  Mr. Ballou ever strove to make the word and the principles which he taught appear attractive, by representing them in their appropriate dress, the livery of joy and peace, and from the principles of fatherly love and kindness he gathered the strongest motives for humility, gratitude and obedience. He would tell you that God has written upon the fragrant flowers of the field, on the breezes that rock them, and the refreshing sun that nurtures them, indelible tokens of his fatherly affection, and would refer you to the blooming clover, and the falling rain, as blessings not to be misconstrued, in God's own hand-writing, a "way-side sacrament," free to all. He would never tire of depicting the Almighty through the spirit of the most beautiful emblems in nature, and ever deducing from them the most amiable and glorious traits of Deity. The employment he made of the familiar images of nature will remind the reader of what we have already Before the mind's eye of such a man, the beauties of nature do not glide away like the figures of a painted panorama, serving only to amuse, charming the eye for a moment with grace of form and beauty of manner, and then passing away like an idle dream, the "baseless fabric of a vision." In the true man, the child of God, the inner, the spiritual sense is awakened in sympathy with the material organs of vision. For him each lineament We have labored somewhat in these pages, even at the risk of repetition, to inculcate the idea that Mr. Ballou was one of these students of nature; and this was the case in a most eminent degree: the teachings that he received at her feet in youth he garnered up in his heart, to be repeated, to be illustrated, and illumined with new light from the brightness of his intellect, to be poured forth again to thousands who required so eloquent an interpreter. He had learned a lesson he could never forget, from the beautiful creations of God, of his fatherly affection. The fierce midnight storm, with its thunder-peals and lightning-flashes, had no terror for him; he knew better than to interpret it as a manifestation of the wrath and vengeful fury of the Deity; for he knew that it was to be followed by a purer and healthier atmosphere, by the glowing bow of promise, and by brighter smiles from the unshadowed sun. In none of the varied phenomena of nature did he behold the God of wrath, the God of vengeance, the pitiless Deity of the dark theology, whose horrors he was destined to dissipate and overcome. Far from this. He deduced from every phase of nature the great truth of the all-prevailing and inexhaustible love of the Almighty for the children of his creation. Thus, by the simple symbols and tokens he had discovered, strewn like flowers along the pathway of life, he sought to awaken the torpid sense Mr. Ballou's examples and illustrations of God's unbounded grace and goodness, as drawn from visible nature, were very frequent. God's word first, and then God's works, were his strength and shield. Let the following show his mode of reasoning in this particular. He says:—"If our Creator has so bountifully provided for our existence here, which is but momentary, and for our temporal wants, which will all soon be forgotten, what has he not done for the security of our immortal state, and for our enjoyment in the everlasting world? Pause, and behold what boundless scenes of riches and glory are opening to our view in Jesus, by whom life and immortality are brought to light! We have seen the brightness of the morning sun, have known the renovating majesty of his noon-tide rays, have seen a fair creation blest with his universal light and heat! But this is only a symbol of the Sun of Righteousness; his brightness is above that of the morning sun, his heat is more renovating than the rays of the noon. In him our Heavenly Father hath given unto us eternal life. As the life of the natural is in the sun, so the life of the moral creation is in Jesus, the light of the world, the life of man. If the earth be full of the goodness of the Lord, have we not in this a fair specimen of the rest of his vast creation? Have we any reason to Observe how vastly different was the effect produced by the tenets of faith preached by many around him! How far from lovable was the portraiture drawn of God and Heaven by those who held forth the creed of the old school! How many preachers of this school have won their ephemeral reputations solely by awakening the terrors of their auditors, and have been esteemed great in proportion to their ability to produce fainting, convulsions, tears and groans, among women and children! The perverted vision of such men rests on no image of nature, except such as they can distort to symbolize some imaginary dreadful attribute in the God of their theology. He is clothed by them in storms and clouds, as the heathen Jove was depicted grasping in his hand a sheaf of thunderbolts. From their portraiture every gleam of light is excluded,—it is a murky and repulsive mass of shadows. The "That gloomy, heart-dejecting something," says Mr. Ballou, "which has been maintained in our world at an incalculable expense of treasure, of comfort, peace and joy,—at the expense, also, of the tender charities of the heart, and the benevolent sentiments of the soul,—though called religion, is all counterfeit. It has drawn a sable curtain over the mildly radiant countenance of our Father in heaven, and in room of leading the mind to contemplate the Divine Being with pleasure and delight, it has attached a horror to the sacred name, which gives a stupefying chill to the heart, repels the mind, and forces it to seek relief in the contemplation of visible and sensible objects; and after becoming the author of this horror and disgust in the soul, it artfully takes the advantage of the deception, to inculcate a belief that the reason of these feelings is the natural depravity of the human heart! Such are the views which youth are led to entertain of religion, that they contemplate it as something calculated to deprive them of their present comforts, and only useful as it relates to a state of existence