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doing or saying this? but what he thought right to do and say, he did without fear. Living in a place where he said it was 'difficult to draw a long breath;' surrounded by men of views widely different from his own; dependent upon them, in some measure, when duty called him, he did not ask what they favoured; what they feared; or what they would tolerate; or what they would think of him, knowing that the consequences of truth God will take care of. A man truly religiousof whom should he be afraid ?”—p. 12.

How sacred in beauty is this passage from the Discourse of Mr. Gannett! We extract it, because it communicates life to our impressions of Dr. Channing, and these are the memorials we wish to preserve.

"At such times the mere belief in Providence which acknowledges its universal care will not give us peace. We must be able to say, 'The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord,' The heart must have a perfect confidence in the rectitude and goodness of the Supreme Being. We must see his love through disappointment and desolation and death. The greater our loss, the greater must be our trust. The more help from man faileth, the more must we look for help to God. This is the true use, this in part the intended effect of affliction, and in proportion to the weight of the affliction must be the strength of the reliance on him from whom it comes. Thus does bereavement require and produce a filial piety, calling forth its exercise by establishing its necessity. What but trust in God, faith in him as the Father, a submission of the heart to his will, what else can enable us to view our present affliction rightly or bear it calmly? We feel it at this moment to be great beyond what we can express; it probably involves a loss of future counsel and support beyond what we can measure. He who was best able to direct our efforts after perfection, who was most faithful in exposing our errors, and most tender in encouraging our good purposes, whose prayers lifted our souls into the purity of the Father's presence, and whose discourse quickened our consciences as if a voice had come to us from above, whose example won us by its loveliness while it animated us by its success, he will no longer instruct or persuade, reprove or cheer us. There is no one to take his place either towards us or towards the land in which we dwell. Do we not feel this? What then can give us patient spirits under this bereavement? Nothing, nothing, but a trust in God like that which he exhibited at all times, in life and in death, and of which the prospect of death enabled him to give the most impressive as well as the final proof.

“He maintained his trust in God to the last, unbroken, undimmed, as firm and serene in the closing hour as in the midst of the labours on which his strength was expended. It would be a violation of the respect we owe to the intimacies of kindred to enter that sick chamber, if a voice did not issue thence, calling us to see how the Christian can die. It is the voice of that Providence which gives us the lesson, never

to be forgotten. We cross the threshold, and with tearful eyes behold the scene. But tears are not the suitable expression of what we feel, as we stand around him who will soon leave that apartment for heaven. The view of death, as it approaches, neither agitates nor saddens him. Life is pleasant in its many connections, and desirable for the opportunity it would afford to execute long-meditated plans of usefulness that have of late seemed to advance towards their completion. Suddenly did the mandate come which laid his now almost wasted strength upon that bed, far from much that was dear to him of local association and human friendship. But he is as tranquil as if he were enjoying health and home and the prosecution of every cherished purpose. He speaks of the Father's love, and of the delightful reality, beyond even his usual experience, with which it pressed upon his heart; of the inappreciable gift of Christianity, and of its Divine power and sure success; of the kindness which he receives through the offices rendered by those about him; and of the circumstances under which he is called to leave the world as determined by the Will which knows what is best. It is not in set discourse that he thus reveals the composure of his spirit, but in words more or less continued as his strength allows. There is no effort, and no excitement; but only the simplicity of truth and the repose of faith. He sleeps, and fragments of prayer are heard stealing from his lips, as if his dreams were of the higher world. He wakes, and asks that a part of the Saviour's teaching from the Mount be read to him. He remarks upon the beauty and preciousness and depth of meaning in those verses. The day wears on, as he calmly waits the appointed hour, and when the sun has fallen below the western sky, his countenance, over which the hand of death has passed so lightly that its momentary pressure could not be detected, bears the expression of an unearthly purity and peace. So did he die."―p. 12.

