IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-S)

1.0

I.I

11.25

■50 ^■" H^H

mm m22

21 K4 ■"

Hi
lU

■'^ i.

WIftu

140

U 11.6

Photographic
_,Sdences
Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STtEET

WEBSTEi,N.Y. UStO

(716)872-4303

7 ^

CIHM/ICMH

Microfiche

Series.

CIHfVI/ICMH
Collection de
microfiches.

Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques

Tvchnioal and Bibliogrephic Not«t/Not«t ttchniquM vt bibliographiqMM

Th«(
tothi

Th« Inttitut* hat attamptad to obtain tha baat
original copy availabia for filming. Faaturaa of thia
copy which may ba bibliographically uniqua,
which may altar any of tha imagaa in tha
raproduction, or which may aigniflcantly changa
tha usual mathod of filming, ara chackad baiow.

D
D

Colourad covara/
Couvartura da coulaur

r~n Covara damagad/

Couvartura andommagia

Covara rastorad and/or laminatad/
Couvartura rastaurte at/ou palliculAa

Covor titia misaing/

La titra da couvartura manqua

Colourad mapa/

Cartas gtographiquas an coulaur

Colourad inic (i.a. othar than blua or black)/
Encra da coulaur (i.a. autra qua blaua ou noira)

nn Colourad piatas and/or illuatrations/

Planchas at/ou illustrations an coulaur

Bound with othar matarial/
RaliA avac d'autras documanta

Tight binding may cauaa shadows or distortion
along intarior margin/

La re liura sarrAa paut causar da I'ombra ou da la
distortion la long da la marga intAriaura

Blank laavas addad during rastoration may
appear within the text. Whenever possible, thaaa
have bean omitted from filming/
II aa peut que certainea pagea bianchea ajouttea
lore d'une restauration apparaissant dans la taxta,
maia, lorsqua cela Atait possible, ces pagas n'ont
paa *t« fiimtea.

Additional commanta:/
Commentairea supplAmentairaa:

L'Institut a microfilm^ la meillaur exemplaira
qu'il lui a 4tA possible de se procurer. Las details
da cat axemplaira qui sont peut-Atre uniques du
point da vua bibliographlqua, qui pauvent modifier
une imaga raproduite, ou qui pauvent axiger una
modification dans la mAthoda normale da filmaga
sont indiquAa ci*daasous.

n
n

Coloured pagea/
Pagas da coulaur

Pages damaged/
Pages endom magmas

Pages restored and/or laminated/
Pagas reataurAaa at/oi' pelliculAaa

Pages discoloured, stainad or foxed/
Pagas dicoioriaa, tachatAas ou piqutas

Pages datached/
Pages ditachtea

Showthrough/
Transparence

Quality of print varies/
QualltA inigale de I'lmpression

Includes supplamentary matarial/
Comprand du material suppiAmentaire

Only edition availabia/
Saula Mition diaponibia

Pages wholly or partially obacurad by errata
Blips, tissues, ate, have baen refiimed to
ensure the best possible imaga/
Las pagaa totalement ou partieilament
obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une palura,
etc., ont M fllmtea A nouvaau da fapon A
obtonir la malllaure imaga possibla.

Thai
possi
of th
fiimii

Origi

bagii

theli

sion,

othei

first

sion,

or ill

The
shall
TINl
whic

IVIap
diffa
entir
bagii
right
requ
metl

Thia itam ia filmed at tha raduction ratio chackad below/

Ca document est f IImA au taux de rMuction indiquA ci-deaaoua.

10X 14X 18X 22X

26X

30X

12X

16X

20X

24X

2BX

32X

Iiir«
dAtailt
u«s du
t modifi«r
g«r una
I filmaga

Tha copy filmad hara haa baan raproducad thanks
to tha Qanarosity of:

National Library of Canada

Tha imagat appaaring hara ara tha bast quality
posslbia considaring tha condition and laglbillty
of tha original copy and in kaaping with tha
filming contract spaciflcations.

L'axamplaira film* f ut raproduit grAca i la
gAnArositA da:

BibliothAqua nationala du Canada

Las imagas suivantas ont AtA raprodultas avac is
plus grand soin, compta tanu da la condition at
da la nattatA da l'axamplaira film*, at an
conformity avac las conditions du contrat da
filmaga.

I
lAas

Original capias in printad papar covars ara filmad
baglnning with tha front cover and anding on
tha last paga with a printad or lllustratad impras-
sion, or tha back covar whan approprlata. All
othar original copias ara filmad beginning on tha
first paga with a printad or lllustratad Impras-
slon, and ending on tha last paga with a printad
or illustrated impression.

Lee exemplaires origineux dont la couverture en
papier est ImprimAe sont filmAs en commengant
par la premier plat at en terminant solt par la
darnlAre paga qui comporta une empreinte
d'impresslon ou d'illustration, soit par la second
plat, salon le cas. Tous las autres exemplaires
originaux sont filmAs en commen^ant par ia
premlAre page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impresslon ou d'illustration et en terminant par
la darnlAre page qui comporte une telle
empreinte.

The last recorded frame on each microfiche
shall contain the symbol — ^> (meaning "CON-
TINUED"), or the symbol y (meaning "END"),
whichever applies.

Un des symboles suivants apparattra sur la
derniAre image de cheque microfiche, selon le
cas: le symbols — ► signifie "A SUIVRE", ie
symbols ▼ signifie "FIN".

Ire

Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at
different reduction ratios. Those too large to be
entirely Included in one exposure are filmed
beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to
right and top to bottom, as many frames as
required. The following diagrams Illustrate the
method:

Lea cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent Atre
filmAs A des taux de rAduction diffArents.
Lorsque le document est trop grand pour Atra
raproduit an un seul clichA. 11 est filmA A partir
da Tangle aupArlaur gauche, de gauche A droite,
et de haut an bas, en prenant le nombre
d'images nAcessaira. Las diagrammes suivants
illustrent la mAthoda.

»y errata
Bd to

int

na pelure,

ipon A

! 1

32X

\ \ ■

''i

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH,

'*^.

MEMORIAL

JOHN ANDERSOIf

LATE JAKITOE OF OTEEN'S COLLEGE,

KINaSTON, 0. W.

u Tbere are in tl Is loud stunning tide
Of human care a°d crime.

With whom the melodies abide
Of the everlasting chime ,

mo carry music in their heart

KINGSTON:

.AMES M. CREI0HT0«, PKI^^ER,

1859.

;.-V

;

THE STUDENTS OF QUEEN'S COLLEGE

WHO HAVE HAD OPPORTUNITIES OF

WITNESSING THE

CHRISTIAN LIFE, OR THE HAPPY DEATH HERE RECORDED,

THIS LITTLE BOOK

IS INSCRIBED.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I. Page.

Early Incidents. - - 1

° CHAPTER II.
Onward. 7

CHAPTER III.
The Trust and its Fulfilment. - - - - 18

CHAPTER IV.
Shadows. » , 35

CHAPTER V.
OoDTO 3ax)ME. 45

CHAPTER VI.
Farewell. 66

PREFACE .

(

In an age like the present, when the general
superficiality of the time scciiis to extend itself
even to religion ; and the olden type of manly and
vigorous piety is becoming unhappily rare;— it
has seemed matter of regret that the risino- Htc-
rature of our youug Country should not i)ossess a
record of one whose strict unfailing integrity of life
and conduct commended to all around him the
power of the religion he professed.

This feeling, and the hope that the presenta-
tion of his life to the public, may give the influence
of his memory a wider field than it might other-
wise have had, — have induced the publication of
this little memorial of an individual who was truly
a blessing and a benefactor in his sphere.

May it be blessed of G od to accomplish its
design, and to stir up many to become '* followers
of him, even as he was of Christ."

Kingston, November, 1859.

EAELY INCIDENTS.

" Lives of great men nil remind up,

Wo may make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind up

Footprints on the sands of time ; —
Footprints that, perhaps, another

Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother

Seeing, may take heart again."

— Longfellow.

