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SERMON,
PREACHED IN TRINITY CHURCH, BOSTON,
ON SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 18, 1843 ;
ON OCCASION OF THE INTERMENT OF THE
/^t
BISHOP OF THE EASTERN DIOCESE, AND SENIOR AND PRESIDING BISHOP OF THE
PROTESTANT EPISCOPAL CHURCH IN THE UNITED STATES.
BY THE
RT. REV. MANTON EASTBURN, D. D.,
BISHOP OF MASSACHUSETTS,
AND RECTOR OF TRINITY CHURCH, BOSTON.
PUBLISHED AT THE UNITED REaUEST OF THE CLERGY PRESENT, AND OF THE
WARDENS AND VESTRY OF TRINITY CHURCH.
BOSTON:
JAMES B. DOW, PUBLISHER.
1843.
WM. A, HALL & CO. S PRESS,
No. 12 Water Street.
SERMON.
Romans xiii. 11.
NOW IS OUR SALVATION NEARER THAN WHEN WE BELIEVED.
The condition of the Christian in this world is
one so full of difficulties, peculiar to his vocation
as a follower of the Redeemer, — and which are
over and above those trials and sorrows incident
to him as a man, — that he requires the consola-
tion of constant motives, to refresh him amidst his
journey. He is like a pilgrim, who, every now
and then, wants a cordial to recruit him ; and, un-
less he obtains it, he will be in imminent danger
of lagging on his course. Now these motives, or
inducements to labor, are to be found scattered, in
the thickest profusion, through the book of inspi-
ration. We are presented with one of them in the
passage which I have just pronounced in your
hearing. St. Paul had been recommending perse-
verance in the discharge of those various duties to
their neighbor, by the performance of which the
people of God manifest their consistency. And he
then proceeds to tell them, that they might well
be active in their work ; for that, since the period
of their conversion, they had drawn just so many
days nearer to their great reward, than when
they first cast themselves upon Christ. Let us be
animated, — he seems to say; for the end of our
journey is more close at hand; we have accom-
plished this much more of our conflict; and we
begin to perceive, with clearer vision, the battle-
ments of that heavenly Jerusalem within which
we shall be enclosed forever. JVow is our salva-
tion nearer than ichen we believed.
Let us consider, for a few moments, the nature
of that future blessedness, to which the apostle
here applies the comprehensive title of "salvation."
The very lowest part of this portion of the re-
deemed in a better world, is that it brings an eter-
nal salvation from every infirmity and sorrow.
No man has opened his eyes long upon this vale
of time, without having begun to prove, in various
ways, that it is a scene encompassed with trials.
There are the griefs wliich arise from the changes
of the world. Our outward circumstances are
liable to change. Our friendships and associa-
tions become changed. Our prospects are subject
to change. Then there are the pangs of heart
5 •
which arise from the bereavements of the world.
Death, the relentless executioner, smites down,
one after another, those who have rejoiced with
us in our joys, — who have mourned with us in our
hours of sadness, — whose smile animated us in
the discharge of duty, — and whose counsel, with
timely aid, guided us amidst our difficulties. And
then, again, there are the pains which spring from
the possession of corruptible and decaying bodies.
From the moment that we begin to breathe, we
may be said to begin to die. Some members of
the human family wear away with gradual de-
cline: — others writhe mider the agony of period-
ical assaults of pain: — disease, in one, or in
another form, reminds almost every man, long
before his last change comes, that to the dust from
which he originally sprang he is rapidly descend-
ing. Now it is the privilege of the redeemed in
glory, to obtain an entire and permanent exemp-
tion from all these sources of sorrow. Change
cannot have place in that world of happiness : for
it is " a city which hath foundations, whose builder
and maker is God." Bereavement cannot mar
the bliss of its inhabitants : for within the pre-
cincts of that blessed kingdom, into which the
pardoned spirit enters, " there shall be no more
death." Disease cannot interrupt its pleasures,
nor cloud the sunshine of its peace; for it is prom-
ised to us, by Him who made that world, that "the
inhabitant shall not say, I am sick," — "neither
shall there be any more pain, for the former things
are passed away." My brethren, what a prospect
this, amidst the sufferings of the present imperfect
condition ! A full and complete salvation from all
anguish! "The creature was made subject to
vanity:" but a time of release is approaching:
that which is perfect shall come: and the ran-
somed soul shall "be delivered into the glorious
liberty of the children of God."
