Latest Years

Although Dr. Hamilton’s memory had nothing of the prodigious in its character, he was able, through a veryvivid association of ideas, to recall events and circumstances from a deep past, and make them march in line under the light of the present for the purpose of being reviewed and re-judged. These reminiscences, when some current fact called them up, were always lively and picturesque, and always turned to some practical account.

When an effort was made, a few years ago, by the leading men of Glasgow to collect money for the erection of that superb palace which now crowns an eminence on the western margin of the city, nearly ready to receive from the old dingy tenement in the High Street the whole living corporation of the College, a circular soliciting subscriptions was addressed, among others, to the minister of Regent Square. This was precisely the kind of circumstance that was fitted to touch the wire, and call forth, as if by telegraphic despatch, all his own experience as a student at Glasgow. The result was a paper, in the form of a leader in a London weekly, commending heartily the

556 ‘GLASGOW COLLEGE.

scheme, but also throwing out some caustic hints regarding past delinquencies and future reforms.

The panorama of the past, which rises here as by the touch of a magician’s wand, is an almost startling spectacle. This inexorable conjuror compels the spirits to come from the vasty deep, each in the costume and character he was wont to wear. The brilliant and the dull, the more and the less respectable, must march past in this royal review, and each must be valued at what he is worth.

Believing that this paper is of very great historical and critical value, we subjoin all the more important portions of it, omitting only one or two pungent allusions, and some unimportant details at the close. It is valuable equally in a subjective and an objective point of view: in sketching the College he incidentally exhibits himself: —

“Oct. 28, 1865.

“Thirty years have passed away since we put off the red robe of the Glasgow student, and took a regretful leave of the quaint old quadrangles, where every form was familiar. It was a cosy, warm-hearted College. The students were very clannish. They drew close together, and, amidst all their rivalries, they were proud of one another; and like most other coteries, had great confidence in their collective destiny. It was the period of the Reform Bill, and whilst some foresaw that henceforward patronage would avail little without personal merit, a larger number felt the exhilarating, animating influence which attends a great epoch, and burned their midnight oil, or declaimed in their mimic parliament, like men on the threshold of a new and brilliant dispensation.

“But youthful hopes and sanguine prophecies are not always fulfilled. Over several of the most talented and ardent the grave was soon to close — Perrot and Lamont, Colquhoun and H alley, Blackburn and Morell Mackenzie; and amongst those who survived some lost their health, others missed their opportunity, and a few, it is to be feared, grew lazy, or wrong-headed, or careless about their character, and are now somewhere or other buried alive. But Archibald Smith went to Cambridge and became senior wrangler; Tait went to Oxford and became a first-class man and a bishop; Joseph Hooker went to the South Pole, or pretty near it, and became the foremost man among British botanists; Eichardson, of Newcastle, went to Giessen, and became the favourite pupil of Liebig, and the most comprehensive and encyclopaedic of our chemists; Cotton Mather went to India, and became one of the most accurate of modern Orientalists; and Philip Bailey went back to England, and although he might have written something better than Festus, we do not think that he became by any means the worst of our poets.

“Looking over lists, medical, clerical, civic, it is still flattering, amidst our own obscurity, to mark amid the lights of the nation many who were our contemporaries in those distant days at Glasgow College. They were eager, high hearted students, and on the whole had excellent instructors. True, Dr. James Couper was the Professor of Astronomy, and if he had any acquaintance with the heavenly bodies, it was quite unknown to earthly observers; but as he never attempted to lecture, he was saved from those outbursts of juvenile mischief which converted the class-room of Jamie Miller into a perfect pandemonium. A droning sound from overhead, where M’Turk was maundering through a dreary abridgment of Mosheim, gave the impression that life was rather hum-drum in the garret devoted to divinity. But these were exceptions. Most of the professors were learned men, many of them successful teachers. Walker loved Latin much and jEnglish more; and, set agoing by a picturesque description in Virgil, or a happy allusion in Horace, it was delightful to listen to the parallels which he rejoiced to accumulate from Dryden and Shenstone, from Pope and Cowper and Campbell. If Sandford was too rhetorical for Parliament, and too pedantic for popular authorship, he was a paragon of academic eloquence j and stirred by those brilliant orations which opened each session, led into the heart of Homer and -(Eschylus by the rich and magnificent music which opened every door and recess, many of the students became enthusiasts for both the teacher and his topic; and had he remained true to his first love, it almost looked as if a passion for ancient literature would have been revived in Scotland, and assuredly a large pervasion of scholarship would by this time have graced and ennobled the wealth of its western metropolis.

“With admirable clearness, and affecting no needless originality, Buchanan set forth the elements of psychology, and, treading in the steps of Jardine, his illustrious predecessor, he so conducted his logic class as to make it not only an intellectual palaestra, but an excellent school for the neglected art of English composition. As soon as Dr. James Thomson was brought over from Belfast, Euclid found an interpreter, and the chair of Robert Simson was rescued from its long disgrace. A more gentle, anxious, painstaking teacher could nowhere be found. Any solemn Highlander who appeared deeply exercised about surds and unknown quantities, was sure to enlist his sympathy; and a well-timed question at the close of the hour could scarcely fail to obtain an invitation to breakfast, and an explanation of the binomial theorem. And although * old sensation,’ the sobriquet which irreverent affection had fixed on the Rev. James Milne, was too feeble to throw any life into his ingenious lectures, he was regarded as no unworthy successor to Hutcheson and Reid; and well aware of what was destined to come after him, the students sent a round-robin, begging that, old as he was, he would never think of resigning; for, whether right or wrong, they preferred the last gleanings of Milne to the first-fruits of Fleming. By the medical students Dr. Harry Rainy was held in high honour, as well as the great oculist, Mackenzie; but the pride of Glasgow College and the names of European renown were Dr. Thomas Thomson and Sir William Jackson Hooker — the former as gruff and ungainly in the lecture-hall as the other was graceful and polished, but each a mighty master in his own sphere, and consequently enkindling in many a susceptible spirit a kindred enthusiasm,

“The very building had its charms. Half-way between THE NEW COLLEGE. 559

the Cross and the grand old Cathedral, its dim class-rooms and dusky porticoes, reminiscent of Wodrow and Baillie, Zachary Boyd and Andrew Melville, to us it was no drawback that it lay far to the east, in the depths of old Glasgow. Even the Molendinar, painted many colours by the dye-works which it passed, was not without its charms; for we were young, and in fancy could recall the time when it flowed through daisied meadows, and gave drink to St. Mungo and his flock before ‘Glass-go ’ began to flourish. Still, it must be owned that the New Vennel is not a charming neighbourhood; and as few students now lodge in the Saltmarket or Gallowgate, it is natural that the College should wish to follow the town to the banks of the Kelvin.

“A favourable opportunity has occurred. Some railway, or other company, has given a hundred thousand pounds for the existing site and premises, and on a commanding site it is proposed to build — from plans by Scott, and at an outlay of over £300,000 — the new GlasgoAV College. To carry out the scheme, subscriptions are invited; and, with such a spirited chief-magistrate as Provost Blackie, with Mr. Orr Ewing for Dean of Guild, and with a representative of the city so eloquent and popular as Mr. William Graham, himself an alumnus of the University, and with the well-known munificence of Glasgow merchants, we should not wonder though this large contribution were obtained, and a structure reared fit for the palatial home of learning, and the crowning ornament of Scotland’s largest city.

