titude, that he may not lose her faintest breathings. Her word is his law. He scans with unbiassed eye the sacred page, and gathers up its indications of duty as the voice of God. He hears too the God within. He bows with reverence at the shrine of conscience, and would deem it the grossest sacrilege to stifle or gainsay her responses. His daily inquiry is, "Lord, what wouldst thou have me to do?" And from what he deems his duty neither earth nor hell could allure or terrify him.

It was thus that the three holy children held fast their integrity, and entered the furnace seven times heated rather than deny the faith of their hearts. It was thus that Daniel chose the lion's den rather than cease from his daily prayer to the God of his fathers. It was thus that an earlier patriarch walked alone with God on an earth filled with violence. And now, as in the world's infancy, integrity may sometimes point to a solitary path,-conscience may say, "This is the way, walk thou in it ;" and the upright man will in such case go forth alone, undaunted by lack of sympathy, or by the doubts and cavils of those who see not with his eyes. He is no misanthrope. He craves not a secluded walk. He would rather move with a goodly phalanx, if their movement coincides with his sense of duty. But, alone or in crowds, he must unhaltingly pursue the path marked by the rays of truth with a line of living light.

Such men are the fruit, not of crowds or excitements, but of deep, holy solitude and inward musing, of faith nurtured by prayer. And they are the men that are needed to reform the world, to purge away violence and wrong, to invest the Prince of righteousness with the sceptre of universal sway. Such a man was St. Paul. When he had received his mission from heaven, "immediately," says he, "I conferred not with flesh and blood, neither went I up to Jerusalem to them which were Apostles before me;" for he was determined to preach a Gospel which was not after man. He was unwilling to enter into any bonds, which could cramp his own integrity. His preparation was a solitary sojourn in Arabia, where he communed with the light within, and heard the voices of Heaven, and measured the field. of duty.

Is there not at the present day a lamentable lack of this independent, self-sustaining uprightness? Is it a common grace even in the fold of Christ? I fear not. Men suffer themselves to be drawn in currents, and shaped by circumstances, instead of steming currents and bend

ing circumstances. But the perfect Christian must be in the fullest sense upright, that is, must follow without gainsaying every monition of conscience, every pointing of duty. And if there be a man for whom all heaven has a feeling of kindred, it is he, who always speaks what he thinks, and acts as he believes, whose whole outward walk is in perfect harmony with the hidden man of the heart. Integrity means wholeness—entireness; and this word can be fairly used only of him, all whose heart, speech and life are self-consistent, and belong and harmonize together.

Such is a brief and faint outline of what is implied in the Psalmist's description of an upright man. And now can we not say with the Psalmist "He that doeth these things, shall never be moved ?" Dim and shadow-like the phantoms of earth flit by him. They stay not his path, nor turn his steps aside, as he walks in his uprightness. Opposition, coldness, obloquy may be his portion. He heeds them not; but says, "If God be for me, who then can prevail against me?" The changes of life steal over him, the waves of tribulation break upon him; he still holds fast his integrity. His is a path, that waxes brighter and brighter unto the perfect day. Onward and upward in this career he moves, in evil report and good report, let the scene about him shift as it may, till death summons him to abide in God's tabernacle and to dwell in his holy hill.

SKETCH OF THE CHARACTER OF THE LATE

JOHN THORNTON KIRKLAND, D. D.

THE death of the late President Kirkland, though an event which the infirmities that pressed upon his declining years led his friends to regard with less than usual sorrow, could not occur without calling up his image, as it appeared in the days of his vigour, when he was at the head of our University, the object of universal respect and love, adorning with his graceful virtues the station which his talents enabled him to fill with so much advantage to the institution over which he presided. Dr. Kirkland was born in Herkimer Co. N. Y., in 1770. He graduated at Cambridge in 1789, was tutor in the College from

1792 to 1794, was settled as pastor of the New South church and society in Boston in 1794, from which place he was elected to the Presidency of Harvard College in 1810. In 1828 he resigned this office in consequence of an attack of paralysis, and after a short interval went abroad in the hope of deriving benefit from travel. He visited not only Great Britain and the continent of Europe, but Palestine and Egypt, and after some years returned home partially restored. He never however recovered his physical energies, or the brilliancy of mind that belonged to his days of health, and after a year of exhausting illness he died in Boston April 26, 1840, at the age of sixty-nine.

A meeting of "pupils of Harvard University during the Presidency of Dr. Kirkland" was held on the annunciation of his death, at which a Committee was appointed to "consider what measures were proper to be adopted to testify their respect for his memory." This Committee, of which Hon. Edward Everett was chairman, reported certain resolutions, which were unanimously adopted; two of which we copy:

"Resolved, by the Alumni of Harvard University here present, that, while they bow with submission to the will of the Sovereign Disposer, who, in his own good time, has been pleased to call their late beloved and revered President from the sufferings and imperfections of this life, as we humbly trust to a higher and happier state of being, they entertain the most grateful recollection of the faithful and affectionate friend and guide of their youth; that they recall, with a melancholy satisfaction, the time when they enjoyed the benefit of his counsels, dispensed with that Christian benignity, which gave the power of persuasion even to the voice of merited rebuke; that they shall never forget the numberless acts of parental kindness received at his hands; and that, however long the period since a portion of them ceased to be the objects of his care, the feelings of filial veneration, awakened in their hearts in the morning of life, exist in undiminished strength.

