Horatio Gray

Memoirs of Rev. Benjamin C. Cutler, D. D., Late Rector of St. Ann's Church, Brooklyn, N.y. Horatio Gray

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1865. Excerpt: ... CHAPTER XVI. LAST DAYS. CONTINUED ILLNESS--DEATH--FUNERAL, ETC. August, 1862, to February, 1863. "How beautiful it is for man to die Upon the walls of Zion! to be called Like a watch-worn and weary sentinel, To put his armor off, and rest--in heaven." DR. CUTLER'S public labors were nearly over. A few months more, he was to linger on the threshold of another world, while the growing spirituality which gleamed thrjough his conversation and correspondence, seemed but to be a reflection of the deepening glory into which he was so soon to enter. The weary wheels of life were moving slower and slower, and as the child sighs for home, or the weary soldier longs for victory and rest, so he yearned to depart and be with Christ. On the 7th of August, being yet quite feeble, he set off, with Mrs. Cutler and a nurse, (accompanied also by a kind friend and parishioner, Mr. H. P. M n,) for Saratoga Springs. Ilis appetite had failed, and he was wasted to a mere shadow, but his spirit was kept in perfect peace. He wrote to his sisters, who were both at Newport, "God is good every day, and every hour, and every moment, and through my glorious and gracious Saviour, my mind is as calm as a summer sea." Slowly led back, as from the confines of another world, he was not only to be the recipient of new joys in intercourse with various children of God--a blessed foretaste of communion with the church triumphant, which he should ere long enjoy--but, he also imparted heartfelt happiness to others by his letters, and scattered around him the fruits of his rich and matured experience, before he passed away to his eternal home. The gleanings we give cannot fail to be treasured up by many hearts; and tears will flow from eyes unused to weep, as they read these precious records--prec...