A man recognizes the certainty of this event's taking place with regard to his neighbor, his friend, and the members of his own family. He feels that the hour of separation from his aged and beloved parents must come; that the brother or sister, whose infant joys and sorrows are his own, whose sympathy has cheered his manhood, must one day be taken from him; that the wife of big bosom must close her eyes in death; that the stern messenger may at any time smite the darlings of their little flock, gathered around his knee in play or prayer; and while they are yet in life he prepares for them the last resting-place in some sheltered spot, some woodland cemetery, where the brightest smile of nature may gild the place of their repose. But he cannot realize that he himself, in the pride of his manhood, the blood coursing cheerily through his veins, a sense of vitality giving an elasticity to every movement, will be called upon to lay down this glorious panoply of life, to feel the bounding blood curdle and become as ice within his veins, and the bright vision of the world fade into nothingness before his glazing eyes. He himself, by some miracle, must be s.n.a.t.c.hed from the universal doom. Thus death finds almost every man unprepared. The very criminal, upon whose ears fall the deep tones of the funeral knell, hopes for a reprieve even at the foot of the scaffold. The soldier cannot think of death as he mounts the "imminent deadly breach;"--his comrades may fall, but he must escape. Thus, in our strange, delusive sophistry, even if we think of death, we seek to alienate the idea from ourselves.

As it regarded the death of any member of his extensive family circle, what a tower of strength and consolation he ever was to the mourning hearts of his children! How calm and serene he would appear when called, in the providence of G.o.d, to sympathize with them at the loss of their little ones, near and dear to their parental hearts! However deep the distress of soul which exercised the breast of any member of his family by the solemn visitation of death, his venerable presence would always restore peace to the almost broken heart, and make the sunshine radiate once more in the mourner's bosom. He had several trials, and keen ones, too, through which he pa.s.sed, of this character. His third daughter, Mrs. Whittemore, wife of Rev. Benjamin Whittemore, was called upon to lay one and another of her tender offspring in the grave, until, at last, when the third was placed there, she exclaimed, in the agony of her heart, that she could not leave the tomb where half her loved ones lay in death. But for his presence even reason might have deserted her throne; but his calm and sainted expression, his holy balm of religion, his simple words of hope, were as oil upon troubled waters. So again was he similarly exercised, through visitations of death, in the family of his eldest son, Rev. Hosea F. Ballou, and Rev. Ma.s.sena B. Ballou; in the family circle of his third daughter, Ca.s.sendana, wife of Joseph Wing; and again in the home of his fourth daughter, Elmina, wife of Rev. J. C.

Waldo; and also in the circle of the sixth daughter, Fiducia, wife of Abijah W. Farrar.

But more particularly was this power of consolation evinced as exercised in his own family, when the eldest daughter, f.a.n.n.y, widow of Leonard Holmes, was taken from life. It was the first death that we had known in our immediate circle of brothers and sisters, and the stroke had all the power and force of a first great sorrow. Then his spirit shone forth in all the Christian beauty and loveliness of its influence. Then the majesty and holy power of his religion was evinced in letters of light.

And while referring to this family,--for there were six orphan children left behind,--we might appropriately refer to the munificent bounty of his hand towards them; of a home purchased and given to them; and of much fatherly kindness and generosity towards those orphan children.

This spirit of resignation he infused largely into his children, who in turn offered to his own spirit that strength of hope and divine reliance which in periods of trial he had imparted to them. This might be said to be particularly the case with Clementina, his fifth daughter, wife of Isaac H. Wright, who, without the domestic care of a family, was enabled to be much and often at home,--especially if any physical illness affected either father or mother,--and who, with others of the children, was with him night and day, constantly, during his last illness, and the closing hours of his life.

We have before referred to the grateful influence his presence exerted in the sick room, and when called upon to lift up his voice with the dying; but so prominent a trait of character, as evinced in his home relations, should not be omitted here. It may be interesting to remark, in these domestic notes, that Mr. Ballou resided, for over thirty years, with his second daughter, Ca.s.sendana, and her family, in Boston. A more cheerful and happy home it would be difficult for fancy to paint. There was no contention there,--no jealousies, no jarring of interests; everything seemed to take its hue from him; and calm domestic joy and serene contentment reigned over all. He seemed to exhale the atmosphere of peace, and no contending elements could withstand the soothing character of his presence.