Along with this passage we place Mr. Parker's allusion to the "sunset" hour, as worthy to accompany it :

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Each season the flowers and the stars had a new beauty in his eyes. Nature and man grew yearly in his esteem. He has gone from us; in the midst of his usefulness was he taken away, his eye not dim, nor his natural vigour abated. He has gone and we are left. To mourn at his loss? It cannot be otherwise. We must weep. The slave has lost that voice which pleaded so eloquently for him. The poorest boy amid the Berkshire hills is the poorer for his death. The babe born in a garret of yonder city is left more friendless than before. The mourner has one less to wipe her tears away. The selfish and wicked will hear no more his pathetic rebuke so often slighted. The wise man has lost a counsellor; the humblest a friend. Who is there to right the wrongs of the oppressed? He who has taken his servant where sorrow and sighing cannot enter. Shall we lament over the glory that has gone? No, let us take courage, and rejoice that so much goodness has been lived out; in our times; in the midst of us. When I compare him with the gifted men of England, whose mortal lids death has closed within not

many years; with Scott, Coleridge, Byron, Macintosh, Bentham, Stewart, Brown, I cannot but say his influence is deeper and far more elevating than theirs. But I must end.

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“In the circumstances of his departure there was something exceedingly pleasant to remember. He had spent the summer in the valley of the Housatonic, among the Berkshire mountains; his soul went forth amid the vast works of God.' It had been the pleasantest period of his life. He was meditating a great work which he leaves not done. On the 1st of August he had delivered an address on the emancipation of eight hundred thousand fellow-men in the West Indies-a work not inferior to his best productions. He was returning to his home. Amid the lovely scenery of Vermont he sickened and lay. His family were about him. His senses continued to the last. It was a clear and balmy autumn day; the Sabbath; the day of his greatest labours, when he had spoken to so many hearts; the day hallowed to all our minds by lovely and long-cherished associations. The sun went towards the horizon; the slanting beams fell into the chamber. He turned his face towards that sinking orb, and he and the sun went away together. Each, as the other, left the smile of his departure' spread on all around; the sun on the clouds; he on the heart."-p. 23.

In one of the Notes to Mr. Gannett's Address we find this information respecting the works Dr. Channing had in preparation :

"He had for many years contemplated the execution of one or more works which should unfold, more fully and systematically than was possible in separate discourses, his views of the nature and dignity of man as bearing on his destiny, of the principles by which society should be formed and governed, of the influence which Christianity is meant to exert upon the spiritual and social development of the individual and the race, and of the exhibition which it gives of the Divine character. Within the last year or two his plan had assumed to his own mind a more distinct outline, and he had written much which he might have incorporated into the Treatise to the completion of which he would doubtless have devoted himself more exclusively, if his life had been prolonged. How far the manuscripts which he left are in a state to permit their publication, it is impossible now to say."

In another of these Notes Mr. Gannett corrects an impression, which he says exists to some extent, that Dr. Channing at an early period of his Ministry had been a Trinitarian. He affirms, however, that till its close he held the doctrine of the pre-existence of Christ. His published works give no sign of such a doctrine. Their reasoning and spirit, if not their express propositions, have seemed to us constantly to exclude it. Yet Mr. Gannett has had opportunities of exact knowledge, with which we can bring our own into no comparison. We respectfully ask for confirmation of this statement.

In the admirable Discourse delivered at New York by Mr. Bellows, evincing a true understanding of Dr Channing's mind, and a true sympathy with his spirit (there is no higher praise), we find a sentiment which was the first that came over ourselves when told of his death, though we are not sure we should have had the courage to express it. "But he is dead! and we feel at first as if the world were only half as well worth living in-since our nature has lost its best defender and illustration; our cause its chief strength and ornament; humanity its most courageous, enlightened, and skilful champion. We look round in vain for the shoulders on which his mantle may descend," influences and ministry from God, in Nature and Providence, under which he formed his spirit, and sustained his unworldly life, remain to us as to him. The world is as sacred as before, as true a nursery for noble natures.

Yet the

The peculiarity of his intellectual character, and its intimate union with the moral principle, are described with great

accuracy.