hereafter, where, as a recompense for sacrifices which they make of happiness in this world, they are to receive extensive and lasting blessings. "But true religion presents the Father of our spirits as the most lovely character of which the mind can possibly conceive. It directs to the contemplation of that almighty power which controls a universe, and to view all its elements in harmony with the unchangeable love of God to his creatures. In youth, while the heart is tender, and sensibility quick and lively, what an exquisite delight the mind is capable of enjoying, by penetrating through visible objects and the beauty of temporal things, to the contemplation of that wisdom, power and goodness, which are manifest through the medium of these outward forms! If the fragrance of the rose can so gratefully delight the sense, how much greater is the pleasure to the rational mind which flows from the consideration of that wisdom and goodness which gave this power to the rose, and this capacity to sense! From this single item let the mind glance through all creation, and freely indulge the reflection that the universe is as full of the divine goodness as the rose or the lily of the valley. Freed from superstition, what heart would not be charmed with the character which the Saviour gives of our Heavenly Father? These mute, but beautiful and eloquent testimonials of their Maker's love and gentleness, would rebuke the dogmatism of the schools; and hence they naturally avoid to mention the graceful, refined and touching features of nature. They prefer rather to revel in their own dark and unwarrantable conceptions of a future state, to gloat over the prospective agony of their brethren, to conjure up horrid pictures of future suffering and woe, and madly to pronounce all as being necessary to the full glory of God, and the exemplification of his almighty power. What wonder, then, that thousands, turning with loathing and shuddering from the image of a deity clothed with all the repugnant attributes of the most debased humanity, plunge into hopeless unbelief, refusing all credence in such a being, and in any future state whatever? Was it not a Herculean task to combat the immemorial and prescriptive dogmas of powerful and learned preachers, armed with all the rhetorical imagery of the schools for working terror and despair in the hearts of their listeners? Again Mr. Ballou says:— "The preacher of the old school exhorts his hearers, above all things, to the practice of the most rigid "The eternal din of future punishment soon loses all effect in frightening the people, and has no influence but to impress a melancholy gloom on their minds. Mankind are to be animated to strive to enter the gates of heaven by the love of God and of goodness. He who attempts it through fear of damnation exhibits no evidence of holiness of heart. As well may we call a man honest who, having an inclination to steal, refrains for fear of the whip, as we may a man religious, who, having vicious inclinations, restrains them, and conforms to the exteriors of religion, for the purpose of escaping the flames of hell. It is matter of much regret that the amiable religion of Christianity should be so disfigured People listen to the dogmas of the schools, and are filled with awful forebodings; terror is the predominating He held that the true way to cleanse the hardened and rebellious heart is to inundate it with a deluge of love, the only weapon of Omnipotence. Reason with the sinner, he will meet you with subtle argument; threaten him, and he will meet you blow for blow; against future interest he will adroitly balance present pleasure. The human heart rises against severity or oppression, while it is soothed by gentleness, as the waves of the ocean rise in proportion to the violence of the winds, and sink with the breeze, until it becomes a gentle zephyr, into mildness and serenity. Love, the warm sunshine of our existence, subdues the sinner at once; there is not one in a thousand whose heart is so hardened that its genial warmth will not melt it. True it is that force can subdue numbers, cunning conquers force, intellect can master cunning, but love conquers all. There is a vast difference between a wounded heart and a contrite spirit. You may break ice by force into a thousand pieces,—it is ice still; but expose it to the warm sun, and behold! how quickly it will melt! We have enlarged somewhat upon this doctrine of divine love, and trust that our readers will bear with us in our desultory career, since this principle is the fundamental basis of Universalism,—the starting-point and the goal, the Alpha and the Omega, of Mr. Ballou's spiritual experience and teaching. By it he reconciled the impulses of his heart and the promptings of his intellect. The principle of God's perfect, unchanging and eternal love of man, was the great discovery of his earliest manhood, the object of his self-imposed mission, the inspiration and solace of his labors, the spirit and joy of his existence. His adamantine belief in this great idea, daily strengthening by the study of God's works and word, was his shield and spear. It touched his lips with living fire, as he stood in the pulpit, or beneath the blue canopy of heaven, where he often preached; in the solitude of his study, in the busy haunts of men, it fed the flickering lamp of life when it waned with severe exertion, and it shone like the brightest star of heaven on his dying bed. It was no solitary joy; the treasure he had found he journeyed through the land to share with others. From his lips the glad tidings rang through every nook and corner; and he lived, as we have seen, long enough to hear the accents caught up by the willing and faithful watchmen of the gospel, and the cry of "All's well!" echo from port to port, from battlement to battlement, on the castles of Zion, through the vast circumference of his native land. He saw his denominational congregation swollen from a little band of eager listeners to an But let us give place here to his own words, beautifully expressed, and illustrating his belief, and the spirit of his doctrine, as appears in