It was to give us, he said, the power of "rightly dividing the Word of Truth." And he always called it "dividing texts." It was a most invaluable exercise. When we had written out our idea, he gave us his division; short, comprehensive, absorbing. And when we took orders, we had a skeleton book better than "the Thesaurus Theologicus." The divisions were like crystals of the water of life, which had only to be melted, with the warmth of prayer and earnest thought, and the stream flowed out itself, in purity and power. His advice to us always, was, to write the Greek as well as the English of a text, and always to write down the heads, whether they appeared in the sermon, or not. This was his habit, always. He used to warn us often, against the real meaning of the careless expression, "preaching from a text." And he told us often, too, of the man who "had not time to write short sermons." Here I must leave this most unworthy sketch of my St. James i. 12, "Blessed is the man that endureth temptation." II. Eternal issues depend on it. III. The reward is for those who love God. IV. To get it, our love must be tested. V. The test of love is the endurance of temptation. 1 St. John iii. 1, "That we should be called the sons of God." I. The way to become so. II. The proof that we are so. III. The benefit of being so. Romans xiv. 7, "None of us liveth to himself." 1. Life is a trust from God. II. To be used for the good of the brethren. Isaiah xlv. 15, "Thou art a God that hidest thyself." II. He hideth Himself. 1. In the mystery of His Triune Existence; 2. In the mysterious orderings of His Providence; 3. In the mysteries of Creation; 4. In the mysteries of Redemption. III. He is still the only Saviour. IV. To get salvation we must seek Him by faith; 1. In His Holy Word; 2. In His Holy Sacraments; 3. In His Holy Church. Many others like these will occur to those who knew his own sermons, in which he clothed the full and close articulations of the skeleton, with the fair flesh of glowing words; and the warm blood of living thoughts. Another exer cise that he often gave us, was the interpretation of Theological terms, in their original force, and their various meanings; gathered by a harmony of Holy Seriptures; δικαιοσυνης θυσίας βασίλεια των ουρανων, η του κυριου δοξα; the parallel between Jesus and Joshua; et alia. In his "sublime delirium;' a noble generous delirium in which his mind was not so much unhinged as unveiled" this was the last of his cares. And his busy soul wrought, and his busy fingers wrote, in such rapidity that I cannot recall them, interpretations of the most sublime and searching portions of the Scripture, mostly from the 16th and 17th chapters of the Gospel according to St. John; analyzing and writing down the points of texts; quoting often from the Fathers; and dwelling, distinctly, on our Lord's silence before Caiaphas, as fulfilling the prophetic vision of the Lamb, opening not His mouth. Father's powers, as a Teacher; of his purposes and principles and plan, as an Educator. I have brought it in here, because the full birdseye view seems better for this, than to distribute it, in its order of time and place. To get the idea of the richness of soil and the fruitfulness of seed, one must take in, at a glance, April and May and June and August; first the blade, and then the ear, and after that, the full corn in the ear. We can go back afterwards, to see the flowers, and dwell upon the changing seasons, and the varied beauty of each month, in detail. And I have dwelt so at length upon this, because, to use a cant word, it was his mission. To it, he sacrificed means, leisure, peace, life, every thing. Neglecting nothing else, yet he gave most of himself to this. Of all his greatness, in this, he was the greatest. And in it, he must live while the earth lasts; in the influences, the principles, the men and women, the daughters and sisters and wives and mothers; the scholars, the men, the Christians, the "great company of the preachers whom God, through him, has given and shall give, to the world. I have spoken of my Father's relations with Bishop Hobart, as the other strand of that thread, whose weaving into his character and life, was begun in New York. Its presence is readily detected, in the Catholic principles, the earnest fearless championship, the cool self-possession, the well grounded arguments, of his Churchmanship. Even those, who knew the late Bishop of New York, only by his writings, will readily feel, that any, who were brought constantly and closely into his presence, must have been influenced by him. His mind was one of those clearly cut and thoroughly hardened moulds, from which, many another mind must take form. And the kindness and affection, lavished on the Theological Student, became the cordial confidential intimacy, between the Bishop and his Deacon, the Rector and his Assistant, may I not say, between the two friends! Bishop Hobart was very kind to him, in the pursuit of his studies; promoted and favoured his school, admitted him as a