The happiness of the redeemed is, further, a
complete salvation from the power of sin.
It is very evident, that the deliverance which
the believer experiences in this respect, in the
present state of existence, is only partial in its
extent. The Holy Spirit does, indeed, impart to
him a new nature ; and, in consequence of the
change which thus takes place, he pursues a life,
the motives, the affections, the objects of desire,
and the main tenor of which, are totally different
from the course that he once maintained. But,
notwithstanding this transformation, it is still true,
that the original corruption of his nature is only
deprived of its dominion, but not eradicated from
within. He is liable to temptation : he relapses
from the path of duty : he fails in gratitude and
love : he is imperfect in his obedience. And this
daily experience of the still remaining force of sin,
forms one of the chiefest sources of disquietude to
the enlightened servant of God. He mourns at
the discovery, so constantly forced upon his mind,
that he exemplifies, in such scanty measure, the
principles of his high calling; and, in the dejection
of his spirit, occasionally breaks forth into the cry,
— "O wretched man that I am! who shall de-
liver me from the body of this death?" It seems,
then, that it appertains to the Christian, while in
this lower state, to groan under the burden of
iniquity: — but, my brethren, when the disciple of
Christ has crossed the river of death, and entered
into glory, the last hold which evil had upon his
nature is let go forever. The time of his conflicts
is ended ; and he commences a career of unim-
peded and unmixed purity, within the mansions of
light. He loves God without interruption : he
serves him without deficiency: no memory of fail-
ures darkens his retrospect of the past, and no
anticipation of coming transgressions poisons his
prospect into the future. If there be any one
consideration which, more than another, renders
the hope of that better world dear to the heart, it
is surely this ; — namely, that, when the Christian
has reached its shores, he has done with sin, —
forever. He then receives a perfect salvation from
his evil nature. " Beloved," says St. John, " now
are we the sons of God ; and it doth not yet
appear what we shall be : but we know that,
when he shall appear, we shall be like him ; for
we shall see him as he is."
In that world of glory which is laid up for the
people of God, they shall experience, also, a com-
plete salvation from the fear of coming short of
EVERLASTING LIFE.
My friends and brethren, who is that Christian
pilgrim, in whose heart there do not arise some
occasional forebodings, in regard to the end of his
course? When we look around us at the mani-
fold temptations that beset our way, — when we
then turn our eyes into the weakness and the cor-
ruption that are within, — and when we call to
mind the incessant activity of the great Adversary
of men, — how can we but sometimes heave a sigh
of apprehension, lest, at last, we should miss that
crown of happiness which is full before our view ?
Some feelings of a similar character seem to have
cast an occasional shadow even over St. Paul's
characteristic confidence ; for he himself gives ex-
pression to the dread, lest, after having preached
the gospel to others, he should himself be at length
" a castaway." Now, while these fears of a final
loss are made an instrument, through the Holy
Spirit, of quickening us in the race to heaven, how
consolatory is the thought, that, in that land of
happy spirits which is beyond the grave, they shall
never be permitted to have a place! The appre-
hensions which the Cliristian feels in this world,
spring from his profound conviction of the power
of sin. But, as sin is to have no existence in the
future dwelling-place of the redeemed, so those
anxieties which are Ihe effect of sin must also be
excluded from those seats of bliss. The believer,
having passed through this brief probationary ex-
istence, at length enters into his rest; and it will
form one of the principal sources of his happiness
in that rest to know, that he can never be banish-
ed from its enjoyment. He will find his solicitude
lulled to peace. He will breathe freely, — so to
speak; — as one who, having been long haunted
by fears, and tortured by a thousand gloomy an-
ticipations, on a sudden feels them dispelled ; and
exchanges for tremblings and agitation a free and
placid calmness of the soul. My brethren, what
a transporting prospect this, for the tempest-tossed
spirit of the struggling servant of God ! In that
blessed abode, doubt is an emotion that is un-
known. It is all glorious certainty. There is a
salvation from the bondage of that fear, which, on
earth, was such a prolific source of torment. The
inhabitant of heaven is assured, that, having at-
tained his recom.pense, he shall hold it forever.
