human life, and to dispose of the subjects which came up for consideration in an intelligent and satisfactory manner.

In the latter years of his life he delighted in reviewing past events, in recounting incidents which had come under his own knowledge, and in magnifying the grace of God in Christ Jesus as exemplified in his own personal experience. In these social interviews there was “cheerfulness without sadness,” and a due mixture of the gravity of the Christian minister with the vivacity and buoyancy of a mind cheerful and happy in a consciousness of its own innocence. These things, together with that spirit of hospitality which was displayed under his roof rendered him an agreeable and edifying companion in those social interviews which he enjoyed with his friends. Indeed, it might he said of him that he was a cheerful old man, cheerful without levity, and grave without sadness, giving a practical illustration of the ministerial, social, and domestic virtues, worthy the imitation of all. And joining a prudent economy with industry, neatness, and plainness, he exhibited altogether the picture of an upright and perfect man in his day and generation, equally distant from ostentatious show on the one hand, and a vulgar meanness on the other. Whatever infirmities, therefore, may have oppressed him, grace enabled him to bear them with becoming patience, and the natural wanderings of an imperfect judgment were corrected by “the wisdom which cometh from above,” while his involuntary transgressions were atoned for by the same blood through which he was at “first accepted in the Beloved.”

Samuel Merwin, of the New York conference, had also exchanged labor for rest during the past year. He was a descendant of one of the New England pilgrims, and was born in Durham, Connecticut, September 13, 1777. While quite young his father and family removed and settled in New Durham, in the state of New York, then a wilderness country. Like young Timothy, he was taught, by his pious father and mother, the Holy Scriptures and to fear the Lord from his youth, the good effects of which appeared in his after life. His father’s house being the resort of Methodist preachers, who, in those days, were penetrating every nook and comer in “search of the lost sheep of the house of Israel,” when but a lad he became, through their instrumentality, a subject of awakening and justifying grace, and was received into the Church. The ardor of his love and fervency of his zeal soon led him forth in prayer and exhortation, more especially in beseeching the youth of his acquaintance “to be reconciled to God.” Giving satisfactory evidence of his capacity and zeal in the cause of God, when about twenty years of age he was, by the presiding elder, employed on a circuit. In the year 1800 he was admitted on trial in the New York conference as an itinerant preacher; and it is greatly to his credit to he able to say in truth, that from that day to his death he never halted or turned aside from his vocation as a traveling preacher in the Methodist connection.

Soon after he entered upon his itinerant career, namely, in the year 1803, he was sent as a missionary to Lower Canada, and took his first station in Quebec, a place almost wholly given to the idolatry of Roman Catholicism, and where Protestantism had little more than a “name to live.” Such were the discouraging circumstances attending this first effort to plant Methodism in that strong-hold of iniquity, that brother Merwin continued his ministrations only about six weeks, when he left for Montreal. During this short stay, however, he made a favorable impression on some hearts, which opened the way for future efforts with greater promise of success.

In Montreal he continued to preach, with great acceptance and some success, the remainder of the year; when he was removed to the city of New York, where he rendered himself respected and beloved for his devotion to the came of Jesus Christ.

It is not compatible with this brief memoir to follow our beloved brother through the various stations he filled from year to year, and from place to place. His talents as a preacher, and his skill as a ruler, made it expedient to give him some of the most commanding stations in the bounds of the New England, New York, Philadelphia, and Baltimore conferences, to which he was alternately removed, and stationed in Boston, Providence, New York, Albany, Troy, Brooklyn, the Rhinebeck and New York districts, and in the cities of Philadelphia and Baltimore. In all these places he so acquitted himself as to leave the savor of a good name behind him.

For several years before his death he was much oppressed with bodily infirmities. These were of such a character as often to threaten him with a premature death, and hence deprived the Church, at times, of his valuable services. A burning fever at one time, a paralysis at another, and constant soreness in one or the other, and sometimes both of his legs, so severe as almost to deprive him of their use, constituted a complication of diseases which called forth the exercise of much patience to enable him to bear them without murmuring. Yet such was his flaming zeal in the cause of God, that even in the midst of these infirmities he persevered in his work with his accustomed diligence, without any other abatement than what stern necessity imposed upon him from actual prostration of physical strength. Ann perhaps he may be included among the most punctual of our preachers — not only in attending to every thing at the time, but also in scrupulously observing every part of his duty as a preacher, both as a presiding and ruling elder in the Church of God.