a poem he wrote upon this theme, some years since. It is entitled GOD IS LOVE. "When lovely Spring, with flowery wreaths, Comes on young Zephyr's wing, And every bird soft music breathes, 'Tis love that makes them sing. Love blossoms on the forest trees, And paints each garden flower, Gives honey to the laboring bees In every sylvan bower. Love breathes in every wind that blows, And fragrance fills the air; Meanders in each stream that flows, Inviting pleasures there. Love brings the golden harvest in, And fills her stores with food; It moves ten thousand tongues to sing Of universal good." "If we believe that God so loved us that he sent his Son to die for us, we ought to love one another," he says. "Shall I not love those objects whom my God loves? Shall I not love all those for whose sins he sent his Son to be a propitiation? Most assuredly. This is a consequence naturally to be expected from our belief. I do not say that all who profess the doctrine do love one another as they ought; but I have the confidence to say that no one who possesses the real sentiment, the real principle, in his heart, can do otherwise than love all mankind. And here you will easily perceive that all the commandments of the gospel are to be obeyed. For when we love one another and love God, what duty is there that will be neglected? If this will not lead us to our duty, what will? Will terror make us do our duty? No; for, referring once more to the similitude, what drove your children away? It was believing the story they were told of your character. What brought them back? Knowing you were good. And know you not that it is the goodness of God that leadeth to repentance? Why, then, should not his goodness be preached to sinners? Why should we be told such awful stories with regard to eternity? Why should we be told that there is an everlasting state of burning, in order to induce us to love our Father in heaven? O! incongruous doctrine! Let it be banished from the world, and let the angel of the covenant proclaim the love of God to mankind; and may the world be converted. Man will then All his writings and all of his conversation, both public and private, were thoroughly imbued with this belief and principle of universal love; it ran like a golden stratum through all his life and conduct, imbuing every sentiment and every thought. His doctrine was such that a realizing sense of its character must invariably thus affect the firm and relying believer. He never held forth dark threats, nor adopted, like many preachers about him, the doleful tones of grief when he talked about religion. "If good people," says Archbishop Usher, "would make their goodness agreeable, and smile instead of frowning in their virtue, how many would they win to the good cause!" Mr. Ballou was affected, in his cheerful and happy belief of universal salvation, like Haydn, who, in answer to a query of the poet Carpani, how it happened that his church music was ever of an animating and cheerful character, answered,—"I cannot make it otherwise. I write according to the thoughts which I feel;—when I think upon God, my heart is so full of joy that the notes dance and leap as it were from my pen." How many there are among us who, the moment the subject of religion is mentioned, put on long faces, and talk as if they were mourning their own lot and that of Such was the philosophy of the subject of these memoirs, such his religion, such the doctrine which he taught. He found no cause for sorrow in his belief, but a never-failing fountain of joy ever welled up in his breast, pure and sparkling. Mr. Ballou's religious belief, the faith which he promulgated with such zeal and wonderful effect, can be summed up in a few words. He held that God judges the human family in the earth; that every man must receive according to the sin he hath done, and that there is no respect of persons. That the "righteous shall be He believed that, in order to prove that misery will exist in the future or eternal state, it must first be made to appear that sin will exist in that state. But this he did not believe could be proved from any scriptural testimony; on the contrary, he was fully convinced that the Bible taught that "He that is dead is freed from sin." To quote his own words on this point: "We have shown, in order for justice to require the endless This feature of his mind cannot be too strongly insisted upon. He was not content with relying on the spirit of the Scriptures, which would have fully sustained his doctrine, but he conciliated the spirit and the letter, and rested every proposition he advanced on this immutable and impregnable basis. If ever a man strictly obeyed the injunction to "search the Scriptures," it was Mr. Ballou. They were the armor from which he drew the shield that sheltered him in conflict, and all the shafts that garnished his quiver. He had the very words of Christ and his There was little of the enthusiast,—to use the term in its common acceptation,—nothing of the bigot and fanatic, in his nature. He first convinced himself of the truth of his ideas; he reflected and pondered them deeply by himself, in some of those abstracted moods peculiar to him, examining them in every light, trying them by every test, dispassionately and calmly; and then gave them to the world, armed at all points, and ready for defence against attack. And how prompt and ready he was to defend what he had satisfied himself was the truth, we need not reiterate here. The language in which he enforced his arguments was simple and clear, because his ideas were so. They needed not the tinsel garb of rhetoric, the flowers of a refined oratory, to make them presentable to the world; they needed no foreign or artificial aid;—no, they stood forth clear, simple, strong, arrayed in the garb and radiant with the light of truth and of nature. They stood the test of public scrutiny, because they had been refined in the alembic of his own severe and critical mind. This simplicity, which is fast becoming an In relation to the argument of analogy, as used to prove the doctrine of punishment in a future state, we subjoin the following, in