and regarded many of them as worthy of Christian recognition. He was for drawing out leviathan with a cord, or ensnaring him as a bird—forgetting that the monster regards iron as straw, and brass as rotten wood. No one ever seemed to be more deeply convinced of the iniquitous and desolating nature of war than himself; he was fervent in his pleas for peace; yet he held to the right of fighting in what is falsely called self-defence, and therefore failed to lay the axe at the root of the tree. It was so in his treatment of all other popular sins and sinners. He either lacked true moral discrimination, or stern integrity to principle. I believe he was a sincere man, and true to his own convictions of duty. I think, as far as he saw the light, he was disposed to walk in the light, however great the peril or startling the consequences. He had in an eminent degree selfrespect, which kept him from self-degradation by wilfully doing that which he knew to be wrong. His Memoir impresses me with a deep sense of his purity and uprightness. If he had given himself to any specific reform, without compromise, as a lecturing agent, or in any other way that would have brought him in daily contact with the people of the land, I think his moral vision would have been purged, and his judgment of men and things rectified. In such a conflict, he had no practical experience whatever; and, without that experience, he was not qualified to sit in judgment on the language and measures of those who were valiantly contending for the right against a host of evil-doers. He was studious, contemplative, closetbounded; it was impossible, therefore, for him to be in the stern battle of life, or to perceive in what quarter the assault was to be most vigorously made. Yet it is equally interesting and cheering, in reading his Memoir, to perceive his growing interest in reform and reformers. His voice of rebuke to a guilty nation was growing stronger, and his “all hail” to the true-hearted more emphatic, continually. We must judge him by the position that he occupied; we must compare him with others who moved in the same sphere of life; otherwise, we shall be liable to undervalue his merits. He was a clergyman—an office which it is scarcely possible for any man to fill without loss of independence, or spiritual detriment. In his case, it seems to have been merely technical, though he might have made it subservient to personal ambition and selfishness, as thousands of others have done. That he did not do so, is something to his credit. A pulpit Abdiel is
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