guise, nor to associate with those before whom it was necessary.

Personal independence and decision of character were inwrought in the very texture of his mind. He was afraid of no man. The history of his life presented no vulnerable points; and he knew that reproach and slander could not do him injury. While he received intelligence and advice from every quarter, and would change his purpose if a sufficient reason was given; yet without such a reason, no influence nor entreaties, no flattery nor threats, could induce him to change it. His purpose was his duty. Motives of a higher nature than any which present objects can afford, led him to embrace it; and no other motives could prompt him to relinquish it. For this, he was ready at all times, if it became necessary, to sacrifice the objects which are usually most valued ;-the friendship of any friend, the civilities and courtesy of the rich, the fashionable, and the powerful, and the applause of the many. The formation of his opinions on religious subjects, he appeared ever to consider as a transaction exclusively between God and himself. Aiming to leave other things wholly out of view, he resorted to the Bible as the perfect standard of faith; and as absolutely obligatory on the conscience; believing that his own mind was darkened by many errors and needed the illumination of the Spirit of light. Various opinions, ardently embraced when a youth, he afterwards relinquished from a conviction that they were unfounded. His sentiments on all important religious subjects will be found in these volumes. What he believed to be true he would preach, in all the extent in which he received it; leaving the consequences with God. His views of Christian catholicism and of the importance of Truth, will be found in several of the following sermons. His feelings, and conversation, and conduct towards those who differed from him, were evangelically liberal. Virtue he described as "voluntary obedience to Truth ;" and vice, as "voluntary obedience to Error." He held the Scriptures to be a plain intelligible Revelation of the Will of God; and every man who has them, to be equally responsible for his faith as for his practice. No considerations would induce him to be civil to Error, as such; or to narrow the distinction between Error and Truth. While

he treated those whom he believed to embrace errors, even fundamental ones, with kindness; on all proper occasions, he exposed their errors without hesitation and without fear. The value of their applause and their friendship was "less than nothing," in comparison with the value of Truth, and of a clear conscience before God.

All who have attempted to draw his character have mentioned him as eminently disinterested. Few men have originated more numerous or more important institutions or measures. Yet it is believed, that in no instance whatever was he even suspected to connecta private selfish end; his own personal benefit, or the advancement of any member of his family; with that which was avowed and ostensible. The purposes which he professed were the only purposes he had in view. To accomplish them, he could not. stoop to management and finesse. They were honourable purposes. He declared them with the sincerity of truth, and pursued them with the dignity of virtue. So perfectly known was his character in this respect, that the instance probably cannot be named, in which any man ventured to approach him for his assistance in a manner which was not direct and honourable.

The love of money appears to have had no influence over his mind. He viewed wealth not as a blessing in itself, but in the good which it enabled its possessor to do to himself, his family, and others. He had a right " to eat and to drink and to enjoy the good of his labour under the sun," and to make adequate provision for his family. But the residue was vested in his hands to promote the well-being of his fellow-men. These were his principles. Were the amount of property that he relinquished for the benefit of the Institution over which he presided to be stated; those, who know how limited were his resources, would view the degree in which they were reduced by his liberality as literally romantic.

His temper was ardent and natively impetuous; but under the discipline of kindness and of principle it had been chiefly subdued. If its impetuosity was ever manifested, it was against conduct which was base and dishonourable. If at any time, through misinformation, he had been led to form incorrect views of men or of conduct; when convinced of it, no man more cheerfully reVOL. I.

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tracted his error. His ardour was daily conspicuous in his friendships, his love of rectitude, and his zeal in doing good. Though ardent, he was amiable and affectionate, and possessed an almost child-like simplicity and tenderness of heart. Never have we known the individual, whose feelings were more uniformly or more powerfully excited by the recital of a tale of distress, of a kind and honourable action, or of an account of the triumphs of the Cross.

The interest which he took in the great and splendid Christian charities, which characterize the present era, was extinguished only with the lamp of life. While able to converse, the establishment, labours, and success of Bible Societies and Missionary Societies maintained their hold upon his heart. Such was the excitement which, from time to time, during the few last days of his life, the accounts of their success produced upon his mind, that it was sufficient for the moment to control the influence of his disease; to bring back his thoughts, occasionally bewildered by the intenseness of his sufferings, to entire collectedness; and to enable him to give vent to his feelings in the lively and animated language of fervent and pious gratification.