his own words:—"Another ground on which the advocates of a future state of rewards and punishments place much dependence for the support of the doctrine, they denominate analogy. We think it too hazardous to attempt anything like an accurate statement of the particular arguments, which are made to depend on this principle, in favor of this doctrine; for we might be liable to some mistakes, which would represent the views of its advocates differently from their mode of representing them. Our liability to misrepresent in such an attempt seems unavoidable, on account of the fact that there has been nothing like a system of reasoning yet exhibited on the general subject. We feel safe, however, in saying, that, as far as we have been informed, those who rely on what they call analogy to support the doctrine of future retribution, hold that, in all respects which are necessary to carry sin and its miseries into the future state, that state will be analogous to this mode of being. So that, reasoning from "On reasonings of such a character, we shall use the freedom to say, that they appear to have no higher authority than mere human speculations injudiciously managed. That they are nothing more than simple speculations, is evident from the fact that they are not founded on any divine authority. We presume that their own advocates never ventured to support them by scripture authority. And that they are managed injudiciously, is very apparent from the circumstances, that while they profess to be justified by the principle of analogy, they are a direct denial of the very analogy on which they depend. Theologians who endeavor to exert an influence over the minds of people by means of these speculations, are constantly urging that in this world we see sin procuring for its agents the riches and honors of the world, while it escapes judicial detection, and goes unpunished. Now, if they were consistent with their analogy and with themselves, they would see at once that in the next state of existence sin will procure for its agents the riches and honors of that world, and there, as well "Of late, the writer of this," says Mr. Ballou, in one of his last published sermons, "has seen an inclination, in some of the professed preachers of Universalism, to adopt some of the peculiar opinions of our Unitarian fraternity. Among other things, is the opinion that He believed that all those promises which give the assurance of the final holiness and happiness of the entire race of man depend solely on the will and power and goodness of God, and not on any conditions for the creature to perform. While dwelling upon this theme, which he delighted to do, he says:—"Let us pass to the prophecies of Isaiah; see Chap. 25: 6, 7, 8. "'And in this mountain shall the Lord of Hosts make unto all people a feast of fat things. * * * And he will destroy in this mountain the face of the covering cast over all people, and the vail that is spread over all nations. He will swallow up death in victory; and the Lord God will wipe away tears from off all faces; and the rebuke of his people shall he take away from off all the earth: for the Lord hath spoken it.' No one will doubt that the provisions here spoken of are those which are provided in the gospel of salvation,—made for all people. The vail of darkness which is over all people is to be taken away. Death is to be swallowed up in victory, and tears wiped from off all faces. The rebuke of God's people shall be taken from off all the earth. And the proof is in the above passage, 'for the Lord hath spoken it.'" Mr. Ballou says:—"I look with strong expectation for that period when all sin, and every degree of unreconciliation, will be destroyed, by the divine power of that love which is stronger than death, which many waters cannot quench, nor the floods drown; in which alone I put my trust, and in which my hope is anchored for all mankind; earnestly praying that the desire of the righteous may not be cut off. The fulness of times will come, and the times of the restitution of all things will be accomplished. Then shall truth be victorious, and all error flee to eternal night. Then will universal songs of honor be sung to the praise of Him who liveth for ever and ever." In relation to the subject of his faith, Rev. A. A. Miner, in his funeral sermon delivered on the occasion, says:— "Let me say, then, that he was a man of unswerving faith. He believed in the Bible as the treasury of divine revelation. His ministry was based upon it. Few men have confined themselves so exclusively to its themes. None have treated those themes with greater clearness and power. He studied the sacred page with a spirit equally removed from the Germanic philosophy, on the one hand, and from Calvinistic bigotry on the other. In the fulness of its promises, the riches of its grace, and the blessedness of its hopes, his soul continually delighted. It was to him the 'Book of books;' and, at the advanced age of more than fourscore years, its truths, still fresh in his memory, continually employed his understanding, and its glories enraptured his heart. "He believed also in God;—in God as the supreme good. He believed in him as sovereign,—not simply as a candidate for sovereignty, but as already sovereign; nor alone as sovereign to create, to uphold, to rule, to condemn, and to chasten or destroy. So far had the world's faith gone. He regarded him as sovereign, not to do evil, but to do good, and to do good only. He believed God limited by his very nature to the doing of good,—that he is no more able to do evil than he is to be untrue. And, since it is admitted, on all hands, that there are moral influences by which some will be saved in perfect harmony with the exercise "His faith, too, in Christ stood related to the affectionate Father as the sovereign cause. Christ was God's messenger to man. He came not to procure the Father's love for the world, but as a testimony of that love. He came not to open to man the door of mercy, but to strengthen man to walk in the already open door. His mission was not simply to explore the wide-spread moral waste, but to possess