If the "lives of ^r<sa^ men" are useful to re-
mind us that "we may make owr lives sublime," —
the lives of some whom the world would not call
great, may, even more effectually teach us the
same truth. Many a youth, it is true, destined to
noble achievements, has had the first sparks of
heroic enthusiasm kindled in his mind by the
Lives of Plutarch, or the biography of some
modern hero of the field. Many a future philoso-
pher has been encouraged in the midst of difiicul-
ties by the early toils and triumphs of some strug-
gling son of genius ; — and many a Christian phil-

i i

2 TAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

riutliropliist lias felt his pulse quickened and bis
spirit stirred up to fresh exertions by the recital
of the labours of a Howard or a Martyn.

But as regards the great mass of men, — such
examples fail in one point. Every man cannot
become a Newton, a "Wellington, or a Wilberforce.
Few, on the contrary, are either fitted by nature
or placed in circumstances to distinguish them-
selves in the paths marked out by such lofty
minds. Placed by mental qualifications and social
position, in a rank of comparative mediocrity, —
they are apt to become convinced that iliey^ at
least, have nothing to do with sublimity, and sink-
ing from the bright but vague dreams of youth,
into the commonplace and uninteresting routine
of every day life, are too liable to fall into the sor-
didness of aim and narrowness of view which will
most effectually realize this conviction. Now, to
such it would be no small benefit, could it be made
manifest that lowliness of station, or mediocrity of
talent does not necessarily involve lowness of aim
or character ; — especially if this were shown by the
example of one, — in a position, it may be, more
humble than their own, who made his life sublime,
for surely that life possesses the truest sublimity,
which most firmly holds the path of duty and ful-
fils Grod's wise design. Might not even the weary
and desponding be stirred up more bravely to bear
their part in the battle of life, if convinced that
true Christian greatness may lie in the humblest

FAITHFUL UNTO .uEATH.

path and most commonplace routine ; — that each
and all, however weak or lowly, have a mission to
fulfil that angel's might envy, and footsteps to
" leave behind them" which shall last, — not for
time alone, — but for eternity ?

For reasons such as these, it has been desired
to trace the earthly course of one, whose life,
though humble indeed to the eye of the world,
was yet truly great in the highest sense; one who,
we cannot doubt, has, ere now heard the welcome
commendation ; — " Well done thou good and
faithful servant," and has entered into "the joy of
his Lord."

John Anderson, the subject of this sketch,
was born on the 9th of March, 1810, in the village
of Swinton, in the pleasant county of Berwick-
shire, Scotland, His father's occupation was
that of a Carrier, — that is, — a person who trans-
acts business, executes commissions, and carries
parcels between the country people and the neigh-
boring town.

Little remarkable is known of John's early
life. It was probably that of most boys of his
class and country. The simple fare of the Scottish
peasantry, abundance of out«door exercise and
early healthful toil, gave him the strong constitu-
tion and robust health proverbially characteristic
of a Scottish ploughman. At the parish school
he received the simple but substantial education
which is so widely diffused in his native country.

4 FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

In his case it was the foundation on which he
raised in after life the goodly superstructure of a
course of careful and intelligent reading. As re-
garded religious training he owed much to the care
of his faithful and earnest minister, — the Rev.
Dr. Hunter, now of Edinburgh, of whom he
was wont to speak in terms of strong attachment
and esteem. At that time he had few, if any,
serious impressions. Yet the taste which he after-
wards evinced for the works of the old theological
writers of Scotland, must have been even then, in
some degree, formed, and the Gospel truths im-
planted, which were in time to be more fully
developed, and to bring forth abundant fruit.

In character, he was at this period, ** a light-
hearted young lad," eagerly joining in all innocent
pastime, and very social in disposition, while, at
the same time, never transgressing the rules of
strict sobriety and decorum. Blithe, kindly, and
ever ready to oblige, he won in the village the
expressive commendation of being ''''just everyhodij s
lodyP His personal appearance, — judging from
what it was after forty summers of toil and care
had bronzed his cheek and furrowed his brow,
must have been very prepossessing ; his tall,
strongly knit figure, bright hazel eye, and well
formed expressive features, lighted up with intel-
ligence and good humour, must have given him
in youth claims to no ordinary share of good
looks.

[

■ I

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH. 5

The tide of emigration wliich "was setting in
towards the western continent, drew John into
its current, — and in 1830 he left his native Scot-
land, never to return. As he crossed the stormy
ocean that lay between the home he had left and
the untried shore of his destination, the young
ploughman had doubtless his own golden dreams
of success and wealth in the ''new and happy
land" where the smiles of plenty were supposed
to be so easily attainable. If so, his visions ol
earthly riches were not to be realized. Yet, this
can hardly be regretted, since he was there to lind
the " pearl of great price," and prove, in his
<.[uiet, fiaithful pursuit of duty, a truer benefactor
to his adopted country than some whose names
and praises have been echoed far and wide.

In the year 183*i he came to Peterboro', C.
W., where, — two years later, — he entered tlie ser-
vice of the Rev. J. M. Roger, the Presbyterian min-
ister of that place, *' I was attracted to him" —
wrote his master after the lapse of more than
twenty years, — " by his blithe and kindly expres-
sion. I found him most industrious and honest ;
— his manners quiet, gentle and obliging." Until
this period, though outwardly blameless, he seems
to have been as yet uninfluenced by the living
power of the gospel of Christ. But during his
residence in Mr. Roger's family he became awaken-
ed to a deep sense of his sin, and his need of that
blood which alone cleanseth from it ; — and with a

li ^

■I*:

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

heart touched by a Saviour's love, — ^he entered
without reserve into the service of that gracious
Master, who was henceforth to be his Friend and
Guide through a long, lonely life.

Though his natural disposition had previously
been amiable and pleasing, yet the effects of the
new life on which he had entered were soon visi-
ble to those around him. In the Sabbath evening
exercises of the family, he seemed to take peculiar
delight; — "and when," writes his master, "in
1839 I returned for a few months to Scotland
with my family, I parted with him in the belief
that he was an established Christian ; and I am
thankful to learn that that belief has been so fully
verified." The verification — ^twenty years of
faithful, laborious service, and consistent Christian
deportment, — ^is certainly a satisfactory one.

During his residence in Peterboro', John had
occasion to give a substantial proof of his loyalty
as a British subject, by marching into Cobourg
under arms as a volunteer against the " rebels" in
the year 1837, when a handful of malcontents,
aided by a band of American *^ symjpathizersj'^ man-
aged for some time to keep our frontier counties
in a state of alarm and disturbance. Happily,
however, the threatened revolt proved abortive,
and John's services, with those of the other volun-
teers, were rendered unnecessary.

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

11.

ONWARD.

" ' Lord, — and what shall this man do '?
Ask'st thou, Christian, for thy friend ?
If his love for Christ be true,
Christ hath told thee of liis end ;
This is he whom G-od approves,
Tliis is he whom Jesus loves."

— Keblh.

On the temporary removal of his master from
Peterboro' in 1839, John Andekson was transfer-
red at his request, to the service of a friend in
Kingston, C. W. Here he remained for some
years in the capacity of warehouseman, carrier,
&c., in a grocery establishment. In this, as well
as in his next employment, — that of driver of a
bread cart, — ^he won the respect and esteem of his
master by his faithfulness, punctuality and in-
tegrity; and the regard of his customers by his
kind, cordial and obliging demeanour. His
shrewd originality too, and intelligent conversa-
tion, often rendered intercourse with him a real

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

5l:

pleasure to persons of refined and cultivated minds.
Indeed, in his total distance from everytliing low
or vulgar, and in his quiet dignity of manner, he
was "one of nature's gentlemen."

But these external characteristics, amiable as
they were, were but the outward workings of the
hidden life^ the source and well-spring of all that
is *' pure and lovely, and of good report." John's
Christian progress was steadily onward. Kor can
we be surprised at this when we know the watch-
ful, prayerful spirit he strove to maintain ; — when
we Und that it was his invariable custom, — what-
ever might have been the duties and fatigues of the
day, to spend an hour and a half each evening in
the study of his Bible. No wonder then, that,
like Christian in the allegory "reading often in his
roll, his spirit was refreshed" and that the Divine
truths with wnich his thoughts were so imbued,
shed so blessed an influence over his life. His
acquaintance with the Scriptures was thorough
indeed; and when he met any one willing to con-
verse with him on the subjects he best loved, he
would speak out of the abundance of a full heart
of the treasures he had found therein.