“To a share in this subscription it seems that we southerners are to be invited. We feared that Alma Mater had forgotten us. Since we paid our last guineas, and gained our last prizes, we have been toiling on in our various departments, serving our generation to the best of our ability, and trying to do no discredit to the seminary where we studied, any more than to the land which gave us birth. And to all of us, it would have been pleasant to find that a few at least were remembered and recognised. But although the shower of honorary degrees has been copious and incessant, and although it happens that the largest Presbyterian congregations in Liverpool, Manchester, and London are presided over by ministers from

Glasgow College, by a curious coincidence they have all escaped. In the same way, in the list, for the last ten years, of those whom the Senate has delighted to honour with ‘LL.D.,’ we look in vain for such men of European renown as Hooker of Kew, Eichardson of Newcastle, Thomson, late of Calcutta, and the Master of the Mint, Professor Graham. But now that money is wanted, it is not unlikely that the Senate may call to remembrance * distinguished alumni ’ in England.^

“Every seventh year, at least, the member of Parliament must come to his constituents; but it is at remoter intervals that a college faculty is called upon to give an account of its stewardship. The present is one of those rare occasions. The Glasgow Professors want money; they appeal to the public; and the public may tell them a little of their mind, and even try to obtain a pledge or two for the future. And, first of all, whilst we hope that Glasgow will now do a great deal for the College, we deem it a great disgrace that the College has hitherto done so little for Glasgow. There is no city in the empire where a band of enlightened and pubjicspirited residents might do more to diffuse a taste for scholarship and science than in the great western capital, where there are thousands of young men available for evening classes, and hundreds of citizens ready to subscribe largely to every scheme of rational improvement. On the other hand, here are more than twenty professors, most of them undistracted by other occupations, in the enjoyment of a handsome income, with a holiday which lasts half the year; and what have they done for the intellectual improvement of the community 1 — for its elevation, social, moral, spiritual The colleges of London have their evening classes, where hard-wrought professors, returning from their brief recess, when the toils of the day are ended, resume by night, and, to a crowded concourse,

1 Through excess of affection for the historic colleges of Scotland, Dr. Hamilton, we think, en-s by overrating the importance of their procedure on this head. The question has fallen into such a position that the discussion of it seems altogether prolitless. Through the profuseness and lack of discrimination which have characterized the dispensation of honorary academic degrees, >.oth at home and abroad, their value has long been nil. Since the first edition was published, the editor has learned that the College of Glasgow has resolved to reform this department of their administration.

communicate those truths and principles which go far to expand the minds of their hearers, and make them not sciolists, but enlightened and observant citizens. Which of the Glasgow professors have gone and done likewise? And both in London and in Manchester a chief element in every effort at general progress, and a vital element in society, are the men who adorn their academic institutions; but among all the monks of the Molendinar, which are the men who take the place in Young Men’s Christian Associations and Colleges for the Working Classes, in town libraries and institutions for popularizing science, which has so long been taken elsewhere by Principal Scott and Dr. Leone Levi, by Professor Masson and Professor Maurice 1 Looking over, in the Almanac, the directorate of the literary and philosophical institutions in Glasgow, the College is conspicuous for its absence; and, whatever may be the merits of individual professors, we believe that as far as any express effort is concerned, as much might have been done for the elevation and refinement of Glasgow society had the University seat been lona.

“There is one other point on which we think the millionnaires now subscribing to the College should try to get pledges — we mean the College Museum. All the world knows what a noble collection John Hunter’s Museum has become under the management of the College of Surgeons in London; we doubt if any one can conceive the state of dowdyism and neglect into which Dr. William Hunter’s bequest has subsided under the management of the Principal and Professors of Glasgow. Last August we paid our shilling, and were admitted by a boy, who appeared as the sole representative of keeper and sub-keeper, to rooms resplendent with Titians, Correggios, and Raffaelles, and at the same time ridiculous with trumpery curiosities, and with specimens of natural history named after the style of a penny peep-show. In the lower apartments the odour of dank neglect and incipient decomposition made us tremble for the fate of anatomical preparations which we had used to regard as priceless; and, ascending to the summit, we found ourselves surrounded by dusty piles of books, a moment’s glance at which revealed Schweynheims and Caxtons sufl&cient to drive a book- worm distracted. It was

2n in vain that we endeavoured to obtain a nearer view of those treasures. There was no catalogue; a disconsolate-looking foreigner, who sat transcribing a manuscript, could give us no access; and the boy, who represented the Professor of Natural History and his deputy, could only take the shilling; he could not open the presses. But if the merchants of Glasgow build a palace for the College, we trust that they will take care that Dr. Hunter’s design is carried out, and that, relieved from rubbishy accompaniments, and no longer a light under a bushel, when residents or strangers go to visit the Museum, they shall see not only a few stuffed skins, and a series of anatomical preparations, but a fine picture gallery, a rare series of typographical incunabula and first editions, and a cabinet of coins matchless in Britain, and only surpassed by one Continental collection.

“Of the existing professors few are yet known to fame; but if Drs. William Thomson and Macquom Eankine, Mr. Veitch, and the Rev. Dr. Caird, may be accepted as representatives, there is in the academic staff no lack of acquirement or intellectual power; and, for willingness to accept or initiate improvements. Principal Barclay is surely a great advance on that ’ tough old Tory ’ his obstructive predecessor. On such a body, if public opinion is brought to bear at this juncture, we are not without hope that a new era may commence in its history. Instead of receiving only a third of its students from Glasgow itself, and emerging from its habitual obscurity only once a year, when a stranger comes to be installed as rector, let us hope that, in its migration to a new locality, it may become so attractive to the youth of the city, and so aggressive on the surrounding society, as to be the light of the Lowlands, and the great source of mental invigoration and aesthetic refinement to the vast population rising round it.”

In March 1866, Dr. Hamilton visited Scotland, in the interests of Church Extension in England. Erom Edinburgh he writes to his wife: —

“It is such a blessing to get good accounts from home, and none but good. I suppose you filter or strain the news, and keep the bad to yourself. The congregations yesterday were tremendous, both in St. George’s and St. Mary’s, but I do not know about the collections. Saw numberless friends, — Mrs. Alex. Hamilton and her daughters, James Marshall, jun., from Hampstead (who sent his love to James), Lord Cowan, Lord Ardmillan, Sir D. Brewster, Professor Blackie, etc. The singing in St. George’s is very fine.”

“Edinburgh, Saturday, March 17, 1866. “Went into the “West Kirk Burying-ground, the little side avenue next to Princes Street, where lie the remains of my gentle sister Mary, and of our faithful old Susan. At the further end was a lady, and, not to disturb her, I lingered near the entrance. I soon saw, however, that it was Mary’s grave which she was looking at, and, going forward, my tread on the ground made her turn round. It was Miss Jessie Cameron, She was very much surprised. * Yes, very often on a Saturday, I pay a visit to those blessed ones; to Mr. Wilkie, and my father in the Greyfriars, and to your sweet sister here. Nor has there been a night these eight-and-twenty years, when I have not named in prayer all that are left of your dear family.’ Such a holy love, such truth and tenderness of affection, are unspeakably precious, and I am glad that I can understand them. A rare and pleasant home it was in 50 George Square, under my mother’s endearing presidency; ourselves still ignorant of the evil in the world, and rich in delightful friends: Mr. Wilkie (minister of Greyfriars), Dr. Huie, James Halley, Braidwood, Smeaton, Arnot, and our own and our sisters’ contemporaries, — an atmosphere of perfect sincerity and openness, animated by sufficient vivacity and intelligence, and shone through by light from heaven.

“My interruption sent Miss C. away, and I copied the inscription: — ‘The burying-ground of the family of the Rev. Dr. Hamilton, of Strathblane.’ ‘Mary Hamilton, his second daughter, born 12 th April 1820: died 5 th Nov. 1838.” Susan Macfarlane, an attached servant, died 11th May 1842, aged 45 years.’

“‘Mrs. Lilias Craig, relict of Lieut.-Col. Kernan, died Dec. 1845; and her sister, Marion Craig, died 8th June 1849: both of Strathblane, who requested to be buried here.’”

“Quarter, March 20, 1866.

“My dearest Annie, — Accompanied by Miss Jaffray, I arrived safely here at two. It was very interesting to draw near Larbert, Denny, and other places so familiar, and really it was touching to find at the stations every body asking so kindly for ’ the son.’

“Thank James for his letter. I am delighted to hear of his exploits in the way of sitting up. I went out and visited the wood, saw the now celebrated tree; called on the Crombies and their seven children.”

“2 Sandyford Place, Glasgow,
March 22, 1866.

“My dearest Annie, — Yesterday the Union Committee ended at one; so I had time to go and see the Edinburgh Academy Exhibition. It has many nice landscapes, and

J. Napier’s ‘Edith.’ After that went to Blair’s for lunch, where I showed the two divines your eight-page letter, taking care, however, not to let them read it, and telling them that I had one every other day, so that they were filled with admiration and envy. Came here with Dr. Buchanan and Dr. Duncan in time for dinner, and then had a capital meeting in the Queen’s Rooms in the evening. A good sleep followed, and now a most lovely morning. Am going to hear the Inaugural Address of the Lord Rector Inglis.”

