The Character and Translation of Enoch 6
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* In five particulars the Author eventually resembled Mr. Weaver, and the passages relating to these may be taken as descriptive of himself—
1. their each having had but one church;
2. the affection between themselves and their colleagues;
3. their dying before being laid aside from their work;
4. the suddenness of their death, which prevented the agony of a conscious parting from their friends;
5. their leaving each a solitary daughter in his house.
Can I do otherwise than sympathize with this church on the loss of such a pastor, one who, if he had lost the ardor of youth and the matured vigor of middle life, was permitted, and by grace enabled, to exhibit among them the rich and hoary experience of old age? But may I not also call upon you for gratitude that you not only had such a pastor—but that you had him so long? Nor does the demand upon your thankfulness stop here. Though deprived of your senior pastor, you are not as sheep without a shepherd. You are not left destitute. You are not involved suddenly in the perplexity of choosing another minister. Give your confidence under Christ, the head of the church, to him who remains with you, and whose talents, piety, and devotedness, are worthy of it.
Ministers of this town and county with whom our departed friend was associated in the bonds of friendship and in Christian cooperation, you need not to be informed how affectionate a father in Christ you have lost, or how bright a pattern of ministerial excellence has been withdrawn from you. Be followers of him as far as he followed Christ, and that was very far and very closely. Oh, let us hear the voice which comes to us all, both from his life and from his sudden death; and not from his only, for by an impressive coincidence, another aged servant of Christ ascended to glory the same day as Mr. Weaver—almost as suddenly—and who had been pastor of his church precisely the same number of years. I mean the Rev. Stephen Morrell, of Little Baddow, in the county of Essex. And since then, another friend of mine, the Rev. Christopher Anderson, of Edinburgh, the author of the "Annals of the English Bible," himself also aged, has been called to his rest and his reward. God is gathering home the aged laborers to himself, may those upon whom grey hairs are fast collecting hear the admonition which says, "Work while it is called today! The night comes when no man can work."
Nor should the younger brethren be unmindful of these things. Upon them must soon devolve the whole management of the affairs of the kingdom of Christ as far as instrumentality is concerned; to them will come the pastorate of our churches, the care of our colleges, the guidance of our institutions—when our aged heads will be beneath the clods of the valley. Oh, my young brethren, be in the fullest, richest sense of the expression, gospel ministers, preachers of the gospel. Hear, on this subject, the dying testimony of that seraphic man, Algernon Wells—the words of dying men have weight, of dying saints have more, and most of all the words of dying ministers. Speaking to a friend of a tract he wished and intended to dictate, he said, "I am anxious to record the thoughts gathered together while lying here. It will be on the Glorious Gospel, and if it pleases God, I hope to preach that gospel to you as I have never yet done. Not that I reproach myself for having concealed or forgotten it. No—but more than ever I would fain speak of it as I have thought and felt here. I would make it the first thing, the pre-eminent thing. All gathered knowledge, all history, all poetry, all pleasant and happy things, all that I am, and have, and know, and think, shall be ranged around and illustrate—but be subordinate to this—the 'Glorious Gospel.' The more I think of it in my long and quiet pondering, the more precious and needful it becomes to me. Yes, I will have the tract printed—but I long to preach it, and if it please God, I will preach it as I never did yet. This is, after all, the one thing, 'The Glorious Gospel.'"
May we not imagine that this is just the very testimony that would have been borne by our venerable friend, had he been permitted to speak to us from a sick chamber and a death bed. Yes, and it is borne by all others who love the gospel, and has been borne by some upon their death bed, who had been deficient on this theme in their ministry. Talk they of intellectualism, of philosophy, of rationalism, the best intellectualism, philosophy, and rationalism are all contained in this glorious gospel. Do not, my young brethren, allow yourselves to be seduced by the false lights of modern speculation, from those great truths which, in every age and every section of the church, have proved themselves to be the power of God unto salvation. Place yourselves often in imagination, where, unless your death be as sudden as that of our departed friend, you soon will be in reality—in a sick chamber, and upon a death bed; imagine yourself looking backward upon your ministry, and forward to your appearance before the tribunal of your Master, and ask what strain of preaching, and what manner of life it will most please you to review in these solemn moments of ministerial retrospect and anticipation.
I, too, am growing old. I have seen and heard much of preachers, young and old, and of theological systems too, ancient and modern. I have had no small share in the doings of the age and of the denomination in which my lot has been cast. I have not been unobservant, or altogether idle, and I am entirely convinced that however new modes of thinking and preaching, by substituting intellectualism, philosophy, or man's intuitional consciousness, for the gospel of Christ, may attract a certain order of mind, and procure for the preacher the approbation of many who are far more eager to have their intellects gratified than their hearts renovated and sanctified—it is nothing but the doctrine of the cross that will convert the soul to God! And though I have not, as the sainted man already alluded to affirmed of himself, either concealed or forgotten that great theme, yet, during whatever may still remain of the term of my ministerial life, it is my determination that this shall be more than ever the study, not only of my mind—but of my heart, and the theme of both my public and my private teaching. And we have all attended the funeral of our patriarchal friend in vain, if, at his grave and around the pulpit where he for so long a period knew nothing but Jesus Christ and him crucified, we do not, by God's grace, consecrate ourselves afresh to this great work of praising Christ, loving Christ, glorifying Christ.
And now what, in conclusion, shall I say to this deeply affected congregation? He, who for so many years preached to you the word of life from the pulpit I now occupy, will preach to you no more, except by the remembrance of his holy life, faithful ministry, and sudden removal, by all which, he being dead, yet speaks. He has delivered his last sermon, and you have heard and had his last prayer.
Oh let his death, if you have not profited by his life—be the means of awakening you to a solemn, and practical, and immediate consideration of death, judgment, and eternity. You, too, may die as suddenly as he did. Are you as well prepared as he was? Sudden death to a real Christian is one mighty bound from earth to heaven; to an unconverted sinner, one dreadful stumble into hell. Oh, unutterable horror, to be surprised, overwhelmed, confounded in a moment, by exchanging the pleasures, the friends, the possessions, the prospects of earth for those doleful shades, where peace and hope can never dwell. Are you ready, quite prepared by repentance towards God, faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, and a holy life, for death; for speedy death; for sudden death?
Your faithful minister of so many years standing, I repeat, is gone. But I seem to see his venerable form lingering yet in this place, hovering over this assembly. He speaks as from the unseen world, and with the accent and emphasis of eternity—"My once beloved hearers, listen to this my warning from the world into which I have now entered. It is all true, and infinitely more, that I have told you of the momentous nature of God, Christ, Salvation, and Eternity—and though I have watched for your souls as one that must give account, yet, were I again upon earth, I should do so with infinitely more solicitude and earnestness. Oh, hear my voice, by which, though unseen, I speak to you. Prepare to meet your God! Prepare for death, for judgment and eternity! Prepare! Prepare! Until you meet me at the tribunal of Christ—Farewell."
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