Working, dearest Lord, with thee.
Agreeably with the spirit of our labor, we will take an impartial view of our friend as a Christian, in the eyes of the world, and among laymen generally. That he was no drone in the Christian hive, all the world could see; that he was active and unusually laborious for Christ and the Church, no one who follows the spirit of the sermon eulogizing his memory, or who reads this work, can deny; as an Elder of the Church, he was faithful in anything he was requested to perform, especially in public prayer-meeting, individual devotional study, and self-contemplation.
His sympathy for suffering humanity in any form, was, indeed, very large, in fact so easily moved, that he would habitually visit the sick members of the Church after being relieved from such duties. To him all men and women were brothers and sisters, the distance of relationship (if very strained and far between in some instances), he would claim, was closer, more congenial, and intimate in others.
As a builder among the builders, a workman among the workmen of the temple; or as a brother among brethren of the same house, he was meekness itself; his spirit of patience never failing him in instances where "to wait was gain," either for God, the Church, or himself.
His acquiescence in the decision of his brethren, when they at last decided upon changing the location of their place of worship, was secured at the price of sacrificing his own preferences in the matter—and all for the sake of peace, harmony, and continued brotherly love. In this he was a "light shining upon a hill-top."
The interest he always displayed and the anxiety he expressed for the continued welfare of the Church, manifesting the same in the labors performed or duties undertaken, was always profound, as it embraced among other items of care the temporal welfare and spiritual prosperity of the various clergymen with whom he had labored.
In his demeanor he was never in a hurry to do to-day what he should have done yesterday, because having no faith in procrastination, he left nothing undone to-day to be performed on the morrow, if by any means it could be accomplished, or the duty performed at once. In going to the House of God, he left all worry about the world on the outside of it, the moment he entered the porch; the drudgery of every-day life did not go with him into the pew; the prejudices of an ambiguous man troubled him not, while the disposition to "take things easy," while others bore the burden, was never fostered by him.
But he did carry something into the house every time he entered! He took in with him his Bible, his sweetest temper, his most charitable disposition, a vigorous condition of soul-life, a sensible care of the temporal body, and also the continued desire to be always walking with God, as well as the desire for larger acquisitions of intuitive spiritual knowledge—very proper things to take into the House of God with you at all times; and our departed brother had enough of these, and to spare.
But to cease from reflection, we close this chapter with one of our friend's favorite little gems of poetry, believing that when you have read it, you will agree with us that James Knowles was a man to be beloved, indeed; for through these few lines his spirit breathes back again to us from the great beyond:
If you cannot be a leader