To Mr. George Duncan, an elder of Regent Square, in a time of family affliction, he writes: —

“48 EusTON Square, May 2, 1866. “With two such precious ones invalids under your roof, most deeply do we feel for you, and often do our prayers arise for you and dear Mrs. Duncan; nor can we cease to hope that He who has so often been the present help will yet in His wonderful goodness interpose and turn this captivity, ‘All His saints are in His hand,’ and it is a joy unspeakable to think that in any alternative it must be well with herself; but it is sad to think of such pain and helplessness, — sad, too, to think of the lengthened trial to yourself and her fond mother, and all the affectionate watchers beside her. A few grants were made by the committee yesterday, but there was no business of any difficulty. I am sure that it is far better that Mrs. Duncan should be kept perfectly quiet and uninterrupted, and all those who are around her whom it is best for her to see. But if she were any day fancying a five minutes’ visit from her minister, I need not say how gladly I would run down any morning or afternoon. J. H,”

From time to time I have admitted illustrations, from private letters, of the great ajffection and esteem with which Dr. Hamilton was regarded by Christians in the United States. I have omitted altogether the eulogiums that I have found scattered throughout the periodical literature of America, in the form of spontaneous reviews, as well as letters from correspondents travelling in England. It is due, however, both to the memory of the departed, and to the many warm-hearted Americans who loved him, to intimate that they did him justice in public as well as in private. In the present day nothing can be more delightful than to observe the readiness and generosity with which Christian men on the other side of the Atlantic observe and acknowledge whatever is lovely and of good report on this side.

From one letter more let an extract be given; in this

case from a gentleman who resided in the Southern

States: —

“New Orleans, June 25, 1866.
“Rev. James Hamilton, D.D., London.

“Dear Sir, — While travelling in England with my family, during the year 1858, 1 had the pleasure of forming your acquaintance, through the intervention of a gentleman who was then, I believe, a Member of Parliament from Edinburgh, The event has, doubtless, escaped your memory, or been crowded out by more important matters. I also attended your ministry. Since then it has been one of the dreams of my life to return to England, and spend the remnant of my days there.

“The convulsion through which this unfortunate country has so lately passed, and the sufferings consequent upon it, have greatly increased my desire to leave it. But this will be attended with expense, and I have only a limited fortune left.

“That you may form an opinion of the sort of society likely to suit me, I would take the liberty of stating that I am a member of the bar, have been for some years a judge in one of the high courts of the State of Louisiana, fond of books, and of the society of literary men. As, however, my fortune is much reduced, I cannot, even were I so disposed, indulge in fashionable life. What I need most now is calmness and quiet, and intercourse and communion with cultivated and religious society.

“I believe I can find all this in London, and would prefer it among the members of your congregation.

“Permit me to say, in conclusion, that you still preach on the banks of the Mississippi, through the precious volumes you have given to the world, and that life has been a more earnest thing to many of us by their perusal.

“Earnestly invoking the richest blessing of our common Father upon yourself and your labours, — I am, very truly yours, Jno. M’Vea,”

“Oct. 26, 1866. — Yesterday I sent the printer the last sheet of The Parable of the Prodigal Son. It contains the essence of a dozen sermons preached during this month and at midsummer last. Much of it was written in the

568 “THE PRODIGAL SON.”

early morning before breakfast, — a time which I would not choose for study, because it makes the latter part of the day dull and stupid, but I frequently have no other time available. To visitors I always try to be polite and affable, and they are apt to conclude that I have abundance of leisure. And visitors are very numerous. One Monday lately Ann counted the number of times that the door-beU rang, and it was forty- five times before twelve o’clock. In this way, for four or five of the working days, the golden hours from nine to half-past one are frittered away. At two, after a hasty dinner, I go out to visit, and the evenings are almost invariably bespoken. So I envy the like of my late friend Dr. Morrison, Mr. Jay, Adam Gib, and old Dean Milman, who are or have been early risers.

“A curious accident befell the first section of the Prodigal. I had preached it on the first Sabbath morning of July, and, coming home, laid it on the study table beside another manuscript containing an outline of the intended course, with various topics I meant to touch upon. I suspect it must have been poor little Ada, who, in arranging the study table, thought it best to transfer all such litter to the waste-paper basket; for two days after I missed the two manuscripts, and asked the servants if they had seen them anywhere. Isabella said she had seen two sermons in the waste-paper basket when she took it down-stairs the day before, and as she had not rescued them, she supposed they had been used to light the kitchen or nursery fire. Next Sabbath I asked for notes, if such there might be. A good many were sent, and with their help I re- wrote the Fatherland, as now it is printed, but the ’ outline ’ was beyond recall,”

On this occasion a member of the congregation taught himself shorthand in order that he might be able to report the sermons.

The discourses on the Prodigal were first published in a handsome illustrated volume, and afterwards in a smaller and cheaper form.

To his brother, on March 1 2th, he writes: — “We have been greatly saddened by the rumoured death of Dr. Livingstone. As once before, it may turn out unfounded, but I fear. Our people know him so well, that I could not avoid making his life and labours the main subject on Sabbath evening, with the needful caveat, that we may venture to hope his life and labours are not ended yet.”

A letter to the Kev. H. M. Gunn very pleasantly introduces a new member into the family circle. The marriage of his eldest daughter contributed to cheer his heart under his own increasing infirmity, and lighten materially, in prospect of his own departure, his solicitude for those that were left behind: —

“London, Feh. 27, 1867.

“My dear Friend, — ... I liked Frederick Wills from the first, and now I like him more: indeed, it has got beyond liking. Since his declaration he is more free, elastic, and open, and I feel as if I understood him fully. He is thoroughly noble and unaffected and true, and there is such a fine music in his manners, such a nice way of saying the right thing, as well as of parrying awkward things, that even outsiders are at once taken with him.

Now that the first flutter is over, they both seem profoundly happy, and I trust that in the loving-kindness of the Lord they may have many useful, joyful years together.”

As Dr. Hamilton took a leading part in the preparation and introduction of the Book of Psalms and Hymns, which was finally adopted by his Church, it becomes necessary to submit some notices of its rise and progress.

A small collection of hymns had been introduced as early as 1857; but it failed to give satisfaction. The demand for a larger and more varied selection increased and prevailed.

After several unsuccessful attempts to accomplish the object by the direct action of the Supreme Ecclesiastical Court, the promoters constituted themselves into an informal committee, and took the matter into their own hands. This was done, however, with the full knowledge, and even with the tacit consent, of the members, but without the formal sanction of the Synod.

With unflagging zeal and perseverance this voluntary brotherhood prosecuted their chosen task. In a spirit of prayer and love and patience, they persevered until all difficulties were surmounted, and a manual of praise was produced, which is in some respects unique and unrivalled. It contains, first, all the Psalms, according to the version used in the Scottish Churches, and then a collection of five hundred hymns, with appropriate music for each printed at the top of the page. No pains were spared. Nothing was omitted that diligence and skill, and the collision of many competent and independent minds, could achieve. In Dr. Hamilton’s correspondence I find letters sent THE BOOK OF PSALMS AND HYMNS. 571

out in all directions, asking suggestions regarding the value of tunes as well as hymns, and permission, where there was copyright, to use them.

Several members of that happy band have expressed to me, with enthusiasm, that the time spent in the work, while it was a period of anxious labour, was also a period of rare enjoyment and privilege. As iron sharpeneth iron, these men were quickened and edified by interchange of sentiment on the deep and tender themes with which they were so long and so minutely occupied.

