In the verses before us, the apostle directs our attention, however, more particularly to the manner in which, as a minister of the gospel, he endeavoured to discharge this work; and the several statements which he has made are so strikingly descriptive of the ministerial labours of your own pastor and teacher, that I proceed at once to connect them with the work in which he was engaged.
In the first place, he endeavoured to discharge his work DILIGENTLY. “I will not be negligent,” says the apostle—and the man who undertakes to watch for the souls of others, and yet neglects them, is of all men the most criminal in his conduct now, and will be of all men the most miserable in his condition hereafter, when their blood is required at his hand. How mercifully clear from this awful charge is the character and conduct of your lamented pastor. “I will not be negligent,” was his motto and his determination every day of his life. It is true that he was endowed with intellectual capacities of a superior order, which enabled him, with considerable facility, to acquire languages and to collect stores of general knowledge; but he was always endeavouring to accumulate and improve; and, distinguished as he was by natural talents, he was equally distinguished by his aversion to negligence, and by his laborious and conscientious diligence. His habits, in this respect, had become so matured and confirmed, that he was as diligent in the fortieth year of his ministry, as he was in the first; and was pursuing, with all his heart, his inquiries into the great subjects connected with the gospel ministry, till he was smitten by the stroke of death. “In common life,” says he, in one of his printed sermons, “we consider it a shame to a man not to understand his business, and surely it is a shame to a man, who appears as a minister of Christ, not to be well versed in that knowledge which is intimately connected with the whole of his ministerial labour.” Influenced by these considerations, as a Christian he “gave diligence to make his calling and election sure;” living by faith on the Son of God, adding to his faith every Christian grace, wrestling with God in prayer, and crucifying the flesh with its affections and lusts, lest, having professed and preached the gospel to others, he himself should be cast away. As a student, he meditated on these things, and gave himself wholly to them; daily searching the Scriptures in their original languages, and always having before him some object of inquiry and pursuit, which he investigated with a degree of devotedness and curiosity which remained as diligent and as prying in his age, as it had ever been in his youth. And, as a minister, he was diligent to know the state of his flock, and in making such studious preparations for the pulpit as enabled him always to feed you with knowledge and understanding. It was this diligence, which gave to all his social conversations, and especially to all his public discourses, a peculiarly instructive character; so that you might “know these things, and become established in the present truth.” You, my beloved friends, have not been accustomed to receive from your minister that which cost him nothing to procure. His sermons on the Lord’s day, were not the extemporaneous effusions of the moment, nor the hasty accumulations of the Saturday evening, which when delivered were “full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” They were fraught with instruction, because they had been previously prepared with diligence and prayer: and you have listened to many of his expositions on the epistles, and to many of his courses of sermons on particular subjects, which shewed that he was “a scribe well instructed in the kingdom of heaven, who brought forth from his treasure things new and old.” These discourses had been previously written with great neatness and care, most of them too at considerable length: and he once acknowledged to a friend that, to the constant practice of writing his sermons, he owed what degree of accuracy they might possess when delivered. And it was this diligence that doubled his life: for if life is to be measured, not merely by years, but by labours and acquirements, it will appear that he lived twice the sixty-six years of some persons, and thereby enjoyed the fulfilment of the promise, “it shall be well with thee, and thou shalt live long upon the earth.”