"His literary fame grew out of a few essays published at intervals in the Christian Examiner, which attracted the attention of the world. This is a remarkable instance of the immediate and wide recognition of intellectual greatness and entireness, in a few disconnected papers, neither addressed to fame, nor widely circulated. But the plain reason is, that every thing this man writes is full of him; full of the great and glorious principles with which he is now identified. He writes nothing that does not develope, enforce, or sustain, the neglected and fundamental truths, which it is his mission to revive or freshen in the human heart. It matters not how secular his theme may be, he is never false to his own sacred views; never inconsistent with them; never even momentarily forgetful of them; nay, all that he has written in the way of criticism, biography, or politics, has been only in application of his religious or spiritual principles to the different phases of life. There he sits in judgment upon Napoleon, with something of the solemnity and responsibleness of the final judge. He writes of Milton as though pronouncing upon him the ultimate verdict of posterity, according to the unchanging principles of his own justice. There is a decisiveness and authority in these, and in almost all the writings of this man, which indicate his arrival at such clearness of vision in respect of primary truths, that he has rather to publish what he knows than what he thinks. And this is the peculiarity of all his writings. They seem hardly to come from a fallible source. We think instinctively of Jesus' saying, 'I speak not mine own words, but the words of him that sent me.' He views all things from the unimpassioned, serene height of the moral nature. He speaks not from the uncertain understanding, but from the pure reason; not to the feeble apprehension of the mind, but to the mighty common heart. Whose writings have so little disputation, ingenuity, or variety in them? There is no subtle reasoning, no close ver

bal logic; no arguments addressed to the prejudices, or the passions, or based upon the hasty admission, or weak reasonings of those whose errors he strives to correct. His controversial writings are rather strong and convincing statements of truth, than searching examinations of opposite errors."—p. 10.

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Never was man more self-consistent in his character, his opinions, and his history, than Dr. Channing. His mind has opened upon the world with the naturalness, proportion, and order, with which a tree developes itself from its germ. His opinions grow out of, and are related to each other, as the blossoms and the fruit grow out of the stock, and are related to the leaves. His character answers to his opinions, his conduct to his character, as effect answers to cause. And this results from the central characteristic of the man-his enthusiasm. He does not control ideas and principles; but they master and make him. He is possessed by God. He is given up to the faith which dwells in him. What in other men are theories, in him are laws; what in other men is belief, in him is character. His faith is works; his works are faith. As was said of Napoleon, his words are battles,' so of Channing it may be said, his thought is action. He thinks with all the earnestness and immediate sense of reality and responsibleness, with which other men in great exigencies act. He watches his opinions as others watch their conduct. He has no speculative opinions. All his opinions bear fruit either in his inward, or his outward life; in his actions upon himself or upon the world.”—p. 14.

We cannot conceive a higher order of influence than is here described:

"It is by the instruments he has created that the palpable influence of Dr. Channing must be measured. He stands alone in the reverence and gratitude of many men, equal among themselves in ability and usefulness, and none of them second to any but him. He is a class by himself, both in the mode and the kind of his influence. It is of a higher order, and a more profound depth. It is nearer the centre of moral motion. It is this which accounts for the nature of his reputation, which is as great abroad as at home, and no greater, if as great, in his own city, than wherever the English language is known. His influence is not diminished by distance, because its seat is the mind and soul of those who receive his spirit. There is no more enthusiasm about him felt by those who know him, than by those who intelligently read him, because his greatness arises in the grandeur of the truth he embodies alike in his writings and his character. You do not need to see that he is what he preaches or writes. For the truths he reveals, the emotions he awakens, attest their own genuineness, and leave you not only without suspicion, but without thought of him. His presence neither disappoints nor heightens your idea of him. You expect to see a man of uniform elevation of mind, and dignified simplicity of manners, and such is found. He converses about things always with reference to principles, and the same principles. His conversation is as great as his writings, and as if a part of them. Both are simple, grand and inspiring."―p. 9.

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