But the time at length came when he must resign up his stewardship to Him from whom he had received it. It was no doubt a source of severe affliction to him, as it was of grief to his friends, that, after having filled so many important stations with so much distinction and success, a remonstrance was made against his being stationed among them from a people who had formerly profited by his labors; but it is a consolation to know that it originated from a supposition that his bodily infirmities only disqualified him from discharging his duties with success; and also that the people to whom he was sent received him with open arms, and treated him with the tenderness and respect which were due to his character. His last station was Rhinebeck, N. Y., the residence of the late venerated Garrettson, and the scene of much of his active labors. Here, during the second year of his labors, he sickened and died. The last time he entered the pulpit he was assisted to the church, being too feeble to sustain himself, when he delivered his last, solemn message to the people of his charge.

After this he gradually sunk away into the arms of death, leaving behind him a consoling testimony of his faith in Jesus Christ, and of his preparedness, through the atoning merits, to meet his Judge and Redeemer. He left a widow, with two daughters and four sons, to mourn their loss, one of whom is in the itinerant ministry, and, it is hoped, may yet fill the vacuum occasioned by the death of his lamented father.

There were many excellences which clustered around the character of our beloved brother Merwin; and the high estimation in which he was held by the Church may be inferred from the important stations which he filled, as before enumerated. In the sacred Scriptures he was deeply read, and familiarly acquainted with their contents. At an early period of his ministry he adopted the method of consulting these records of our salvation in consecutive order, and continued the practice so long as he was able, reading two chapters, one in the Old and one in the New Testament, every morning before breakfast. By this commendable practice the words of the Holy Ghost were ever fresh in his memory, and hence his judgment was constantly tinder the clear light of those luminous pages, and his sermons interlarded with quotations in Scripture language. He did not, therefore, imitate the injudicious practice of those who substitute “profane babblings,” or the aphorisms of heathenism, for the words of inspiration, nor the dry metaphysics of the schools of human philosophy for the lofty and energetic language of inspired prophets and apostles.

As a preacher he was sometimes highly eloquent. His personal appearance was commanding, his voice clear and musical, his enunciation full and distinct, and with these qualifications; when fully inspired with his subject, he commanded profound attention, while he poured forth, in accents strong and persuasive, the streams of gospel truth with great power and effect. We cannot say that his sermons were characterized by that systematic arrangement and minute analysis, nor that profoundness of thought by which some others have been distinguished; but there as generally a glow of warmth which indicated a heart filled with the fire of divine love, and they were then delivered with a pathos and fluency with which none but Samuel Merwin could have delivered them under the same circumstances.

Sometimes, indeed, he failed. In this, however, he was by no means singular. For who that has had any experience in public speaking, especially in extemporaneous addresses, has not felt his mind at times barren, his utterance almost choked, as if it were next to impossible to make either the understanding, heart, or tongue play and perform its part? Whenever, however, he felt these embarrassments, he generally had a method of helping himself out of his difficulty by some innocent sally of wit, or by adverting incidentally to a topic somewhat foreign to the one under immediate consideration. At these times his ready wit betrayed him into eccentricities which seemed to detract a little from the dignity of the pulpit, while it relieved himself and his audience from an ennui [boredom — DVM] which they mutually felt coming over them.

An instance of this sort occurred once while he was preaching a missionary sermon in the Allen Street church, in the city of New York. Feeling somewhat embarrassed in his mind, and perceiving that his congregation were inclining to a listlessness of spirit, he suddenly paused, and, calling to a preacher who was sitting in a slip in the body of the church, he said, “Brother B, you must come up here and help me, for I cannot get along with this great subject.” The preacher replied, with the same freedom with which he had been addressed, “It is in good hands — therefore go on and you will conquer.” This innocent artifice brought him out of the whirling eddies into which he had been carried, and, unfurling his sails, he gently glided off upon the sea of gospel truth, much to the satisfaction of all present.

To those who heard him often there appeared a sameness in some parts of his discourses, and more especially in his addresses, as if he had treasured up in his memory a set of phrases which he considered peculiarly adapted to the subject, and might therefore be often repeated, not only without weariness, but with good effect. The lively and energetic manner, however, in which he generally delivered himself, intermixed with sudden thoughts of inspiration, and all poured forth from a full heart in strains of gospel truth and persuasive eloquence, made ample amends for any defects arising from a repetition of the same thoughts, and sent the hearer home pleased with the speaker, and in love with his theme. I remember well that, when stationed in the city of New York, in 1830, he was called upon to preach a sermon in the Forsyth Street church, on the 4th of July, and a proposition to take up a collection in favor of the American Colonization Society had been declined by the trustees; — on this occasion brother Merwin, warming with his subject, rising with the importance and grandeur of his theme, now soared away into the regions of bold thought and vivid imagination, and then melting into the tenderest strains of pathetic and impassioned eloquence, his hearers were alternately raised with expanded and elevated views of truth and duty, and overwhelmed with deep and softened emotions of joy, love, and gratitude. Such, indeed, was the power which he exerted over his audience, that he had them under complete command, and taking advantage of this state of feeling, he suddenly turned from his subject, and asked, “Shall we take a collection for the American Colonization Society?” The appeal was irresistible. “Yes! yes!” responded from every part of the house, and the trustees were compelled to reverse their own decision, and present the plates to receive the free-will offerings of the people, whose hearts had been made generous by the powerful appeals of the orator of the day. An acquaintance of mine, not a member of the Church, who was present, came to me and asked me to lend him a dollar; as he had no money with him, that he might put it in the plate. All were filled with rapture, and the more pleased for having an opportunity to let their alms accompany their prayers and praises. The amount of the collection told the rest.

