OBITUARY OF THE LATE REV. H. BLUNT, M. A., RECTOR OF STREATHAM, SURREY. "The memory of the just is blessed."-PROV. x. 7. It has been to us a source of regret, that so excellent and distinguished a Clergyman as the Rev. H. Blunt, should have been removed from among us for so many months, without any notice of his departure having been taken in the pages of the Christian Guardian-a Periodical peculiarly designed for inculcating on the middle classes of the religious public, the lessons to be learned from the life, character and death, of such devoted servants of God as the subject of the present remarks. Though we are confessedly late in our attempt to supply this deficiency, we feel assured that our readers will find both pleasure and instruction in the following extracts from the Sermon of Mr. Blunt's highly-esteemed friend-the Rev. F. Close. We are convinced, also, that the Incumbent of Cheltenham will not disapprove of the liberty we take in transferring into our pages considerable extracts from his valuable Sermon; knowing, as we do, that his great object in the publication of it, is, the promotion of the spiritual welfare of his fellow-creatures, by prompting them to follow the example of his deceased friend, even "as he followed Christ." THE Sermon is entitled 'THE DEPARTURE OF THE RIGHTEOUS, BLESSED TO THEMSELVES; PORTENTOUS TO THEIR SURVIVORS,'-and the text selected by Mr. C. is Isa. lvii. 1, 2. "The righteous perisheth, and no man layeth it to heart and merciful men are taken away, none considering, that the righteous is taken away from the evil to come. He shall enter into peace: they shall rest in their beds, each one walking in his uprightness." After a few introductory remarks he observes, The ' And here I would at once announce to you, beloved brethren, that I have chosen this beautiful portion of Holy Scripture, as the subject of our meditation on this occasion, with a particular object in view. grave is about to close on one who has long been dear to me, and one also highly esteemed by the Church, and I might say by the world at large. I feel it to be a christian duty to bring the honourable and useful life, and truly peaceful death of my beloved friend before you, while his loss is fresh on my heart and if in doing so I should trespass longer than usual on your patience, I am confident that the interesting particulars respecting him, which I shall submit to you in the close of my discourse, will abundantly repay your most serious attention. We shall find that the beautiful description of the believer's peaceful end, recorded in this prophecy, was most accurately descrip1844. 2 P tive of that of our departed brother, whose memory I would this day consecrate.' "The departure of a good man from this world, is always a Great CALAMITY. The death of the humblest labourer, the most unobtrusive among the faithful, is a loss to the survivors. He is missed from the little circle thoughout which he diffused a cheerful piety; his excellent example is withdrawn from the sight of his companions and friends: he is no longer to be found opposing those who would do wrong, and encouraging those who would do right; his death is a loss to the Church and to the world. A pious servant, a pious child, a pious menial, even a pious slave departs not without creating a loss and an affliction, especially to the Godly. And how much more is this true as the influence of the person is extended! Should a father be taken away! Oh! what a calamity! The head is removed from the body-the right hand of his family is cut off. Its strength, its staff, its wisdom! Should a pious Christian mother be taken away;-she whose mild and spiritual influence has been diffused through her household,-guiding the infant heart into the ways of holiness-correcting in love, restraining in gentleness— who can tell how great is the calamity which the death of such a mother occasions! How much more then is this calamity felt when a godly pastor is called away from his flock? A Christian man, combatting this world's vanities and sins, and the Church's newborn follies and errors; carrying the Gospel to all his parishioners; preaching the love of his REDEEMER; going from house to house, from family to family; their adviser, their counsellor, their comforter, their guidewho can estimate the calamity which the departure of such a man of God occasions? 'Brethren, I would bring this important subject more nearly home to your hearts; and how can I hope to do so more effectually than by fulfilling my promise at the opening of this discourse? A RIGHTEOUS MAN HAS PERISHED" "" A MERCIFUL MAN HAS BEEN TAKEN FROM THE EVIL TO COME. A Christian family has lost its head; -such a father-such a husband-such a companion,-adviser,friend! A parish has been bereaved of a Godly Pastor, and a faithful preacher; the Church has been deprived of one of its brightest ornaments, the world has lost a faithful monitor,—and I have lost my oldest friend. When I mention the name of HENRY BLUNT, many will be prepared to appreciate the loss which we have sustained. Perhaps I may in some respects be considered to have a peculiar claim to raise a tribute of affection to my departed friend, since no less than thirty-four years have rolled by since my intimacy with him