Chapter V

Bemark of Homer — Whitmore Winslow’s return from Dablin — Visit to town — Closing Sabbath service and communion — Catholic spirit -Visit to Dover — Letter to his firiend — Last service on earth Affecting coincidence — Death — Interment — Poetry — Concluding remarks.

It was the pathetic remark of Homer, concerning a noble youth stretched upon the battle-field, that “he never lived to repay the care of those who had brought him up.” In the case of a godly youth suddenly and, to human view, prematurely severed from life, Christianity modifies this sentiment, and tempers this lament of the poet. In such a case there is a reward. Brief though the career of such a one may be, yet it is no life-blank, unwritten and untraced. To have witnessed the early consecration to Christ — to have marked the matured wisdom — the deepening grace — the brightening holiness — the glowing sunset — who will say that he lived not to repay the care, and to realize the treasured hopes and prayers of those who trained his first years, watched with parental fondness his manhood’s progress, and then saw the early grave close over all, radiant with the lustre of Christian hope? Oh say not that he never lived to repay the care of those who brought him up!”

In July, 1856, Whitmore Winslow returned home from Dublin — to die! We gave him the meeting. He leaped from the carriage into our arms buoyant with life and happiness. It was a joyous reunion after a long year’s separation — a joy, alas! sq soon to yield to the deepest grief He bore with him some valuable works, the trophies of his recent successfrd competition for University Honours — the last chaplet science bound upon the youthfol brow of her favoured son. They are precious relics now. In our walks we reviewed the studies of the past year — revelled in the full unfettered intercourse of the present — and talked of the fdture, when, at the close of ie following session, he would take his degree, and reach a bright and long-desired epoch of his history. But Infinite Sovereignty willed it otherwise. God, whose work is perfect, and all whose ways are right, had other thoughts, and was revolving in His providence other designs — wisely and beneficently concealing His purposes frtpm our view. After spending a few weeks in the bosom of his family, he repaired to town on a brief vii it to his tmcle, occupying much of his time in viewing scenes of historical interest and objects of art, principally some galleries of choice paintings and statuary, his taste for which seemed to have acquired an inspiration and ripeness from his recent tonr upon the Continent. All who conversed with him were impressed with his manly bearing and gentle address. It was the observation of one who then saw him for the first time, that “he approached the nearest to perfection of any being she had ever met.” It was the * hecmty of hoUneas* the love of God in his heart, imparting a dignity and tone to his whole demeanour that invested him with a charm so winning. * By the grace of God he was what he was! ’

His last sabbath on earth was spent in town, and his last communion at the Lord’s table was within the walls of St. George’s Church, Bloomsbury, closing his fellowship with the Church of Christ below in the spirit of that expanded affection with which he was about to ascend to the higher communion of the Church in heaven. On the following Monday, August 4th, he joined his mother at Dover, and appeared greatly to enjoy the change of air and scene, and especially the sacred repose and intercourse of his fisimiLy. Etoiodl thence he penned his last letter, addressed to the friend who shared his college rooms.

August 4tthy 1856. 16, Esplanade, Dover, “My deab K — -, — It is some time since I have written, but it is some time since I have had a quiet opportunity. I have been in London for the last fortnight, at my imcle Edward’s house, in Bedford Place, where most of our family gathered, as a sort of nucleus, around the sick couch of my eldest uncle,* who returned from the Isle of Man in a very precarious state. After a consultation of doctors — my uncle Forbes, Dr. Todd (a brother of our Senior Fellow), and others — they set to work on a new plan, under which I hope he is gradually recovering. Yesterday I came down here, where my mother and sisters and the yoimger ones are enjoying the sea air. I expect to be here for two or three weeks, and find the change delightful after the heat of London. I hope, moreover, to do some reading as hitherto, and always hitherto, as invariably as summer comes round, I have done next to nothing of real work. But what can we do in the face of nature? She will be obeyed, and persists in declaring that for some good part of the year the mind should rest; and I must say, ‘I consent unto the law that it is good.’ And yet how true is the statement of St. Paul, that the law of one’s members and the law of one’s mind never seem to agree; and is it not experimentally true, that each aspires to command the other, and that we are only happy when the mind

* The late Bey. Isjljlo Dbblois Wivslow, Yicar of BnUdngton Waiwickshire.