The account of their operations submitted to the ministers and elders of the Church is couched in these terms: — “Chiefly owing to its limited range, the small collection of hymns supplemental to the Psalmody of the Church of Scotland, which received the sanction of the Synod in 1856, has failed to give general satisfaction, and there is a growing desire within our bounds for a larger command of that sacred minstrelsy which has done so much to enliven the worship of the various evangelical communions in England. Sharing that feeling, and believing that a good manual of psalmody might do much for the extension of our Church, as well as for the elevation of Christian sentiment and affection within it, various ministers and elders combined their labours in the summer of 1865.” The first draft was sent in the autumn to all the ministers, and many of the elders. Having considered, and to some extent adopted, the emendations suggested, the compilers presented their revised draft to the Synod in April 1866. The Synod gave it a general approval, and appointed a committee to revise it finally, with authority to publish it

572 THE synod’s committee.

when completed for the use of the congregations. The same persons who had prepared the book, with three additional names, constituted the Synod’s committee.^ Dr. Hamilton was convener both of the voluntary and the authorized committees. Both before the Synod’s act and after it, he devoted himself to this compilation with patriotic zeaL His love of hymns was an early love, and it had grown with his growth. With this department of sacred literature, as with others, he was minutely acquainted.

But the hardest part of his task was the necessity of defending the work, in its principle as well as its details, from the persevering opposition of brethren within the Church. He and his fellow-labourers were precisely in the position of Nehemiah and the returned captives while they were rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem: they found it necessary to hold the trowel in one hand and the sword in the other. At one and the same time they constructed their hjrmn-book and defended their work against brethren who contended against the use of hymns in public worship altogether. It was a conscientious opposition, conducted by conscientious men, and therefore it was all the more difficult to meet and overcome it.

This was not a matter in which he could consent to be

1 Dr. Hamilton. Mr. Watson. Mr. J. C. Paterson.

Dr. Munro. Mr. H. M. Matheson. Mr. Lundie.

Dr. M’Crie. Mr. M ‘Lagan. Mr. Dinwiddle.

Mr. Chalmers. Dr. Lorimer. Mr. Keedy.

Mr. Ballantyne. Mr. Thomson. Mr. J. Matheson.

Mr. Lewis. Mr. J. T. Davidson. Mr. W. Bonar.
Mr. Saphir.

“THE PSALTER AND HYMN-BOOK.” 573

silent for the sake of peace. Duty and Christian liberty were, in his judgment, directly involved in it, and at all hazards he must go forward. His old weapon still lay at hand, and he was still able to wield it. He will again appeal to reason through the press. As a part of his argument was, in the first instance, addressed to his own consregation, the whole assumed the form of lectures. In the “Psalter and Hymn Book, three lectures,” he spoke out frankly his whole mind on the subject. An extract from the Preface will explain the occasion and the circumstances: —

“Like all representative government, Presbyterianism offers good security against rash legislation as well as against needless and empirical changes; but it is quite possible that conservatism may be carried too far, and that, ignoring the signs of the times, or laying undue stress on old custom and personal preference, rulers of the Church may resist improvements till the demand shall cease, because the worshippers have gone elsewhere. And admirable as is that principle of mutual concession, which is needful to the harmonious working of any system, it is not always possible to wait till every one gives his cordial consent. If we do not march till all are ready, we may lose the campaign; and, whilst the Greeks are coaxing Achilles, the Trojans may be winning the battle.

“In the congregation of which the author is minister, the session lately agreed to superadd to the Psalms and Paraphrases of the Church of Scotland a small collection of hymns authorized by the English Synod. In taking this step, the session believed that they were meeting the wishes of their fellow-members and making a welcome addition to our psalmody. As, however, some remonstrated against any addition to the * time-honoured paraphrases,’ and a few expressed conscientious objections against using in the worship of God anything except the Psalms of David, a discourse was delivered in vindication of the session’s procedure, and two further lectures on the subject generally of Christian psalmody, — the substance of which afterwards appeared in the British and Foreign Evangelical Review for April 1865. Nevertheless, as it was still maintained that the session had acted in ignorance of the mind of the people, the minister, on his own responsibility, invited the members of the church to express their preference. Of five hundred and fifty-four who sent in their names, five hundred and three were in favour of the hymn-book, and fifty-one against it. Like good Presbyterians, most of the minority have since acquiesced, and, before long, we have little doubt that some of the recent opponents of hymns will be among their warmest admirers. Nay, we venture a little further; and just as to ’ them that are without ’ we have found it difllcult to make intelligible the point presently at issue, so to a following age we believe that it will be matter of mere amazement that the self-same persons who subscribed for the evangelization of the Jews, should have earnestly contended against the Christianization of the only part of worship in which a voice is permitted to the Christian people.”

Some earnest men in the Presbyterian Churches of this country take the ground maintained by one or two of the smaller communities in America, of opposition to the use of hymns in the public worship of God. They differ a good deal however among themselves, both as to the extent and the grounds of their opposition. Some think it wrong to sing in public worship anything except the Psalter, while others would admit in addition to the Psalms, translations of other portions of Scripture. There is another section who count themselves somehow bound to sit while they sing, and some of these felt constrained to sever their connexion with Regent Square Church because the congregation in singing praise substituted the standing for the sitting posture.

This simple statement will show to the general Christian community the necessity which Dr. Hamilton’s position imposed upon him, of contending not only for freedom of expression in praise, as in prayer, against those who would limit it to the express words of Scripture, but of contending for liberty to sing praise in the very words of the Bible against some who pretend to exclude all but one book of it. The creed which threw itself across his path is a remarkable phenomenon. Because the book of Psalms is a divine supply of matter for praise, you are prohibited from using any other; but although it is also and as completely a divine supply of matter for prayer, you may employ human language in public prayer to any extent, provided always that the sentiment be scriptural Again, it holds that you may add in human language as much as you please to the Psalms in praising God, as long as you only say it; but the moment you presume to sing it you sin. Further, it holds that in private worship you may sing hymns freely as praise to God, but that in public worship you may not; but it fails to draw a dividing line between what is private and what is public worship for the instruction of the simple.

He was distracted between contempt for this narrow and inconsistent creed, and respect for the good men who held it. Through the difficulties he vigorously pushed his way, until his views gained the ascendant in the Church; but he did not survive to see the improved and enlarged Psalmody actually introduced. The book, however, remains as his testimony to the Church. Every line of it passed under his eye. He accorded to it his hearty approval. It has already been the means of enlivening the praise in many a sanctuary. It has been adopted by the Presbyterian Churches in ISTew South Wales, in Victoria, and New Zealand. It is used by congregations in Ireland, at the Cape, and in India. The Booh of Psalms and Hymns survives as the building on which, along with kindred spirits, he laboured in his latest years; and his three lectures on Psalmody, separately published, remain as the argument by which he justified and defended his course.

In view of the great importance he attached to this subject, and the long labour he bestowed upon it, it is interesting to learn that a lecture on psalms and hymns was the latest public act of his life outside the walls of his own church. On Wednesday, 22d May 1867, in connexion with the adoption of the Synod’s Hymn Book, he lectured with all his accustomed felicity and power in Islington Presbyterian Church. Mr. Davidson, the minister, testifies that he exhibited on that occasion even “more than his usual vivacity and humour. It was listened to by a large audience, who were beyond measure delighted. The effort seemed to tell upon his then declining strength; for I was much struck with his worn-out appearance in the vestry afterwards, and his expressed longing for rest.”

On the succeeding Sabbath, 26th May, he preached forenoon and evening in Regent Square. The sermon in the evening was on the Tree of life, Rev. xxii. 2; and therewith his public ministry was closed. He did not put his hand again to the work he loved so well. It was the Pather’s will, though not at that time revealed to his servant, that, after a few weeks of waiting, he should obtain the Rest he longed for, and find it a rest for ever.

On the first three working days of the week he attended to his ordinary duties. On Thursday he “struggled with a sermon for the following Sabbath,” but was frequently obliged to desist, and throw himself on the sofa for rest. In the afternoon he went out to Hampstead, to visit Mr. James Anderson, and remained there about three weeks.

The last official act of his ministry was to preside at a meeting of Session in his own house on the evening of Monday 3d May.

During this time preparations were going on for the marriage of his daughter; and as he contemplated a journey to the Highlands of Scotland, to visit his friend Mr. Hugh Matheson, he greatly desired to have the union completed before his departure for the North. To Mr. John Grant, one of the deacons, who, living near, and being both loving and alert, was hand and foot to him in everything he needed concerning the church during the anxious months of his final illness, he writes: —

“June 14, 1861.