Brother Merwin was a great friend and powerful advocate of all our institutions, such as missionary, Sunday school, and other charitable societies; and, while filling the office of a presiding elder on the New York district, exerted an effective influence in their favor by attending their respective boards of management, and otherwise promoting their benevolent objects. At their anniversaries he was often called to speak in their behalf, and he pleaded their cause with most powerful effect, and was always successful; by the playful manner in which he did it, in drawing money from the pockets of the people in their support.

I remember on one occasion, at an anniversary of the Missionary Society within the bounds of the Philadelphia conference, held in the city of Philadelphia during the session of the General Conference of 1832, he delivered an address, after two or three others had spoken, which electrified the congregation by one of those sudden bursts of eloquence for which he was famous, accompanied with a humorous allusion to the collection which was about to be made, and which might have been more highly appreciated had it been a little more grave. These sallies of wit, however, suited him better than they would others of a different turn of mind, because they seemed to come unsought, as the spontaneous effusions of a heart overflowing with feelings of kindness and brotherly affection.

The manner in which he deported himself toward some of his younger and less-informed brethren sometimes gave them offense. It had the appearance, as they thought, of a cold and haughty reserve, as if he thought them beneath his notice. A nearer approach, however, and a more intimate acquaintance, removed the unfavorable impression, and let him into your heart as a brother beloved. And to those who shared his confidence and won his affection, he unfolded himself with the utmost freedom and familiarity, making himself agreeable and edifying by humorous anecdotes and edifying incidents, which he delighted to detail. Of these he possessed a fund, and could easily make them contribute to the entertainment of a company by the lively manner in which he recited them. Such, indeed, were his imitative powers, that he could assume the voice and gestures, and mimic the tone and accent of any person with whom he had been conversant; be grave or comical to suit the nonce, or to give a true representation of the facts and incidents he wished to rehearse. And though he might have indulged his natural propensity too freely for his own and the good of others, yet he succeeded to admiration in rendering vice odious, in making folly appear ridiculous, and in exposing absurdity to its merited contempt; while at other times he clothed the excellences of the Christian character in those attractive charms which were calculated to with the affection of all who beheld them with a believing and impartial mind.

He has left a large circle of friends and acquaintances behind in the various places where he was stationed, who will no doubt readily recognize these traits in the character of Samuel Merwin; the mention of whose name revives those recollections of past days which the writer of this sketch enjoyed in common with many others, in the society of the friend of his youth, the companion of his riper years, and with whom he has often wept and rejoiced during the vicissitudes of an acquaintance in the ministry of nearly forty years. And this record is made with the more pleasure, because during that time nothing worth naming ever occurred to interrupt or mar for an hour a friendship begun in and cemented by Christian love, and kept up by mutual exchanges of fraternal regard and ministerial labors and sympathies. May this friendship be matured and perpetuated in heaven! So he it, O Lord, for Christ’s sake!

“Death loves a shining mark.” This is poetry; and it may be true in its application to many individuals, and the more true in the imagination of those who mourn under the bereavement of near and valued friends; but we have a more infallible authority for saying that “the wicked shall not live out half their days.” The fact is, that death makes no distinction in its victims in respect to age, rank, sex, merit or demerit. All — all are alike exposed to his ravages, and must, therefore, sooner or later, yield, however reluctantly, to his despotic sway.

But whatever may be the truth in this respect, death had hit a shining mark during the past year by shooting his deadly weapon into the heart of Wilbur Fisk, president of the Wesleyan University, and bishop elect of the Methodist Episcopal Church.

He was born in Brattleboro, in the state of Vermont, August 31, 1792. His juvenile days, after arriving at a suitable age, were spent at school, and he soon evinced an aptitude of mind to learn, by the progress he made in his elementary lessons of instruction. Though at the early age of twelve he gave evidence of a pious heart, yet while at the preparatory school, in which he was fitting for college, he gradually lost his serious impressions, and mingled with other thoughtless youth in the gayeties and amusements of the world. At the proper time he entered as a student in Burlington College, Vermont; but that institution being closed for a season while the late war was raging between this country and Great Britain, he was sent to Brown University, in Providence, Rhode Island, where he graduated, with equal honor to himself and satisfaction to his friends. He then commenced the study of law, under the instruction of a distinguished attorney; but the next year, 1816, he went to the city of Baltimore, and was employed as a private tutor in the family of a gentleman in that city, continuing, in the mean time, the study of the law. He was soon interrupted in these pursuits by a violent attack of a pulmonary disease, which so prostrated his physical powers that, under medical advice, he relinquished, for the time, all thought of any profession which would require any unusual exercise of his lungs.