commenced. There have been intervals in our subsequent lives, when, for a while, we have lost sight of each other, but our friendship has never been dissolved until now! We were school-fellows, and companions in our early days. And this part of his history should be peculiarly impressive and instructive to the young. There are instances of persons who were thoughtless, and even vicious in their youthful days, who have been subsequently converted, and have become useful members of society, and even ministers of the Gospel of CHRIST. But more fre quently it happens that those who are moral, studious, obedient, and amiable in their younger days, grow up to be lights of their generation. Thus, in Scripture, we read of Joseph, and Samuel, and Daniel, and Josiah, and Timothy, and others. And thus it was with my departed friend. He had not indeed the spiritual advantages which are possessed by many, nor was this early period of his life marked by distinguished piety-but he was always strictly moral, studious, and extremely amiable. He was a general favourite alike with his teachers and his companions-a guileless being-every boy who knew him, loved him. He was always of delicate frame, and rather feeble in person-but he exercised an extraordinary influence over other boys. The nascent talent, afterwards more fully developed, even then discovered itself: his powers of description, and narrative, rivetted the attention of all who listened to him—and his school-fellows were willing to oblige him in any thing, upon the condition that he would thus amuse them. Many still live who can attest the accuracy of my present statement. I lost sight of him for three years before I went to the University-there I found him, still the same amiable, virtuous, and interesting person-and likely to distinguish himself in academic honours. This he did in 1817, when he took his degree as ninth Wrangler, and bearing also a high character for classical attainments. The following year he was admitted into Holy Orders. Retiring to the country village of Clare, in Suffolk, he devoted himself to the work of a parochial Minister; at the same time receiving a few pupils into his house. It was here, in the conscientious pursuit of his spiritual duties, that a change passed over his opinions and his heart without any human instructor-by the light of God's own Word and Spirit, he was guided into those truly scriptural, evangelical, and protestant principles which he subsequently maintained with so much stedfastness, and so much purity and talent. As these principles deepened in his mind, he was impressed with an earnest desire to devote himself more exclusively to the blessed work of an Evangelist; and though the most flattering prospects opened before him in the way of pupils, and several persons of distinction were anxious that he should educate their sons, he declined all these tempting offers, and entered on one of the most extensive and laborious parochial cures in the vicinity of the metropolis. This was in the opening of the year 1824. From that time our intimacy ripened into closer friendship-and I have subsequently had the privilege of enjoying his confidence to the sad moment of his departure from among us. As Curate of Chelsea, his indefatigable zeal, his attractive manners, his persuasive simple eloquence, and his scriptural fidelity soon attracted the attention not only of his parishioners but of many others: and at length, in the year 1830, greatly to the satisfaction of a numerous and attached people, he was presented to the new Church of the Holy Trinity, Upper Chelsea. There his character, his principles, and his peculiar talents fully displayed themselves-for five years he pursued a course of unrivalled usefulness; drawing around him the most influential congregation in London or its neighbourhood. Nobles, peers, commoners, tradesmen, and the poor, alike hung upon his fascinating discourses. And what was their peculiar charm? His manner was calm and sedate-his voice was feeble, yet wherever it reached it rivetted attention there were no high flights of eloquence, no rhetorical flourishes, no meretricious embellishments-certainly no puerilities, nor conceits--he never stooped to such means to produce a momentary effect. The charm of his preaching was its simple truth-its evangelical fidelity-he preached the truth in love-he was affectionate, earnest, persuasive-his style was chaste, I might almost say elegantand he had a singular power of adapting the word of God to the peculiar habits, feelings, and circumstances of his auditors. Abstract truth by the touch of his pen became a living and practical principle-comprehensible, and individual-so that each man felt himself addressed. Wonderful certainly was his success at that period—and few men could have sustained the weight of applause which was laid upon him with such unaffected modesty and humility as he did. But how inscrutable are the ways of GOD! Just when hundreds of the great and the noble were crowding around him-not only in his church, but in his more private and domestic instructions-(for no one despised the character of a mere popular preacher more than he did—and no one took a higher standard of parochial and daily labour)-just then it was that it