life, for the land of silence and of gloom. The passage from the visible to the invisible; an abandonment of the warm and tender affections, so long familiar, to a new and incomprehensible mode of existence. The whole passage and change is such an act of unnatural violence, that we instinctively shrink back from it, and cling with tenacity to the familiar realities of time. Probably, no other beings in the universe have such a passage to make, or such a change to undergo. Angels are not required, like men, to pass at any time a dark barrier, impenetrable to their vision, and full of vague and unnatural uncertainties beyond.

On man's future, nature gives no light. She may stand by the dying scene, see the form grow cold and ghastly, the eye glazed and dim; but when the soul seems to float away with the closing breath, she can not tell whether the living, feeling, thinking soul passes into another mode of development, or sinks into the dark night of unconsciousness. Such is death without revelation.

Faith alone reveals the future, and gives it substance and reality. Its achievements are all wonderful. How often the dying alone are cheerful, calm, and happy. They shed no tears, feel no gloom, experience no fears, but look on the separation from their friends as short, and catch a glimpse as they pass the shadowy vale, of brighter and better scenes beyond.

These consolations were sweetly experienced by the subject of this memoir. We subjoin a short extract from a letter written by his bereaved and widowed wife, a short time after his death. The letter was written without any idea of its publication, and the extract inserted without the knowledge or consent of the writer.

"On New-Year's day he appeared very sad; he told me he might never see another return of the day; that he had been reviewing his life, had tried and wished to do right, but had been a great sinner; that he thought the Lord had forgiven him, and if he lived he hoped to live better, and do some good in a quiet way. ** * At times he seemed very happy, and would say that he could almost see the smile of his heavenly Father. The peculiar and constant state of his mind, seemed that of perfect repose, and confidence in the goodness and wisdom of his heavenly Father, entire trust in his Saviour, and complete submission to his will. He always thought too much stress was laid upon the words of the dying,

and that a much better test of character was the tenor of their life.

"He said, not long before he left us, that he supposed some would think he delighted in saying hard things, and opposing others; but that no one could ever know how hard it had been for him to take the course he did: that he liked the good will and approbation of men, as much as any one, but that he thought duty called him to take the stand he had.

"How few live such a life! So self-sacrificing, so burdened with the woes and sins of humanity; so firm and unyielding in vindicating the honor of God. His last words were, I will go to sleep.' He then fell into a gentle slumber, and passed to the sleep of death."

To the above we add an obituary, from the pen of the Rev. Robert Burgess, a Free Presbyterian minister, and published in the Christian Leader, together with the preliminary remarks of the editor, Rev. William Perkins.

REV. JOSEPH GORDON HAS DIED.

Our whole church is bereaved. For years our deceased brother was its weekly teacher and faithful pastor. By his voice and pen, he spread abroad the whole truth, whether men would hear or forbear. He warmly and courageously espoused the cause of the poor, down-trodden stranger. Could these millions in their prison-house of despair now hear of the faithful friend they have lost, their weeping were like the widows of Joppa, over the body of Dorcas! Poor sufferers ! we fondly hope that in the great mercy of Christ, not a few may greet their noble friend, where "the wicked cease from troubling" and "the weary forever "rest."

Our cause has lost one of its most efficient advocates. The "Leader," in a double sense must credit Bro. G. with much of its humble influence. It succeeds the weekly he so ably conducted for years, while its unworthy editor was reasoned into his Free Church position, chiefly by his lucid arguments. So has it been with many others. He wore out his voice and his body in this blessed service. Did our success alone depend upon efficient laborers, our loss were irreparable. But we must remember that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong. Could we plant as did Paul, and water as did Apollos, all were vain till God chooses to give the increase. Never is he more ready to give it than when we

feel our humble dependence upon Him. "When I am weak, then I am strong."

We sorrow then, not as others without hope. God having raised our Saviour, in whom our brother has fallen asleep, will, in due time, reanimate his slumbering body. So will he raise up other faithful servants to carry forward his precious cause. The war is not ended, though a good and great soldier be discharged. As the conflict waxes, needful means will be furnished, and the powers of darkness tremble. Left as we are on the field with the bright example of our fallen brother to animate us, let us put on the whole armor of God, and lead on his host to that victory which is made sure by the promise of Him who has loved us, and given himself for us.

OBITUARY.

Died, at his residence near Washington, Pa., on Sabbath morning, February 28, at 3 o'clock, the Rev. JOSEPH GORDON, aged 38 years, 5 months and 9 days.

O death! how rich are thy spoils! Another great man has fallen-another heart and home are made desolate-another household-light has been extinguished! Nay, more, a beacon-light to guide a ship-wrecked world; a watch-fire on the mountain-hight of eternal truth, to cheer the hosts engaged in the struggle which is to decide the world's destiny, in the war for the "rights of God and man"-the last great "war of principles." How rapidly pass away the flower of earth's nobility! He was the first and foremost in the conflict for the right, the first to fall upon his laurels won!