Mr. Ballou's idea of death, as being but the portal to blissful immortality, may be gathered by the following, from his own pen:

"The idea of immortality makes everything in life valuable. Here we may lay up all our treasures, where neither moth nor rust can corrupt, nor thieves break through and steal. Here G.o.d's bright favor will never grow dim, nor will our love and grat.i.tude ever decay. Do you see Hope's celestial form, leaning on her anchor, and, while the raging waves of a restless sea dash against her, she remains unmoved? Do you observe her aspect firm, and her eyes turned towards heaven? And would you wish to cast her down, and wreck her on the quicksands of dismal doubt? Go, brother, to the chamber of sickness, where life's waning embers can no longer warm the dying heart; there hear from cold and quivering lips this hope expressed: 'I long to be with Christ,--I long to be at rest!'

Would you blast this amaranthine flower? Would you plant in its stead the nightshade of despair? Listen no longer to the wild suggestions of fancy and wandering imaginations, under the specious pretence of searching after truth. For Jesus is the way, the truth and the life.

'Give me the light of this bright sun to see; All other lights like meteors are to me.'"

"I think one thing is certain," says Mr. Ballou, in one of his last published articles, "and that is, that the opinion that we immediately enter on that state into which the resurrection introduces mankind is far more desirable, to all people, than the opinion that ages of unconscious sleep succeed our brief existence here in the flesh. * * *

In conclusion, I will say that I am sensible that there are pa.s.sages of scripture which seem to favor the opinion of a general, simultaneous resurrection, which appear difficult to reconcile with such as I have above noticed; but that they outweigh them I have no sufficient reason to allow. The supposition that all who have died have until now remained in an unconscious state, seems more like annihilation than well accords with our glorious hope."

Mr. Ballou's mind was ever made up to meet death at any moment; and, with implicit reliance on the goodness and fatherly care of Him in whose hand we all are, and who does not permit even a sparrow to fall to the ground without his knowledge, he left all to the wise decree of Heaven, and loaded not his soul with fear of the result. He conversed but little upon the subject; but when he did so, it was with a cheerful spirit and contented mind.

His profession was such as to make him familiar with death in all its forms. It was no strange subject to him; but, on the contrary, one which had engaged much of his thought and earnest consideration. With so full and implicit a reliance in the complete sovereignty of the Almighty as his religious belief imparted, he could have no fear or doubt as to the perfectness of the decrees of Providence. He literally argued everything for good, and that nothing transpired without a purpose of the Director of all things; and in that purpose he recognized but one principle, which was the _good of the children of men_. These premises once established in his mind, what fear could he possibly entertain of death?

It is a part of the Divine economy,--that was enough for him. Applied to any dispensation of Providence, or to tenets of faith, this same reliance will be found evinced in all his ministrations and life. He says:--"We have ever this pleasing reflection,--this sublime, this instructive lesson,--that the wisdom which const.i.tutes the vast frame of the universe, and which organized all nature,--the power that raised this glorious superstructure upon its basis,--has ever been directed, and ever will be directed, towards the _good_ and _benefit_ of mankind.

That there can be no such thing as partiality, or anything like cruelty, in all the system of G.o.d, as the moral governor of the world, is as plain a proposition as can possibly be stated. There is not in the bosom of our Father in Heaven any principle but goodness to his children.

There is not in the bosom of our Heavenly Father, nor can there be, anything like cruelty or partiality; but his eternal wisdom is ever working for the benefit of his creatures."

He held the grave to be a calm, safe anchorage for the shattered hulls of men,--the portal through which the spirit pa.s.ses to G.o.d who gave it.

Concerning this subject there are a few lines from his pen so applicable in this connection, that we cannot refrain from transcribing them here.

In common with those pieces which we have already given the reader, there is no effort at grandeur in the piece; the beauty and propriety of the poem is undisguised by metaphor, being put down in the tender and persuasive language of a Christian heart, pleading for the good of man, and the honor of its Maker. Mr. Ballou's poetical productions are such an index of his soul, his real character, that we are induced again to refer to the fact. They are ever like himself, simple, yet forcible, and never without a purpose, and most incontrovertible argument, expressed or implied. The following poem was written in his seventy-third year, and is ent.i.tled

FEAR NOT DEATH.

"Why call we death to man a foe?

Why should we fear to die?

Does heavenly wisdom teach us so?