In the nearest relations of private life, President Dwight was an example of almost all that is excellent and praise-worthy. As a son, he manifested towards his parents, on all occasions, the most dutiful and cheerful obedience, and the most reverential affection. So true is this remark, that his Mother declared, a short time before her death, that she did not know the instance in which he ever disobeyed a parental command, or failed in the performance of a filial duty.-As a husband and a father, his life was eminently lovely. It was an uniform display of conjugal affection and paternal tenderness: a daily exemplification of the great principle of benevolence," It is more blessed to give than to receive." His highest earthly enjoyment was found at the fireside, in the bosom of his family. Their happiness was his own; and to promote it, no exertions were too great.-As a brother, it has been seen he was affectionate and generous; supplying to his numerous brothers and sisters, as far as the nature of things would admit, the severe loss they had sustained in the morning of their lives in the death of an excellent father. As a friend

and neighbour, let the united testimony of the various communities in which at different periods of his life he resided, give his character. Rarely indeed does an instance occur, in which the influence of individual example has been more beneficially experienced. It was not merely that he was kind to his neighbours, polite and hospitable to strangers, and charitable to the poor; and that as far as in him lay, be followed peace with all men :there was a moral charm that uniformly surrounded him, which was felt in every circle, and spread its benign influence through the region in which he dwelt.

His sentiments with regard to personal religion are every where unfolded in the following work; but especially in the Sermon on the Nature of Faith; in those on Regeneration; and in those on the Two Great Commandments. We have met with nó other account of these subjects which has appeared to us equally definite and satisfactory. Religion he viewed as having its seat only in the heart; and himself and all men by nature as entirely destitute of it; and remaining so voluntarily until renewed by God the Holy Ghost. Wherever it existed, he supposed it to be comprehended in Love; and proved to exist only by the fruits of Love visible in the life. His views of his own attainments as a Christian were unaffectedly humble. On this subject he was reluctant to converse; conceiving that real piety is unostentatious, and that mere professions are of little value. Rarely if ever has he been known to mention it when numbers were present; and not often before a single Christian friend. He never spoke of himself as a Christian. His humility in this respect was striking in his sermons and his prayers: when speaking of the Christians present, never including himself among them. His declarations on this subject, in health and in sickness, always were, that he did not know that he had any personal interest in the mediation of Christ; that the promises of the Gospel were great and glorious; that he was usually free from distressing doubts and apprehensions; and that his hopes were often bright and supporting. He loved retirement for religious meditation, self-examination, and secret prayer; and spent, it is believed, a portion of every day in the discharge of these duties. His prayers in the family and in public exhibited, so far as the human

mind can judge, unusual evidence of contrition, self-abasement, trust, resignation, gratitude, and love. We have not known the individual whose powers to instruct or to interest in conversation were superior to his; yet it was his highest pleasure to converse on religious subjects, and where propriety permitted it, on experimental religion. Such was the state of his thoughts and feelings at all times in company, that his mind seemed willing to enter on the contemplation of religion at every opportunity. It was not, however, mere speculation. It was a living exhibition of the various affections of piety and benevolence as they came warm from the heart,

His life was a steady course of cheerfulness, as well as of submission; and this under trials well calculated to determine the character. Probably no man, without actual experience, can realize how great a trial of patience it is, to endure pain in the eyes every day for more than forty years, uninterrupted except by the hours of sleep, and often intense and agonizing; to be deprived by it for weeks together of a great part of his necessary sleep; to be cut off absolutely from the pleasure of reading; and to be continually threatened by it with blindness and occasionally with apoplexy. Not only however did he not murmur nor repine; he was resigned. He was more. He was universally cheerful and happy; and always ready to contribute to the happiness of those around him. He chose rather to remember his blessings than his afflictions; and felt that he had not deserved the least mercy. Nay, his very afflictions he viewed as among his greatest blessings.

Death often invaded his peace. He lost a father in the prime of life and usefulness, whom he ever mentioned with the highest reverence; three brothers at the age of manhood, whom he tenderly lamented; a mother endeared to him by every consideration which could affect the heart of filial piety; two sisters, for whom he felt no ordinary warmth of attachment; and a son, a youth of fine promise, at the age of nineteen, just after he had completed his education. The effect of these repeated strokes was obviously such as a Christian should desire. Their evident tendency was to soften the heart, to subdue the will, to loosen the attachment to terrestrial good, to enliven the conscience, and