and cultivate it; not to make salvation possible, but actual; for God 'hath appointed him heir of all things,'—'hath given all things into his hands, that he should give eternal life to as many as God had given him.' Thus it was his mission to accomplish a work, rather than to offer to accomplish it; and, by his ever-memorable prayer on the cross, he perfected the power by which the world will be saved; as he said, 'And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me.'" No one who has thus far followed this unpretending but truthful biography, can fail to admit the full justice of the foregoing analysis and eulogy of Mr. Ballou's moral and mental nature. The faith of which Mr. Miner speaks was the strongest characteristic of the man. It illumined his whole life. His intellect was not clouded by doubts. In the geniality and genuineness of his faith As we have labored to show, his reverence and love for his Maker were boundless; they absorbed his whole being—not, however, to the exclusion of earthly objects of affection, for he well knew that a true love of our Father in heaven is totally incompatible with the neglect of his creatures. Therefore, he was as unlike as possible to those ascetics of the middle ages, or the recluses of our own day, who fancy that a strict seclusion from the world, and a complete abandonment to religious exercises, is the most acceptable offering that can be made at the foot of the altar. This was an idea that found no sympathy in his bosom; he knew that there was nothing inharmonious between religious and social duties, and that to love our fellow-creatures is a proof of love towards God. His In a recent letter to the "Star in the West," Rev. George H. Emerson says:— "The theological mission of Hosea Ballou was this:—to assert the benevolent and perfect sovereignty of Almighty God. I once said to him, 'Suppose the idea of God's sovereignty were taken out of you, how much would there be left of you?' His answer was significant, and comprised three words,—'O my soul!' Of course, these three words, of themselves simply, convey no answer; but the tone with which they were uttered said, very distinctly, that, the idea of God's sovereignty taken away, there would be no Hosea Ballou. But this great man did not simply believe that God is a sovereign, but, further, that God is a benevolent sovereign; he not only believed that God ruled in the armies of heaven and among the inhabitants of the earth, but that he ruled them with the especial object of bestowing happiness; he not only believed that God worked all things after the counsels of his own will, but that it was God's will that all should be saved and come to a knowledge of the truth. Every one who has heard or read him will recollect how frequently he would illustrate his views of the divine government by the Such was the sum and substance of his doctrine, his life-long mission, the creed he held forth to the people for more than sixty years. Some of his religious opponents have frequently charged him with card-playing, an amusement which we conceive to be of no evil import in itself, but the charge was designed as a matter of reproach against him. Now, we happen to know, and can say for a certainty, that Mr. Ballou did not know one card from another, nor could he have named a dozen cards rightly, had his very life depended upon his doing so. This may be thought, perhaps, a trifling matter to notice; but the truth is, his religious opponents, finding no evil in him that they might expose, invented this charge to prejudice the public mind, and one minister in New England more than once publicly declared it from his pulpit; though, when called upon by one who heard him, and who knew the subject of this biography, he was puzzled to produce the name of his informant. It is within our own recollection that these stories were rife, and that they were very generally talked of. It was also sneeringly said that he preached to the lowest classes of society, and that respectable or intelligent persons never attended his meetings; that some of the most wicked and sinful of the These declarations were often made as evidences, weighing not alone against him, but also against the truth and godly character of his doctrine; they were preferred by clergymen from their pulpits, and often in opposition religious papers; but, of course, this was more frequently the case during his early settlement in Boston than in subsequent years. The first part of the latter charge brought against him needs no refutation; an intelligent public can judge of its truth; but we cannot refrain from calling the attention of the reader to the spirit that prompted the last clause. How very like it is to that evinced by the Pharisees of old, who said reproachfully of their Divine Master, "This man receiveth sinners and eateth with them." And now mark the reply of Jesus to these grumblers:—"The whole," says he, "need not the physician, but they that are sick." "The most wicked and sinful of the community," said Mr. Ballou's revilers, "are found listening to him, and they are always welcome!" The truth is, that Mr. Ballou made no distinction or selection among auditors; he as readily preached to the poor and humble, as to those "clad in purple and fine linen," who "fared sumptuously every day." He never withheld his services; it might be, perhaps, that he preached with more fervor to those who stood in the clearest need of consolation and good tidings, than to those who enjoyed every opportunity of mental and Still less is the minister of the true religion to refuse to afford words of encouragement and advice to the unfortunate being who is struggling in the toils of sin. To such an one his mission is absolutely imperative; he must wrestle with the perturbed and darkened spirit, he must aid the awakening conscience, struggling to throw off the burthen of evil passions, he must point to the undying love of God to man, and bid the tears of the sinner be dried up in the effulgent smile of Omnipotence. If, therefore, sinners crowded to hear the discourses of Mr. Ballou, it was a tribute of which a preacher of the