Not being able to pursue his studies, nor to attend the duties of his vocation as tutor, as soon as his slowly returning health would permit he left Baltimore, and returned to the scenes of his early studies in Burlington, Vermont. But here he relapsed into his former disease, which for a while threatened his life. This sickness, however, by the mercy of God, was made subservient to his spiritual salvation, by reviving in his mind those religious impressions which had been effaced; and during a powerful awakening then spreading in Lyndon, Vermont, he was made a partaker of justification by grace through faith in Jesus Christ. This great change opened, not only new sources of enjoyment, but also new and enlarged subjects of contemplation, and finally led him into a field of labor for which he seemed designated by the divine Head of the Church. It was not long, therefore, before he began to exercise his gifts as a minister of Jesus Christ, and to give that evidence of his call to and qualification for the work, that led, in 1818, to his admission on trial in the New England conference. He commenced his itinerant labors among his own native hills in Vermont, inhaling the pure atmosphere, drinking the wholesome water, and enjoying the society of his Christian friends of his native state; in doing which, though often preaching, he measurably regained his health, and manifested great vigor of intellect and decision of character. From this place he was removed to Charlestown, Massachusetts.

Suffering a partial relapse into his former complaint, as might have been anticipated from his being confined in the station of Charlestown, at the close of his work in that place, in 1820, he was compelled to take a supernumerary relation. In 1823, however, he had so far recovered as to be able to resume his itinerant career, in the office of presiding elder over the Vermont district. Here, amidst the scenes of an itinerant life, traversing the hills and valleys of his native state again, deriving benefits from traveling constantly from place to place, and exercising his lungs in preaching as his strength would permit, he gradually regained his health, and was finally able to discharge the duties of his station with efficiency and success, to the great satisfaction of both preachers and people.

On the establishment of the Wilbraham Academy he was elected its principal, and was therefore compelled to remit the more healthy exercise of a traveling preacher; for the labor of superintending a school for the education and training of youth, preparatory to their entrance either upon the active duties of life; or as students into the higher seminaries of learning. Here he began more especially to unfold those moral and intellectual powers for which he was distinguished, and which he applied so usefully to his fellow-men the remaining days of his life. In this employment he continued, attending, in, the mean time, as a delegate, the General Conference of 1824 and 1828, until he was transferred to the presidency of the Wesleyan University, in 1831. Upon the duties of this station he entered with great ardor and intelligence, and succeeded in gaining for it a character which commanded the public confidence and affection.

Partly for the benefit of his health, and partly for the benefit of the university, in 1835 and 1836 he made the tour of Europe, an account of which he afterward published in a large octavo volume. Its merits may be estimated from the fact that it has run through several editions, has been read with great avidity by all classes of people, and is highly appreciated by the most intelligent portion of the community. While in Europe he was appointed, by the General Conference of 1836, its delegate to the Wesleyan Methodist Conference; which office he filled with. Honor to himself, and greatly to the satisfaction of his brethren on both sides of the Atlantic. At the same conference he was also elected a bishop in the Methodist Episcopal Church; but on his return to the United States he declined accepting the appointment, believing, in accordance with the views of many of his brethren, that the interests of the university had a more imperative claim upon his services, and that he could, therefore, more effectually promote the cause of God here than in the other high office to which he had been elected.

Very soon, however, the hopes of all were disappointed, in respect to his further usefulness to the Church militant, by his sickness and death. The pulmonary disease with which he had been afflicted, with less or more severity, now for about nineteen years, began to make rapid inroads upon his constitution, and he was compelled, in the winter of 1838, to remit his active duties and take to his bed, which proved, alas! his dying bed. His bodily sufferings were very severe and protracted. He bore them, however, with patience and fortitude, making them subservient to his more perfect ripeness for heavenly glory. His countenance, his words, and all his actions, on the bed of death, bespoke a soul full of glory and of God; and he left the most consoling evidence behind him of having finished his course with joy, and of having entered at last into the everlasting kingdom of his God.

Thus ended the days of Wilbur Fisk, D. D., and president of the Wesleyan University. His name will long be held in grateful and affectionate remembrance by those who had the happiness of his personal acquaintance, and by those who were benefited by his ministry and instructions.