But the love for his Saviour which burned in
his breast found its outlet even more in actions
than in words. He was a steady and useful
member of the Church of Scotland, to which he
belonged, and unfailing in the regularity of his
attendance on its ordinances and appointed exer-

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

cises. He early entered on the work of a Sabbath
School teacher, — a labour of love in which he
continued to persevere till within a very short
time before his death, and indeed as long as his
strength would permit. The duty he thus under-
took was never discharged in a light or careless
manner, but with his whole heart. Sabbath after
Sabbath, whatever the weather might be, he was
always to be seen at his post ; often bending for-
ward and. even gesticulating in his eagerness to
impress on his young hearers the truths lie so
deeply felt, and to point them to the '' Lamb of
God, -which taketh away the sin of the world."
He spoke with power, because he spoke from the
heart, and few, if any, of those who shared his in-
structions, though now widely scattered, do not
affectionately remember them, and ascribe much
of their spiritual improvement to his faithful teach -

mg.

At a weekly Teacher's meeting, which was
for a long time held on the Friday evening or the
Sabbr.ch morning for a prayerful consideration of
the lessons, John was always in attendance, and
his plain, but sensible remarks were often felt by
those who had enjoyed greater advantages, to
throw a new lighten the passage of Scripture they
were studying. Here, and at the Sabbath School
it often devolved upon him to, lead in Prayer,
which he did with the earnestness and fervour of
a soul indeed " wrestling for a blessing" from his

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

iif

God; while his language, though plain and simple,
possessed an air of quaintness and ancientness
which seemed to carry one back to the days of the
old Scottish covenanters. Unless as Christians
we are to lose our faith in prayer, whose efTi-
cacy our Saviour himself declares, we cannot
but feel that these earnest prayers of this " righ-
teous man" must have ^'availed much" to the Sab-
bath School and congregation in which he took so
deep an interest, — how much, — will never be
known till the day when the secrets of all hearts
shall be revealed.

The weekly evening pra3^er meeting , — a
means of spiritual refreshment, with which many
professing Christians seem to think they can dis-
pense — was, by John, particularly prized. Never
did the stormy nights of Winter or the bright
pleasant evenings of Summer, detain him from the
Sanctuary on these occasions, and nothing but the
call of imperative duty was permitted to interfere
with his regular attendance. So unfailingly punc-
tual was he to the hour appointed, that, as the
dog, which for years was his constant companion,
was wont to station himself outside, to wait for
his master, — ^the appearance of " John Anderson's
dog," at the Church door, was a significant intima-
tion to all late comers that the service had com-
menced. Although at these meetings he did not
often take a prominent part, his reverent mien and
bowed head showed how fully he realised the

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

promise of Christ to the "two or three" who
come together in His name ; and when he did
take a part, his earnest supplications carried all
hearts with them to the throne of grace.

John's type of piety had been to a great ex-
tent formed on the model of the old Scottish di-
vines, and possessed much of their depth, solidity,
and quaintness. This latter quality, — combined
with his natural shrewdness and originality, — made
him an excellent specimen of the old sterling type
of Scotchmen now fast passing away. He had
strong and decided opinions, with perhaps some
prejudices, — and neither were easily shaken. He
loved the " good old ways" of his forefathers and
disliked changes. His attachment to the Estab-
lished Church of Scotland was strong and stead-
fast, — and when invited to join the Free Church
at the time of its secession, — his reply was charac-
teristic. "No, no," he said, *' Except ye abide
in the ship ye cannot be saved." This answer was
not meant to express any narrow-minded exclu-
siveness, — for he always manifested a most Catho-
lic spirit towards Christians of every denomina-
tion, — but simply his conviction that it was his
duty to hold by his Church, and labour for her
gbod, instead of abandoning her to drift upon the
quicksands which might be threatening her.

He was especially averse to modern innova-
tions in the religious teaching of the young. At
a Teachers' Meeting, called for the purpose of

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

considering some new modes of instruction, John
at length rose, and expressed his dissatisfaction
with the tenor of the conference in the laconic but
expressive sentence, — "/ am of the old schooV
One of his greatest objections was against tlie
introduction of hymns into the Sabbath School
exercises. These he regarded with great jealousy,
l^iaring lest they might interfere with the good old
Scottish practice of singing the metrical Psalms,
in wLich to the very end of his life he took great
delight. Happy will it be for the rising gencra-
ation, now so liberally supplied with hymns, — if
it shall, in future times, be characterized by as
sterling and vigorous a piety, as that which the
Psalmody of Scotland tended in no small degree
to foster.

Another danger against which John was very
anxious to guard was that of urging upon children
the necessity of conversion, loithout at the same
iime^ carefully instructing them in the Scriptural
truth, which alone could show them the need of a
real and thorough change of heart At a Sabbath
School Teachers' Meeting, held during the last
summer of his life, he spoke very decidedly on
this point. He was afraid that mere transitory
feeling or excitement might often be mistaken for
real conversion, in cases where care was not taken
to enlighten the understanding and awaken the
conscience, as well as to work upon the feelings
and affections. And, certainly, the alarming prev-

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

alence in our age and country, of a spurious Chris-
tianity, — destitute of the fruits of vital religion,
would go far to show that his fears were not
groundless. Many unhappy events have lately
shown how fearful is the danger of resting satisfied
with the religion of mere impulse and feeling,
instead of a religion proceeding from the true
principle of spiritual life, which finds its devel-
opment in acts as tvell as feelings. Of the beauty
of the contrast, when both proceed together in
symmetrical proportion ; — when integrity of lite
and blamelessness of conduct flow from the heart
right with Godj John Anderson was a striking
example. His convictions of sin were deep and
pungent, for he had studied deeply the law of
God, and felt at once its uncompromising holiness,
and his own utter inability by nature to fiiliil
it. But embracing his Saviour as his ^'right-
eousness, and sanctification and redemption," he
had peace with God, through, our Lord Jesus
Christ, and could now rejoice in that holiness
which was formerly his condemnation ; — abid-
ing in the faith which ^^purifieth the heart and
overcometh the world."

In order to complete, as far as possible, the
portraiture of John Anderson's character, a few
extracts are given from his letters to his friends
in Scotland, letters written, it is scarcely necessary
to say, without the remotest idea that they would
ever be seen by other eyes than those of the

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

1 1

1.^

1*1

friends to whom they were addressed. The only
alteration made has been that of correcting the
errors in orthography, in which, owing to early
disadvantages, lay John's greatest educational
deficiency. The following extracts are from let-
ters written during the earlier years of his resi-
dence in Kingston. In reading tlicm, allowance
must be made for the difficulty which a man, so
unused to composition, necessarily experienced in
committing to paper the thoughts that flowed fast
and warm from his heart. This difficulty John
seems often to have felt :

Kingston, April 2G, 1841.

My Dear Father :

*** I am labouring under the conviction of my
great neglect in not writing to you, for although you
had given up writing to me, this was no excuse for
me. And I would have been enjoying great peace
of mind, but I was always mourning what a neg-
lected creature I was, — homeless and friendless, — a
wanderer alone, when I might have been enjoying
the company and consolations of you and all that
was, and ought to have been dear to me ; but alas !
I threw away those golden jewels before I knew the
value of them. But, dear Father, I think that it
cannot be possible that you have yet forgot me,
although I confess I deserve not a place in your
affection, I have often been haunted in my

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

It
f

■

le
It

thoup;hts, by the little value I put upon home and
all its enjoyments until experience taught mo their
true value. I have often th< ught if all your chil-
dren had yielded you Hfi little comfort as I have
done, how unhappy you might have been. I often
think how happy the people in Scotland are, by
what they are here, although they may enjoy more
of the world's wealth than they have in their power
at home. When they get a hundred acres of land
and that paid for, they call themselves independent,
although they are perhaps deprived of every Chris-
tian privilege ; and indeed there is no rational en-
joyment hero as in Scotland. Bonny Scotland !
will I ever see you again ?