Secondly, he endeavoured to discharge his work IMPRESSIVELY. The apostle says that he repeated the things which pertained to life and godliness, in order to “stir up” the minds of those whom he addressed, and thus to excite and to persuade them to cherish every christian grace, and to perform every christian duty. It is of essential importance that the doctrines which a minister addresses to his hearers, should be “the truth as it is in Jesus”—the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. But even truth itself may be presented to the mind in such a way as make no “stir” in its energies or emotions. The matter may be good, but the manner may be so destitute of spirit and life, as to render every sermon an illustration of the scripture maxim, “the body without the spirit is dead, being alone.” This, you are aware, my brethren, was not the character of Mr. Kinghorn’s preaching. It was deeply impressive. It was full of “thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.” It exhibited all the force of his intellect, combined with all the fervour of his heart, so that every sermon which he preached resembled “the sea of glass which was mingled with fire.” The impressive and spirit-stirring influence which his preaching was calculated to produce, may however be traced to a variety of circumstances. For instance, he endeavoured to stir up your minds, by the plain and practical character of his discourses. Persons who live at a distance, and who judge of Mr. Kinghorn merely by his literary fame, or by his controversial writings, may perhaps suppose that his sermons were learned disquisitions and doubtful disputations. This was by no means the case—and though he could appear, and on suitable occasions did appear, as the profound scholar, and the skilful reasoner,—yet, however he may be estimated elsewhere, by those who knew him not, those who have been accustomed to associate with him in this city, and to sit under his ministry, knew him as the plain and practical preacher of the gospel, whose dress, and domestic economy, and manners in the parlour and in the pulpit, were simple and unostentatious, and whose one object it was to win souls to Jesus Christ. “It is the duty of the Christian minister,” and I am quoting his own words, “to exert himself, as far as he is able, that what he says may be intelligible and plain; and that, from the manner in which he delivers it, it may be impressive.” [9] He endeavoured to stir up your minds also, by the point and force with which he directed his appeals to your consciences and hearts; so that he met you at every turn, he compassed your path at every step, he pursued you into every avenue, and it seemed impossible to escape from his close and searching admonitions. His object was, not to polish his style so as to gain your admiration and applause, (he had no taste for that), but to point every sentence till it became like a two-edged sword, quick and powerful, which pierced to the dividing asunder of soul and body, and discerned the very thoughts and intents of your hearts. He endeavoured also to stir up your minds, by the earnestness and impressiveness of his manner. Though he was with you during a longer time than Moses was with the Israelites in the wilderness, yet “his eye was not dim, nor was his natural force abated.” He retained even to old age, much of the vigour and vivacity of his youth; and those who have had the opportunity of comparing together the earlier and the later periods of his ministry, are of opinion that the sermons of the last few years were more earnestly and impressively delivered, even than those which preceded. He no doubt felt increasingly the value of the gospel, as a source of holiness and happiness on earth, and as revealing and bestowing a life of eternal blessedness in heaven; and therefore, in proclaiming that gospel to you, he became increasingly earnest and fervent both in his feelings and in his manner. His heart was anointed with a holy unction which diffused its fragrance over all his feelings and his words, and his eyes often became “fountains of tears” when he spoke of the hopes which the gospel inspires, and when he told the enemies of the cross that their end was destruction. And when, on such occasions, his voice broke, (and it sometimes did with tremulous impressiveness,) a burst of holy eloquence was sure to follow, which thrilled, and subdued, and overwhelmed. But we must not omit to notice, that he endeavoured to stir up your minds, by the simplicity and piety of his life. And without this, his talents, his literature, and his eloquence, would have been of but little avail, for all his public labours would have been neutralized by his practical inconsistencies. But we all knew him and venerated him as a man of God. The doctrines which he preached in the pulpit were written in his life; and he was not only a preacher of Christ to his own congregation, but also “an epistle of Christ known and read of all men.” In the course of his religious experience, he had indeed passed through paths of darkness, and had contended with doubts and difficulties, such as but few Christians are called to endure. But, through the mercy of God, they served ultimately only to strengthen his faith and to confirm his hope—they gave him “the tongue of the learned, so that he knew how to speak a word in season to him that was weary”—and they chastened and humbled his mind under a deep conviction of human ignorance and imperfection, and of the necessity and value of that grace without which we are nothing, and can do nothing. Under the influence of that all-sufficient grace, his own character was formed and his own mind was excited, so that he was enabled to stir you up by his holy example, as well as by the simplicity, and point, and impressiveness of his preaching, that you might have these things always in your remembrance.
Thirdly, He endeavoured to discharge his work PERSEVERINGLY. The apostle determined to put them “always in remembrance of these things”—he thought it meet to stir up their minds as long as he was in this tabernacle,—“yea!” says he, “I will endeavour that ye may be able, after my decease, to have these things always in remembrance.” And this part of the apostle’s language is equally descriptive as the former of the determination and the conduct of our departed friend. Though his mind was highly speculative, though his curiosity was as young and prying at sixty as at twenty, and though, “through desire, he sought and intermeddled with all wisdom,” yet how steady, and straight forward, and persevering, was the course which he pursued. Whilst many by whom he was surrounded have diverged, some to the right hand, and others to the left, he kept on the even tenor of his way—professing neither to be a dreamer nor an interpreter of dreams, neither a prophet nor a prophet’s son, but a disciple and a minister of Jesus Christ, whose duty it was to give himself wholly to the great things of the gospel, and to endeavour to pluck sinners as brands from the burning.