The following sketch of the character of Dr. Fisk is taken from a funeral discourse which was delivered by the present writer, on the occasion of his death, and which was published at the request of those who heard it. After giving a short account of his life and death, the remarks which follow were added: —

His learning, though, perhaps, not so deep and thorough as that of some others, was nevertheless sound, various, and of the most useful character. He graduated with honor to himself in the Brown University, and was highly respected by his fellow-students and the faculty under whom he studied. And such was his love of letters in subsequent life that he held a distinguished rank among the literati of his country, and filled with high reputation the stations he occupied at the head of literary institutions.

His religious experience was deep and genuine. This was fully evinced by the uniformity of his piety, the humility of his mind, and his ardent devotion to the cause of his divine Master. It was this also which created that inextinguishable thirst for the salvation f a lost world, which led him forth as a preacher of the gospel of Christ, as a powerful and fearless advocate of the cause of missions, temperance, and all those institutions of benevolence which aim at human melioration, or look to the universal spread of the gospel of the Son of God.

Though at an early period of his ministry he was called to preside over Institutions of learning, which officially confined him to a more limited sphere of action than that which was marked out by an itinerant ministry, yet he by no means circumscribed his labors to these narrow limits, but as opportunities presented, extended the sphere of his labors, in the pulpit and on the platform, wherever and whenever, so far as his time and strength would allow, calls were made for his services. And in these labors he was eminently useful, and his service were highly appreciated by all lovers of human improvement. He was therefore never “straitened in his own bowels,” but stretched the line of his labors in every direction, making his voice to be heard in favor of the cause of Christ, in all those diversities of operations by which the present age is distinguished for the diffusion of gospel light and love. In this work that fountain of divine grace which can be opened in the human heart only by a deep and genuine experience of the sanctifying influences of the Holy Spirit, gushed out in the purest streams of the most charming eloquence, distilling “as the dew, as the small rain upon the tender herb, and as the showers upon the grass.”

His efforts to do good were limited only by his means. On a certain occasion he was heard to say, “As I have no children of my own to provide for, I feel it my duty to do all I can for the benefit of others.” Acting on this principle, he devoted all his energies of soul and body to the best interests of his fellow-men.

3. Though deeply interested in the cause of education, yet he considered it only so far important as it was made subservient to the spiritual and eternal welfare of men. Having suffered much in his religious enjoyments while at the preparatory school and at college, on account of the irreligion which prevailed at these institutions at the time he was there, he was, when he came to feel the responsibility of his station, exceedingly solicitous to see seminaries of learning established and conducted strictly according to the principles of the gospel. Hence, when placed at the head of the university, as well as while principal of the Wilbraham Academy, he exerted all his powers to banish immorality and irreligion from their precincts, and bring the influence of Christianity, in its experimental and practical parts, to bear upon the students, and upon all concerned. And in this he succeeded even beyond what might have been expected.

The holy influence which was collected around the Wesleyan University, by the power of his precept and example, seconded as he was by his associates and the official board, was extensively felt on the surrounding population, and gave it a commanding character in the community, exempting it from these exceptions which have frequently been made, with too much truth, against literary institutions. The frequent revivals of religion, which were witnessed among the students, furnished an evidence to its friends that a college may be so conducted as to insure the blessings of God on its labors, and tended powerfully to impress upon the minds of all, the spiritual as well as literary benefit to be derived from placing their sons under the wing of the Wesleyan University. I may say indeed, with confidence, that on no department of God’s vineyard has his Spirit been poured out more copiously, and the number of genuine converts been more numerous, in proportion to the population, than in this nursery of learning and religion.

How much the labors and example of its venerated president contributed to this happy result, those can testify who have borne witness to his assiduous attention to these things. The wisdom and fidelity with which he inculcated the truths of the gospel upon the minds of the students, and the fatherly manner in which he led the inquiring soul to Jesus Christ for pardon and salvation, and likewise rejoiced over the happy believer, attest the interest which he took in the spiritual as well as literary welfare of those intrusted to his care.

His invariable maxim was, that sanctified learning only can be useful to mankind. And acting on this maxim, he diffused through every circle in which he moved the hallowing influences of Christianity, exhibiting in his own temper and spirit the superior excellence and claim it has upon the hearts and homage of mankind.

4. His talents as a preacher of the gospel were of a high order. He entered deeply and systematically into theological truth, and was thoroughly Wesleyan in his views of the gospel, and the methods of diffusing its blessings among mankind. Though never boisterous in his manner, but calm and collected, he was energetic, plain, and pointed, and evinced that he spoke from the fullness of his heart — a heart thoroughly imbued with the spirit of his divine Master.