When you receive this letter you will I hope
take the trouble, if you are still spared, to write me
a lew lines and I will receive them with gladness.
My kind love to my Brothers James and William,
and to my lovely sister, and to my Brother Robert
and wife and son, and tell them all that I flatter
myself I shall yet see you all.

Tour loving son,

JOHN ANDERSON.

Kingston, April 20, 1844.

Dear Father :

Once more I take up my pen to let you know

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

" I'

'I
11

I' t

that I am in good health at present, — thanks
be to God for all His mercies to me, so unde-
serving.

Kingston is very dull at present, as they are
removing the Seat of Government to Montreal. It
has knocked everything on the head. There has
been nothing doing last winter at alL I never saw
such misery, poverty and wretchedness in all my
life. I often felt sorry to think of the poor creatures
with no clothes scarcely, and little fire, — and it so
very cold last winter.

I am still with my old master, and I have hired
with him for another year, but whether I shall be
able to stand it or not, or to see it out, God only
knows. I feel my constitution weakening, and I
have now been long subject to a bad cough, which is
brought on by repeated colds, and often brings on
Consumption. We are frail creatures at best, and apt
to forget that our foundation is in the dust. I often
mourn over the way in which I have wandered, as I
think of the shortness of human life. I tore mvself
away from everything that had any tendency to
sweeten life in the way through this vast howling wil-
derness. Oh how rich is that person that is blessed
with contentment. If there is anything in all this
wide universe worth courting, it is that contentment
which sweetens every cross. I think over the hard-
ships that I have endured for the sake of freeing my-
self from the cares of this world, but now I see that I
am just as far from happiness as at the beginning.

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

Happiness is not i/> he found in the creature ; — there
is no happiness away from God !
I should hav

along "with

lave been very glad to have come
— to have seen you all, and as I
have a great wish to see that depository of the dead
where sleep the ashes of one that so much loved me,
and watched over me with so much care and tender-
ness which my ungrateful heart forgot to repay, —
which makes me often now to mourn. But I hope
the Lord may yet spare me to visit that land so dear
to me, and I think it would be good for my health,
but it seems as if it was not the time for me to go
yet. Write soon and tell me what you are thinking
about coming to America. My kind love to you,
dear Father and Brothers and Sisters.

Your loving son,

JOHN ANDERSON.

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

*;i I

h :1

;

\:}i^i

III.

THE TEUST, AND ITS FULFILMENT.

;!',!!

*' One by one, thy duties wait thee,
Let thy whole strength go to each ;

Let no future dreams elate thee,

Learn thou first what these can teach."

" Every hour that flits so slowly,

Has its tasks to do or bear ;
Luminous the crown, and holy, —

If thou set each gem with care 1"

By what seemed at the time an unfortunate
concurrence of events, — John Anderson found
himself in the year 1851 unexpectedly thrown out
of his previous employment. - He was for some
time in considerable perplexity about his future
movements, and even formed a plan of emigrating
to California — then in the height of its popularity.
From this idea, however, his friends earnestly dis-
suaded him ; — and he decided on remaining, — to
fill, soon after, a situation of more trust and res-
ponsibility than he had yet held. lie was engaged
as Janitor, by the Trustees of Queen^s College.

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

Never did the Trustees find reason to regret tlieir
choice, for a more efficient, conscicntions, trust-
worthy servant, or one more devoted to the inter-
ests of the College and the Students, they can
never hope to find. His was no mercenary hire-
ling service ; it was the hearty devotedness of one
who thoroughly identified himself with the Insti-
tution of which he felt himself a part.

The College buildings and grounds were ex-
tensive, — and their care, with the cultivation of
the large garden, gave him plenty to do during
the long summer vacation. Here he might be
seen, in the early summer mornings, working as
industriously as if his own living depended upon
the produce of the ground. This, together with
the no light task of cutting and piling with his
own hands all the firewood to be used in the
building during the winter, — fully occupied his
time, and prevented him from feeling the loneli-
ness of his situation.

The College — though a solitary, — was a very
pleasant summer residence. Built upon a gently
rising slope, it commands a full view of Lake
Ontario stretching its blue waters far to the west-
ward;— its wide, ocean-like expanse relieved by the
green islands and fertile wooded shores in the fore-
ground. Here John had his own neat apartment,
always kept in order by himself, and his well-filled
book-case, containing a small but choice library,
embracing a varied stock of Divinity; History and

" (

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

If:.;

hi!-
1^

'■^^

Poetry. He was fond of reading, and in his
leisure hours managed to lay up a very considera-
ble amount of information, — and as his mind was
reflective and discriminating, he read with intelli-
gence and profit.

Here too, like Abraham, he raised his altar
to the Lord. Eegularly a^ nine o'clock arrived,
might be heard the voice of prayer, or the sweet
old Psalmody of Scotland, rising from John's
apartment, a token of the solitary evening worship
he was oftering to his "Father who seeth in
secret." When on his death-bed, he could recall
with peculiar satisfaction, the memory of the many
happy hours he had here enjoyed of solitary com-
munion with his God.

In this quiet seclusion, — for he was the only
human inhabitant of the place, — the Summer
months passed peacefully away, and when Autumn
came, and brought the throng of returning stu-
dents — full of life and spirits — to resume their
studies, the place was no longer lonely, — at least
in the day time.

In Winter, John's duties were more varied
and engrossing. He kept in order the class-
rooms, took charge of the fires, attended the Pro-
fessors when required, and rang the College bell
hourly, a duty always performed with unfailing
punctuality. His arrangements were always ex-
cellent and methodicaL He never seemed in a
hurry, — but never a moment idle, and his work, —

"ii

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

whatever it might be, was always thoroughly
done. The Professors found him a ready, intelli-
gent assistant in any arrangements of apparatus,
&c., requiring a strong arm and a dexterous hand,
and indeed in this line, he rendered himself, at
last, almost indispensable. He could take the me-
teorological observations when, as sometimes hap-
pened, there was no one else at hand to do so ; —
though in his strict regard for the Sabbath, he
could not easily be reconciled to the necessity
which Science imposes for their being taken on-
that day. He could sympathise heartily, in this re-
spect, with the spiritually-minded McCheyne, who,
— though he did not condemn, — had no love for the
practice.

In his dealings with the Professors, John
Anderson was always the trustworthy and respect-
ful of^cial ; — and often, though never stepping out
of his place, — the affectionate and sympathising
friend. In his intercourse with the students he
could be, as occasion required,— the stern reprover,
the sympathising comforter in trouble, or the al-
most paternal counsellor. He has been known even
to afford pecuniary assistance to some of them in
time of need. Always cheerful and obliging, —
ready to appreciate and enter into any innocent
^^fun^^^ while at the same time frowning down all
that showed any tendency to impropriety or insub-
ordination, — the College Janitor secured the res-

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

I ,

i ■

'!l

If!,

ifii

1P^

I <

■■11

pect and confidence of all, and tlie real attach-
ment of many.

He regularly attended the religious exercises
of the College. Day after day, as the hour ar-
rived for morning prayers, he took his usual sta-
tion by the door, and his reverential demeanour
must often have had a subduing influence on a
careless or irreverent student. His blameless
Christian conduct carried with it no small moral
weight. His ^strong uncompromising piety was
known to all, while at the same time he thor-
oughly combined the diligent in business with the
fervent in spirit^ serving his Lord equally in both.
Not the most determined fault-finder could have
accused him of neglecting a single secular duty
for the religious ones which he so much enjoyed.
In both, he was contented to serve God patiently
in his own sphere, feeling that

" The daily round, the common task
Will furnish all we ought to ask —

Room to deny ourselves ; — a road
To bring us daily, nearer God."

And the consequence was that his character rose
high above the possibility of attack. If the
laugh or sneer against religion was ever directed
to others, it fell powerless against him ; for all felt
that there was that in his religion which must not
be trifled with. Daring indeed must have been

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

the offender who would, in Ms presence, have
ventured upon a jest with sacred subjects.