fellow-helper in his parochial work, in Trinity Church, welcomed him intimately in his own house; and visited my Grandmother, in the intimate unceremonious unreserve of confidence and affection. Ordained Deacon in Christ Church, New York, on the 19th of April, A. D. 1821, my Father's name occurs in the Journal of that same year, as officiating in Trinity Church, New York. This Journal contains on its list of Clergy present in, or belonging to, the Convention of that year, the names of eight prospective Bishops. He took Priest's orders from the same venerable hands, in Trinity Church, on Wednesday, August 6th, A. D. 1823. These are the external links, of the chain that bound these hearts together. The genial intercourse of spirits that had much in common, made it golden with pleasure and love. There is a most beautiful home glimpse of it, in his own description of an evening spent with Bishop Hobart, at Dr. Rudd's Parsonage (St. John's) in Eliza bethtown.* It was an evening to be remembered. Mrs. Rudd was charming in her person; and even more so, in her courtesy and hospitality. Dr. Rudd was the most genial host; a ready and agreeable talker; and with a manner the most cordial and attractive. And Bishop Hobart was what none but Bishop Hobart ever was. Such fervour! Such graciousness! Such tenderness! So simple mannered! Yet so wise, so brave, so great! Eloquent in look, in word, in gesture, in every thing! A torrent that carried every thing before it; but with banks so green, so flowery, and so fragrant, that it was delightful to be carried away by it. America has had no greater man. It was well said by Rufus King, who was his closest friend, that in whatever line of life he had chosen, he would have been the first. And yet he was greatest at his home, and by his hearth. And his greatest greatness was in his lovingness and childlikeness. Incomparable Bishop Hobart! Then so misunderstood and spoken against! The conversation was most animated and interesting-the West -the Church to be in the West-Agriculture-Academies-Politics -Theology-Life. Of course, the young men were but listeners. It had reached the small hours when we went, reluctantly, to bed. A happier evening I have seldom spent. There was no happier house to spend it in. And none to make it happier, than Dr. and Mrs. Rudd. Bishop Hobart was perfectly at home, with them. He had come down, from his beloved Short Hills, to meet me there, and spend the night. Early the next morning, he drove me to Jersey City. His conversation was most interesting. His counsels were most instructive. Among other things, he advised me to read every day, some portion of Bishop Horne's Commentary on the Psalms. From the ferry, he gave me his cloak, to carry home; playfully putting it on my shoulder. I thought of Paul's cloak, which Timothy was to bring from Troas; and was happy, if not proud. Constantly through all his life, there were incidental allusions, to this great Father of our Church, that prove, how lasting the impression was, and how much of him had entered into his soul. There can scarcely be any better praise, he writes of Dr. Rudd, than to say that he was for many years, the confidential friend of Bishop Hobart. Again of Dr. Orin Clark he writes: No clergyman in Western New York, was held in higher respect. That he deserved it, is well shown by the fact that he was honoured with the confidence, of that consummate judge of men, Bishop Hobart. The death of this great champion of the Church, which oc curred, while my Father was Rector of Trinity Church, Boston, stirred up the flame of the old love, which had been kept ever warm, by the ashes of undying memories, and the breath of close, though distant intercourse. And he called his people to mourn with him, in these touching words: ren, The Bishop of New York has fallen from his high station, in the midst of his years, of his honours, and of his usefulness. To me, my breththis is the visitation of no common sorrow; and deep, and strong, and closely intertwined, even with "my most dear heart strings," are the ties which it has sundered. Accustomed from my earliest years, to look up to him with reverence and admiration, having received at his hands the authority of both my orders, having been associated with him for nearly four years in the care of the same parish, having enjoyed from my first acquaintance with him no ordinary measure of his confidence and love, and having renewed, under his own roof, within four short months, the remembered joys of years, and twined again the cords of an affection which no distance and no time had had the power to sever, the stroke which rendered him immortal has fallen, as it were, within the sacred precincts of my own fire-side, and removed from my admiring gaze, and warm embrace, another father. Upon these grounds alone, if there were no other, you would, I know, indulge in me affection's mournful privilege, to strew upon the grave of the departed, some tributary flowers, and to erect, vain offering! some fond, though frail, memorial of the virtues