of his congregation once declared, “When our pastor prays, it is right into the heart of God. When he preaches, it is right into the heart of the sinner." This description, true perhaps of a few moderns, is truer still of the great body of the ancient preachers. They had peculiar access to the hearts of men, because they had peculiar access to the ear and heart of God. With him and the glories around him they were familiar, and ever as they came forth from his presence, they brought to the people, fresh from the tree of life, the leaves that are for the healing of the nations, sparkling from the river of life, the waters "clear as crystal," that purify the unholy, and refresh the wayworn and weary.

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Another pastor, whose success was proverbially great, when asked how it happened that under his ministry" the word of God" so grew and multiplied," returned the significant answer, "I have a praying church." The early church was eminently a praying church. The sin of indevotion could not be laid to her charge. The oft-repeated and unanimous request of the apostles, "Pray for us," "Pray for us that the word of the Lord may have free course and be glorified," was never made in vain. Indeed, the request scarcely needed to be made. The Christians of those days waited not for a specified season, but at all times and everywhere they remembered before God the cause of missions, and the self-denying missionary laborers. In the closet, in the family, in the church, the burden of their prayer was, Thy kingdom come." Every prayer meeting was a concert of prayer for the universal spread of the gospel of Christ. And theirs were the effectual, fervent prayers that avail much. They knew how to touch that delicate chain which Jesus has passed over the throne, and by which the faintest spark of holy desire may be easily transmitted; and through it they sent a continual stream of invisible but powerful influence away into the deepest recesses of heathenism.

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The whole discourse, from beginning to end, glows with the ardent love and the burning zeal which are kindled in the soul when it is "baptized with the Holy Ghost and with fire." It is not difficult for the imagination to reproduce the scencs through which its author was passing when he was penning these eloquent passages. The study in which they were written was his closet of prayer. Many a poor sinner, burdened with the weight of transgression, had found his way into that consecrated room, and in the great sorrow of his troubled heart had cried out, "Sir, what must I do to be saved?" What the preacher had gleaned out of the word

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of God, as evidences of the operation of the divine Spirit, he now saw, in actual demonstration, with his own eyes. It was reducing theory to practice. Here were the rough materials which the heavenly Architect was moulding, shaping, and polishing, that they might be introduced as "lively stones into the temple of God which he was rearing; or, to change the figure, he who "commanded the light to shine out of darkness" was bringing these precious souls "out of darkness into God's marvellous light." He who gazed upon the transformation could but stand still, and admire the wonderworking power of Him "who spake and it was done," saying, "Let there be light, and there was light." Blessed is the minister of Christ, who, in the earlier years of his professional life, is permitted to witness such scenes. He feels the sacred impulse which comes from them so long as he continues to preach the gospel. His commission seems clothed with new authority, and the credentials which he bears from the eternal throne have enstamped upon them the seal of a divine authority.

If we mistake not, Mr. Stow always regarded the revival of 1838 as the purest, the freest from the admixture of those human imperfections which so often mar the beauty even of a work of the Spirit of God, that he was ever engaged in. His own heart was thoroughly interested in the work, and he had the indescribable satisfaction of seeing a large number of the members of his church coöperating with him. The ears of men were open to hear the truth, and their hearts to receive it in the love of it. The congregation gave to their pastor their sincere respect and their warm affection. Their confidence in his piety, and their belief that he was in earnest in seeking their spiritual welfare, were entire. As a preacher, there was everything about him that arrested their attention. His pulpit services were full of "unction," and the hundreds of admiring listeners who gathered within the walls of his church, Sabbath after Sabbath, were constrained to acknowledge that a power higher than human had taken possession of that consecrated soul, and that those lips had been touched with a

coal from off the altar of God. We doubt not that very many who recall these hallowed services will say that, for solemnity, and power, and permanent effect, they have never seen them surpassed, perhaps never equalled.

At the meeting of the Triennial Convention, when the sermon on the Efficiency of Primitive Missions was preached, his honored and cherished friend, Professor J. D. Knowles, was present. Without doubt he had listened to this discourse of his successor in the pastoral office. No one could have rejoiced more sincerely than he over the fervid eloquence and the earnest spirit of the preacher. Their acquaintance and friendship dated back many years. They had been fellow-students in college. Both had been editors of the Columbian Star, the organ of the General Convention. The fortunes and successes of each had been dear to his brother. Long they hoped to labor, side by side, although in different departments of their Master's work. But when Mr. Stow returned to his home, and again girded himself afresh for ministerial toil, he received the mournful intelligence that his predecessor, and the friend of so many years, had been suddenly stricken down by a mortal disease.

May 9. Sad, sad news. A messenger has just arrived from Newton announcing the death of my dear Brother Knowles. O God, can it be? For nearly sixteen years we have been as brothers, we have had each other's love and confidence. Now he is cut down; and why am I spared? The better man is taken, the worse left. "Verily thou art a God that hidest thyself, O God of Israel, the Saviour." I heard on Monday (the 7th) he was not well; threatened with varioloid or small pox, the physician could not determine which. The next intelligence is of his death. How sudden! how unexpected! Lord, pity his poor wife; sustain her, and comfort her. He was a good man. Surely he has found rest in the bosom of God. The admonition to me is emphatic. "Set thy house in order."

May 13, Lord's day. Preached in the morning from 2 Cor. iv. 18on "the eternity of things that are not seen." Afternoon, preached a funeral discourse for my dearly beloved brother, James D. Knowles, from the words, "That disciple whom Jesus loved" - John xxi. 7. It was a difficult service, not because there was little to be said, but because I was disqualified, by oppression of feeling, to say it. I have

intended to do him justice. If I have failed, may some abler hand be brought to the effort. I never thought to be called to render this service. Often has it occurred to me that he would preach my funeral discourse. On earth I shall never find another such friend. He was to me more than friend - a brother" born for adversity." My counsellor is taken from me. My God, I come to thee. I have leaned too much on him, and thou hast cut him away with one fell stroke. Henceforth let me lean more fully on God.

May 24. Visited Newton. O, how desolate! Stood over the grave of my brother, my dear brother, and thought of the resurrection. We shall meet again. Prepare me for that meeting, and eternal glory, O God, my God.

CHAPTER X.

REACTION. - LETTER TO DEACON S. BEAL. PHYSICIAN PRESCRIBES REST.CONTINUED LABOR. - COLONY SENT TO BOWDOIN Square. -EFFECT ON HIS MIND. - TRIP TO EUROPE PROPOSED. — BARKATION.- - CORRESPONDence.

JOURNAL.

1838-1841.

- EM

Ir is not strange that, after a season crowded with so many exciting incidents, and the constant strain made upon him by the vast amount of work which the revival made absolutely necessary, Mr. Stow should feel a craving for rest and recreation. It is not, moreover, strange that the nature upon which he had made such continuous and long-protracted drafts should become exhausted, and the overtasked brain should succumb for a season, on account of the burden it had been carrying for so many months. We follow him to the homes of beloved friends in New York and Vermont. How joyfully is he welcomed to the circles so dear to him! With what fond pride his partial friends receive him whose fame has reached their ears. They behold in him one of the most eloquent and successful pastors in the favored metropolis of New England. Dark days, however, and sad hours were appointed to him, and he must go down into the valley of sorrow before he can again stand upon what to him was a more glorious spot than any earthly throne-the platform of the Baldwin Place pulpit. We may say that he has violated the laws of his physical being, and he must pay the penalty of such violation. But how little is accomplished in this world by men who never overwork themselves! The toilers in all the fields where brain and heart are sometimes so severely tasked, must expect