Of the regard in which he was held by his
young friends, many convincing proofs were given
in his last illness. His little library too, contained
many tokens of friendsliip, — or of recognition on
the part of the various Societies among the Stu-
dents, of the extra services he cheerfully rendered
in reference to their meetings ; — often to his own
personal inconvenience.

Nor was the bond of union broken when the
young men bade farewell to their Alma Mater.
The sterling character of John Anderson made
the impression he produced one not easily effaced,
and when in after years a student returned to visit
old College scenes, no smile of welcome was
more cordially given and received, — no hand met
his with a truer grasp than that of his old friend —
the Janitor. When the tidings of his death were
made known, they saddened and impressed many
a distant alumnus^ and from far-scattered students
came, as with one accord, expressions of regret,
and testimonies of their sincere esteem for that
undeviating, unostentatious piety, which in him it
had been their privilege to witness.

The following extracts, from letters written
during his residence in Queen's College, contain a
graphic picture of some of the difficulties and pri-
vations of his post — of which, however, he was
scarcely ever known to complaii . It will be seen

? 1

24:

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

too, from their tone, that the patience and cheer-
fulness with which he bore his lonely lot did not
arise from stoicism :

Kingston, December 30, 1851.
Dear Brother :

Since the 1st October I have been at
Queen's College as Janitor for the session which
ends on the 1st of May. I stand the cold very
badly, and I have got a very bad cold. As the
weather has been and still is very severe, and as
the market is nearly a mile from the College, I
felt this very hard upon me. I uaed to get fatter
in winter, but I think that this winter I am falling
off, although I cannot say I have had bad health ;
but for some time, I suffered greatly from a strain
in my knee, and as I was so situated that I could
not take rest, I strained every part of my body,
which drove me into a violent fever, from which
I am happy to say, the Lord hath restored me
again to my former health and strength, for which
I am truly thankful.

I was happy to hear that your fears for the
future were not as in so many cases, producing
discontent. John, it is a truth of the richest kind
that contentment is the richest legacy that is to be
found here below. There are some that do very
well by trying other climes, and more do worse,

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

but I think from my own experience and obser-
vation, that if I and a good many more had been
contented, we would have been just as well at
home.

I was very sorry to hear from you of Brother
James' long and severe illness, and the little hope
there was of his recovery. He has been a great
sufferer. I hope that it has been sanctified to him,
and that with the Psalmist he is able to say " It
has been good for me that I have been afflicted —
before I was afliicted I went astray, but now I
keep thy law." But yet, we know that " no
affliction for the present seems joyous, but griev-
ous," yet afterwards ityieldeth the peaceable fruits
of righteousness to them that are exercised there*
by." This is a world of troubles ; — they are
confined to no age and no land. This news made
me very melancholy, and filled me with gloomiest
thoughts. I thought, — hard and trying as James'
case was, — that he was at home and with his
owD, — but I thought if anything like this was to
befall me, how miserable I would be. Often al-
ready I have found nothing gives me so much
consolation as the promises of the Gospel. Oh
that we could all trust in them more. I am in
hopes that my dear brother may yet be spared,
and that the Lord may grant to him more days
upon the earth, and that he may come forth out of
the furnace of affliction purified, and may yet
glorify God's name upon the earth ; but if other-

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

1,1

l!t

¥h

wise lie has determined — that lie would take him
to Himself, and fit him to resign himself and all
his little family to llim who has promised to be
the widow's husband, and the orphan's stay.

There is not much news as to the state of our
country that is of much interest. There will
never be much peace in political feeling so long
as part^ spirit runs as high as it does at present.
Our Parliamentary electioLis are now going on,
which is causing a little stir through the country,
and brings out a little money, which is about all
the good they do. The two parties are called
Radicals and Tories. The Radicals have been in
power the last four years, and they have just
done as little good as the Tories. It is thought
that they will again be the majority ; but for my
part I never trouble my head about one of them.
Although the polling-house was just across the
street, I never went near it.

Kingston, March 5, 1853.

Dear Sister and Brother :

I have up to the present been contemplating
a great move in bidding a long farewell to Canada ;
but although I have often thought of leaving it,
I have never yet been able to effect my escape.
Two years ago I was all ready to go to California,
and was prevented, and now this year I have

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH,

many fears that I will not bo able to make my c;^-
cape.

Your last letter to mc was one of a very
solemn kind, announcing to nie the death of my
dear brother, with whom my early days were
spent, and many of the hardships of our early
days we bore together,— and as branches of the
family tree, I often thought that his family afYoc-
tion was very strong, and often wished that my
feelings were as susceptible as his. I also thought
that his constitution was better than mine. Al-
though he was never so strong as me, yet I think
he was able to endure more fatigue ; — but all this
is nothing. How true it is that we are as the
grass that groweth up ; — it the morning it flour-
isheth and groweth up , in the evening it is cut
down and withered. What can we say but hum-
bly acquiesce in all the doings of the Lord and
only say " His will be done ;" — and hear the
voice that echoes from the tomb of those gone
before — '^ Be ye also ready." In the midst of
sorrow there was cause for joy to think of the
comfortable hope that he entertained of his
Saviour's love and willingness to receive the very
chief of sinners who believe on his name. By
faith in the virtue and efficacy of His blood to
cleanse and purify, death was to him disarmed of
its sting. That he with so much composure spoke
of trimming his lamp of grace to light him into the
marriage supper of the Lamb, was comfortable testi-

PAiinrrL unto death.

1 Ir

11' ir

1 1

'\f

mony. How " blessed are the dead that die ia
the Lord from henceforth and forever ?"

The description of your visit and the min-
gled scene, as well as the description of your own
feelings I will not soon forget, as you described to
me the happy sound that fell upon your ear, as it
came from the lips of him who had been the in-
strument in God's hand of leading our departed
brother to the knowledge of the truth as it is in
Jesus, — as he spoke of the firm belief and the Avell-
grounded hope that he entertained of his safety
and his happy change. You only saw the cofTm
that contained the mortal body, but the speaker
was looking and speaking of the immortal part
that had entered upon that inheritance that is in
corruptible and undefiled and that fadeth not away.

Everything, as you entered your native vil-
lage, wore a gloom, and all that was dear to you
was sorrowful ; — many now no more to be seen.
I thought what a sorrowful sight it would be to
me to return to it. It fills my mind with some-
thing of a very painful kind, — what time has
done, and what a very short period will do. Soon
will we all be gone the way of all the earth.

How sad it is that we are so apt to forget
things of so much moment ! Procrastination, —
the great thief of time — is always saying — Time
enough yet for these grave matters long after this.
Such delays are attended with great danger and

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

risk, for in an hour when wc think not, wc may
be called to give in our account.

We have had at the College this winter a
very severe dispensation of sickness, — some cases
of small pox of the African kind. One young
lad was in bed forty days, — long blind and quite
insensible, and yet ho has got over it. The Col-
lege was stoj)ped for eight days ; — it is nothing at
all to get on as long as they are kept at classes,
but when you have thirty of them in their rooms
all the day, burning wood and working mischief^
it is a liar<l jolj to get along. This winter T have
just wrouglit as hard as ever I was able^ — from
six in the morning till ten at night, — so many
stoves and so much shovelling of snow. There
is no end of it, for it is sometimes to be cleared
away three times a day. It is a very confming
berth too, — you must be there every hour, as you
have to ring the bell every hour. I was not far-
ther than the market this twelve month.

You told me that my father was very much
cast down, — it was no wonder. lie has lived to
see great changes in his family, but I hope that
all these trials will be sanctified to him. Send my
kind love to him — may the blessing of God be
on you all.

Your loving brother,

JOHN ANDERSON.

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

At the time when this letter was writteo, a
boarding establishment was maintained in the
College under the general supervision of the Pro-
fessors. As none of them resided within it, the
immediate charge devolved almost solely upon
John, — a responsibility which seems to have
weighed upon him rather heavily. On the re-
moval of the College soon afterwards to a new
building, the boarding system was discontinued,
— and John thus gives his experience of his
first winter of solitude in the new and somewhat
isolated building :

Kingston, June 26, 1855.