“My dear Mr. Grant, — For both your letters many thanks. The first was very cheering to a disconsolate invalid, with its Regent Square news, and its chapters of Christian philosophy. If it is the will of God that I should ever return to my post, I own I should like to be released from a portion of my present responsibility; but there is no plan to which I am wedded. Whatever is best for Regent Square, and for the cause of the Gospel and our Church in London, will be to me the most satisfactory; but the first requisite is a general and hearty agreement amongst ourselves. I saw Mr. Watson and Mr. Petrie on

Wednesday evening, and told them, much to the above effect, my views. Perhaps the brethren may not be able all at once to decide what is best; but to any scheme which generally commends itself, it is not likely that I shall be any obstruction; and I do feel deeply grateful to those who, like yourseK, have so much at heart my own comfort and the welfare of the flock. J. Hamilton.”

Believing from the first that this illness “was unto death,” he urged his friends to take immediate measures for obtaining a colleague who might also be successor.^

About the middle of June he removed from Hampstead and went to reside at Eltham, in Kent, under the hospitable roof of Mr. Boyd; but no permanent benefit was derived from the change. A turn in the garden, or a short drive in the evening, measured the extent of his exertion. He was languid; did not like to be looked at; pointed sometimes feebly to the setting sun, seemed sad, and unable to enjoy anything; unlike himself On the 27th of June, a sudden increase of his ailment greatly alarmed his friends, by showing what seemed symptoms of paralysis; but this feature soon disappeared again. To such a:u ex-

1 He continued to interest himself in the efforts made by the congregation to obtain a suitable colleague, but his friends, though they greatly desired it, were never able to cheer his heart by an announcement of success. The plan of Providence, as interpreted by events, was to give, not a colleague to their beloVed pastor in his lifetime, but a successor to take up and carry on his work. When this volume entered the press, a little more than two months ago, the prolonged vacancy was trying their faith and patience; but before its issue, we are enabled to intimate that such an appointment has been made and consummated as would have lightened the burden of James Hamilton’s latest care, if he could have foreseen the event. The congregation have obtained as pastor the Rev. J. Oswald Dykes, who was formerly the colleague of Dr. Candlish in Edinburgh, and a ministry of very great promise has already begun.

tent at this time had the disease overcome his powers, that he failed to recognise his host Mr. Boyd when he returned after a few days’ absence from home. Letters regarding the church were sometimes read to him; of these he would listen to a small portion, and then say, “It is enough, I can bear no more.”

A letter written at this time by Mrs. Hamilton to Mr. Matheson, who expected them in the Highlands, sets the scene before us with simplicity and fulness: —

“A very Hill, Eltham, Kent, June 29, 1867.

“My dear Mk. Matheson, — Your kind note was brought out to me yesterday. You and Mrs. Matheson will be deeply grieved to hear the turn that my precious husband’s illness has assumed — paralysis of the brain, — which has been threatening all these weeks, and the first signs of which positively showed themselves on Wednesday night. When giving him beef-tea, I found he could not hold the cup, and a few hours after sickness came on, and after that power of speech failed. He said to me, ‘Oh, Annie, how curious I should be like this! I cannot teL you, dear, what I wish to say.’ He said it quite calmly and smilingly, and with a look of such pity, added, ‘Poor lambie.’ I was quite alone with him, and for some time could not leave or move from his side to ring the bell. We remained at Hampstead with our dear friends at Frognall until Thursday of last week, when we went to Euston Square for one night to receive our friend Mrs. Strong, who came up to be at Euston Square to help me, and enable me the more easily to remain here with my husband until the wedding-day. He seemed to feel the air of London very withering, and was very anxious to come away as soon as possible. On Friday we came here, and we thought the quiet and pure air would soon show their reviving effect, and he certainly seemed more comfortable, but so weak and exhausted as to be obliged to lie constantly on the sofa, and doze away, taking no interest in anything, and being ‘quite unable to get up enjoyment for anything.’ This he said himself,

“We were much pleased with Dr. Kidd, and at once commenced his plan for invigorating him, but the being out so constantly as was wished, the driving, etc., were most wearying to him, and he seemed very desirous still to continue it if possible; but the pain in the back, and then the pain in the head, and almost constant nausea, tried him terribly. And on Dr. Kidd’s coming on Thursday morning, he told me the sad state the poor brain was in from over work. All yesterday and the day before he was quite conscious when spoken to, but could not put a sentence together, although he evidently understood all that was said, and quite knew those about him.

“Yesterday afternoon he became much more tranquil, — for the constant restlessness, whether asleep or not, has been very terrible all along, — and really slept quietly and more naturally, and the same through the night, which are very favourable signs; though he is, I think, not quite so able to reply to any question asked. On the whole. Dr. Kidd is pleased with the progress made so far, especially as the liver is now acting, and he really looks better than I have seen him for weeks, if not months. He has also great muscular strength. The doctor fears he may become liable to such attacks even should he rally from this one. All this we know is in higher hands, and our Heavenly Father gives us grace and strength according to our need; and, having through all this sore trial been personally kept so calm and made willing to submit to my God and Father, I do acknowledge and praise Him for all He has done and is doing for me. Nothing but His love and power could make me feel as I do, and I believe He is hearing the many earnest heart-pleadings that are ascending so constantly for us, and He will do whatever is best for us, and make us see it in that light. I have wiitten thus fully, as I well know there are no friends who will be more grieved or are more sympathizingly loving than your dear selves, and because you are so far away and cannot hear often. Your kind, kind wish to have him with you we both felt more deeply than we could at all express. You will be glad to know that here our kind friends do everything in every way for us both. Our God is indeed very good to us, leading us so gently and tenderly even in the midst of this sorest trial; and what comfort I have in knowing that it has been in his Heavenly Father’s work that my beloved husband has become thus worn out, mentally and bodily; and He may yet give restoring power, and give him back to us. We must trust Him, and leave all in His hands. With many, many thanks for all your love and kindness, and my true love to you and dear Mrs. Matheson, believe me, my dear friend, ever yours affectionately,

“Annie H. Hamilton.”

The marriage of his daughter had been appointed to take place at London on July 3d, and he would not permit it to be postponed on his account. Two brief notes, one to the bride and another to the guests, were dictated to Mrs. Hamilton, and signed by his own hand.

It was soothing to his spirit in that hour of weariness to know that his wife had obtained a son, and his younger children a brother, whose arm might support their weakness when his own should be paralysed or altogether withdrawn.

TO THE BRIDE AND BRIDEGROOM.

“Julys, 1867.

“I send my affectionate regards to the bride and bridegroom. I pray for them that they may live in love and in every virtue; that they may live long, and live /or ever. (As a friend said to me the other day), there is nothing before them but goodness and mercy and love.

“James Hamilton.”

to the guests.

“I return my grateful thanks to Mr. Gunn and my brother, Rev. W. K. Hamilton. I send my kindest regards to Mr. and Mrs. Wills, and my cordial salutations to all the dear friends now assembled. I would fain have been with you myself, but I trust that, beyond all the* welcome guests, the Lord Jesus Himself has been present.

“James Hamilton.”

from MRS. HAMILTON.

“A very Hill, Eltham, Kent,
July 8, 1867.

“My dear Mr. Matheson, — I am so thankful to be able still to give you good news of him. The doctor thinks he is making daily progress. He himself counted the days to the wedding, and as after Sabbath he felt himself getting better, he thought he would be spared; and as each day showed some improvement, he was well enough to spare me by Wednesday, and at his own especial wish I went to be present at the marriage. This, of course, was a great joy to all in the midst of the dark cloud which hung so sadly over all for days before. He dictated a message of love and blessing to the bride and bridegroom, as well as a message to the dear friends who were there assembled, and signed his name to each. We have, indeed, felt God’s goodness, mercy, and love in very large measure; and our hearts would be ever filled with deepest gratitude, and love and praise. The true kind love and sympathy of friends, far and near, has been quite overwhelming, and a source of such comfort. I do believe it is an answer to the many prayers which his people have offered, that our God has sent such an abundant blessing on the means used, and thus far restored him, and given good hope that our worst fears regarding his illness will not be realized. Of course, it will be very long before the effects of such a serious attack will wear away, and his weakness is very great, and must be, for the remedies have been very severe, and he was so thin and weak before; but his appetite is returning, and quiet sleep, less restlessness, and, as he says himself, ’ the brain seems to be quieting down,’ getting into a more natural state. Oh, how thankful I am for all this I cannot say. He has been able to go into the garden each day since Tuesday, and twice been out for an hour’s drive.”