He was an original thinker. Though the field of theological truth has been so frequently surveyed, that little seems to be left for us to do but to follow on in the beaten track, yet it was evident that when Wilbur Fisk “occupied that holy place, the pulpit,” he thought and arranged for himself, and clothed his thoughts in language of his own selection, which, by its appropriateness, expressed what he wished to communicate in words plain, chaste, and classical. In him there was no ostentatious show of learning, though it was evident to all who heard him, with attention, that he was no stranger to literature and science.

His sermons were generally of a didactic character, and on this account might have appeared to those who did not fully enter into his views, and follow his chain of reasoning, somewhat dry and dull. His discourses, however, were far from being dull and monotonous. Though much accustomed to consecutive reasoning, to sustaining his propositions by logical deductions, yet his intimate appeal was to the Holy Scriptures; and often his addresses to the conscience were of that pungent character, and delivered with that flow of eloquence which made the sinner tremble, while he saw swept away all “his refuges of lies.” On one of these occasions, I remember to have heard him in this city, in the Forsyth Street church, when, after I laving substantiated the truth of his doctrine by apposite texts of Scripture, and a close chain of reasoning, he suddenly turned upon his audience, and commenced one of those eloquent and pathetic appeals, which poured upon them like a resistless torrent, and bore them away upon the stream of truth almost whether they would or not. A minister, sitting within the railing of the altar, found himself unconsciously extending his arms to snatch the sinner from his impending ruin, and to carry him to the Lord Jesus for salvation.

His manner in the pulpit was solemn, graceful, and dignified; his enunciation clear and impressive; and all his gesticulations corresponded to the purity and importance of the cause in which he was engaged. Perhaps, when unembarrassed, he came as near to the perfection of a Christian pulpit orator, as any that can be found among the ministers of the sanctuary. He never demeaned himself nor degraded the dignity of the place and the subject, by descending to quirks and witty sayings to tickle the fancy of the facetious, nor spoke with a view to produce a momentary effect, or to elicit the shout of applause. To this disgraceful finesse, so unbecoming the time, the place, the subject, and the end of preaching, Dr. Fisk never stooped; but his air was solemn, his attitude grave, his words sober, his arguments sound, and his entire object seemed to be to bring sinners to God, and to build believers up in all holy living.

5. Dr. Fisk wielded a powerful pen. The few printed sermons he has left behind him bespeak for him the sound divine, the able advocate of revealed truth, and the fearless defender of experimental and practical religion.

In his controversial writings and who can avoid controversy — while he manfully combated error and defended what he considered the truth in a style of independence becoming the ambassador of Jesus Christ, he was respectful and courteous toward his antagonists.

Though it may he admitted that in some instances he was careless in stating his arguments, and not sufficiently guarded against the insidious attacks of some with whom he was called to contend, yet the acuteness of his intellect and the force of his genius were never more eminently displayed than in his Calvinistic Controversy, and in his Address to the Members of the New England Conference. He wrote, indeed, as one who believed what he put to paper, breathing into his sentences the inspiration of truth and sincerity, and pouring forth the streams of argument and illustration with that earnestness and logical precision which cannot but enlighten and convince the judgment.

Toward the close of his life he was engaged in a very delicate controversy, in conducting which he sometimes suffered no little reproach. Though Dr. Fisk was the last man who should have provoked reproachful language, yet he bore it with that meekness and submission which become the Christian minister, and finally testified on his dying bed, that, though he may have erred in some of his expressions, he was fully confirmed in the truth of his doctrines, as it was principle, not victory, for which he had contended.

We may therefore safely commend him as a writer for an example to others, and his writings as worthy of being read and had in remembrance.

6. Instead of towering above his fellows by an exhibition of any one talent of superior strength and brilliancy, in him were concentrated that cluster of excellences which constituted a nicely balanced mind, admirably adapted to the variety of calls which were made upon his time and abilities. This concentration of excellences created that symmetry of character which so beautifully displayed itself on all occasions, and so eminently fitted him to move in the various circles of usefulness in which he was called to exercise his gifts.

Though he may not have been so thoroughly versed as some others, who had devoted themselves more exclusively to any one department of literature, in metaphysics, in a knowledge of the languages, or in mathematical science yet he was sufficiently acquainted with these branches of knowledge to enable him to unravel the sophistry of error, to detect the fallacies of subtle antagonists, and to state and defend the truth with clearness and precision. With this well-balanced and well-disciplined mind, was combined that moral worth of character which at all times commanded respect and inspired confidence, and that fitted him for the various fields of usefulness in which he was called to labor. And in the exercise of these gifts, it was evident that he studied to be useful rather than great, though it is equally manifest that his greatness of character resulted from the usefulness of his life and labors.