*' Last winter is said to have been the coldest
since the beginning of the century, and it has also
been very cold and dry since the Spring opened.
There has been a good deal of suffering amongst
the poorer classes. From the hardships of the
winter all out-door operations were suspended, —
which is one of the worst things in this country.

" This is the first whole year of my life that I
have kept Bachelor's Hall, and I think it would
have amused you, John, if you had dropped in
sometimes on me and seen me going on in the
most essential things in house-keeping. I must
say that I find it rather unpleasant, after every-
thing is done, to go and cook for myself. I am
about tired of this way of living. I fully expected

[V.^

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

that this SpriDg I would leave the College, for it
does not answer me since tlie adoption of the
Medical Faculty last Session. There are many
unpleasant things connected with it, and a very
great deal of labour for one person to clean and
fire such a large place, besides the work to keep
the snow from so many doors. In winter, really
I was heart broken ; — you have no conception of
the trial the wood and the snow is to people here.
" We had a great deal of sickness among the
students. Last Session two of them died ; — fine
young fellows. One of them was taken home to
London — 500 miles — and I was sent over to the
Cape, on the "States' side, (with the body) to go
upon the Eailway that crosses again into Canada
at Niagara. It was one of the coldest nights that
was last winter. I never thought to bo frozen to
death before in my life, but I really thought my
very heart was frozen within me, and Igot such cold,
I fully believed I never would get over it. But I
am happy to say that the Lord in His great good-
ness has again in mercy restored me to good
health. I hope this will be to me a sanctified
affliction. "We never want to feel the rod in our
way through the wilderness, but it is certain
we would not be safe without it."

The correspondence from which these ex-

* Cape Vincent in the United^ States, opposite King-
ston. The crossing was upon the ice.

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

i' !

'■': ;

1 : !

h''

tracts are taken, — a correspondence kept up during
so many years of exile, — shows how fresh and
strong were the ties that still bound John Ander-
son to the home and the friends of his youth. His
yearning to return to his beloved Scotland, and
to those relatives for whom long years of separa-
tion had not diminished his affection, — was often
very strong. But he was restrained from indulg-
ing it by the desire to have it in his power to
contribute substantially to the comforts of those
he had left behind, and this he believed he could
better do by remaining in Ameiica. To the last,
however, he cherished the hope that he might yet
be re-united on earth with those towards Avhom
his self-sacrificing love was so strongly displayed.
But though thus isolated from family ties, it
was with John a necessity to find something near
him on which to expend his naturally strong
affections. His personal friendships were strong
and lasting. Social and kindly in disposition,
he heartily enjoyed the society of his friends, —
and they were not few. He was always kind
to the little ones, and liking to have them
about him, would exert his patience and ingenuity
in endeavoring to amuse them. His solitary
abode was usually enlivened by the presence of
some dumb favorite, in the shape of birds, dogs,
or cats. He kept two horses in succession, appa-
rently for the sole purpose of companionship, for
he rarely mounted them. To his dogs he was es-

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

pecially attached, audit was no small grief to him,
when one, w hich had been for years his faithful
attendant, fell a prey to some poisoned meat which
had been thrown on the street in a season of gen-
eral dog-destruction. Poor John stood beside
him, sorrowfully watching the death-struggles of
his dumb companion, and, when they were over,
took him up tenderly in his arms, carried him
him home and buried him, — feeling almost as if
he had lost a human friend ; — nor did he soon
cease to lament him. At the time of his last ill-
ness he had a dog and cat, which seemed to give
him great concern; and when pressed by friendly
solicitations to remove from his college room to
lodgings more suited for an invalid, he closed the
discussion by the argument, — touching in its sim-
dlicity, — which he seemed to think unanswerable
.— " Who would take care of my dog and my cat!"
It was sometimes a subject of regret to John's
friends that he never married, though peculiarly
well-fitted for the enjoyment of domestic happi-
ness. When once kindly remonstrated with on
the subject, he became very grave, and replied
that he did not feel himself in a position to marry.
It seemed indeed from what he said, that he had
resolved to deny himself in this respect, in order
that his hard- won savings, — earned by severe toil,
and preserved by scrupulous economy, — might be
the more exclusively devoted to the needs of those
at home, — " the widow and the fatherless," —

81:

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

Ill

whose claims he never forgot. There are some
sacrifices in this world of ours, — sublime in their
self-renunciation, which are made and suffered in
silence, — whose full value is never known — sava
to Him who *' seeth in secret."

Yet though John Anderson's course was to
the end a lonely one, and though we find from his
letters that its loneliness was often bitterly felt, —
we have abundant testimony that it was ** not
forlorn." He v/alked in the light of his Heavenly
Father's countenance, "leaning on his Beloved.'*'
And he

"Who hath the Father and the Son^.
May be left, — but not alone T*

i.l

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

IV.

SHADOWS

" Should pining sickness waste away
My life in premature decay, —
My Father, still, I'll strive to say—

Thy will be done '1

"Now, at the end of this valley, was there another, called
The Valley of the Shadow of Death, and Christian must needs
go throujrh it, because tlie way to the Celestial City lay
through the midst of it. Now this valley is a very soUtary

place."

— Pilgrim's Progress.

It is easily noticeable from tlie tone of John^s
letters that his once robust health began to show
signs of giving way. So many years of hard, un-
remitting toil, and constant exposure to the vicis-
situdes of a trying climate were telling upon his
originally strong frame and healthy constitution.
He seems to have felt this, and mentions it in a
letter written to his flither in the summer of 1855 r

"I was glad to hear that you were well, and
that you were working hard. Dear father, yoa

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

lif

surprise me, at your age. One would suppose
that such intelligence would make me think that
many years still remained for me. But no, dear
father, it has no such effect upon me. I never
expect to see your years ; — I feel the hifirmities
of old age just at hand. I used to think that my
stock of strength would never be exhausted, and
how proud I was of myself when I came to this
country I It is a great truth that we are often
wise too late, but what is past cannot be recalled.
The only thing that we can now do is to improve
the time that may yet remain, in preparing for the
* rest that remaineth for the people of God.' "

It was not long before his foreboding seemed
to be realized, in a severe attack of indisposition,
which almost prostrated him. During the winter
of 1855-56, a severe cold fastened upon his sys-
tem, threatening to end in more serious disease.
But the bodily pain and discomfort was the least
part of the trial. The general derangement of his
physical health seemed to re-act upon his mind»
and for a time he was unable to rise above the
clouds which overshadowed it. He seemed sunk
in a gloom and depression from which nothing
could rouse him, and even the visits of old and
valued friends seemed to give him no pleasure.
So deep was his morbid self-abasement and
humility, that he expressed his determination to
resign his post of Sabbath School teacher, and

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

when urged by his pastor to retaia it, he told him
with more than his usual plainness of speech that
"he thought it said very little for him to be em-
ploying the like of him /" He describes his state
of feeling at this time in a letter written to his
father during the ensuing summer :

**I am happy to be able to tell you of the
improved state of my health in body and mind.
I was long ill and had liul'3 hopes of ever being
as well as I am at preserii, — thanks be to God for
His great goodness ; — but I am still far from being
what I was, and I think I will never be the same.
For a long time I was sunk in a low and morbid
state of mind as well as great bodily weakness. 1
was in a miserable and strange way. I had no
wish to see any one, but was just contented to be
all alone. But wonderful to say, — in spite of all
my neglect and indifference about getting better,
it has pleased the Lord to raise me up again and to
take away the dark cloud that hung like a weight
over my soul.