IB supreme? I think high up in the list of Jonathan Edwards’s resolutions was this, ‘to resolve that the mind shall govern the body.’ Butler has a similar expression and in stronger terms, if I recollect right, that were he to relax the tension of his mind, he might in a moment be lost, the prey to any temptation. This we recognise easily enough; but do we as easily perceive, or as readily admit, the difference in kind between the principles that may govern the mind? I have sometimes found myself in this plight, dwelling with peculiar fondness on <me set of principles, and suddenly brought into collision with a particular fact which led to another set of principles, before overlooked or cast into the background.

“You and I, I think, admire intellect because intellect is power. ‘/ write unto you, young men, because ye are strong; ’ and we admire, too, the * saccharine ’ prindple that develops itself everywhere in some degree; but has our experience sufficiently indicated how eternally opposite are some principles? That there is in itself a principle of evil eternally opposed to God, and which never proceeded from Him, but from some source out of Him, and, therefore, that to be with Grod is to conquer that principle: not to conquer it, is not to be with God. The extreme principle, gaining credence in our day, that evil is only a form of good, seems to me irreconcilable with all around us; with all the instinctive hatred we have of certain acts which we denominate sinful, because done from an unholy principle, which we never can admire. I own to very imperfect notions upon this great and awful subject, but I feel the importance of having some definite notion, and the desire to have a right one. Does not this principle of making evil a form of good spring from s desire in each man’s breast to excuse his own evil, and relieve him from the exertion of actively suppressing it? I see the difficulties, they are thousand-fold. The principle of caiucUity supplying the greatest, ascribing it to soiBe cause, and yet, from a holy feeling, refusing to ascribe that cause to God. But can we not rest in this, — it has its origin out of Grod; its nature is eternally opposed to God; God hates it, therefore my reason can rest satisfied in a holy God? For if God be, He must be good; and He could not give us a principle to condemn EUmself, and therefore, when we condemn sin, we condemn what He condemns, and consent unto His law that it is just

^’ What conclusions we ought to draw in any partioiQar case is another matter, and may depend upon our degree of knowledge; but we cannot go far wrong if we are convinced ‘that a native principle of evil has its origin apart from God. Upon these momentous questions may we have right views. Write when yon can, and believe me,

“Ever yours, most truly,

“J. W. WlNSLOW.”

On Wednesday morning, August 6th, lie joined the family circle in perfect health, and united, as usual, in worship, accompanying the reading of God’s word with an occasional rendering from the original, throwing new light and beauty upon the sacred page. It is the habit of each indiyidnil

HIS DEiiTH. 191

present to repeat a text of Scripture committed to memory during the morning — a plan, it may be remarked, which has been found to illustrate, in an interesting and striking manner, the marvellous fulness and variety of the Bible, and at the same time storing the mind with the rich treasures of Gt)d’s truth. It was an afifecting coincidence, and would seem to have been singularly prophetic of the solemn event so near, that the words quoted on this occasion by a younger member of the family were those of the Saviour, addressed to the penitent whom He was about to receive into glory, This day shalt thou he with me in paradise! * How soon in dearest Whitmore*s case was this to be fulfilled I At the conclusion of this, his last devotional service on earth, he proposed going to bathe. One of his sisters accompanied him a short distance, pausing at a bookseller’s on their way to purchase a pocket edition of Locke. With several books in his hands,* he quitted his party and retired to the extreme €nd of the beach, and entered a bathing machine. A few moments afterwards — and his ransomed

* The works foand on the seat of the bathing-machine were “Locke on the Human Understanding,” the last nmnber of the ‘* Psychological Journal,” and his Bible.

spirit was before the throne — an inhabitan heaven — with Christ in paradise!

“Qod’8 finger tonoh’d him, and he slept.”*

An impenetrable mystery will ever, in the
sent world, enshroud this affecting event,
customary investigation, as will be seen be
availed to throw no material light upon the
cumstance that led to it.f It is supposed, I
ever, that the shock which the system rece

Tennyson.