Let us the question try.

Is he of independent might?

Does he himself sustain?

These questions if we answer right, Will make our subject plain.

See ye his scythe, his dart, his spear?

Who placed them in his hand?

Know this, and give the winds your fear; Dauntless before him stand.

Death is a messenger of G.o.d, And G.o.d is love, we know; Nothing can come from him but good,-- No enmity can flow.

Death only comes when he is sent, Commissioned from on high; And all his weapons, too, are lent,-- Why fear we, then, to die?

Death comes, a friend to mortal man, To set his spirit free; Nor he, nor any creature, can Reverse the blest decree.

Had death on us an evil eye, Would he our pains remove, And set our spirits free to fly To peaceful realms above?

Teach not your children, parents dear, To dread what G.o.d may send; Nor fill their tender hearts with fear Of Him who is their friend."

There is a lesson here that it would be well for us to remember, a principle that should be planted and nurtured in our b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Death has been too long looked upon as "the great enemy of our race," while it is in truth but the calling home of the spirit by the Great Shepherd. 'Tis but the wedding of the soul with Paradise, the starting post for heaven.

These were the sentiments entertained by Mr. Ballou, and which governed his mind even to the last.

He says, relative to this deeply interesting and important subject to us all:--"We are as pilgrims and strangers on earth, as were all our fathers. The places which now know us will shortly know us no more. How reasonable, then, is it, that we should often bring this great truth under serious consideration! If duly considered, it will exert a favorable influence in relation to the estimates we may make of all temporal things, and give a favorable direction to our purposes and determinations. Our fleshly bodies, like the gra.s.s of the earth, are composed of the elements of nature; these elements support both the gra.s.s and our fleshly bodies; and as the gra.s.s finally withers and returns back from whence it came, is decomposed and joined with the elements of which it was composed, so do our bodies return to the earth from whence they came. Dust we are, and unto dust we must return. The certainty of our mortality is as apparent to us all as it can possibly be made. However seldom we may think on the subject, however we may endeavor to put it out of our minds and thoughts, however we may endeavor to drown the subject by devoting our attention to worldly objects and worldly pursuits, we know that in a short time we must be called to leave all this bustle of life, close our eyes on all earthly things, and return to the bosom of our common mother, the earth, from whence we came.

"As the question whether man should exist or not was not submitted to him, no more is it left to him to say whether he will continue in this state forever, or depart out of it. 'All flesh is as gra.s.s, and all the glory of man as the flower of gra.s.s; the gra.s.s withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away.' So hath the Creator appointed and ordained; and it is not in the power of man to prevent this withering of the gra.s.s, and this falling of the flower of gra.s.s. However endearing are the ties of consanguinity, however tender and affectionate are kindred hearts towards each other, with whatever longings and fond desires fathers and mothers may look on their sons and daughters, and with whatever devotion they may nourish these flowers and watch over them, they are altogether like the gra.s.s and the flower of gra.s.s. They are perishable. It is not in the power of children, however affectionately they may love their fathers and mothers, and however they may desire the continuance of such kind friends, to prevent that waste of const.i.tution and strength which time and disease are sure to bring. The whitened locks, the wrinkled face, the tottering frame, the palsied limbs and faltering voice, are sure indications that the time of departure is at hand.

"How wonderfully beautiful is the full-grown gra.s.s, with its blushing and fragrant flowers! We cast our eyes over the luxuriant meadow; with pleasure we behold its beautiful flowers, seeming to vie with each other in glory; and though we may fancy a preference for this or for that, no person ever beheld a blossom that was not beautiful to the eye. So we behold the society of man in health and in the prime of strength; and how pleasing is the sight! Look at these sweet babes! we may fancy a preference for the beauty of this or that, but no one can help admiring every such endearing object. Look around and behold the sparkling eye and blushing cheek of youth and beauty; but remember these are flowers gathered for the tomb! Whether we see them or not, Time has wings; whether we realize it or not, his flight is rapid. What is time when it is past? Nothing!"

"He taught us how to live, and O! too high The price for knowledge! taught us how to die!"