of the dead, and of the sorrows of the living. But the character and services of Bishop Hobart do not permit the claim of honour to his memory to rest on the consideration of a private grief. The zealous, and disinterested, and, by Heaven's blessing, successful labours in his Master's service, which have made his name a praise and glory to the remotest borders of the Church, have opened in all hearts a fountain of regret, and challenge from all tongues a tribute of affectionate and honourable remembrance. His noble, elevated spirit did not acknowledge, in its zealous efforts in the cause of truth and virtue, the limits of a single diocese, or the claims of any one community. It soared the higher in its glorious flight, that it might thus dispense the wider good. His active, energetic mind, devoted to his Redeemer's glory, and the salvation of men, never rested, and was never weary. The inspiration of its wonderful powers was felt everywhere, and everywhere for good. His heart was as comprehensive as the Church. He thought for it all. He felt for it all. He lived for its extension. He died a martyr in its cause. He was indeed a burning and a shining light, and rejoicing, as we all did, for a season, in his radiance, we may all feel darkened and if He who gave him for our good, had not, in His own inscrutable, but never to be distrusted, wisdom, withdrawn him from us-we must all lament, with hearts that could not easily be comforted, for its disastrous, and, to our dim vision, premature eclipse. The Protestant Episcopal Communion was at the time of his elec tion to the Episcopate, small and feeble; and some of the ablest champions of another Christian name, resolved on its extinction, were levelling against it the arrows of their most practised and determined archery. True to the promise which had bound him to her altars, to live and die by them, and strong in the confidence of his good cause, the youthful minister stood forth, and, like the Israelitish shepherd, by the blessing of the God of truth upon his good right arm, put all their proud array to silence and to flight. And from the day of that diseussion, the controversy as to the character and claims of the Protestant Episcopal Church, with the exception of now and then a skirmish at the outposts, has remained at rest-and her altars strengthened, and her ministers multiplied, are offering, year after year, to an increasing host, the truths and consolations of religion pure and undefiled, the sanctity, good order and devotion of her primitive discipline, and time-hallowed worship. In the year 1811, on the incapacity, by disease, of the venerable Bishop Moore, Dr. Hobart was raised to the Episcopate of New York; and the history of the American Church from that period well displays how the wisdom of man, and the blessing of God united in that choice. From that time the advancement of the Episcopal interest in his own diocese has been rapid, constant, almost incredible. The clergy have increased from the 23 who were present at his election to 134-the number of congregations has been multiplied in a proportion more than equal-and the Church of the Apostles, not sustained by the weapons of a carnal warfare, but by the benign and holy influences of truth and reason, of charity and piety, has grown in favour with men, as rapidly as it has extended beneath the favour of God. By his numerous and valuable writings, by his services in the general councils of the Church, by his devotion to all her institutions and interests, above all, by the tower of strength which was afforded to us in the solidity of his judgment, the sternness of his integrity, and the splendour of his name, the life of Bishop Hobart has been the common treasure and glory of us all, and generations of those who shall come after us, will rise up, and call him blessed. But the labours in which he was so abundant, and we were so enriched, proved too much for him. The constant attrition of the ever-active mind wore out the perishable frame. Harassed by the anxieties, and exhausted by the labours of a large and arduous parish, in addition to that which came upon him daily, the care of all the churches, Bishop Hobart's friends have long felt the necessity of some division or diminution of his duties. But his zealous spirit would not listen for a moment-and resolved to give his last breath to the cause of his Master and of mankind, he still prosecuted enterprises, and entered upon labours which were beyond Herculean strength. During the last summer he had planned and undertaken a visitation unsurpassed, save in the Indian labours of the lamented Heber. It was but half completed, when a bilious fever laid him, far from home, upon the bed of pain-and, after ten days illness, at 4 o'clock, on the morning of the last Lord's day, (September 12th,) his noble and de voted spirit entered upon that blessed and eternal rest which remaineth for the people of God. Thus has fallen, prematurely for all but himself, the able scholar, the powerful writer, the eloquent preacher, the |