t “It is with the greatest regret we annonnoe the nnt end of a most promising young gentleman, the son of Oct Winslow, Doctor of Divinity, of Leamington, and nephew o S^nrbes Wlnslow, who met his death in the most mysterioocunaocoontable manner, whilst bathing on Wednesday lasv. deceased was an Undergraduate of Trinity College, Dublin it appears that he was staying by the sea-side here, in con with his mother and sister, for the recruitment of their I at this season of the year. On Wednesday afternoon he into one of the bathing machines belonging to Mr. G. Marsh situated in the front of Guildford Battery, for the pnrpo bathing. He entered the machine with some books in his ‘. and was attended to the door by a son of Mr. Marsh, who him towels, and who observed nodiing at all remarkable in his manner or appearance. What afterwards took plap involved in mystery: but it was subsequently discovered tb had undressed and entered the water, but had not retun all to the machine, as the floor was perfectly dry. The only in which the melancholy end of the deceased can be acco’ for is the supposition that on immersing himself in the y he was seized with a flt or some sudden convulsion i deprived, him of all power of raising an alarm, as, if he had:

from the sudden plnnge into the water induced faintneBS, and that in a state of unconsciousness he sank powerless beneath the waves, and in an instant ceased to exist. Hour after hour passed slowly on, but he came not to those who were anxiously watching his return. And while they were beguiled by the thought that, on leaving the bath he had probably walked into the country, — lo! he was in heaven, * beholding the

the slightest noise as of a person drowning, he must have been heard, it being at the time high water, and the bathing machines being very close to the upper portion of the beach, where several persons were seated. If he had fortunately been heard, he might, in all probability, have been rescued. It has been rumoured that the deceased uttered a cry, and splashed about in the water: — but we have the best authority for stating that this is altogether untrue. Nothing whatever was heard or seen of deceased after he entered the machine, and at the expiration of half an hour the men engaged in attending the machines, having some doubt whether he had been in the water or not, one of them got upon the wheels of the machine, and looked in at one of the windows, when he at once discovered that the gentleman was missing. On the t&ot becoming known, Mr. Marsh, who was engaged at his principal bathing establishment near to Waterloo Orescent, attended at East Cliff, and made every exertion to recover the body, but without success at that moment A carefhl watch was kept as the tide receded, however, and in about three hours after the sad occurrence, the body of the deceased was discovered in the wash of the water. He was then quite dead and cold. The event has caused a considerable degree of excitement, and has cast quite a gloom over the town. “^Domt Journal.

King in His beauty,* a surprised and glorified inhabitant of the * land that is very far off,*

“He slept — «t8 fiideB the morning star, which goes Not down behind the darken’d west, nor hides Obeoored amid the tempest of the sky — But melts away into the light of heaven I”

No event in his life was more characteristic than its close — it was quiet, noiseless, deeply veiled. The messenger came with a surprise so gentle, and with a footstep so sofb, the saint of Gx)d knew not that it was death until he had passed through its gloomy portal, and towering upon the wing far remote from the mortal struggle looked back upon the ruined tabernacle he had just dropped. All around the scene of his departure was still — not a throe was seen, not a sound was heard, not a wavelet disturbed the calm waters that closed over him. All was lonely, too, — not a loved one was there to read his last thoughts, to hear his last words, to catch his last sigh. And yet he was not all alone! Much of his spiritual life had been spent in secret inter course with Christ, — deeply veiled from human eye. And now that he was to walk through the shaded valley — short though the transit was — Christ alone would accompany His young servant. Like the disciples on Mount Tabor, he ‘saw no man save Jesus only.’ His was a hidden life — his a hidden death — and botH were tmly m the Lord.

The sequel of the sad narrative is soon told. As the tide receded, his remains were recovered, and were borne to the house of J. B. KnOgeeb, Esq., R.N.,* who was upon the spot from the moment the occnrrence became known, and who, with a thonghtMness, delicacy, and sympathy such as belongs only to the loftiest type of our sanctified humanity, united with a member of the family in superintending the whole of the melancholy proceedings. May the Christian home that afforded a temporary repose to the lifeless form of one so precious bo ever visited, comforted and sanctified by the presence and blessing of Him who has said, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto OTIS of the least of these my brethren ye have done it tmto me P

On Thursday, the 13th, all that remained of our lost one from earth was deposited in the family vault in the Leamington Gemetery,t in

* Who, after ftdthfhlly serving Christ and His truth, has since gone to join him in the ‘Father’s Home.”

fFwiBAL ov xn LATX Ms. JoHir Whixxobb Wivslow. — The remains of the late Mr. Winslow — which had been conveyed from Dover to his father’s house, Lansdowne Circus, on Saturday — were borne to their last resting-place, the fiunily vault in the Leamington Cemetery, on Thursday last. The pall waa wa;^v=sl^M^ which reposed the dust of the beloved grandmother — the veteran saint and the yonthftd believer slumbering side by side until the morning of the first resurrection. They were “lovely cmd pleasant in their lives, and in their death they were not divided”

‘* We give thee joy, dear one!