His feeling is this : — lam now the partaker of " a
2
10
building of God, an house not made with hands,
ETERNAL in the heavens ! "
Such are a few features in the character of that
future salvation, to which the justified and sancti-
fied believer is translated after death. He is re-
leased from his sorrows; — he is emancipated from
the power of sin ; — he is rescued from tiie harrow-
ing fear of losing his crown. And that such a
deliverance from every evil is, at this moment, the
inheritance of that great and gentle spirit, whose
deserted tenement of clay now lies before us, who
among us does not confidently feel 1 Commisera-
tion for his lot were superfluous indeed. Could
the vail be withdrawn from that undiscovered
country, what should w^e behold ? Severed from
the flesh by a momentary and indulgent stroke, he
is now saved from all physical and mental anguish;
he is delivered from all impurity; he is beyond
the reach of all fear. It is for ourselves, who feel
that he is no longer among us, that we are called
to utter the sigh ; and not an individual in this
numerous assemblage enters more acutely into this
sense of privation, than he whose unexpected duty
it now is to speak to you over the ashes of our
departed Father and Head. When summoned, a
few months since, from the scenes of my past
ministerial life to the associated charge of this
diocese, the change was soothed by the anticipa-
11
tion, that, in this untried station, I should be
introduced, by degrees, into the cares and respon-
sibilities of so weighty an office, under the shelter
of his parental wing. In an hour when I least
expected it, he has been taken from my side ; and
I can only now implore you, my reverend brethren,
and others of the same household of faith, to min-
gle with your sorrows your prayers, that Almighty
God may so prevent me in all my doings with his
most gracious favor, and further me with his con-
tinual help, that I may be, in some little degree,
worthy to follow him, who, with such impressive
suddenness, has been called to " receive the end
pf his faith, even the salvation of his soul."
And yet, amidst the shock which we have all
experienced, by this startling termination of the
earthly ministry of our revered Ruler and Guide,
will not every voice unite, with one consent, in
the. exclamation, that the exit of him whose re-
mains now lie in our view, — whether that exit
be considered in reference to the precise period of
his life when it was made — to the spot on which
it was witnessed — or to the manner in which his
sainted spirit took its flight, — is marked through-
out by circumstances of almost unparalleled sub-
limity and beauty ? Let us contemplate together,
for a few moments, this striking spectacle. As if
to call our hearts, in a more than ordinary man-
12
ner, to a sense of the presence and the providence
of God, it pleased Him to take to himself our de-
parted Overseer, within a few short days after the
consummation of a wish, which had occupied the
thoughts of our venerated Head through long
previous years. The desire of his soul had just
been accomplished. He had seen the council of
his diocese, w^hich had been assembled at his
own earnest summons, meeting in harmonious
brotherhood, and appointing his official successor.