gospel might well be proud. "To comfort and help the weak-hearted, and to raise up those who fall," is essentially the province of the conscientious preacher; and no one, however hardened his heart, could have listened to the sincere and earnest words of the subject of these pages, without deriving some hope, some consolation, and some strength, from the glorious doctrine he preached so eloquently; and Was it true that "sinners flocked to hear him," as has been said so often by his opponents in the way of reproach against his doctrine, as being conducive to the pleasure of such persons? Let us pause for one moment, and review what he used to say that was particularly pleasing to this class of hearers. The following, for instance, will suffice us,—it is from his own pen:—"The vile affections of sin will burn to the destruction of the sweetest harmonies of nature; the whitest robes of innocence are stained with its indelible crimson; the soul is drowned in the black waters of iniquity, and the whole mind, with every faculty, is plunged into the hell of moral death. Yet, listen to the worst of torments, in consequence of sin. 'A wounded conscience who can bear?' A fire that burns all the day long, a sword that continually pierceth the soul, a sting that cannot exhaust its poison, a fever that never turns till the patient dies. 'A dart struck through his liver.' What ails the sinner?—why his hand on his breast? There gnaws the worm that never dies,—there burns the fire that is never quenched. A consciousness of guilt destroys all the expected comforts and pleasures of sin. How strange it is that, after a thousand disappointments in succession, men are not discouraged! O sin! how you paint your face! how you flatter us, poor mortals, on to death! You never appear to the sinner in Mr. Ballou's style of preaching was of a kind calculated to create regret in the hearer's heart at his own shortcoming, and to plant a contrite spirit there, rather than fear for the punishment of his sins. The object of his sermon was not to terrify the sinner, but rather to lead him into the ways of peace and pleasantness. His sermons were of the character referred to by Louis XIV., when he told that eminent preacher, Massillon, "Father, I have heard many great pulpit orators, and I have been much pleased with them, but every time I hear you I am exceedingly displeased with myself;" alluding to the sorrow for sin which Massillon's sermons created in him. This is the true and effectual style of preaching, such as will convert sinners from the error of their ways, by inducing a correct feeling in their own bosoms, not by frightening them out of their senses. Representing before men's eyes such oceans of wrath that they feel as though they were sinking to perdition, will undoubtedly lead them sometimes to profess religion, as a drowning man would catch at a straw; but their profession is made by instinct, not conviction,—by an undefined consciousness of necessity, not by any incentive of love. It might be said of Mr. Ballou's sermons as Thomas Fuller said of Perkins in his eulogy: "His sermons were not so plain but that the piously learned did admire "Mother," said a little girl, seven years old, "I could not understand our minister to-day, he said so many hard words. I wish he would preach so that little girls could understand him; won't he, mother?" "Yes, I think so, if we ask him." It was not long after that the little girl's father saw her going over to the minister's, and calling her back to him, he asked:— "Where are you going, Emma?" "I am going over to Mr. ——'s, father," was her innocent reply, "to ask him to preach small!" A hint this that many might improve by. To the place of his birth Mr. Ballou was fondly attached, and often visited it during the latter years of his life, in company with his children. He seemed thrice happy among those well-remembered hills and dales, where "the dreams of youth came back again." Aside from the fact of its being the home of his childhood, which While on a visit to this spot, accompanied by his second son, Rev. Massena B. Ballou, in 1843, he lingered long and thoughtfully among the tomb-stones, and at last BALLOU'S DELL. "There are no hills in Hampshire New, No valleys half so fair, As those which spread before the view In merry Richmond, where I first my mortal race began, And passed my youthful days,— Where first I saw the golden sun, And felt his warming rays. There is no spot in Richmond where Fond memory loves to dwell, As on the glebe outspreading there In Ballou's blithesome dell. There are no birds that sing so sweet As those upon the spray, Where, from the brow of 'Grassy Hill,' Comes forth the morning ray. Unnumbered flowers, the pride of spring, Are born to flourish there, And round them mellow odors fling Through all the ambient air. There purling springs have charms for me That vulgar brooks ne'er give, And winds breathe sweeter down the lea Than where magnolias live!" This is but one of a large number of pieces composed by Mr. Ballou while inspired by the same theme. It will serve to show the reader the hallowed and inspiring feelings that lived in the writer's heart, as his memory went back in freshness to the days and associations of his boyhood, as in retrospection he shook away the snow of time from the evergreen of memory. The attachment to one's birth-place, to the home of early youth, "be it ever so humble," is a beautiful trait of character, and is significant of a refined and noble spirit. It is in masses one of the first and most prolific fruits of civilization, distinguishing a stable community from a nomadic tribe; and, as another peculiarity of the trait, it is most touchingly exhibited in the least fortunate members of the human family. The Icelanders, dwelling in a hyperborean region, where for a large portion of the year they are deprived of the light of the sun, and depend upon the stars and the Aurora Borealis to guide their footsteps in the long, long winter midnight, are accustomed to say, with a spirit of unmistakable fondness and affection, Iceland is the fairest country of the globe! The poor