Touching the matter of death-bed scenes as they refer to religious belief, and the influence that such scenes and circ.u.mstances exerted over his own mind, he says:

"It has often been said, by the enemies of the doctrine for which I have contended, that it would do to live by, but not to die by; meaning that it would not give the mind satisfaction when sensible it was about to leave a mortal for an immortal state. As to the truth of the a.s.sertion I cannot positively say; that moment has not yet been experienced by me: and as those who make the remark have never believed the doctrine, I cannot see how they should know any better than I do. Thus much I can say: I believe I have seen, and often heard, of persons rejoicing in the doctrine in the last hours of their lives; but I do not build my faith on such grounds.

"The sorrows or the joys of persons, in their last moments, prove nothing to me of the truth of their general belief. A Jew, who despises the name of Christ from the force of his education, may be filled with comfortable hopes, in his last moments, from the force of the same education. I have no doubt but a person may believe, or pretend to believe, in the doctrine of universal salvation, when he knows of no solid reason for his belief, but has rather rested the matter on the judgment of those in whom he has placed more confidence than he has, in reality, on the Saviour of the world; and I think it very possible that such Universalists may have strange and unexpected fears, when the near approach of death, or any other circ.u.mstance, should cause them to think more seriously on so weighty a subject.

"What my feelings might be concerning the doctrine which I believe, was I called to contemplate on a _death-bed_, I am as unable to say, as I am what I may think of it a year hence, should I _live_ and be in _health_.

But I am satisfied, beyond a doubt, that if I live a year longer, and then find cause to give up my present belief, I shall not feel a consciousness of having professed what I did not _sincerely believe_; and was I called to leave the world and my _writings_ in it, and at the _last hour_ of my _life_ should find I had _erred_, yet I am satisfied that I should _possess_ the _approbation_ of a _good conscience_ in _all_ I have _written_."

That Mr. Ballou felt fully prepared to die, there can be not the least doubt, though he did not say so in the exact words that would express this state of mind. He frequently, during the last two or three months of his life, made use of expressions, as relating to current events, in a way that led those about him to see that he was striving, particularly, to have every matter of business, or family arrangement, so completed as not in any way to be contingent upon himself. Then his frequent observations relative to the idea that he was nearly worn out; and in his sermons, too, his often repeating at this time how near he was to the brink of the grave, and that those who heard him might realize the honesty of his reasoning and the sincerity of his doctrine, since, with so short a span of existence left to him, he could not in any instance bring himself to support what he did not most solemnly and religiously believe to be the gospel of Christ, and in full accordance with the word of G.o.d; the caution already referred to as given to his wife, and various other simple but expressive tokens that he evinced during the few weeks previous to his decease,--all go fully to show that his mind was made up to die, and that he foresaw, as it were, the approach of his demise, with almost prophetic vision. The philosophy, or sophistry, therefore, as to looking upon death as the inevitable visitant to others, but as something which must miraculously pa.s.s him by, did not exist in his mind. He looked upon death as "the messenger of G.o.d, commissioned from on high;" and he held himself calmly ready to answer the blessed decree of Heaven.

Though almost constantly engaged at his study of the holy text, or in other reading and writing, still, so domestic was Mr. Ballou in his disposition and feelings, that he always took a lively interest in all the arrangements of the family, and in each one's well-being, seeking to cause as little unnecessary labor as possible on his own account. No motives other than those of the kindest character could possibly have induced this thoughtfulness, on his part; for all those about him, even the servants, always deemed it a pleasure to serve him in his slightest expressed desire, while his children ever sought to antic.i.p.ate his wishes. In his directions to those called upon to attend him, there was none of the austerity or sternness of a master evinced in his manner of speech. The order direct we never heard from his lips, but, in giving directions, it was ever in the form of permission,--"You _may_ do this, or you _may_ hand me that;" and the appropriateness of this mode of speech was most apparent, since it was a privilege to us all to fulfil his desires.

With profane history, ancient and modern, he was well acquainted; and at the age of seventy-four, five and six, he devoted some considerable time to the reviewal of both, and particularly to the history of our own country. With Rollin, Plutarch, Smollet, Hume, Prescott, Bancroft, etc., he was perfectly familiar. At this period he was engaged, as we have said, in re-perusing the works of his library, treating mainly upon profane history. As may be supposed, to one of his disposition, home was very dear, and he was always happiest with his family.

"To them his heart, his love, his griefs, were given; But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven."