We know thoa art happy now.
Life’s holy mission all well done,
Heaven’s sunshine on thy brow.

“‘T is true thy feet have trod

Death’s shadowy valley through.

Bat One was there, with ’ staff and rod,’
To shield and comfort too.

“I was Christ for thee to live,

‘T was richer gain to die:
He took thee from us but to give

Thee purer joys on high.

1^ J. Strachan, Esq., H. Clarke, Esq., the Rev. Dr. Burbidge, and Capt Beville; and the remains were followed by the Bev. Dr. Winslow and the Masters Winslow, father and brothers of the deceased; Edward Winslow, Esq., and Dr. Forbes Winslow, uncles; and by three Messrs. Winslow, cousins, &c. Miss Winslow, aunt to the deceased, and other members of the fieunily, also attended the ftmeral privately. A large number of the inhabitants of Leamington, anxious to show the re6i)ect they entertained for the relatives of the departed, joined the moumfhl procession at the Cemetery, among whom were J. Fenn Clarke, Esq.; J.S. Brown, Esq., Comber House; Mr. Taylor, Brunswick-street; Mr. Burr, Bossell-terrace, &c. The burial service was read very impressively 1^ &e Bev. Percy Arnold, Curate of St. Luke’s, and the deepest sympathy was evinced by all present daring the performance of the solemn ceremony. Upon the coffin was the simple inscription — ‘John Whitmore Winslow, died August 6th, 1866, Aged 21 yeara,’ »’ — L«omingt<m Spa Courier.

“No more of sin or pain

Shall thy gentle spirit know;
No tears shall dim thine eye again.

In heaven they cannot flow.

“Now thon hast leam’d the song

The redeem’d can only sing, Thon hast join*d thy voice with the holy throng.

As their meed of praise they bring.

“And the loved who went before

To their home in the better land, Thon hast found them all on that blisslhl shore,

A holy, happy band.

“Though a crown and harp of gold

To thy head and hand are given;
And visions of delight untold.

With an angel’s place in heaven’-

“Yet we ask not, sainted one I

If thon dost e’er forget P
Though stricken are our hearts and looe,

We know thou lov’st us yet.

“For the links are strong and bright

‘In memory’s golden chain;’
And love, refined by Heaven’s own light.

Flows back to earth again,

“Still we miss thy presence here.

We miss each loving word.
With each tender tone to us so dear.

Which our souls to their depths has stirr’d.

“And our spirits sink in dust.

Till Mih lifts up the eye;
And we learn to bow with a holier trusty

As we look beyond the sky.

“So we give thee joy, deer one I

Wd know thoa ert hiH[>p7 now;
Iife*8 holy mission all well done,

Hearen’s sunshine on thy brow.”

Who can conceive, still less describe, the raptare of such a death? It may not, perhaps, be nnlawfol to track the ransomed spirit’s flight as, dropping the vestore of the flesh, it put on the robe of immortality, and in the twinkling of an eye found itself in glory! Oh, the ecstasy! Oh, the raptnre! Oh, the glory of that moment! Imagination drops her boldest wing in the attempt to reach it. Severed from all the toils and dangers, the sins and sorrows of this mortal life — it is in an instant and “for ever with the Lord.” God had gentle thoughts of him in preparing the mode of his departure. Exempted from that dread of dissolution which the strongest minds can scarcely &il to experience, and spared the disruption of those tender ties, which a loving, sensitive heart like his would so exquisitely have felt — the last, the sad farewell — he passed away to that world of glory for revelations of which he so longed, for the blessedness of which he so panted, and for the purity of which he was so ripe. And now he is with Jesus! He has met the dear ones who preceded him, and who, doubtless, were the first to Trelcome his arrival home, — he has seen the Lord, — he Has entered into the goodly fellowship of patriarchs and prophets, of apostles and martTrs- — his noble, cultivated, and refined mind, his fond and feeling spirit finding fit subjects for its study and perfect beings for its love. Above and beyond all — is the all-engaging, all-absorbing, beatific vision of the enthroned and glorified Bedeemeb, upon which his perfected spirit feasts. And what an opening of heaven is there when a saint of Ood goes up! The veil is parted, and for a moment we seem to gaze within upon the glory, to listen to the music, and to behold the rapture of the saints — and we long to be there! With what sublimity has a sacred poet portrayed the vision: —

“Hasten, hasten, sweetest dove.

