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whoever anywhere lifts a hand for any victim of wrong and sin, will be lonelier and weaker for the death we mourn to-day.
Resolved, That a copy of the above resolution be sent to Mrs. Parker, with fit expression of our most sincere and respectful sympathy in this hour of her bitter grief and sad bereavement.
Another friend is gone.
Not gone!
No, with us, only standing one step higher than he did. To such spirits, there is no death.
In the old times, when men fought with spears, the warrior hurled his weapon into the thickest of the opposite host, and struggled bravely on, until he stood over it and reclaimed it. In the bloom of his youth,
Theodore Parker flung his heart forward at the feet of the
Eternal; he has only struggled onward and reached it to-day.
Only one step higher!
Wail ye may full well for Scotland,
Let none dare to mourn for him.
How shall we group his qualities?
The first that occurs to me is the tireless industry of that unresting brain which never seemed to need leisure.
When some engagement brought me home in the small hours of the morning, many and many a time have I looked out (my own window commands those of his study), and seen that unquenched light burning,--that unflagging student ever at work.
Half curious, half ashamed, I lay down, saying with the Athenian, “The trophies of
Miltiades will not let me sleep.”
He seemed to rebuke me even by the light that flashed from the window of his study.
I have met him on the cars deep in some strange tongue, or hiving up knowledge to protect the weak and hated of his own city.
Neither on the journey nor at home did his spirit need to rest.
Why is he dead?
Because he took up the burden of three men. A faithful pulpit is enough for one man. He filled it until the fulness of his ideas overflowed into
