Page:Records of the Life of the Rev. John Murray.djvu/49

Rh had so much self-command, as never to strike a child in a passion, this he denominated a demoniac sacrifice; he would first correct the angry man: but however painful the act, he never omitted what he conceived it his duty to bestow. He was a very tender-hearted man, and his prayers were rarely unaccompanied by tears. He mourned with the mourner, for he was himself a man of sorrow. Being for the last nineteen years of his life a confirmed invalid, he was constantly, and fervently looking toward his heavenly home—sometimes with impatience, when, correcting himself, he would say, "Well, well, Heaven is worth waiting for: one hour, passed in the courts of my God, will be a rich remuneration for all terrestrial sufferings."

It is the custom in Ireland, when any person of distinction or respectability is called out of time, to watch around their remains, night as well as day, until the body be entombed. The remains of my father were affectionately attended, but they were attended in an uncommon manner; as he differed from others in life, so these last honours differed from those usually bestowed. The morning immediately succeeding his demise, our friends and neighbours assembled in our dwelling, when Mr. Little thus addressed them: "My friends, it hath pleased God to take unto himself the soul of our beloved brother; as he lived, so he died, a pattern of excellence; we know, we feel, that he has not left his equal. We unite with this dear family in sensibly lamenting the departure of our experienced friend, our guide, our comforter." Here he mingled his tears with those of our attendant friends. After a long pause, he proceeded: "Fellow mourners, the greatest respect we can pay to the remains of our inestimable, our heavenly guide, is to pass our time together in this house of mourning, not for him, but for ourselves, in the way which would be most pleasing to him, were he present; we will therefore appropriate our hours to reading, and to prayer. One of our brethren will address the throne of grace, after which I will read a sermon, the production of Mr. Erskine, of whose writings the dear departed was remarkably fond." The prayer, the sermon, the concluding prayer, deeply affected every one; and the evening witnessed a renewal of these pious exercises. Thus were our nights and days devoted, until the interment. On that day the throng was prodigious. The worth, the good actions of my father, were the theme of many a tongue; his praises were echoed, and re-echoed, while tears of sorrow moistened many an eye. Every one bore in his, or her hand, to the grave-yard, a sprig of bays, which, after the body