7. But that which characterized Dr. Fisk among his fellows, and rendered him so eminently useful, was the deep vein of evangelical piety which ran through all his performances, and exerted a hallowing influence over his own mind and the minds of others. This, as I have before remarked, blended itself in his private studies, mingled in his social intercourse, graced and sanctified all his public administrations, whether in the pulpit, on the platform, or in the discharge of his duties as president of the university. And though no stranger to the weapon of satire, which he wielded sometimes with tremendous effect, yet it was manifest that the same hallowed end was had in view in the use of this sharp and dangerous weapon, as when he dealt in the more sober and dignified accents of direct truth and argument.

8. In his social intercourse he sweetly blended the meekness of the Christian and the gravity of the minister with the urbanity of the gentleman and the graces of the scholar. Though too conscientious and independent to compromise the truth from deference to the opinions of others, yet he always treated their judgment with becoming respect, and uttered his dissent with that modesty and diffidence which indicated a sense of his fallibility and sincere desire to know the right. To the common courtesies of life he was never inattentive, well knowing that Christianity distinguishes her children no less by the “gentleness” of their manners, and the delicate attentions to the niceties of relative duties, than she does by the sternness of her requirements in favor of purity of motive and conduct. He was therefore equally removed from that vulgar rudeness which marks the clown, and that disgusting familiarity which obtrudes itself, unasked and undesired, into the privacies of others. In him were united the delicacies of refined life, with the strong and unyielding principles of Christian integrity and ministerial gravity.

9. Though inspired with that spirit of Catholicism which embraces all denominations as constituting one Christian brotherhood, he was, nevertheless, cordially attached from principle to the doctrine, discipline, and usages of the Church to which he belonged, and of which he was such a distinguished ornament. Wesley he venerated as the first man of his age, as the greatest of modern reformers, as a sound divine, and as one of the most evangelical, laborious, and successful ministers of Jesus Christ. He fully believed that the doctrine and discipline of the Church Wesley was instrumental in founding in America were orthodox and Scriptural, and therefore admirably calculated to spread holiness and happiness through the land. Hence he labored indefatigably to promulgate its doctrine, to establish its government, and to extend its influence.

He loved the itinerant ministry of the Methodist Episcopal Church. No more conclusive proof could he have given of this than he did, by adhering to it “through good and evil report,” so long as the Church called him to labor in that field; and when called by his brethren to a more restricted sphere of action, his official duties by no means deprived him of the privilege he prized so highly, of going forth as an itinerant minister in quest of the “lost sheep of the house of Israel.” He who might have commanded thousands of dollars, had he chosen to attach himself to another ministry, “chose rather to suffer affliction” with these comparatively poor “people of God,” “esteeming the reproach of Christ,” as borne by a Methodist itinerant, “greater riches than the treasures” he might have secured to himself in another department of ministerial labor. And though, after he accepted of the presidency of the Wesleyan University, he had a most luring offer, so far as pecuniary consideration was concerned, to take charge of another literary institution, yet he declined the honor because he loved that which bore the name of Wesley, from a hope that he could there more effectually build up Wesleyan Methodism, by training its sons in the principles and practice of that apostolic man, and because he had already pledged his best endeavors to promote its literary and religious interests. While therefore he gave the right hand of fellowship to ail, of every name, who “loved the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity,” he manifested his preference for the ministry and doctrines of his own Church, by cleaving to them to the end of his life.

10. It remains only that we look at him as the head of the Wesleyan University. Here he seemed to be the center of attraction to all connected with the institution, whether as professors, directors, or as students. His counsel was respected, his precepts observed, and his example considered worthy of the imitation of all. He ruled more from the love and respect which were felt and entertained for his character, than from a fear of his frown, though the latter was dreaded in exact proportion to the esteem felt for his exalted worth.

His inaugural address developed the principles on which the government of the university would be conducted; and the paternal manner in which these principles were practically in illustrated gave a character to the institution which secured the affection and commanded the respect of all interested in its prosperity; and perhaps no student ever left his Alma Mater without being impressed with a deep sense of his obligations to its president for the fatherly solicitude he had manifested in his literary, intellectual, and religious welfare.

Placed thus at the head of an institution which must tell for good or in on the destinies of so many immortal beings, he felt the responsibility of his station, and acted in view of that day when he must render an “account of his stewardship.” And such was the success with which he presided over the literary and religious interests of those committed to his oversight, and discharged the duties of the high trusts confided to him, that he inspired the respect and confidence, not only of those immediately connected with the university, but of the public at large, as well as those who held a kindred relation to similar institutions.

Hence his death is considered a loss to the entire community. The impression he was making upon the public mind generally was of the most favorable character; and the lamentations made on hearing the news of his death, and the tones of sympathy expressed by others than those connected with him in church fellowship, show that the community generally felt a lively interest in his welfare, and therefore sorrowed “most of all that they should see his face no more.”