Sacred Sanotifier I
Breathe the sool-absorbing Ioyb,

Form the tnie desire.
Clear the gloomy mists away.
Tone the heart to harmony.
Then we»ll sing, and then we’ll pray.
With celestial energy.

“Bear me on thy rapid wing.

Everlasting Spirit I
Where the yoangpeyed chembs sing.

And the saints inherit
(Fluttering round the flaming throne)
Joys eternally their own.
This the cry of every one,
‘Glory to the incarnate Son!’
“Bimt, ye emerald gates! and bring

To my rfl4>tared vision.
All the ecstatic joys that spring

Bound the bright Elysian.
Lo! we lift oar longing eyes.
Break, ye intervening skies;
Bon of Righteoosness, arise.
Ope the gates of Paradise.

“Bee the exalted Bon of God
Pours the intercession I
ICark the sia*atoning blood f

Bend in adoration.
Endless glory is secured.
True perfection is restored:
Sinner, see! and be assured
All thy wants in Jesus stored.

Floods of everlasting light
Freely flash before Him:
Myriads, with supreme delight.

Instantly adore Him.
Angels* trumps resound His fame.
Lutes of lucid gold proclaim
All the music of His name.
Heaven echoing the theme.

Hark 1 the thrilling symphonies
Beem, methinks, to seize us;
Join we, too, the holy lays,

Jesus 1 Jesus! Jesus!
Bweetest- sound in seraph’s song,
Bweetest note on mortal’s tongue,
Bweetest carol ever sung,
Jesus! Jesus! flow along.

“Four-and-twenty elders rise

From their princely station,
Bhout His glorious victories.
Sing the great salvation I

Oast their crowns before His throne.
Cry in reverential tone — ‘Holy! Holy! flolyOne!
To whom be endless praise alone.’

“Martyrs, in a grand array

Circle the Redeemer
Now their crimson banners play

Near the imperial streamer.
And before His pierced feet
Down they, oast the coronet, — Baby wreath, superbly set.
With the dazzling saphiret.

“High ascend the mingling throngs,

Fill’d with heavenly fire;
Raise, believers, raise your songs.

Join the sacred choir.
Boon in yonder fiuth-view’d plains
Ye shall shout in rapt’rons strains.
Free from sin, and free from pain.
While eternal ages reign.”

His death produced a profound sensation in many ciroles, especiallj in the University, where the controlling influence of his holy life began widely to be felt. The sudden extinguishment of a life so il of promise was the subject of especial notice in various public journals, one only of which is quoted below.* Nor has his death

*” Now that many students are returning frx)m vacation, and that absent firiends are missed and spoken of, the death ofhSr. J. Whitmore Winslow, a fine young man, ’ dead ere his prime,’ aged twenty-one, is greatly deplored. He was the eldest son of the Rev. Dr. Octavius Winslow, of Leamington, and nephew of Dr. Forbes Winslow, and

202 mafORiAus of j. w. wmsLow.

been without a hallowed result. Many who witaessed his solemn baptism, — who saw his holy walk, id anticipated his nsefol fatnre were awe-struck by the intelligence of his sudden departnre; — one has been received into the fellowship of the Church on earth, and another into the higher communion of the Church in heaven, tracing the first quickening of spiritual life, through the power of the Holy Ghost, to an event, which roused them to the reflection, I too must die! What if my departure were so sudden P Am I

lost bis life white batbing in the sea mi Dover. He was member of the T. C D. Tlieologioftl Society, and bad given early promise of great distinction; boi, alas! it mi|^ have been said of him as of MarcelloB: * Ostendent terris buic tantnm fkta, neqne ultra Sssesineni.* Eminent Ibr his piety, be bad attracted to him all the serious men of bis dass; white the grace and goodness with which he was endued, like sonshine upon blossoms, developed and made more manifest his natoral amiability To bis sorrowing friends and flunily we may repeat IClton’s well-known lines from ‘I^yoidas, written on the occasion of the loss by drowningof a yoang friend of the poet: —

‘Weep no more!
For I^ycidas, your sorrow, is not dead,
Smik thoogh he be beneath the watery floor;
So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed.
And yet anon repairs his drooping head.
And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore
Flames in the fbrehead of the morning sky:
So I^roidas smik low, but mounted high
Through the dear might of Him that walk’d the wsveB.’”