This, my brethren, is not to be considered as a full delineation of your beloved pastor’s general character. I have not attempted that, but merely to give you a brief sketch of the work in which he was engaged, and of the manner in which he endeavoured to discharge it. Still it may be sufficient to remind you of the diligence, the impressiveness, and the perseverance by which you knew him to be distinguished, and of your obligations to that power and grace which endowed him with these mental and moral qualities, and which induced and enabled him to consecrate them all to your service in the gospel of Jesus Christ. He was from first to last, a sinner saved by grace. It was Christ alone who inspired his intellect, and formed his character, and redeemed his soul—and I honour the servant for the sake of the Master who made him what he was. For if such was the character of the minister, what must be the character of the Master! If such was the workmanship, what must be the skill and power of the architect himself! “Not unto us, O Lord, but unto thy name be the glory for what thy servants are. They have no glory in this respect by reason of the glory that excelleth in thee—for of thee, and through thee, and to thee are all things, and unto thee be glory for ever.”
Having thus considered the work in which, as a minister of the gospel, he was engaged during his life, let us now proceed to the second part of our subject, and consider,
II. The decease by which his work has been terminated.
The apostle Peter, whilst engaged in his labours, and whilst declaring the manner in which he would endeavour to pursue them, says, “Knowing that shortly I must put off this my tabernacle, even as our Lord Jesus Christ hath showed me”—and by so saying, he probably refers to the prediction which had been addressed to him by Christ, and which John has recorded in the last chapter of his gospel. “Verily, verily, I say unto thee, when thou wast young, thou girdedst thyself and walkedst whither thou wouldest; but when thou shalt be old, thou shalt stretch forth thine hands and another shall gird thee, and carry thee whither thou wouldest not. This spake he, signifying by what death he should glorify God.” The decease which was thus foretold, and which the apostle anticipated in our text, was soon afterwards realized. The earthly house of his tabernacle was dissolved amidst the pains of martyrdom, and he entered a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. A similar event has now befallen your beloved pastor. The putting off his tabernacle had long been the subject of his anticipation; it is now become the subject of his experience. His body has returned to the dust whence it was taken, and his spirit is gone to God who gave it.
His decease had been mercifully preceded by a long life of health and labour, and more than sixty-six years had elapsed from his birth to his departure. Some of the former of those years were connected with occasional attacks of sickness, which sometimes led him to expect an early grave; so that at the time of his ordination, upwards of forty years ago, he said to his father, “you are come to ordain a dying man”—and subsequently to that period, he was once visited with a severe and alarming illness. Nor is it improbable that these occasional admonitions of his mortality were the means, under the blessing of God, of producing much of that seriousness of spirit by which his mind was pervaded. Still, his was a life of comparative health, and when I visited him during the week in which he died, he told me that, till then, he had not been kept out of his pulpit by illness for a single sabbath, during a period of twenty-eight years. His last illness, as you are aware, was confined to one short week. It commenced on the evening of Saturday, August 25th, and concluded in his death, on the evening of the Saturday following—yet it is probable that the fever which at last consumed him, had, for some time previously, been accumulating its exhausting fires. His illness was so short, and of such a nature, as to afford scarcely any opportunities of conversation with him in order to ascertain the state of his mind—indeed those around him little expected that death was so near at hand. This, however, is a circumstance on which we reflect with no feelings of anxiety. His soul, and all its eternal interests, had long been committed to the Saviour. For him to live had been Christ; for him to die was gain. During nearly twelve hours before his departure, he was apparently inattentive to every surrounding object. His body and his mind seemed to be in a state of perfect peace. Not a word was spoken—not a limb stirred—not a symptom of pain appeared. The tide of life gently and silently ebbed away, till at length his breathing ceased, and his countenance faded into the paleness of death,
Calm and unruffled as a summer’s sea,
When not a breath of wind flies o’er its surface.