" It will not give us a title to the mansion of
bliss to tell how many fields we have toiled and
storms of the world we have braved, and how
many thorny and rugged paths we have trodden.
We must fight the good fight of faith and lay
hold on eternal life. Let us remember that we
have only a very short time to stay. Oh ! let us
work while it is day I"

! <■

I N

t »;

88 FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

During the winter that followed he thus
wrote to his brother and sister :

"1 am at present in good health, — thanks be
to God for all his goodness to me, who was sore
broken, and bowed down under sore affliction last
year, — that He has not only spared me, but re-
stored me to my wonted health and strength,—
and also cleared away those dark clouds that hung
over my mind. It has left me under great thank-
fulness to the God of Providence, who said,
*^ Hitherto shalt thou go and no farther." Many
and faithful are the warnings that He gives to his
erring and sinful children, but we seldom lake
profit by them as the chastisements of a kind
father who doth not afflict us willingly, but for
our profit.

i I

I ..

" I live all alone in this large building, some
distance from any habitation, and am very quiet
from six in the evening till eight in the morning.
You would suppose that I must be very lonely,
but no, I feel glad when they are all gone, although
there are times when the thought comes over me
that my choice is a very forlorn and gloomy one.
This you see, John, is when busy and coming in
to my lonely dwelling, I find the fire out, and
now long past the time that I ought to have had
my meal. But it soon passes over, — having got
what I did not always enjoy — a good patience, —

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

and I am so used to these things that I begin to
think it a privilege to be so occupied in preparing
for my own wants.

" You may suppose the great need I stand
in of a good patience, — to bear with the tricks
and mischief of over one hundred young fellows*
Some times it is a trial to bear with them* I am
kept very busy to attend to all the calls mado
upon me. I could manage very well, only for
the snow, and so many doors to keep clean,
which takes a great deal of labour, and must be
done in the morning; and as it is so cold in
the morning, I suffer a greal deal in this way. I
have suffered greatly from a frozen foot, but it is
getting better. We, like yourselves, have what
we call a cold winter, hard frost and stormy. I
am always thinking of leaving this country, but
some way or another I have never been able
rightly to get away out of it. I don't know how
it is that I never liked this country, but for aught
I know, my bones may be laid in it. It matters
little where we die, if we die in Christ, and have
Him for our portion I"

John had now passed through the deepest
shadows of the ** valley," and could rejoice in the
light that camo at "evening time," for henceforth
no cloud seemed to obscure it. But the trials
through which he had passed had done their work

II i

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

'• (f

I '

I' '

in maturing and disciplining his Christian cbarac-
te, and patience seemed to " have her perfect-
work." It was a patience of which he had need,
for it was soon to be tried to the utmost.

On a very rainy day, in July 1858, John
Anderson found it necessary to go up to the roof
of the College buildings, in order to stop a leak-
age he had discovered there. In doing so, he was

exposed for some time to the rain and damp, and
not having taken sufficient precautions afterwards,
he was attacked anew by the cold which had
seized upon two years previously, and had never
been entirely shaken off. Weeks passed, and
still the hoarseness, and the oppression on his
chest continued, while their debilitating effects
began to appear in his rapidly increasing weak-
ness and loss of appetite. Some of his friends,
who marked these first stages of his disease, ad-
vised him to give up the charge of the College,
with its laborious winter duties, until the symp-
toms should have entirely left him. With this
advice he seemed at one time willing to comply,
and had almost decided to take a voyage to Scot-
land to see once more his aged father and the
friends from whom he had so long been separated.
But his dislike to change, and his attachment to
old scenes and habits prevailed — and he stayed.
God had other purposes for him here.

It soon became evident that his disease was
Bronchitis. He was after some difficulty prevailed

FAITHFUL DNTO DEATH,

'^l

upon to apply for medical advice, and had his
throat repeatedly burned by caustic applications,
but as this treatment seemed only to torture him,
without producing jiny beneficial ettect, it was not
long continued. Notwithstanding his state of
debility and suffering, he seemed to shrink from
complnining, and went about his ordinary duties
as it' ill perfect health. As an instance of his
alm(jst obstinate determination to discharge these
duties to the last, it may be mentioned that in
preparing the College for the winter session, he
himself, unassisted, cleaned all the stove-pipes used
in the building, — a task disagreeable enough at
any time, but one which must have been abso-
lutely painful from the action of the soot and dust
on his now sensitive throat. His intention was
not known till the work was done, or it would, of
course, have been prevented.

Tiie College Session opened in October, and
tTohn's familiar countenance appeared as usual in
the class-rooms and about the College grounds
No failure in duty, no unfiunctuality or neglect
would have betrayed to any casual observer that
a mortal disease was creeping upon him. But
when the raw, damp winds of November came
with their chilly gusts, his friends began to remark
with alarm and grief the change that was becom-
ing too plainly visible in his countenance, the
low, hoarse voice and the harrassing cough. His
pastor noticed him in the Sabbath School, evi-

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

..,

III m

m'- 3i

dentlj quite exhausted, but persisting, in spite of
all difficulties, in his labor of love. lie was re-
monstrated with and urged to spare himself, but
he always replied that he wished to come as long
as he could. Nor was he missed from his seat iu
Church or his Sabbath Class, or even from the
weekly prayer-meoting, as lung as it was possible
for him to walk the intervening distance between
the College and the Church. One cold Sabbath
however, in the end of November, — the last he
was ever out, — the exposure proved too much for
him. On returning home, he was attacked with
a violent paroxysm of coughing, attended with
oppression and fever, which left him more debili
tated than ever.

The College authorities who had marked with
deep concern liis rapiilly failing health, earnestly
endeavoured to induce him to try the effect of
removal to a warmer climate. But though grati-
fied at the interest evinced concerning him, he
was firm in his refusal to leave the place which
had been to him fo: many years, a home. If he were
to recover, — he said, — he would recover here ; and
if the disease were to be fatal, he could not bear
the thought of dying in a strange place, — friend-
less and alone. So he stayed, — to be cared for to
the last by the friends who had long known and
loved hin^ ; — to be attended and comforted in his
hour of need by the youths in whom he had taken
so deep an interest. lie resisted all solicitations

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

to leave liis College quarters, and remove to more
comfortable lodgings, preferring the solitude of
his own quiet room, mikI desirous to perform his
accustomed duties so long as there was any possi-
bility of doing so. Even at this stnge of his ill-
ness, he for some time persisted in rising early in
the cold, dark wintor mornings to light the fires,
and in going out, in the face of the piercing blasts
of December, to ring me College bell. During the
Christmas vacation, he was found one day lying
in a state of complete exhaustion after sweeping
some of the Class-rooms, and when he was gently
reproached for persevering in work for which he
was now unfit, he replied that *' it did him good
to be doing something," and that *' he could please
himself in the work, better than any one he could
get to do it." He seemed determined to die at
his post.

A short time before Christmas he made the
exertion of going out to purchase Christmas pres-
ents for some of his young friends, and as he pre-
sented them, he said that he had got them before
Christmas, as he feared, should he wait till Ihen^-^
he might not be able to attend to them ; — remark-
ing that they were probably the last he should
ever give.

On New- Years' Day he was found, by some
kind friends who visited him, — rcclininf^ in his
chair in a state of great weakness, and unable to
Bpeak above a whisper. It seemed as if his earthly

iH. i

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

course was fast approaching its termination. Yet
be rallied again somewhat, and when the Classes
re-opened after the vacation, he was still seen,
notwithstanding the extreme cold of the weather,
going about his work as usual, though it often
tasked to the utmost his enfeebled powers. One
bitterly cold Saturday, a lady friend who went to
enquire for him, found him alone and suffering,
fatigued by some extra work he had had, and ex-
hausted by the exertion of conversing with his too
numerous visitors. Seeing how much he needed
attendance, she again urged the necessity of his
having some one with him in the long cold nights,
when there was no human being but himself in
the largo, solitary building. To this he would not
yet consent, but admitted that the previous night
had been one of severe suffering ; — that he had
never slept, and had feared lie should be suffocated.
His friend remarked that *' it must have been a
long night," — but he replied earnestly " No, it
was very short ; — I thought of my Saviour's love,
and was so hapj[)y !"

IP-

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

GOING HOME.

" I see myself now at the end of my journey ; my toil-
some days are ended. I have formerly lived by heresay and
faith ; but now I go where I shall live by sight, and shall
be with Him in whose company I deliglit myself. His
words did I use to gather for my food, and for antidote
against my faintings. He has held me, and hath kept me
from mine iniquities ; yea my steps hath he strengthened
in His way ! Now while he was thus in discourse, he
ceased to be seen of them."