pleased GOD in his inscrutable providence to suspend him in the midst of his usefulness. His frame always feeble and delicate, gave way to his incessant labours-and the seeds of that fatal disease which has at length carried him off then made their too evident appearance. I rejoice that I have preserved a most beautiful letter which I received from him at that interesting period: a letter which displays his mind and spirit-his glowing love and faith and hope-his ineffable peace, and his profound humility, far better than any language however eulogistic. It was dated from Brighton, Nov. 7, 1835, when he was on the eve of seeking the milder climate of Devonshire-for the winter. I give it here almost entire-I force the privacy of christian friendship for the good and comfort of the Church of God. 'MY DEAR FRIEND, 'I feel your very kind and affectionate letter much. I assure you I did not need you to remind me of your valued promise,* for it has been often, and more especially of late, upon my mind. My state of health, however, is probably what would be called not one of immediate danger, that is, by GoD's blessing, upon the mild climate of Devonshire (we hope to go to Torquay next week) I may creep through the winter, but the disease in the lungs is considered by the medical men too far established to allow them to speak confidently of any lengthened period; the symptoms having now, without a single day's intermission, lasted since this time twelvemonth. I merely mention this because you desire to know exactly how I am,—and yet after all it does not tell you; it says how the body is, but thanks be to God, the body is not I. I can truly, and I trust gratefully say, that I never was better; that in the fullest enjoyment of Chelsea work, (and you know something of what that feeling means,) I never experienced such unbroken peace and uninterrupted comfort. I don't even want to be *This was a promise which I had given him to address his flock at Chelsea, should the LORD remove him. Since his retirement from Chelsea, he made me retract that promise, saying that his life had been so much more private of late years that he should think such a measure undesirable. To my own people however, I judged it profitable and expedient that I should endeavour to perpetuate the example and piety of such an admirable person. up and doing, which for me is wonderful, but I am content to be laid aside, and to be taught what I have been long teaching. 'It was an often expressed desire of mine to die in the midst of my work, but I now feel glad that the choice was not left to me, and am truly thankful for the quiet season which I hope by God's mercy lies before me. 'I trust that both you and I, my very dear friend, have long known something of the value and of the strength of the promises, but even you can I think hardly tell what adamant I find them now; I think of death, and for a moment tremble, and then of Him in whom we are made more than conquerors, and really I am almost surprised to find how ENTIRELY the sting of death is drawn. I am afraid of presumption; and perhaps when I come into close quarters with the great enemy I shall find him more powerful than I feel him now and yet I cannot think it! to be in Christ (oh, the blessed reality) is and must be" the strong tower ;" and seeking all in him, I am perfectly satisfied that I shall find all in him, all both in time and eternity. وو 'But I have written more than my medical advisers allow me, and yet I could write sheets on my present feelings; however they are only what you have witnessed in hundreds, as I have myself, and often in the weakest men, women, and children in our Redeemer's family, so entirely is it" not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit saith the LORD OF HOSTS.' 6 Pray for me, that my present feelings may be maintained, more I do not ask on this side heaven. 'I have been so entirely interdicted from letter writing, as too exciting, that few things but the affectionate and urgent kindness of the oldest of my friends could I believe have drawn forth a reply. 'Believe me ever, my very dear friend, Such, my friends, was this good man's preparation for death eight years ago; during that chequered period of his life which has since elapsed, he has only at times been able partially to resume his labours. But his LORD has shown that He had not forgotten His faithful servant; for then it was that a distinguished nobleman, unsought, and unasked, presented him with the rectory in which he has spent his declining years and drawn his last breath. He is now no more! And how did he die? How interesting to the Christian are the dying moments of a good man! That little cloud of fear which he seemed to anticipate in the nearer approach of death was entirely dissipated, and the words of my text are a perfect picture of my dear friend's last moments:- -"He has entered into peace. They shall rest in their beds, each one walking in his uprightness." On Wednesday last, July 19th, he became suddenly worse; he laboured under great bodily suffering then, which was not generally the case during his long illness; at the close of that day he exclaimed "Great bodily suffering, sometimes agony, yet all is peace, perfect peace, remember that-I am enjoying |
