DISCOURSE I. ACTS VII. 44. "OUR FATHERS HAD THE TABERNACLE OF WITNESS IN THE WILDERNESS." THE ancestral remembrances of the Jews were of a kind peculiarly solemn. They were, in the strictest sense, religious remembrances; for it was religion that formed the central point of interest in the whole history of the nation. The leadings of God's special providence might be traced, in lines not to be mistaken, along the track of the past. When the people were addressed, whether for encouragement or rebuke, the appeal was often made to the character and doings of their ancestors. It was thus that the martyr Stephen, in the bold words he uttered before he was stoned to death, called the attention of his enraged countrymen to the early days of their nation's story, and said in this connexion, "Our fathers had the tabernacle of witness in the wilderness."* These words may fitly suggest a portion of the reflections suitable to this day. Itis a day of peculiar interest to us, as a body of Christian worshippers. It is the last Sabbath, which we shall spend in this sanctuary, where we and those before us have so often assembled for the most solemn purposes, that can * In conformity with the Hebrew expression, of which the words in the original of this passage are a version, "the tabernacle of assembly" or "the tabernacle of instruction," would be a more correct translation. occupy the heart,- for communion with God and for the welfare of the soul. To no Christian can his customary place of worship be an object of indifference. No man even of common sensibility, I think, can take leave of it for ever, without feeling the occasion to be full of affecting recollections. If we have been accustomed to come hither with a spirit in any degree appropriate to the place, we cannot unmoved bid adieu to the temple, in which year after year we have offered our prayers to God, have sung his praises, and have listened to the counsels and warnings of everlasting truth. I cannot doubt that I shall have your sympathy, while I endeavour to direct your attention to some of the thoughts, which crowd upon the mind, when we are about to say farewell to this house of God, and to transfer our religious associations to another spot. The occasion will require a few historical notices. On this subject, however, it will be unnecessary to go into details, since I have already embodied and published such particulars as could be gathered of our local story.* When the fathers of New England came to the western wilderness, as the forlorn hope of freedom and religion, the worship of God was their main concern. They scarcely felled the trees and cleared the ground, to make room for their own dwellings, before they selected a spot, on which to erect the humble structure, that might serve as the sanctuary of God, in whose name they had undertaken their great enterprise. That fervent Christian faith, which had borne them up under the presence of persecution * See "Historical Sketch of Watertown," &c. 1830. and privation at home, was transplanted as a vital principle of spiritual action, when they came hither "To scatter seeds of Life on barbarous shores." We have reason to be thankful, that the religious sentiment was thus brought to our land in fresh and strong power, and was interwoven from the first with all the principles, which lay at the foundation of the infant community. It created that feeling of deep interest in the sanctuary, which has hitherto been a trait in the New England character, and which, I hope in God, will never be effaced.* We cannot ascertain the precise time, at which the first place of public worship in Watertown was established. But it was undoubtedly coeval with the original planting of the settlement. Cotton Mather, in his account of the foundation of our church, says, that the people here "resolved that they would combine into a church-fellowship as their first work, and build the house of God, before they could build many houses for themselves; thus they sought first the kingdom of God." The earliest notice on this subject in our Records, occurs in 1639, (nine years after the settlement commenced,) by which it appears "the meeting-house was appointed for a watch-house to the use of the town," -an order that suggests an idea of the danger and alarm, amidst which the little 郾 * Kindred to this feeling, and alike worthy of imitation and transmission, was the pains-taking care of our fathers, even amidst the poverty and lowliness of their condition, to have a learned, gifted, and faithful ministry. It was, observes Johnson, "as unnatural for a right New England man to live without an able ministry, as for a smith to work his iron without a fire."— Wonder-Working Providence, Book II. Ch. 22. MAGNALIA, Book III. Ch. 4. 2 Uor M * communities of New England were founded. This first house of worship stood in the eastern part of the town, towards Cambridge, where, we may presume, the largest part of the population was then gathered. It was probably a rude and homely structure, such as the circumstances of the settlers, and the Puritan taste, allowed. But it was hallowed by the pious sincerity, the truthful devotedness, of those whom the Sabbath summoned within its walls. All the associations of architectural grandeur would be but a poor exchange for the recollection, that this forest sanctuary was reared and occupied by men, who, however humble their doings might then seem, were called to act their part in a signal work for the cause of righteousness and of religious freedom. As I have sometimes in my walks lingered around that spot, I have forgotten the present in the retrospect of two centuries, and have imagined the forms of those grave and faithful Puritans, as they came on a Sabbath morning from their lowly dwellings, accompanied by their wives in matronly decency and their children in well-ordered sobriety, their garb plain and their countenances stern, saluting each other, as they met, with stiff but friendly greetings, and directing their steps with pious joy to the place of their solemnities. How have manners and opinions changed since that time! How rapid has been the developement of social progress among us! The simplicity of ancient days is not to be expected amidst the refinement, the bustling enterprise, the various improvements, of the present period; but may we not wish that we had retained more of * On a little hill nearly opposite to the old grave-yard. |