He had received the kind voice of confirmation to
this choice, from the near and the distant portions
of that spiritual Body, of which we are a parcel
and a part. And, when all these preparatory
measures had been completed, he had, in company
with some of his brethren in office, and in the
presence of his assembled clergy, performed the
last finishing and apostolic ceremonial, within the
precincts of this consecrated temple. And now,
having been permitted to behold all things done,
he walks to and fro, for a few weeks, in the midst
of us; and then, in the fulness of years, he passes
instantly away, and enters into an everlasting rest
from all his labors. And, to invest with still
farther interest and solemnity the closing moments
of his career, it is so ordered, in the course of
Providence, that his spirit shall escape from its
earthly prison-house beneath the very roof of him,
13
who had been destined to stand in his room, and
to continue his labors ; and thus, by a most singu-
lar concurrence of circumstances, the father lays
down his trust, literally speaking, at the feet of
the son. But the glorious picture is not yet
completed. You have seen this good old man
separated from those over whom he presided,
immediately after the fulfilment of his dearest
wish and prayer. You have seen him yielding up
the ghost within the actual dwelling of his suc-
cessor in duty. And now, how does he die?
Could any departure have been imagined, more
entirely in harmony with the previous tenor of the
character and life? After a lengthened course of
calm and meek exertion, he resigns, without a
struggle, his ransomed soul into the arms of its
Redeemer. He sweetly falls asleep in Christ.
And as I stood over that noble and majestic form,
and watched the almost imperceptible ebbing of
existence as it hastened to its close, I could not
but inwardly exclaim to myself, in the feeling,
though not in the language, of the bard of life,
death, and immortality, —
" Starts timid nature at the gloomy pass .?
The soft transition call it ; and be cheered ! "
But interesting as it is, my hearers, on this im-
pressive occasion, to contemplate the peculiar and
14
remarkable circumstances attending the end of
our spiritual Father, equally so will it be, and
infinitely more important, to let our thoughts
dwell upon so^ne of the prominent features of his
official life and character. To attempt, at this
time, any biographical sketch of his past history,
is manifestly out of the question. That this duty
will be performed by some hand or other, capable
of doing it justice, and entering upon the task with
filial reverence and affection, there is no reason to
doubt. What I propose, at present, is simply to
occupy a brief space, before committing his lifeless
clay to its kindred earth, with a view of some of
those aspects in which he stands before us as
worthy of our imitation; and for which his memo-
ry should be cherished, — and more especially by
the clergy, — with abiding and grateful recollec-
tion.
The first, and prominent thought, suggested to
the mind of every person present by the remem-
brance of this departed prelate, is that of his sin-
gular HUMILITY.
My personal recollection of our venerated bishop
dates from the period of my early youth. Thrown
into his society, at that time, by circumstances of
a most interesting character, a near view was thus
afforded me, at this season of my opening life, of
that wonderfully " meek and quiet spirit," which
15
accompanied him at all times, and through all
places ; and it is impossible for me ever to lose the
impression which it produced. It was this quali-
ty, in truth, that gave such attractive beauty to
his fine countenance, — which had an expression
upon it such as we frequently see upon the can-
vass, in the embodfed conceptions of the great
masters; but which we seldom witness in our
daily walks among men. That the habitual feel-
ing of that sainted man, whose loss we are now
deploring, was one of entire self-renunciation, all
who knew him will bear witness; and how in-
structive for us to survey such an example, in a
world where eminent models in that department
of Christian virtue are so rarely to be found, I
need not surely remind you. To this spirit of
humiliation the whole current of the world is so
utterly opposed, that it is considered as of slight
account in men's estimate of human excellence.
And yet who can forget, that, when our divine
Master pronounces his beatitudes upon the moun-
tain, he numbers this same lowly mind among
the most resplendent endowments of the creature;
and holds it up to our contemplation as the object
of his choicest benediction? "Blessed are the
meek ; for they shall inherit the earth : " " Blessed
are the poor in spirit ; for theirs is the kingdom of
heaven." Or how can we likewise forget, that
16
this humbleness of soul, so little esteemed by a
vain and self-seeking world, is the very mind that
was in Christ; "who, being in the form of God,
made himself of no reputation, and took upon him
the form of a servant 1 " To this chastened and
unpretending spirit, therefore, so preeminently
characteristic of the departed servant of God,
•whose remains are now before us, let our thoughts
be turned this day. Let us seek to form it within
ourselves as he formed it, — by daily walking
with God, in the secret and subduing exercises of
meditation and prayer. There was something
majestic in the simplicity of that venerable man;
— something which, while it awakened love, kept
at a distance all profane intrusion, and compelled
from others that deference which was his due ; —
something, which one could never be in the
presence of, without an immediate consciousness
of beholding the perfect exemplification of that
scriptural sentence, — " He that humbleth himself,
shall be exalted."
