How apt and true the quotation.
We have seen that the vigor and keenness of Mr. Ballou's mind had in no way abated, that every mental faculty still shone brightly as at the prime of his manhood. Let us show the reader statistically what that mind had performed in its time. During his professional life he delivered over ten thousand sermons. This calculation, which at first appears to be so very large, is nevertheless strictly correct, and will not seem to be overrated, when we call to mind the fact that for more than thirty years of his ministration he not only preached three times every Sabbath, but frequently for several consecutive days of the week beside. Until within five or ten years past, three sermons on the Sabbath has been his usual performance, in the line of his professional duty. And after his sermons in country towns, the answering of questions, and the conversation he was obliged to hold in private with honest seekers after truth, were quite as laborious, in fact, as were his public services in the pulpit. We have known him to occupy nearly half the night, not unfrequently, in this manner, patiently and zealously.
Including his essays and treatises upon doctrinal subjects, his fugitive sermons furnished for the different magazines and papers of which he was editor for a long period of time, and afterwards a constant contributor to the very end of his life, beside a large number which appeared in pamphlet form, and of which no particular mention is made in these pages, and the works herein referred to, Mr. Ballou has written and published enough to make one hundred volumes, containing the same amount of matter as the one now in the hands of the reader. The mere mechanical labor of writing such a mass of composition is in itself a Herculean task; but when we consider that each page is characterized by careful reasoning upon points that required much thought and study, and that the whole is largely original; that the author was unaided by any other books, save the Bible, in the formation of his arguments and opinions; and that he was a self-made man withal, we shall come to the conclusion, that, to say the least of it, the subject of these memoirs was particularly blessed and aided by Divine Providence.
One secret of his having accomplished so much, is the fact that he was never idle, never contented to sit down with folded arms in his chair and do nothing; a book or a pen was ever in his hands, except when he was taking the ordinary and necessary daily exercise. His life had been too stirring and active for him ever to relapse into dormancy, while his faculties were left to him. How well we can see him at this moment, in the mind's eye, as he used to appear at the centre-table, with his book close by the lamp, of an evening, and his wife opposite to him, listening to the work which he was reading aloud to her; such is almost the last evening scene we can recall in connection with him; his clear, distinct pronunciation, proper emphasis, and fine voice, even in old age, seeming to portray with singular accuracy the author's ideas, and to add a charm to the subject treated upon.
Mr. Ballou had always deprecated the idea of capital punishment, believing the law based on a wrong principle that would take the life of a human creature, while none but God could give it. During the winter of 1845, there was more than the usual interest evinced by the public on this subject, and numerous public meetings were held relative to the subject, and to endeavor to bring about a reform in the criminal code, so as to exclude the death penalty altogether. At several of these assemblies Mr. Ballou made eloquent addresses upon the subject, and wrote a number of articles, which were published, advocating the cause, in which he felt a very great interest. We subjoin the following poem, written by him at this time. It is peculiarly illustrative of his plain, straightforward style of composition.
THE CRIMINAL CODE.
If in the heart the virus dwell
Of murder, can we that expel
By dire revenge, or shall we find
We miss the law that governs mind?
To quench a flame should we engage,
And fuel add, behold the rage!
Now fiercer still the flame ascends,
And fear with consternation blends.
Man kills his neighbor. Why? Because
His passions rise against the laws,
Which God hath written on his soul,
Unmanned the man, and made a fool.
To cure the evil, now the law,
With tiger rage and open jaw,
Cries out for blood, for blood it cries,
Seizes the culprit, and he dies.