Tke CUrical Jour ml

CLOSING BEFLECnOKS. 203

jprepared to meet the snmmons P” Though dead may he still speak to many nnoonverted hearts bj these memorials!

Let us not suppose that his death was untimely or premature. When fruit is ripe it drops, or is gathered. When a believer in Jesus is matured by grace for glory, the Lord of the harvest takes him to heaven. He comes into His garden and gathers His lilies. “The heavenly Husbandman ofben gathers for His gamer the fruit that early ripens, without suffering it to hang needlessly long, beaten by storms upon the tree. Oh, bow often, as many a grieved heart can tell, do the Lord’s best beloved die betimes, taken from the evil to come! While the unripe, the evil, the injurious, live long for mischief to themselves and to others. Boses and lilies wither far sooner than thorns and thistles.”* No! he died not too soon. The Lord saw that heaven was the proper sphere for one so unfitted for earth, and so called him soon away. He lived for God while he lived, and he lives now — not in our hearts and memories alone, but in the silent, unseen, yet real influence which connects in mysterious links the past with the present, and the present with the future. That influence may mould the character and

Dr. Kitto.

affect the destmj of many who shall follow him. Men live after death! Reader! is your life such as to leave a sacred, hallowed, controlling influence when yon are gone, — an influence that shall testify of Jesus, savour of holiness, and lead others to heaven P

There are comforts for the mourner. Many whose weeping eyes scan these pages may have suflered a like bereavement. Beloved, our God is rights dimly though through blinding tears we can at present read this truth. Oh, yes. He is love — He is wise — He is holy; and in this dark, crushing dispensation, which in a moment may have robbed you of one so lovely, so hopeftd, so dear, allis right! We cannot fathom the depth of this event — for ‘ffis judgments are a great deep — nor can we fathom the depth of His love — for His love is infinite. Let us, then, be still, and know, not only that He is God, but that He is our own covenant God, and will be our Guide even unto death. The hand that has smitten is the uplifted hand of a Father. Upon it, wounded, bleeding, humbled, let us lean. Listen to His own consolatory words * I wound, and I heaU * He maketk sore, and hindeth up: Me woundeth, and His hand makes whole,^

. CLOsnro reflections. 205

“Thou! who art toach’d with fbeling of oar woes.

Let me on thee my heavy burden oast I
Mj aching, anguiah’d heart on thee repose

Leaving with thee the sad mysterious past; Let me submissive bow, and kiss the rod; Lei me * be still and know that thou art God. *

“Why should my haraas’d, agitated mind Qo round and round this terrible event i Striving in vain some brighter side to find.

Some cause why all this anguish has been sent P Do I, indeed, that sacred truth believe, Thou dost not wUlingly afflict and grieve P

Lkflnite Wisdom! can it ever err P
Liflnite love! can it to us work ill P
Good, only good, dost thou, my God, confer.

Though it to me, alas! seem evil still: Oh! let not finite, firail, presumptuous man Thine acts arraiga — Thy hidden purpose scan.

“Oh! pity me, all crush’d beneath the blow. Thus weeping o’er this sad mysterious blight;

My garden’s richest fairest plant laid low, Gtomm’d with its dewy blossoms sparkling bright;

Just when its roseate blooms were set for firuit.

Stricken and 8hatter*d at the very root.

*’ There are none like it left, and earth appears So stripp’d, so desolate, without its charms,

A barren waste, a moumftil vale of tears.
That, were I not supported by Thine arms.

My pitying Saviour I this poor heart would break!

Oh! shield — oh! comfort for Thy mercy’s sake..

“My lovely gourd is withered in an hour 1 I droop, I fiunt, beneath the scorching sun.

My Shepherd, lead me to some sheltering bower. There, where thy little flock ’ lie down at noon; ’

Though of my dearest earthly Joy bereft.

Thou art my portion still — Thou, Thou, my Qod, art left!”

«

How blessed is the deatH of the righteous! It seems hard to part from those we love; it were harder still to detain them from a world of perfect purity and love; * We sorrow not as those who have no Aoptf,’ for those who sleep in Jesns; — oh, how trulyblessed is their departure! The labourer is at rest — the traveller is at home — the voyager is in port — the child of Ood has reached his Father’s house, and when the Lord returns He will bring them with Him. Oh, it is a blessed thing to die, if we die in the Lord! Upon the finished work of Jesus alone WhitmoreWinslow reposed all his hope of heaven. He knew, he felt, he acknowledged himself a sinner, looking for the mercy of God only through the all-atoning merits of the Lord Jesus. He commenced his university career with a solemn resolve to * live for God! ‘Gted ratified the vow,, and took him at his word. He lived for God the little of time — he lives for Qtpd and with Gtod through an endless eternity. We had no dying bed to weep over, but we go to his grave and weep — not tears of hopeless, unsubmissive grief — but such as Jesus dropped over Lazarus’s tomb* Ah! the spot where the righteous die, the place where they sleep, is sacred. It is good to be there!