During the whole of his public ministrations and professional career, he never labored with more evident effect and general influence than at this time. The ripened harvest of his experience was poured forth in the most simple and touching truthfulness, and his discourses were redolent of holy manna to the souls of his hearers; the sober arguments of conviction obtained even more fully than in former years, when the vigor of ripened manhood added its physical powers to the balance. Persons who had sat under his preaching for many years would listen with the most absorbed attention, as well as with surprise, to hear the easy flow of eloquence that seemed to come from an inspired heart, bearing witness to his quick, sure discernment, and boundless fertility of invention,--the truth and exemplifications of divine goodness were ever so fresh and abundant in the feast he spread, the arguments so logical and convincing. He was endowed in many respects with the great requisites for a lawyer, possessing a mind exceedingly active, capable of constantly commanding its own resources, and a faculty of tenaciously pursuing his argument with exceeding force and power.

It really seemed, latterly, that, realizing how brief must be his labors, and how near he was to the end of his earthly mission, he labored with increased zeal, and consequent success. His eyes, when in the desk, seemed to kindle with superhuman fire, his thoughts to flow with inspired eloquence; and those who heard him must have entered most thoroughly into his own spirit, for we have heard, from all directions where he preached, very earnest remarks of the striking effect produced by his discourses. And this effect was by no means confined to the laity; many of his ministering brethren have told us that they had never heard him discourse with more power, nor ever with such decided effect, as was the case within the last two years of his life. It was impossible for him to answer all of the demands upon him, but neither ordinary inconveniences nor distance ever caused him to decline to respond to those who, at this late period of his life, sought his counsel. In vain did we beseech him to consider his bodily comfort, and not risk his health and try his strength so much, at his advanced age, by these constant travels. "I am vain enough," he said, "to believe that I still do some good, and I am never so happy as when exercised by such a realizing sense; but, whether at home or abroad, I am still in my Maker's hands, and he will do with me as to him seemeth good."

Mr. Ballou's ma.n.u.script was always remarkably plain and correct, being, in many respects, very characteristic of himself. It was regular, exceedingly neat, and well executed, yet unostentatious, and in no degree ornamental. For our own part, we would give more for a sc.r.a.p of the hand-writing of one whom we had never met, or even of him whom we had casually seen, to enable us to judge of the general characteristics of the individual's disposition, than for the testimony of many an intimate friend. It is, of necessity, in a very great degree, a sample of the man; and when we look upon it, and think that it was the work of his hand, the emanation of his brain, mechanically and mentally his, it possesses peculiar interest.

Mr. Ballou was sometimes addressed, by letter, from a distance, from those who were strangers to him, and sometimes by brethren in the ministry, who would request him to reply to certain queries which they proposed, that they might reap the advantage of his wisdom. These letters were various in their character; some related to religious questions, some to his own history, and some as to its bearing upon his belief in the tenets of faith. One who professed to have read his numerous works, and who was also an ardent believer in the doctrine of universal salvation, converted through his writings, sent the following queries to him in a letter some time in 1847, during his seventy-sixth year. Having the letter and reply, we subjoin the spirit of the former, and give the latter to the reader entire.

"_Queries._--With what feelings do you look back upon your past life, its influence and results, its commencement and its end? As it regards your published works and writings, has experience strengthened the opinions and points laid down in them, or have you after years of study and reflection found cause for change? What is the present end and aim of your life, and how does it differ from the morning of your existence?

"_Reply to Query 1st._--When I survey the course of my past life, as I often do, I am filled with wonder; and a clear conviction that, as a whole, it has been appointed and directed by Infinite Wisdom, all but reduces me to nothing. True, I can simply realize that I exist; and can compare myself to a drop of water in the midst of the ocean, dependent, as I always have been, on that Being who holds the unmeasured deep in the hollow of his hand. I am fully satisfied that none of the eventful incidents of my life would have been what they were, had not an overruling Providence disappointed my own plans and purposes in many instances. Pursuant to these considerations, in viewing the apparent 'influences and results' of my labors, I should be quite at variance with the conviction of my own understanding, should I indulge a feeling to credit them to myself. With such views of the past and present, I feel satisfied, and even thankful.

"My childhood and youth were, like most of others, full of vanity. My public life commenced with no extensive prospects. I do not know that the thought ever entered my mind that my public labors would ever procure me a livelihood.... My main desire now is that it may please Him whose I am and whom I serve, so to direct that what remains of my fleeting days may in no way dishonor, but promote, the cause of his truth, to which I have so long been devoted.