On the 12fh. of July he was removed to the hydropathic establishment at Godalming, Surrey. Shortly after his removal to this place, he suffered a relapse so severe that, both to himself and his family, the hour of his departure seemed at hand. Under this conviction he dictated a solemn farewell to his congregation and his friends. After giving messages of love to all, he added, “If any inquire the ground of my confidence, it is not that I have been a minister of the Gospel, or have been kept from some sins, for I feel utterly unworthy. My hope is in the mercy of God through Jesus Christ, and in that blood which cleanseth from all sin, and I wish to go into God’s presence as the rest have gone, — a sinner saved by grace, — a sinner saved by grace.”

His brother William, who visited him at this time, received the impression, “from what he said, as well as from the peculiarly loving and earnest way in which he spoke,” that they should not meet in this life again. When his brother expressed a fond desire that, if it should please God, he might be spared a few years for the sake of his young children, he replied, “Yes, William, they are, some of them, very young; but it is not needfuL I feel as if I had reached the evening of the week; and on Saturday night it is far better to have all the work ended, — no sermon to write, no lecture to prepare, and to wait for the Sabbath; and I am waiting. My work to me seems done. You are going back to Clapham: give my kind love to our dear good uncle. His kindness has been unceasing, and is among the most precious of our many mercies. Dear, kind old man! His letters are very full of tenderness, and the fragrance of Lis sympathy will remain so long as the paper retains the ink.” This was a steadfast love; as far back as the year 1849, I find in a letter addressed to INIr. Walk ;r, this confession: — “You will be expecting a visit of Uncle Thomas; dear uncle, I feel more and more drawn to him for his own sake, and also for the more and more of my father which seems to shine out of him as he grows older.”

On the 27th of July, and in answer to a resolution of sympathy adopted at a meeting of the congregation, he indited and signed the following reply: —

* “Hillside, Godalming, Sttbret,

27<A July 1867.

“My dear Friends, — Although almost daily desiring to thank you for your friendly inquiries and affectionate prayers, to which I owe so much, such has been my state of prostration, that even by the hand of another I have not been able to write.

“Now, however, your message in the Congregational Minute, which I have received through Mr. Blyth, compels me to make the effort. Yet what can I say 1 I can only say that my heart is like to be broken by your loving-kindness.

“Twenty-six years have passed this week since my ministry in Regent Square began: it has been full of imperfections; but your kindness to me and mine has made it full of happiness; and I trust it has not been without tokens of God’s blessing.

“Should any measure of strength be restored, it is a great joy to me to think that such services as I may be able to render will still be welcomed; should it be otherwise, good is the will of the Lord: that will be done!

There is room for us all in the grace of God, and in the provisions of the great Atonement. To that grace I commend you and myself; and if not in the dear sanctuary where we have so often worshipped together, may we meet in that better world,

‘Where congregations ne’er break up,
And Sabbaths have no end.’

—I remain, your affectionate pastor,

“James Hamilton.”

“Hill Side, Godalming, July 28, 1867.” My dear Me. “VVatson, — Many thanks for your most kind letter received this morning, and its enclosed cheque, as vsell as for all the kind thought you and dear Mrs. Watson have given us, in doing so much to save us thought and anxiety just now. On Monday I received from Mr. Blyth a most kind letter, and the congregational minute of the meeting held on Monday week. These I ventured to tell my husband of on Thursday, when I hoped he might be able to bear it. He asked me to read them to him, and it was quite too much for him; he wept in a way I never saw before. And after a little he wished to dictate a reply, which I felt it best he should be allowed to do, and so set his mind free; this he did, and signed, lying in his bed (which must account for the sad shakiness of the signature and his want of sight). This you will see and hear to-morrow, so I need only now give you to-day’s report, which is very good, after a night of very good sleep — I think the best there has been yet. The terrible boil which has caused so much suffering and feverishness is beginning to subside and heal, so we are now hoping to see the nourishment which lie now takes with relish going to cover the poor emaciated frame. It would be a great trial to you and other dear friends to see how sadly altered he is in body, but the mind is quite as clear and bright as ever. We do not let it give out much of its brightness just now. He heard your letter, and desires me to give you his ’ kind love and best thanks for all his benefactions; the payment on account of authorship is a perfect windfall’ With our united warmest love to Mrs. Watson and yourself, and loving remembrances to inquiring friends and our dear people, — I remain, my dear Mr. Watson, ever yours affectionately, Annie H. Hamilton.”

Having remained under the care of Mr. Maberly for more than a month, on the 26th of August, under the direction of his physician, the invahd was removed from Godalming to lodgings on the sea-side at Llargate, where he remained three weeks. At first some symptoms of improvement appeared. Writing to Mr. Grant on September 1st, Mrs. Hamilton says, “This morning my husband came in to breakfast with us, and after it we had family worship together! It is now more than two months since we met together as a family. Yesterday afternoon, quite unexpectedly, Fred, and Sissie came down, and Andrew is still with us, so we make a good party. Our hearts overflow with joy and thankfulness for the goodness and mercy our gracious God has showered on us. I believe you will know better than I can tell how we felt, — what I felt, as I again heard his voice at our family altar. He is very much better on the whole.”

As the season advanced, however, without any decisive gain, about the middle of the month he conceived suddenly a strong longing for home. To Mr. Grant, who had sent weekly reports from London during the whole period of his absence, and otherwise shown a manifold and inventive kindness, he addressed the following note: —

“5 Fort Paragon, Margate,
Sept. 17, 1867. 3 p.m.

“My dear Friend, — Cold blustery weather has so thrown back the cure, and so aggravated the home-sickness, that we are coming to town on Friday or Saturday, with the doctor’s full permission. One advantage will be the nearness to the best skill; another will be the comforts of our own abode, and, perhaps the most influential of all, nearness to our dearest friends. I find that affection does not lessen by lapse of years, and it is with deepening gratitude that I read what the dear Redeemer says about the many mansions and the society in the Father’s house. For your most interesting, and sometimes entertaining — often tenderly sympathetic — letters, I can return no equivalent. I must leave that to my better-half. The receiving of your and Mrs. Grant’s letters has done much to sweeten the long solitude, and I cannot tell how grateful I am, especially on her behalf. It is hard to say which of us is the most to be envied; hasn’t the Lord been very kind to all of us? Let us magnify His holy name together. Let us trust Him, and thank Him, and try to get others to come under the shadow of His wings. I felt it a very great kindness your going to Helensburgh to see James. Give my kind love to Mrs. Grant. The Parisian dressing-case stands on the mantelpiece, in curious contrast to present circumstances, but a precious keepsake from dear friends, and a souvenir of the last happy holiday. Wishing for one and all of the Quaternion growth in grace and love and all goodness, — I remain, ever affectionately yours,

“James Hamilton.”

His son, by this time pretty well restored to health, had been placed in a boarding-school at Helensburgh, on the Clyde.

On the 19th of September, in compliance with his own earnest desire, he was removed to London, and took possession once more of his own house in Euston Square.

In his suffering and weakness he remained the same man that he had been in periods of health and activity. Except in pain and sickness, the latest days of his life were in no way different from its earlier days. It is true he was ready to depart — willing rather to depart and to be with Christ; but this was not a new and peculiar experience imparted to him on his deathbed; it was an experience that he enjoyed to the full in periods of highest health and prosperity. When his cup was at the fullest, he was wont to entertain, not only with composure, but with delight, the prospect of departing.

On his deathbed, no feature of his character was in any way changed, except in as far as physical debility impeded its outward manifestation. Through the weary days and nights of his suffering many touching expressions fell from his lips regarding his trust in God and his love for men. But these appeared as in the days of his health, naturally mingled with a cheerful interest in all that surrounded him. Even the humour that characterized him in his busy days was not extinguished by the languor of his disease. When, by the substitution of a water-bed, he found that instead of being confined to one position he could turn to any side, he expressed his satisfaction at having attained “unlimited liability.” In his living years and in his dying days he was all the same man.

