The central Presbyterian. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1856-1908, 1867-02-27

our waking moments The cause am not
able to explain. But why do mention this?
[ will tell
As soon as entered the door of this little
sanctuary in HOLLYWOOD, | saw a venerable
form under the pulpit, with the hair of his
head long, and white like snow. He was
clothed in the vesture used by the ministers in
the Episcopal Church, and was about to begin
the prescribed service knew in an instant
that it was dear old Bishop Moore: for though
l belonged with with all my heart to the Pres
byterian fold, yet had not only often seen
this good man in my early life, but knew and
revered, and loved him as he deserved to be
by all who love our Lord Jesus Christ in sin
cerity. 1 cannot describe The delight that ran
through my heart. / could hardly take my
seat quietly; but just then he arose to begin
the service, the various parts OF which are
we'll known. The casual observer could not
fail to perceive at once that this large circle Of
mourners camemosty from the walks OF fash
ion and wealth. and that a sorrow far deeper
than common was laid upon their hearts
With every effort to suppress grief, it would
still find vent not only in signs and tears, but
now and then groan so deep and touching
that it told how heavily the bereavement was
felt. This was especially so with those who
sat near the coffin; but as propriety forbade
too close a scrutiny at such an hour, was as
as yet in complete ignorance of particulars, and
could only join as general worshipper IN the
service. [ need not say that it was conducted
with all the dignity, propriety, and tenderness
which marked the character and minlstratlons
of that venerable man of God. The address
of the good Bishop-for it was not what Is
commonly called sermon-was founded upon
that delightful passage with which the 6lst
Psalm opens. "Hear my cry, o God; attend
unto my prayer From the end of the earth
will | cry unto thee when my heart Is over
whemed: lead me to the rock that is higher
than l." Not more than fifteen or twenty
minutes we're occupied in the whole, and L
thought it was in every respect and emlnently
suited to the OCCASION plain, simple, scrlptu-
raj, faithful, and affectionate-just what
mourners needed, and by which certainly every
Christian mourner must have been comtorted'
Every word of it, I know, melted into my
own heart. [ wish the whole could be pub
lished, but the concluding part L must not
omit, for never have | seen deeper impress
sion than it made upon the Assembly. 1t
seemed to sink down into the hearts OF all, and
having noted much Of it down at the time, L
am able to give here faithful report.
"My brethren, he said 81 have spoken to
you of the many sorrows which come in like
flood to overwhelm us-of the privilege and
comfort of prayer in the worst extremity, the
end of the earth, of the mighty Rock pro-
vided-of our own utter helplessness and need
of some one to lead us to it.
And now it remains that shall speak few
words more specially connected with this scene
of affection
We are carrying to the grave one who has
been cut down in the morning of life-for he
was Just twenty-five years old. You know he
was brought up in the lap Of wealth the or
nament and pride of his whole family. And
Justly so, for he was a man not only comely to
look upon, but his Creator gave him lovely,
attsctionate upper also-a Gnezmind and a
true nobility al soul. This circle of mourners
to-day is only small part Of those who were
looking forward with high hopes for his future
fame and usefulness.
You are aware that in in the first opening oil
manhood he was sadly led away with the error
of the wicked-a sore distress to his parents,
whose hearts desire and prayer to God for him
was that he might be saved, and might be
kept from every path of the destroyer. But
evil companions artfully tempting him by
means of his strong social affections, succeeded
for time in leading him into evil. That ter
rible passion for gaming, and with it the kin
dred one for strong drink, seemed for two or
three years to carry him away as with flood,
He knew his danger. Ina certain sense he felt
deeply his sin-tor conscience would sometimes
rise up in the might of her divine commission,
and sting him to the heart. His remorse then
seemed as if it would drink up his very spirit.
1t was indeed melancholy sight to witness the
struggle las yet in his own strength Of his
better principles and convictions against the
chains which that old serpent, the Devil y
was coiling around him. Must he at last fall a
victim forever undOne, as so many others have
been? Was there no hope? The anxiety of his
friends, his family, and more than all, of these
bereaved parents, had become inexpressibe.
Just at this crisis came the dreadful sound
of war over the land. You know how his hui
name heart sickened at the prospect Of the
bloody strife; yet how calmly, intelligently he
came forward at once, in obedience to what he
believed to be the call of duty, and how his
gallant spirit bore him through all the trials
and perils of that deadly contest. At a time
when the whole country was heaving like a
sea, the immediate moral effect of this step,
upon nature like his was good Dissipated
habits were reformed; he became pattern of
a soldier in every duty and for every danger.
He was the admiration Of his company, and
unsought promotion followed again and again.
In addition te-t this it was q comfort to find that
during one Of those remarkable revivals of re-
ligion which pervaded the army, his mind be-
came deeply impressed on the great subject of
his salvation; he soon openly avowed his faith
in the Lord Jesus Christ, and was admitted
into the full communion Of the Church. His
life as a soldier of his country was not more
exemplary than it became as a soldier of the
Cross. His pastor, his family, his comrades
and all who knew him, believed him to be a
true Christian.
When the war was ended, he laid down his
arms, in sadness indeed, but in good faith, and
Immediately addressed himself to the duties
rising before him. He threw himself into his
L,,e;,os, orl 30 tho n ctivn ,uorl of tho Cbr;s