Truly a "Prince and a great man has fallen in Israel." "Our fathers, where are they? and the prophets, do they live forever." But if they have ascended in triumph, borne from our sight by the "Horses and chariots of fire," leaving behind their "mantle," by which we may smite the waters of opposition and death, is it not a great gain? Is not their triumph.

our own?

How fitting too, was the death of our brother! How suitable to his life of toil and sacrifice, and weariness, that he should sink to rest in the calm and quiet of a sweet Sabbath morn! Literally worn out in the sacred cause of God and humanity, it was REST that he needed. and it came in love, the symbol and the reality together. One of his last expressed wishes was, "That he might fall asleep, and awake in Heaven." It was granted. Near his last moments he called for drink;

he drank largely and remarked, "I will now go to sleep." His sad wife replied, "Yes, dear! you will soon be drinking the pure water of life." Accordingly he sank to rest, and while he seemed to be sleeping sweetly, he gently breathed away his life.

His wife alone was with him in the closing scene, having dismissed all the family to much needed repose. He had bid "good night" to his young son, with a conscious last kiss, following him with a yearning eye as he retired, aware that he should see him on earth no more. His dear wife had been for some time at his side, wiping away the death-sweat as it arose on his pale brow. Not thinking this was to be his long, last sleep, she turned a moment to stir the fire. Returning, he breathed twice, and was no more.

A few days before, he said, "That he preferred rather to die than to live; but that, for his wife and child, he was willing to live." At a former visit by the writer and Bro. Dyer Burgess, the latter had remarked, on parting, "That he thought he might live to do a great deal of sinning yet," a remark to which he often afterward referred, as a strange and sad saying, and as a reason why he did not "Wish to live, and return again to the world, and to sin." He had little pain to endure, and said, "That he had nothing to complain of; much to call for gratitude."

During all his sickness he uttered not a solitary complaint; and throughout gave three distinct proofs of preparation for death a calmness and patience seldom equaled; a sensible increase, nay, an overflowing of "brotherly kindness," and a great delight in prayer. On his bed he said with emphasis, in reference to the opening of the 41st Psalm, "There is a promise I can plead! I have spent all my talents and strength in the service of the poorest of God's poor: I claim that promise." It was fulfilled. "Blessed is he that considereth the poor; the Lord will deliver him in time of trouble. The Lord will preserve him and keep him alive; he shall be blessed on the earth; and thou wilt not deliver him to the will of his enemies. The Lord will strengthen him upon the bed of languishing; thou wilt make all his bed in his sickness. His labors of love for poor down-trodden humanity, flowed from his fountain of unfeigned love to Christ. Christ forever made sacred our humanity, and all the "rights of man," by his union to our nature, "eternal in the heavens.' So Bro. G. thought. Hence, when his wife inquired of him, "What do you now, in the full light of eternity, think of

your course in the Church?" he replied, "That he had never written a sentence, which he did not then and now believe; that the position of his church was God's truth; only admitting, that he might have erred in the proper spirit."

A few days previous to his death, he was visited by Rev. Dr. Thomas Hanna, of the Associate Church, at which time the grounds of his hope were fully discussed. The Doctor remarked, that there was a true and a false hope; and defined the former. The sufferer added, "Such is my hope,-a hope founded on the blood of the Lamb, on the intercession of Jesus within the vail.'" He then quoted the promises, such as "In six troubles, I will be with thee; and in seven, I will not forsake thee. The mountains may depart, and the hills be removed; yet shall not my kindness depart from thee, nor the covenant of my peace be removed, saith the LORD that hath mercy on thee.

As to his character as a man, a minister, or an editor, I leave the task of drawing the sketch to his more intimate friends, and to abler pens. I write this hasty notice with a deep sense of my imperfection, and only because no other is on the ground possessing proper information. If we write to "comfort those that mourn, we must not delay till they too are in the grave.

At his funeral services, six ministers were present, including two of his own church, Bro. Dyer Burgess and the writer. The order of the exercises was as follows: Mr. Hanna opened by singing a Psalm and reading a chapter. This was followed by some very appropriate remarks by Dyer Burgess. Concluded by some additional remarks and prayer by the writer. The benediction was pronounced by the Rev. James I. Brownson, of the O. S. Church. A large and solemn procession, inclement as was the day, followed his remains to the

grave.

He was much emaciated; and yet as he lay in his coffin, in his full suit of black, he looked so natural that we all felt as though he were just ready to rise, and "preach to us as of old." We laid him beyond the bustle of the busy town, in the still and beautiful new cemetery, beneath the shade of a native oak grove. The sunshine, as was most fit, broke through the wintry clouds, and fell upon his fresh grave, while we sadly turned away to come again with the spring, to plant evergreens and eglantine on his green grave.

Peace to his weary head! There let him sweetly "sleep in Jesus" till the glorious resurrection morn. He himself said,