The regret has sometimes been expressed, by the
friends of our lamented Father, that, in company
with this beautiful meekness of his character, there
should have prevailed so constant a reserve, and
such an habitual fewness of words, in his daily in-
tercourse with others. Let it be remembered,
however, that this deficiency, — as many among us
17
have been apt, perhaps, to consider it, — grew out
of that very grace of profound humility which we
have already been contemplating; and without
which he would not have been the man that he
was. Instead of imagining, therefore, what he
might have effected with those colloquial powers
which he had not, let us rather look at what he
did achieve, by the moral influence of that morti-
fied spirit which he had. And who can doubt,
that to this quiet and subdued aspect, and this un-
pretending demeanor, carried about with him
wherever he went on his official visitations, is to
be traced no inconsiderable degree of that favor
which our glorious Church now enjoys, in these
Eastern States of the Union 1 The descendant of
the pilgrims, reared in hereditary jealousy of our
forms, and ministry, and institutions, found in our
revered Father nothing, which corresponded with
his preconceived imagination of the pomp and
pride of prelacy. He recognized in this man that
apostolic and primitive spirit, which so signally
adorned his apostolic and primitive commission.
He was seen to be the self-denying missionary of
the cross. He put forth no arrogant claims. He
assumed no superiority. His every movement
seemed to say, '' Unto me, who am less than the
least of all saints, is this grace given, that I should
preach among the Gentiles the unsearchable riches
3
18
of Christ." Thus overcoming prejudice by the
irresistible argument of his daily character, who,
I repeat, can question, that the altered eyes with
which we are now regarded, in this quarter of the
United States, are, to a large extent, the result of
his past life, and his peculiar temperament? Will
not every man amongst us be disposed to say, that
he was altogether the very person for the position
which he filled, and for the times in which he
flourished? Let us this morning, then, glorify God,
for what he has accomplished by this honored in-
strument : and let it be our delight to call up be-
fore us, from day to day, the sweet vision of this
man of God, — moving about as a ministering angel
of love ; and proclaiming, by his silence no less
than by his words, that his message was, "We
preach Christ Jesus the Lord ; and ourselves your
servants for Jesus' sake."
But I must not omit to hold up to you that emi-
nent man, whom we are about to consign to the
tomb, as a model of sound and wholesome doc-
trine.
My reverend brethren, when one who has been,
for a long succession of years, a ministering servant
of Christ, is called to his account, how important
is the aspect in which his past labors are made to
appear ! The first inquiry which suggests itself to
our minds is, — While life lasted, was he faithful to
19
his momentous trust? Did he shun not to declare
all the counsel of God ? Was he careful to dis-
pense the true bread of life ? Or did he leave the
objects of his ministrations, all through his career,
in the wretched predicament of hungry sheep, who
look up for nutriment, and are not fed? And need
I say with what tenfold solemnity this question
forces itself upon us, when an individual is sum-
moned from the midst of our number, who has
been placed by Providence as a chief watchman
upon the battlements of Zion? Has his preaching
been an example to the ambassadors of Christ, of
that scriptural instruction which is able to make
men " wise unto salvation, through faith which is
in Christ Jesus ? " Has it been drawn from the
living and undefiled source of God's inspired word?
Has it set ibrth, with simplicity and clearness, those
errand truths which our ancient standards enforce?