Finally, we may say, that “whatsoever things were lovely, pure, and of good report,” in religion and morals, in learning and science, in spirit and conduct, were, in an eminent degree, concentrated in him, and, sweetly and harmoniously blending their united influence in his heart and life, gave a symmetry, a finish and polish to his character, worthy of love and admiration; and although as a human being he must have felt and exhibited the common infirmities of our nature, yet, having been disciplined by education, refined by grace, and improved by reading and extensive observation, he may be safely held up as an exemplar for the imitation of the Christian, and the minister of Jesus Christ, as well as those to whom are committed the interests of the youth of our land.

There are two other names I wish to mention before I close this volume; one because he was among the older class of Methodist preachers, and the other because he ranked among the younger; and also because they were both worthy of remembrance.

Smith Arnold was born in Middlebury, Conn., March 31, 1766, the year in which Methodism commenced its leavening influence in the city of New York, under the preaching of Embury, and the prayers of the few who accompanied him to this country. After his marriage and subsequent settlement in Herkimer county, N. Y., he was made a partaker of the grace of life, and commenced his itinerant career by joining the New York conference in the year 1800. The first year of his ministry he spent in the western part of New York state, then a new country, but rapidly filling with inhabitants. Here he had the happiness of seeing the blessed fruit of his labors in the awakening and conversion of souls. For twenty-one years he continued his efficient services in the itinerant field, often exposed to privations and hardships in the new and poorer settlements of western New York, and as often cheered by the manifestations of the power and goodness of God on his sincere endeavors to advance the cause of Christ.

At the end of this term he found himself so worn down by excessive labor, that he was obliged to take a supernumerary relation, and then a superannuated, in which he continued until his death, which happened on the 16th of March, 1839. His end was peace and assurance for ever.

Brother Arnold was a man of great simplicity of manners, a Methodist preacher of the old stamp, plain and pointed in his appeals to the conscience, though sometimes eccentric in some of his movements and phrases. His talents as a preacher were respectable, and he generally commanded the confidence and affection of the people among whom he labored; and when his death was announced, none doubted but that he had exchanged this for a better world.

Who is exempt from the ravages of death? Among those who had been taken from the walls of our Zion to the “Jerusalem which is above,” was John D. Bangs, son of the Rev. John Bangs, of the New York conference. Young, vigorous, pious, and amiable, he promised great usefulness to the Church, and much satisfaction to his numerous friends, had God seen fit to spare his life, and bless his endeavors.

He was born in the town of Kortwright, Delaware county, N. Y., May 7, 1813, and at the early age of fourteen was converted to God, and became a member of the Church. Growing in grace and in the knowledge of the Lord Jesus Christ, and exhibiting a talent for preaching, he was duly authorized, according to the usages of the Church, and went on a circuit in 1835. His first labors were in a part of the country where his father and uncles were born, in the state of Connecticut, and he soon gave evidence of that devotion to the cause of God, and capacity to instruct others in the way of salvation, which won for him the confidence and the affection of his seniors in the ministry, and the people among whom he labored. Accordingly, in the spring of 1836 he was admitted on trial in the New York conference, and graduated in regular course to elder’s orders.

But his race was short, and his death sudden and unexpected. On the 15th of July, 1838, his wife, with whom he had been united only about one year, but whose amiable virtues fitted her for a useful companion in adversity or prosperity, sickened and died. While attending at her grave, greatly exhausted with watching and anxiety, he was seized with the same disease, the scarlet fever, which had so recently deprived him of a beloved wife. Six days only after her death he was called to resign up his breath to God who gave it, and in whose praise it was employed while at his command. Thus, in the twenty-sixth year of his age, this young minister of Jesus Christ bid adieu to all earthly enjoyments, in sure and certain hope of everlasting life; and while his dust reposes by the side of his wife’s, in the town of Yonkers, their spirits are doubtless rejoicing together before the throne of God in heaven.

John D. Bangs was characterized by deep humility, genuine piety, and amiability of manners, as well as thirst for the salvation of souls, which greatly endeared him to his friends and acquaintances, and made the pang of separation the more severe in some respects, and the more joyful in others, to his bereaved parents and circle of relatives.

Numbers in the Church: Whites This Year: 650,357; Last Year: 615,212; Increase: 35,145 — Colored This Year: 89,197; Last Year: 79,236; Increase: 7,961 — Indians This Year: 2,249; Last Year: 2,101; Increase: 148 — Local Preachers This Year: 5,856; Last Year: 5,792; Increase: 64 — Traveling Preachers This Year: 3,557; Last Year: 3,332; Increase: 235 — Total This Year: 749,216; Last Year: 705,673 — Increase: 43,553.