“This place is holy ground;
World, with thy cares, away I

Silence and darkness reiirn around.

Bat lo! the break of day, — What bright and sadden dawn appears
To shine upon the scene ot tears!

“‘T is not the morning light

That wakes the lark to sing — Tis not the meteor of the night,

Nor track of angel’s wing:
It is an uncreated beam.
Like that which shone on Jaoob’s dream.

“Eternity and Time

Met for a moment here — Ftom earth to heaven, a scale sublime

Bested on either sphere.
Whose BteipB a saintly figure trod — By death’s cold hand lea home to God.

“He landed in our view,

‘Midst flaming hosts above.
Whose ranks stood silent while he drew

Nigh to the Throne of Love,
And meekly took the lowest seat.
Yet nearest his Redeemer’s feet.

“Thriird with ecstatic awe.

Entranced our spirits fell.
And saw — yet wist not what wb nw.

And heard — no tongue can tell
What sound the ear of rapture caught-*
What glory fill’d the eye of thought.

“Thus fiar above the pole.

On wings of mounted fire
Faith may pursue the enfranchised soul.

But soon her pinions tire:
It is not given to mortal man
Eternal mysteries to scan.

“Behold, no bed of death — His pale and lovely clay-No Bob was heard of parting breath —

None mark’d the eyes’ last ray. No — life so sweetly ceased to belt lapsed in immortality!”

“But from his grave the dust shall rise
In Christ’s own Image to the skies 1”

And thus we close this humble memorial of a Christian Undbrgeaduatb. Let the young men of our Universities read it, and learn that the most eminent piety is not incompatible with the highest scholarship — a close walk with God with the most diligent intellectual culture; and let them strive and pray that they may follow him as he followed Christ. He lived not to reach the bright goal of academic honour for which he laboured, nor the still higher distinction as a minister of Christ in the Christian Church for which he longed — yet he lived not in vain. He passed to no university diploma — he took no holy orders on earth — God having prepared some better thing for him in heaven — a nobler degree — a higher service — a crown of life that fadeth not away.

“How short his day 1 — the glorious prize.
To our slow hearts and failing eyes,

Appear’d too quickly won. — The warrior rnsh’d into the field.
With arm invincible to wield
The Spirit’s sword, the Spirit’s shield,

YHien, lo I the fight was done.

“The loyeliest star of evening’s train
Sets early in the western main.

And leaves the world in night;
The brightest star of morning’s host.
Scarce risen, in brighter beams is lost:
Thus sank his form on ocean’s coast,

Thus sprang his soul to light.

“Who shall forbid the eye to weep.
That saw him, from the ravening deep,

Flook’d like the lion’s preyF
For ever bow’d his honoor’d head.
The spirit in a moment fled.
The heart of IMendship cold and dead,

The limbs a wreath of clay I

*’ Bevolving his mysterioos lot,
I monm him, but I praise him not:

Glory to God be given:
Who sent him, like the radiant bow,
His covenant of peace to show;
Athwart the breaking storm to glow,

Then vanish into heaven.

“O Chnrdh! to whom that youth was dear.
The Angel of thy merdes here.
Behold the path he trod,
*A milky -way ’ through midnight skies! — Behold the grave in which he lies I
Even from this dost thj prophet cries,
‘Prepare to meet thy God.’” *

“Thy WAY IS in the sea, and Tht path in the

GREAT WATEBS; AND ThT FOOTSTEPS ABB NOT KNOWN.” “If I TAKE THE WINGS OF THE MORNING, AND DWELL IN THE UTTERMOST PARTS OF THE SEA; EYEN THERE

SHALL Thy hand lead me, and Thy right hand

SHALL HOLD ME.”

* Stanzas to the memory of Bev. Thomas Spenoer«Q€Iilr«r2n(Q>V^ who was drowned while bathing, 1811. “B? Swma&’^’Sijenfisrs.