Has it breathed forth, audibly and distinctly, so
that no man may mistake it, the tone of our pre-
cious Liturgy; of our inimitable Articles; and of
our searching and pungent Homilies? These are
the thoughts which fill our hearts, when one who
has been invested with the fearful responsibilities
of a bishop on earth, is called to render up his
stewardship to the Shepherd and Bishop of our
souls. But, my brethren, it were superfluous to
remind you, that, upon the present impressive oc-
20
casion, our minds are left unclouded by a single
shadow of a fear. Let me now be permitted to
hold up that holy man, whose lifeless ashes are
before us, as a teacher whose instructions were
imbued with the choicest spirit of pure and unadul-
terated doctrine. It will, I think, be acknowl-
edged, by all who have had the privilege either of
listening to his public discourses, or of examining
those Avhich lie committed to the press, that our
late honored and beloved Head was a preacher,
whose ministrations gave forth the genuine and
true principles of the reformed Church of England.
The excellency of the scriptures, — the justification
and redemption of fallen man only through the ex-
piatory cross of Christ, — the necessity of the Holy
Spirit's influences to change the heart, and sanctify
the life, — the obligation to show forth fruits of holi-
ness as the evidences of our faith, — these were the
views which he exhibited; and which were at-
tended, as they alone ever will be attended, with
evident and abundant tokens of a divine blessing
upon his labors. The simplicity and singleness of
purpose for which he was distinguished, led him,
perhaps, to a too studious disregard of the orna-
ments of language; ornaments, which, from his
sound classical training, from his various attain-
ments, and from his habits of patient study, few
were more capable of supplying than himself.
21
And yet, in the place of these graces of polished
diction, there will be found a fulness of matter,
and a quaint pithiness of phraseology, which carry
us back in remembrance to the divines of the
seventeenth century ; and which are warmed with
an unction from above, that reminds us of the
pages of Archbishop Leighton. If our younger
clergy would see what it is to preach the gospel,
and would have a specimen of the doctrines for
which Luther braved death, and for which Latimer
and Ridley died, they may find the object of their
search in the writings of our lamented Father and
Friend. He whom we are this day to commit to
his resting-place, was, thanks be to God, an ex-
emplification of St. Paul's counsel to Titus: — " In
doctrine showing uncorruptness, gravity, sincerity,
sound speech that cannot be condemned."
And now, my reverend brethren, and others who
are here assembled, you will bear with me, if, be-
fore performing the last ofiSce of our venerable
Church for him who has thus gloriously sunk to
rest, I feel constrained to give tongue to the affect-
ing associations which gather within me, while I
cast my eyes upon that inanimate clay. With
that pure, and wise, and meek being, are connected
some of the tenderest recollections of my life;
recollections which no intervening distance from
his person, or multiplicity of cares and occupations,
22
has ever had the power to obliterate or diminish.
I remember him as the Guide and the Counsellor,
under whose vigilance an accomplished brother,
long since transferred to his heavenly rest, was
fitted for the exalted office of the ministry of rec-
onciliation. I remember him as the mild and
gentle Father, beneath whose sacred roof I have
often laid me down to sleep, in my fresh and early
days. I remember him as the parent of sons and
daughters, whom, for a short season, I knew and
loved ; and who, in the flower of their days, were
transplanted, one after another, from the stormy
climate of this world, into that land " where tem-
pests never beat, nor billows roar." I remember
him as one by whose side I have sat, and whose
benignant aspect I have contemplated, within the
precincts of my parental home. And I remember
him as one, who, during all these periods of his
course, — in his joys, and in his sorrows, — in his
days of darkness, and in his days of light, — was
ever the same lowly and beautiful impersonation
of the Christian life and character. Are there not
some here to-day, whose experience corresponds, in
these touching aspects, with my own? But if so, let
us rejoice together. Let us bid the widow and the
fatherless rejoice. Let us bid that Church general
of which he was the Senior, rejoice. For he was
"ready to be offered." He had " fought a good
23
fight ; " he had '' kept the faith." And, although
his mortal part will soon be deposited within the
same sepulchre, with that predecessor in station
whose mural tablet adorns these consecrated
walls, yet his spirit is now possessing that " salva-
tion," which is laid up for the pure in heart " with
Christ, in God."
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