Being in London towards the close of September, I was permitted to have one brief interview with the patient. There was less change in his appearance and his look than I had expected to find; there was full activity of mind, and calm confidence of spirit, but great physical lassitude. I intimated, when about to take leave, that we were all praying that he might be spared and restored to us. Indicating by look and gesture that he dissented from my judgment in that matter, he whispered, as I bent my ear to receive his word, “Pray for an abundant entrance.” This was the attitude of his spirit throughout his illness. His own judgment, after the first stages, never varied. He believed that his work was accomplished, and his outlook now was for rest. At Godalming, in the early autumn, when he was so prostrated that he could not interest himself in anything, Mrs. Hamilton tells us that when he had made no sign throughout the day, he pointed with marks of interest towards the setting sun at night. When he could not muster up strength enough to utter a sentence, the great natural symbol was by a gesture, commissioned to express his expectation and desire.

By a secret and sure premonition, he knew and an- “BEHOLD, THE BRIDEGROOM COMETH.” 591

nounced at an eai]y stage that the end was coming. Thenceforth he waited with lamp weU-trimmed by the wayside, and the sound of the Bridegroom’s approach fell on his quick and watchful ear, while loving friends still hoped to enjoy his company for many days. Those who lie in watch for an approaching procession, and especially if they desire its approach as the fulfilling of their own joy, will hear the expected tramp from afar, as the practised African warrior discerns mysteriously the distant footfaU of friends or foes, by laying his ear to the ground; while others whose senses are unexercised, or otherwise occupied, detect no sign, “These are the Bridegroom’s footsteps,” persisted the ready expectant watcher; and his eyes strained eagerly forward into the darkness, while friends and family, believing what they wished, endeavoured to persuade him that it was only a rustling among the leaves. His instincts were true; they did not miss the mark. According to his own glad divining, the sound he heard proved to be the Lord’s coming; parting willingly from its tabernacle, the emancipated spirit joined the procession, and entered with it into the marriage. The door was shut — shutting the ransomed into rest, and shutting out our view of his subsequent experience. Eye hath not seen — cannot see, what the Lord, after due preparation on earth, has done within the veil for that disciple who loved Jesus — whom Jesus loved.

A brief but clear and thoroughly authentic narrative of the closing scene was drawn up at the time by members of that inner circle who watched most closely over it. The document is subjoined entire.

“Once more in his own home, and surrounded ’ by his family and the familiar objects which his presence had always lighted up as by a sunbeam, he felt greatly comforted; but no abatement of his symptoms could be perceived. Subject to the almost hourly alternations of nervous prostration, and severe and protracted hepatic disease, he lingered on, greatly emaciated and exhausted, but patient and submissive; his mind clear and beautiful as ever it had been, while his hope and confidence were without a cloud.

“During his long and trying illness, those who had the privilege of being much with him could not fail to remark how sickness and suffering deepened into prominent relief the features of his beautiful character. Towards his Divine Master there could be no change: his faith and confidence in Him did not for a moment waver. As he had delighted to render Him loving service while in health, in sickness he was content obediently to suff’er; having a desire to depart and to be with Christ, yet leaving without question the issue of his illness in the Lord’s hands. If it was His will, for the sake of his beloved wife and their little ones, to whom his care seemed so needful, he would patiently wait; but for himself he had no such wish. ‘The sweetest sound I could hear,’ he said to a friend, ’ would be the Master’s voice calling me home.’ And to another, ‘Do not ask life for me, but pray for an abundant entrance.’

“Nor could there be any change in his loving affection for the dear flock the Chief Shepherd had given him to feed. He had devoted himself to that blessed work in the prime of his early manhood; and when, after twenty-six years of earnest service, sickness and disease were sent, they did not — for they could not — separate his people from his love. Often during the night, and when unaware that wakeful ears were near him, he would be heard asking for his ’ dear people’ the blessings of God’s grace. And when the conversation would revert, at other times, to Regent Square, it was touching to recognise how true to its gracious instinct was the affection of the absent pastor. No subject, however unimportant, was a matter of indifference to him, while even to the last he maintained the same loving interest in each member of his GRATEFULNESS AND CHEERFULNESS. 593

flock that he had manifested while able to mix freely with them. ‘My preaching-days are over,’ he said to a friend; ’ but, if it be God’s will to prolong my life, I would like to be, for the rest of my days, where I could go in and out among my dear people.’ And he was without carefulness. ‘I am not anxious about Regent Square,’ he said to one of the elders; ‘God will surely send them a man after His own heart.’

“To those who had the pleasure of ministering to him in his sickness, he was peculiarly grateful. To Mr. Anderson, Mr. Boyd, and the members of their families, with whom he had spent some of the earlier days of his illness, and to Mr. Hugh Matheson, to whom he had intended to pay a lengthened visit in the autumn, at his house in Ross-shire, he was especially grateful; while no kindness, however minute, shown to himself or to any member of his family, was overlopked, or failed to receive a cordial acknowledgment.

“Though suffering from a disease peculiarly depressing, his bright cheerfulness rarely forsook him. With a mind filled with the peace and love of God, there could be no room for despondency or gloom. Even to the last, he maintained his characteristic genial equanimity; while his radiant, loving smile, in recognition of the smallest attention, made the work of those who waited on him not a task, but a service of love. And in nothing was he more remarkable than for his delicate consideration for the comfort and the feelings of others. During the whole of his illness, his anxious care that his beloved wife and family should be spared the painful anticipation of their impending bereavement, was very marked. While to others he spoke without reserve of his conviction of the unfavourable issue of his illness, that apparently from the beginning had filled his mind, and not unfrequently gave utterance to his longing desire to be at rest, to his wife and family he either avoided the subject, or, recognising their efforts to cheer him, he would himself suggest hopeful considerations, or acquiesce in theirs. Even a few days before his death, he begged that his illness should not deprive the dear little ones of the family of any opportunity of childish mirthfulness or recreation ] so anxious was he to the last that

2 r his home should be a happy one, and his presence impart to all who came within its influence, not gloom and sadness, but happiness and joy.

“Early in the week preceding the Sabbath morning on which he died, he requested that at the next consultation he might see the physicians alone. Although — doubtless, for wise professional reasons — the decided information he desired was not fully afforded, he was evidently convinced that he would not much longer be denied the change he longed for. Next morning, to his dear wife he spoke out all his loving heart, comforting her with the assurance that they would be parted only for a little time, while the same dear Saviour that he was so soon to see face to face, would remain to be her gracious Protector and loving Friend. On being told that during all these weary months, though they had not spoken to each other of the parting, now apparently so near, God had been gradually preparing her, making her willing to resign him, he exclaimed, ‘Oh, praise the Lord! praise the Lord! that He has made you willing.’ This gave him great relief, and from that time to the end he spoke freely and frequently of the future, always importing into a subject, otherwise sorrowful and sad, his own bright hopefulness and joy.

“On Wednesday, and again later in the week, to his brother, Mr. Andrew Hamilton, who, from the time of his removal to Margate, had been constantly with him, he gave directions respecting his funeral, expressing a wish, that should a service be thought useful or desirable, a minister of some denomination other than his own should take part; ‘I have always,’ he said, ’ loved those who love the Lord Jesus.’ And thus in death, as in life, he testified that his affection for the followers of Jesus was broader than the limits of his own denomination.

“On the evening of Thursday, he took leave of his son-in-law. About seven o’clock, the hour of the weekly prayer-meeting, after speaking tenderly to his daughter, Mrs, Wills, Mrs. Hamilton read to him the paraphrase —

‘Where high the heavenly temple stands; ’

and afterwards, at his request, they sang Mrs. Cousins’ beauti- “all things are now ready.” 595

ful paraphrase of the dying words of Samuel Rutherford. When they reached the last verse, as if the words had touched a chord to which he must respond, he joined, in a voice weak indeed, and feeble, yet distinct —

‘I stand upon His merit;

I know no other stand;
Not e’en where glory dwelleth,
In Immannel’s land.’

