Year: 1875

as many as fifty or sixty of you inquired
at the door, allow Is tbs pastor to-day ?
while through that door there glided a del
icacy, a flower, a thousand little remem
brances which filled the sick room with sun
shine and with gladness. Aud 1 wonder
| IL you think 1t possible for me to expres'
the gratitude, the profound thankiulncss
for all these tender ministries which have
abounded more and moro as the day of oui
separation has drawn on ! How empty and
cold are all the Words that can be marshal.
ed. 1 can only say that from my heart o.
hearts / thank you. The memory of your
klndnesses to myself and to my compan-
ion, and of the sunshine which you poured
into the lives Of our children, will ever be
most tenderly cherished.


Then at parting there is also the Genedic-
ton, the well wishing, the God bless you
This l leave you. May little Of shadow
and much of sunshine fall upon yoar
paths May prosperity attend you; may
your homes DO kept in peace and your
hearts from grief. In summer, and espec-
tally autumn, you have not failed 10 admire
the beautiful vines which cling about the
parsonage, and especially about this edihce.
They were lowly at first, but year by year
they have mounted higher and higher on
the walls. Let these vines, planted by my
own hands, preach 10 you long after am
gone. They were not content TO grovel on
the earth, or to rise but little ways, but
year by year they have mounted higher
and higher, and still their efforts will be
upwards towards the heavens. So let il be
with you. Be not content with present at
tainments. Grovel not on the earth. Strive
for higher and holier things struggle un-
ceasingly towards God and Heaven.
Though you will forget my sermons, /
trust you will not forget the object sermon
which the climbing vines on the wall will
ever preach to you, saying, Go up higher.
This is my parting wish, my last benedic-
tion, that you 60 on towards perfection.


And now resign back to you the church
standard which six years ago you placed
in my hands. 1t has never been trailed in
the dust, 1t has never been dishonored. 1t
is weather beaten and battle worn, but it
is inscribed all over with victories for the
Lord. May worthier hands than mine
bear it on TO still greater triumphs2 There
is yet much land to be possessed, and you
were never so strong in numbers and in
experience as you are to-day.


And now l go from you, but not to for
get you. A little boy was about TO he TAX
en- from home where in great poverty his
mother had died. He was seen TO turn
back, tear piece from an old garment in
the corner and place il in his pocket. When
asked what he would do with that bit of
cloth he said, "oh, sir, it is a piece
Of the dress my mother used 10 wear, and
1 want it TO remember her by" Beloved,
as so from you 1 bear away a thousand
treasured mementoes which to our latest
day will keep fresh the remembrance of
you. AS a mother is ever stumbling upon
shoe or plaything, a garment or pic
ture Of the child that is gone, so in our fu-
ture home, in its parlor and in its study,
on its tables and on the walls, and in many
a by-place and corner we shall preserve
pleasant and perpetual reminders Of you.
We would not forget you If we could, and
we could not forget you if we would


Beloved, the hands that have been so
long and so lovingly clasped must be loos-
5ened. The word that fingers must be spok
en-fdreCeH. And my ministry among
YOU is ended