Resolved, That, in addition to the loss which they have sustained in the decease of their late beloved and respected President, the Alumni of the University, in common with their fellow-citizens at large, lament the loss of a distinguished member and ornament of society, a wise and good man, a learned divine, a thoughtful and persuasive preacher of the Gospel, eloquent in life as well as in doctrine, an accomplished scholar, an enlightened patriot, and an unchanging friend;-from whose heart, as from a living fountain, the kind and generous affections flowed out in a full and constant stream, cheering and refreshing all within the sphere of his influence."

The funeral of Dr. Kirkland was attended in the New South meetinghouse by a large concourse of persons, of all ages, when.the Scriptures were read and prayer was offered by Rev. Mr. Young.

We have been permitted to publish the closing paragraphs of a sermon preached at the First Church in this city, on the Sunday after his interment, by the Pastor of the church; from the words, "The sun knoweth his going down."

"I have offered these reflections, with the idea that they were not unappropriate to an event that has taken place in our community during the past week; an event that carries back the thoughts of many of us to former times, and revives in our minds the image of an accomplished man, as we once loved to look upon it, by burying out of our sight the poor remains that disease had left. Thus does death, in ending the malady of a friend, put an end to our too exclusive remembrance of him as an invalid and a sufferer. It seems to make him well, by removing his illness; and the grave, that swallows up the wasted form, gives it back to our recollections restored to the grace and beauty of its best years. The departed, being now wholly separated from time, allow us to choose for their picture the seasons when they appeared to most advantage, and the infirmities of declining days are hidden behind the friendly shadows of the valley. A life, that was once among the brightest, after long struggling with obstructions and clouding circumstances, has at last "known its going down." I leave to others the privilege and the duty of speaking of him in a larger audience, as his public position and distinguished name entitle him to be made mention of. My own task can soon be performed. And if there are any who think, that even this earliest opportunity is too late, since he has been for such a length of time incapable of any active service and withdrawn from the public eye; let me say to such, that an eminent worth ought not to lose any thing of the respectful and affectionate remembrance that belongs to it, because it has pleased that Almighty Being, at whose disposal are the faculties of our life, as well as its duration, that its faculties should be shattered while its term was prolonged. For myself, the condition of these halting and broken days is rapidly passing out of mind; and the object of ancient veneration reappears as at first. The eye has won back the light of its benign intelligence. The impeded tongue utters again its words of a playful but profound wisdom. The brow is serene once more; and

the form, grown erect since it has been entombed, moves with the easy dignity by which it had once been distinguished.

There is this of peculiar in the recollections of him, by the great multitude of persons, who in every part of our country will tenderly record them ;—that, notwithstanding that tenderness, they can neither miss nor lament him. How miss? when his counsel had so long ceased to guide, and his beaming countenance to cheer them; when they, whom he had helped to inspire with the love of excellence, have been scattered for the most part to great distances, and if they had been here, would have found nothing in him to aid them, for his gentle authority was gone, and his voice of Christian persuasion was broken. And why lament? when the bitterness of death had been for a great while past, and nothing remained for it to bring but deliverance and rest. But as a mind of the richest powers, while God spared its endowments, he will be reverently remembered by the oldest among us; and as the head of our University, graceful and impressive, he will live in the hearts of many who are yet young; while the walls of innumerable churches, that have heard his precepts and devotions, will seem to transmit still the tones of his benevolent piety. That piety, of which in the present connexion it is most becoming for me to speak, was remarkable for the amiable and winning form that it wore. Herein it partook, as is usual, of his natural disposition, which was full of kindliness. In approaching God, it did not quit his neighbour. There was no harshness, no gloom, no heat in it. It thought calmly; it spoke meekly; it waited humbly. It reflected, and it loved. It was unaffected, unpretending, without grimace and without guile. The sentiments of his faith were largely liberal, yet with nothing of indifference or looseness. The spirit of his faith knew no limits either in its hope or charity. It made great allowance for the ignorance, frailty and waywardness of mankind. It set the standard of Christian attainment high; but was careful not to expect too much from an imperfect race. His religion was marked with a sober philosophy, though it made no pretension to its name. It was founded on the wants of the human soul, and delighted in nothing so much as its practical applications to the duties and trials of life. It was of a steady and tranquil light; rather pure than dazzling, and sending forth from it not so much fervours as rays. His mind was too sagacious to be startled by any new speculations, and too well established to be carried away by any of the moveable extravagances of his own or any