“On Friday, he spoke little. His symptoms were evidently aggravated; and, though he still wore the same placid, patient aspect, it was plain that he was much distressed. In the evening, and, indeed, throughout the day, he had become so prostrate, that even the exertion of speaking for a few moments was almost more than he could bear.

“Next day, Saturday, was to be his last on earth. In the morning, after an affectionate reference to his son James, then absent at school in Scotland, and who had been sent for, he reverted to the directions he had given earlier in the week, respecting his funeral. On his brother inquiring if he had any other wish that he desired to express, he said, ‘I have not an earthly desire; my only desire is soon to be gratified.’ Later in the morning his brother, the Rev. W. Hamilton, arrived from Stonehouse. He was able to receive him with all his old aflfection, and to converse with him at intervals during the day. Towards the evening he said to him, * There is one line in that hymn which begins with “The hour of my departure ’s come!” which exactly describes my feelings at this time, —

‘I leave the world without a tear,
Sare for the friends I love so dear.’

On his brother reminding him of his father’s favourite verse which he frequently repeated in the pulpit, —

‘Jesus! the vision of thy face
Hath overpowering charms;
I scarce would feel Death’s cold embrace,
If thou wert in mine arms! ’

he replied, ‘No, I had forgotten it; but there is no cold embrace, William; there is no cold embrace.’

“About ten o’clock, he grew rapidly worse, again complaining of oppressive tightness in his chest. To his brother WilHam he said, * Would you feel my pulse and tell me if it has stopped, for I feel that I am sinking very fast; perhaps, as it is getting late, it might be well to send for Dr. Williams, for I should not like to disturb him if he were once in bed.’

“A little after this he took an affectionate farewell of his dear wife, adding, ‘The Lord bless you and keep you, and be ever with you! ’ to which she replied, ‘As He is with you,’ A sweet smile of assent lighted up his features as he said, * And with you! ‘After a short interval he clasped his hands upon his breast, saying, ‘Come, Lord Jesus, COME QUICKLY.’

“After this he spoke little, save to recognise gratefully the little attentions rendered to him in his extreme weakness, and to express his anxiety that his dear wife should not suflFer through her loving care of him. By-and-by the shadows gathered; but with them came the Master, and carried away His dear servant to his rest and his reward.

“He fell asleep in Jesus on Sabbath morning, Nov. 24th, at a quarter past three.”^

As the living was greatly beloved, the memory of the dead was greatly honoured. AU sections of Protestants conspired to bear affectionate testimony that the Church of Christ had gained much by his life, and had lost much by his removal From many countries and from all ranks, some earlier, some later, reduplicated expressions of reverential grief came rolling in like the varied and successive echoes of thunder among the, hills. I bear witness briefly of the fact in not exaggerated terms; for, besides the honour conferred on the memory of the deceased brother, a glory thence accrues to the Lord who combined so many gifts in one life, and lent that life a while to the world. It is due to the Christian community to acknowledge and record here that they intelligently appreciated the worth

1 Extracted from “In Memoriam,” a small volume printed for private distribution.

EC

ng y jjly

s-H
H
D
iD

fll of the “pastor and teacher” whom the Head had bestowed upon the Church. While in some respects our own day is evil, in others it is better than any of the past; herein especially appears a favourable feature of the age, that such gifts and graces as were combined in the life of James Hamilton, are frankly and affectionately recognised by the whole Christian brotherhood.

A great company of “devout men” assembled to commit the dust reverently to the dust.^ Among other appropriate devotional exercises, a simple hymn was sung, translated by himself from the German, as he had heard it sung at a peasant’s funeral in the Black Forest. Thus —

“Neighbour, accept our parting song,
The road is short, the rest is long;
The Lord brought here, the Lord takes hence,
This is no place of permanence.

The bread, by turns of mirth or tears,
Was thine these chequer’d pilgrim years;
Now, Landlord World, shut-to the door,
Thy guest is gone for evermore —

Gone to a realm of sweet repose,
Our convoy follows as he goes;
Of toil and moil the day was full,
A good sleep now! — the night is cool.

Ye village bells, ring, softly ring,
And in the blessed Sabbath bring,
Which, from the weary work-day tryst,
Awaits God’s folk through Jesus Christ.

And open wide, thou Gate of Peace,

And let this other journey cease;

Nor grudge a narrow couch, dear neighbours,

For slumbers won by life-long labours.

Beneath these sods, how close ye lie,
But many a mansion ’s in yon sky;

* In Highgate Cemetery.

E’en now, beneath the sapphire throne,
Is his prepared through God’s dear Son.

* I quickly come! ’ that Saviour cries;
Yea, quickly come! this churchyard sighs.
Come, Jesus, come! we wait for thee — Thine now and ever let us be.”

Funeral sermons were preached in the church on the following Lord’s Day, in the forenoon by the Rev. Dr. Candlish, and in the evening by the Rev. Henry AUon.

A monument, consisting of a marble medallion likeness, with an appropriate inscription, has been erected in the interior of Regent Square Church.

Besides his widow, Dr. Hamilton’s family consists of — Anne, born 12th March 1849, married, 3d July 1867, to Frederick, fourth son of H. 0. Wills, Esq. of Gotham, Bristol; James, born 20th October 1850, now restored to health, and employed in a house of business in London; Mary Isabella, born 5th August 1853; Christina Jean, born 11th July 1856; Herbert William, born 1st February 1861; and Ada Frances, born 25th February 1864.

Grace, like sunlight, though in its nature and source the same for all, becomes of various hues, bright or sombre, according to the mental medium through which it shines. In some it is grave, careful, pensive, sad. This species is precious to the possessor, but not radiant and hopeful for the benefit of a neighbourhood. In Dr. Hamilton the hope of the Gospel appeared in a peculiarly bright and lively colour. There was nothing in his faith to repel a child; and there was much in it to conciliate the worldly, and gain their ear for his message.

Nor let any brother who indulges in peevish ways, comfort himself with the thought that James Hamilton’s cheerfulness flowed from a spring of constitutional hilarity. The reverse was in a great measure the truth. It was the result of prayers and pains. He perceived that cheerfulness and affability in a Christian pastor are eminently fitted to commend Christ to men; and he strove for these graces accordingly. Some evidence has been submitted to the reader, and more has met the editor’s eye, proving that, instead of merely following nature in this matter, he was engaged in a life-long conflict to overcome obstacles which lay in his constitution, and to attain the habit which became a second nature, of being all things to all men, that he might gain some.

According to the best judgment I am able to form, after a friendship long and intimate, I should be disposed to arrange the three instruments with which he served the Lord, — his preaching, his books, and his life, — in the relations of good, better, best. Owing to a constitutional weakness in some of the organs on which the voice depends, his spoken instructions, in the very large church where he ministered, lost a portion of their power; hence his books have been, perhaps, more highly valued than his preaching. Again, owing to the peculiar depth and consistency and uniformity of his character, his life, as far as it came into contact with others, was fitted to exert a more powerful influence for good than either his printed works or his spoken discourse.

James Hamilton was one of the few good men of whom I should venture to say clearly and advisedly, that I was more sharply reproved, more deeply impressed, and more powerfully drawn to good by intimate contact with the man in private, than by any form of his public ministry. I know not a severer test of character than this; and I know not a greater triumph of grace than is implied in passing successfully through it. A life more solemnizing and more winsome under the microscope than at a distance is peculiarly valuable.

These memorials of a precious life are now submitted to the Christian community at large, with the prayer that through means of them the dead may yet speak instruction and reproof to some whom his living voice never reached. All is not lost to the world when a good man dies: his character remains behind to enrich the community, as certainly as the rich man’s wealth remains behind to increase the estate of his heir. “We watch with expectant interest the swelling of a rose-bud in the spring; we luxuriate in the possession of the full-blown flower while it lasts, and we sigh in sadness when its glory departs. But, moved by a prophetic instinct, we gravely gather the shed leaves from the ground, and deposit them in a place of safety; and soon we make the glad discovery that in these leaves, even when withered, we retain for enjoyment the fragrance of the rose in the dull winter days that follow, when we can no longer look upon the living flower, fresh and dewy on its leafy stem.