Highlander regards the smoky hut where he was born with enthusiastic love. As life draws gradually towards its close, this feeling deepens in the human breast. Standing on the extreme verge of It would almost seem as if the deprivations and hardships of his youthful days must have thrown an unhappy spell about his early home, and as though the memories that came up to him from the long vista of years would be laden with recollections of want and severe trial, of personal endurance, of scanty food and more scanty clothing; in short, of all the stern realities of his childhood's home. But this was very far from being the case with him. He has often said to us, in relation to this subject, that he deemed his life at that time anything but unhappy,—that what now appeared to be so great hardships, by comparison, were then but trifling discomforts, and matters of course. He was never inclined to set up for a martyr, or to gather any credit for having endured patiently, and risen in time above the fortunes of his youth. He could only recall this period of his life with feelings of pleasure. Such feelings as these force upon us the conviction that there is ever about the place of one's birth a spell that hardship seems only the more closely to bind about the heart,—that deprivation and want but the more strongly "How I used to cherish a kind word from my father, when I was a boy!" says Mr. Ballou. "He was in some respects an austere man; and when I was born, being the youngest of our large family, he had got to be advanced in years, and looked with a more serious and practical eye on the events of life and all things about us. He was Puritanic, strictly religious, as he interpreted the meaning of that word, and his mind was ever engrossed upon serious matters. But when he put his hand sometimes upon my head, and told me I had done well, that the labor I had performed might have been more poorly done by older hands, or that I was a good and faithful boy, my heart was electrified beyond measure; and I remember his words and smile, even now, with delight." How the simplicity and purity of the man shine forth in this little paragraph! "It may be interesting to your readers to know how Father Ballou was regarded in the town of his nativity," says the Rev. Joshua Britton, Jr., of Richmond, N. H., in a communication addressed to the Christian Freeman. "He was accustomed to visit this place once in every few years, and always received a cordial and hearty greeting. It was my privilege and happiness to "Though I enjoyed the meeting very much, yet my enjoyment was still greater on the following week, in the society of our aged friend and father, at my own home and the homes of our mutual friends in this town. "It may be proper to state that Father Ballou had no "Three days the writer accompanied Father Ballou while he made calls upon various families in different parts of the town. We were uniformly kindly received; and those not acquainted with Father Ballou can hardly conceive the ease and success with which he familiarly approached all,—the young, the middle-aged, and the aged. We had brief interviews, but they were agreeable and profitable. Prayer was offered with and consolation afforded to the sick. In one or two instances we met with those whose minds were in doubt on doctrinal points: these, of course, listened to a few words of explanation. Then there was the going back to former days, and a rehearsal of time's numerous changes. We visited the old burying-ground, and stood by the graves of the parents of my aged companion. We visited the old homestead, the place where he was born, and spent his boyhood. This was changed, and unchanged. The buildings, fences, and some of the fields, presented a new aspect, but the valleys and hills remained as before. At the homestead we entered the orchard, where the owner was engaged picking apples. We walked about and found apples, of which my companion ate, though he declined taking any, a short time previous, on an adjoining farm. We also, by invitation, dined here, and "Several times, during his stay, the inquiry was agitated,—'Will you come to Richmond again?' His reply was, ''Tis uncertain,—I may; should life be spared, and my health remain as good as it is at present, I think I may.' But, as we had some reason to expect, this proved to be his last visit. He was conveyed to Winchester on Friday, where he preached on the following Sabbath. He returned on Tuesday, Oct. 21st. I made a few calls with him on the afternoon of that day, and in the evening he spent an hour at our singing-school, tarrying with us at night. On the following morning we bade him 'good-by,' and he proceeded homewards to visit a daughter, rejoined his wife, and in due time reached their home in Boston." In Mr. Ballou's letter to the Trumpet, describing this visit, he says:—
With other numerous calls upon his time and attention, and in addition to his never-ceasing professional and parochial labors, Mr. Ballou has had at various times over twenty ministerial students, who, for the time being, generally became residents of his family, and who studied the profession with him. To these young men he devoted his powers with the same untiring zeal that characterized his other professional labors. His mode of instruction with these students was peculiar; he went with them always, to use one of his favorite phrases, "to the root of the matter," and was never content until he In the instruction and guidance of so large a number of candidates for the sacred calling of the ministry, he assumed a very weighty addition to his constant labors. We have seen that his parochial, ministerial, scholastic and editorial duties, were exceedingly onerous, and many would have shrunk from the idea of adding to such an accumulation of labors. But it was a principle of Mr. Ballou's life never to neglect a single opportunity of serving the great and sacred cause in which he had embarked; he felt the full force of his mission, and to it he was constantly ready to devote every energy of his physical and mental nature, every moment of his time, looking to the source of all