His nature, like a revolving mirror, reflected everything around it; the grass by the wayside-the clouds of the sky-the sun-set and the stars-the little child with its laughter and the old man in his weariness-the sick under the fire of fever and the well under the glow of health-the bereaved by the ruins of love-altars, and the unsmitten rejoicing without fear; all were reported to this genuinely tender and greatly true soul.

Again, he had an exquisite appreciation of everything that was natural, that had the worth of being what God intended it to be. This directed his estimates of men and things. This decided his tastes; made him quickly responsive. This formed the standard of his criticism whether in poetry, or art, or history, or character. If he should take up a book and read a sentiment of special energy or peculiar pathos, it would duplicate itself in his own spirit, so swiftly, that his face would flush or his eyes fill with tears.

This was not a weakness but a source of invigoration to his manhood. It is not the weakness of an oak to carry the light foliage that elaborates strong roots, stout trunks and giant arms. The work of the leaf is as important to it as the qualities of air and dew, the bath of sun-floods and the wrestling of tempests.

Every class in this community has been stricken by his death. The laborer, who fights want from his doorsill to-day, but knows not from whence the bread for tomorrow will come, has lost a kind helper and healer.

The weak woman, wasting under disease, is conscious this night that a form has passed from her bedside that cannot possibly return, and no other will take his place; whose arm "was the strongest on the longest day," and whose mind was filled with soothing thoughts, as his spirit with sympathies.

The stanch, brave soul, standing full-breasted

against the storm-tides of the world, shakes with sobs, because the unfailing feet of a braver brother-soul, may walk with him never again through dark waters and under tempestuous skies.

I behold but one sorrow, which is everywhere breaking forth in tears, because the strong man sleeps in his grave.

He fell suddenly. There was no dying scene of which I may speak to you. Just before the Angel of the Dawn opened the gates of morning on May 1st, the Angel of the Lord overstooped his pillow and whispered the summons of departure. Of that going he had apprehensions. He said to a friend of mine, the week before he was cut down, "I shall be snuffed out some day," and to another, "I expect to die with the harness on."

When his brethren of the profession searched for the cause of his sudden death, they discovered that the right auricle of the heart had been worn thin by the pressure of the blood, so thin, that it was but a piece of fine tissue. This was ruptured. The life currents had broken their channel and in a moment he was gone. This is significant to me in a peculiar sense. peculiar sense. The Sunday morning before he died, he sat in his pew, listening to the sermon, with that kindly and helpful attention which made him the best of hearers. I closed with a quotation from an humble English poet, concerning the veil that hangs between us and the eternal home. He said to a friend afterward, "I felt that it was only a veil; indeed, I almost got a glimpse of heaven." For him sitting there the partition was very thin. Before a second sunrise came, life-throb rifted the veil and he passed through to the perfect vision. His warfare is ended. The armor has been unclasped and the helmet exchanged for the crown. He is now and ever the rightful heir of all that heaven holds.

But he does not simply inherit; he has also something to give, out of the riches of his immortal life. When Benjamin Parsons, of England, died, a friend carried the news to John Pulsford, who lowered his head for a moment in deep sorrow, then suddenly answered with a smile, "He is gone; yes, but he has gone to make the heavens stronger." Likewise our kinsman and. brother, having triumphed in Christ, is henceforth a pillar in the higher temple of God. The great frame of life is made firmer because of his entrance. The heavens are stronger for us. A fresh magnetism streams past the stars and takes captive our thoughts and desires. A voice from the "house not made with hands" calls us to be true to the laying up of treasures incorruptible, and to the clements of character that make for it an enduring good. What can take precedence, or be of greater import to you or to me, above the powers that matured our translated friend for his reward? Humboldt has said, "The finest fruit earth holds up to its Maker is a finished man." Such fruit Christ seeks and hungers for in your lives, and shall He find at last nothing but leaves.

May His consolation to this stricken household be greater than their anguish; may this darkness bring to them the closer pressure of His bosom ; may they be sheltered there, through all years, until one after another shall be lifted higher, to find broader light, sweeter peace, and the abiding fellowship of him, who has been taken from their arms.

OUR TRIALS.-Trials are medicines which our gracious and wise physician prescribes because we need them, and he proportions the frequency and the weight of them to whal the case requires. Let us trust in his skill, and thank him for his prescriptions. -John Newton.

A COLLEGE PRESIDENT.

THE GOOD AND FAITHFUL STEWARD.

ON THE DEATH OF WILBUR FISK, D.D., PRESIDENT OF THE WESLEYAN UNIVERSITY.

NATHAN BANGS, D.D.

"Who then is that faithful and wise steward, whom his Lord shall make rule over his household, to give them their portion of meat in due season?"-LUKE xii: 42.

WE mourn to-night, my brethren, the loss of no or

dinary man! Dr. Fisk, whose thrilling accents you heard for the last time in this church, when he so feelingly and eloquently plead the cause of missions, is no more! Did I say, no more? I correct myself. He is no more among us.

Yet he lives! He lives in the recollection of thousands, to whom he was endeared by the strongest ties of affection, and who will long venerate his memory as an able minister of Jesus Christ. He lives and will long live and speak in those volumes which he has left as records of his worth, and as an evidence of his deep devotion to the cause of God-of his ability to expound and defend the truth, while he stretched his thoughts over a wide field in search of theological, moral, and philosophical science.

But he lives in a still higher sense. No longer shrouded by that mortal body, nor impeded in its expansive powers by its sluggish nature, nor dependent upon its functions either for the reception of its ideas or for the exercise of its energies, that undying soul, purified by the blood of the Lamb, is now enjoying the fruits of its labors and sufferings in the full fruition of that life which shall never end.

But, though in this sense he lives, and will for ever live, he is in another sense dead to us. And without anticipating evils which we may never live to realize, permit me to call your attention,

I. To a brief exposition of the text.

II. To show by a short account of the life and character of the REV. DR. FISK, that he comes under the denomination of a "faithful and wise steward, whom his Lord appointed ruler over his household."

The text directs our attention to the following particulars:

1. The household. By this expression, I shall understand the Church of the living God. This is composed of various members, of different ages, sexes, capacities, dispositions, and pursuits in life. These require food; that is, instruction, admonition, reproof or encouragement, suited to their respective ages, capacities, dispositions, and their several callings. It is the business of a faithful and wise steward to seek out these several members of God's household, to ascertain their wants, and to furnish them with the needful "food."

2. The faithful and wise steward, I shall understand as designating that minister or pastor whom God hath appointed over his household. That man may be denominated wise who perfectly understands the peculiar duties of his profession.

A wise minister of the gospel is one who is "thoroughly furnished unto every good work"-fully understands the law and the gospel-is able to explain and defend them, and suitably to apply them to the variety of cases which may come within his observation.

A wise steward, therefore, is one who has so applied himself to the study of divine truth that he has a comprehensive knowledge of the economy of salvation, of