power for the strength and In biographical writing there is often an obvious and studied obscurity in regard to some certain portion of the subject's life. The reason for such a course, on the part of the author, is very plain; for there are few public men, who are deemed worthy the notice of a biographical record, who do not look back with regret, and often with deep mortification, to some heedless act of early life;—some We know that this is saying much, and that the reader will be apt to look back and re-read the last passage; but, while we write this strong language, we wish to be understood as doing so in all calmness and judgment; each word, as written, is duly set down and abided by. Now, we humbly ask, how many are there, among those to whom the world accords the meed of greatness, that can have this language applied to them and their characters in truth? I do not mean to signify that there are no such men; but to say—and the experience and personal knowledge of all will bear testimony to the fact—that such cases are very rarely found in this every-day world. When we go back and consider Mr. Ballou's early life, the very limited means he enjoyed of mental cultivation, and all the vicissitudes through which he has passed, and Though the difficulties and impediments that thus environ the path of genius seem like a heavy stone about the neck, yet they are very often like the stones used by the hardy pearl-divers, which enable them to reach their prize, and to rise enriched. Adversity is to genius what the steel is to the flint,—the fire concealed in the one is brought out only by contact with the other. "Hard is the task," says Coleridge, "to climb into the niches of Fame's proud temple; rough and cold is the road; but rougher and stronger than the rocks that strew it are the men who toil over it. Up they climb from the cottages and lowly homes of the world; over Alps and Alps do they stride, heaving the millstone of persecution from their towering heads, and bursting into the sunshine of glory, despite of all that circumstances could do to keep them down." The experience of all mankind shows that nothing great can be accomplished without labor. The original difference Books, thoughts, deeds, imperishable memorials of their author, so laboriously accomplished, do not die with An ancient maxim avers that "spoken words fly away, but written ones are permanent." But modern science teaches us that no sound uttered by the lips of man is lost,—that the vibration of the air bears it onward and onward, through all time. How very few there are in this world whose words, written and spoken, are so considered that they are willing to have them consigned to immortality! How few whose utterance of a year old will bear the test of their own judgment! There are moments of existence, generally the closing ones, when all our words and deeds crowd back upon the memory with overwhelming force. There are records of men in seasons of extreme casualties, who have testified to the painful accuracy of memory under such imminent circumstances; and there are few, indeed, who so shape their lives as to be enabled to bear with equanimity a retrospective glance on the panorama of their existence. So to have lived There have been, at various times, and in different works, short biographical sketches of Mr. Ballou's life given, from various pens;—these, of course, contemplate only his public career, and are quite brief. In the third volume of the Universalist Miscellany, published in 1846, there appear the following remarks from the pen of the editor, which we subjoin. After giving a short account of his public career, the writer of the sketch referred to goes on to say: "We have not time, even if we had the ability, to give a just description of him as a man, a Christian, and a preacher. We will not, however, permit the occasion to pass without offering a word on each of these points. "We presume no one was ever more highly beloved and truly respected by his acquaintances than Mr. Ballou. Pleasant in his disposition, and honest in his dealings, he has uniformly enjoyed their confidence and esteem. Though he always sustains a becoming dignity of character, and is never light or trifling, he has a pleasantry and shrewdness which render his company peculiarly agreeable. "As a Christian, Mr. Ballou is firm in faith, and catholic in spirit. While he believes with undoubting confidence what he preaches, and has no respect for what he considers error in doctrine, he never manifests a want of kindness towards those of an opposite faith. We are aware that many entertain a different feeling; but they misjudge him. It is true that for the insincere and hypocritical he has no feeling; and, if he had, he would not be faithful to his ministry. "As a preacher, Mr. Ballou, for clearness of conception and power of argument, has few, if any, superiors. We have often heard him preach with an unction and power that we have never heard surpassed. But we do not design, in this article, to speak at length of his qualities as a preacher. "No man ever enjoyed the respect of our denomination more than does Mr. Ballou. He is cordially loved and These remarks are valued the more highly as coming from one who was intimate with the subject of this biography for a long period, and also as a fair and unprejudiced tribute to his character and life by a brother-laborer in the vineyard of Christ. The number of the Miscellany which contains the remarks we have quoted is embellished by a mezzotint likeness of Mr. Ballou, from a painting by E. H. Conant, and engraved in the finest style of art by Sartain. This picture, however, is inferior, as to likeness, to many others which are preserved of him. We conceive the following, from the pen of the venerable and beloved Father Streeter, the oldest minister in the Universalist denomination now among us, to be of great interest; the work in hand would be quite incomplete without it. It is the impression of a faithful brother concerning the deceased, from the commencement to the close of his professional career.
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