— Pilgrim's Progress.

Early in January, when the person who un-
dertook the severer labours of the Janitor, came
in one morning at his usual hour, he found John
lying helpless upon the bed from which he was
never again to rise. ** I'm finished now I" he
said, on seeing his friend enter ; and, calling him
to his side, requested as a favour that his wife and
daughter, with whom John had long been on
terms of familiar friendship, — would take in turn
the duty of attending him. It need hardly be
said that he was left no more alone.

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

I if:!

!.1

lii

■if

[in

ISr,'

Previously to this period lie had sometimes
spoken of recovery, and seemed to cherish a hope
that he might yet be spared for years of further
usefulness. But it seemed as if in that last night
of solitary suffering, — his Mrster had said to him
— " Set thy house in order, for thou shalt die. and
not live." From that lime he spoke no more of
life, and expressed himself not only readf/^ but
desirous to depart and be with Christ. He made
the necessary arrangements for the disposal of the
little property which his frugal life and simple
habits had enabled him to accumulate ; — and
though the greater part of that pro[)erty was con-
Bcientiously devoted to the purpose he had always
bad steadily in view, he did not forget to set apart
a portion as an offering towards the library of the
Sabbath School in which he had taught so long.
He wrote by means of an amanuensis to his
friends at home, and particularly to the widowed
sister in whom he had always seemed especially
interested. *' I intended," he said one day, " if
God spared me, — to go home and see my father
in Scotland, but it seems that it is appointed oth-
erwise. I am going to another Father, to another
and better country. Oh, how pleasant is the
thought !"

The disease vrtis now making rapid progress..
The state of his throat caused intense suffering,
and soon entirely prevented him from swallowing
even the sli.i>ht nourishment he had hitherto beea

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

lines
hope
rthcr
night
him
and
»re of
but
made
of the
imple
—and
3 con*
Iways
apart
of the
long,
to his
lowed
icially

7, "if
father
d oth-
n other
is the

i^ress.
Fering,
lowing
beea

taking. For nearly a fortnight he was thus de-
prived of all fox/d or drink, and as his constitu.
tion was not yet prostrated by the disease itself,
be might have been said to be slowly dying of
starvation. Ho would sometimes look wistfully
at the food which he would gladly have taken,
and say that " it was terrible'^ to be hungry and
thirsty, and yet unable to touch the nourishment
that was offered to him. Yet this, — as well as his
other sufferings, — was borne patiently and unmur-
muringly. In allusion to it, he would say when
accepting with eagerness the offers of his friends to
read and pray with him, — that " spiritual nour-
ishnic' ■ was all that he could now take," and
that ': . eceived with avidity. His pain some-
times drew tears from those who witnessed it,^ —
but never a complaint from Mm, All was peace,
confidence in a Father's love, — trust in the felt
presence of a personal, livivr/ Saviour.

In one respect there was a marked contrast
between John's present illness, and that which he
had had three years previously, llien, — he had
passed through clouds and tliick darkness — des-
pondent and discouraged, — doubting sometimes
whether he were at all a child of God, or had ever
been reconciled through his Saviour. Doubtless at
the time, this disciptino was necessary, but now, it
was far otherwise. When his lormer state was al-
luded to by a friend who had known him long
and well, he gratefully noticed the difTercnce.

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

i 1 ''

t r

; ^

i 1' '

1 ;: :

i r

! i '

' 1 i

1, '■
1 ' 1

I''

i ■'

<'' ' i!

" !

" Now," said he, "all is peace, — I have never
had a cloud I" Lying at rest in the " everlasting
arnis," he seemed raised above even the desire for
release from suffering, until it should be God's
own time. On one occasion, when the pain in
his head and throat was unusually agonizing, —
the same friend expressed her sorrow for his suf-
fering. " Oh no," said he cheerfully, it is all love]
— God is dealing very graciously with me." On
the paroxysm becoming even more violent, she
said again, *' I wish it might please God to relieve
you a little from this terrible distress."

" No," he said earnestly, " He afflicteth not
willingly. He is very pitiful and of lender mercy !"

As a breath of refreshing fragrance borne
from some bank of flowers to the wearied senses
of the toil worn way-farer along a dusty, barren
road, — so seemed a visit to John's sick chamber
to his fellow-pilgrims through the " wilderness of
this world." No unpleasant element mingled
with it, unless it were the pain of witnessing his
suffering, but even that was hardly betrayed by
outward sign. Though his emaciated counte-
nance told of the ravages disease had made, it
was still calm and peaceful. A light from Heaven
seemed to beam in the dark eyes, now unnaturally
bright, in contrast with the deadly pallor of his
face. His room was kept in its usual neat order
by his kind and unwearied attendants, and his
affectionate dog kept wistful guard by the bed side

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

of his dying master. On a table near him lay the
books from which he liked his friends to read to
him, — chief of which was always the Bible. The
hundred and thirtieth Psalm, the fourteenth and
fifteenth of John's Gospel, the fifteenth of I. Cor-
inthians, and some passages in Isaiah and Hebrews
were often read at his request. The " Morning
and Night Watches" by McDuif, was one of his
favorite books. A few days before his death, on
having the 2nd "Night Watch " read, he seemed
to dwell upon it particularly, and added emphati-
cally at the close, " He is faithful, — unchangeable !''
His present state seemed an embodiment of
the words of the German poet :

" Now my soul is free from care,

For her thoughts from all things cease.
That can pierce like sharpest thorns
Wounding sore the inner peace."

Having thus in his " inner peace" so uncloud-
ed and firm, — a foretaste of the home he was ap-
proaching, it was not strange that the transition
to eternal life — " whose portal we call death" —
had lost all terror for him. Like the pilgrims in
the land of Beulah, he seemed but awaiting by the
river's brink the wished for summons.

" What a happy man am I," he said, one
day, *' lying here, waiting to go home to my
Father's House."

When his sufferings were alluded to, he would

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

gay — " My sufferings are nothing^ I have only a
short way to go, when they will all be past."

He expressed the satisfaction he felt in look-
ing back upon the many hours of solitary com-
munion with God which he had enjoyed in his
lonely abode. He was doubtless then maturing
the strength of trust in his God, which was now
supporting him. Much of his time was still
spent in prayer, and he enjoyed greatly the visits
of the friends who read and prayed with him.
He would sometimes express fervent thankfulness
that he had not been induced to leave home in the
beginning of his illness, — saying that he did not
know what he would have done, without the
prayers and visits of his Minister, the Professors,
and his other friends, and said that he felt deeply
indebted to the Church for the comfort that some
of its young members had ministered to him.

Duiing the three weeks of his confinement to
bed, the students readily volunteered to sit up
with him — two and two by turns ; — a service of
love which they felt it a real privilege to be al-
lowed to perform. During these nightly watch-
ings he would ask them to read his favorite pas-
sages of Scripture, and enjoyed much hearing
them sing the Psalms he loved so well, saying that
it " made the night seem so short " He was par-
ticularly fond of the hundred and second, in our
old Scottish version, which, if sometimes wanting
in polish, is unrivalled for power and simplicity.

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

On one occasion, when he seemed almost too weak
for speech, to the surprise of all, he joined with
great delight and fervor in singing the words —

" He from His Holy place looked down,

The earth He viewed from Heaven on High,
To hear the pris'ner's mourning groan

And free them that are doomed to die ;
That Sion and Jerusalem too,

His name and praise may well record,
When people and the kingdoms do

Assemble all to praise the Lord."

Sometimes when lying apparently prostrated,
he would suddenly begin to sing, in a low voice,
a verse of a favorite Psalm — and when he could
no longer articulate, his lips would move in unison
with those who sang to him. It seemed as if even
weakness and pain could not take away his delight
in the exercise of praise.

Even yet, John's attention to duty and con-
sideration for others, was strong as ever. He con-
tinued to give directions about what needed to be
done in his own old department, and on the very
day of his death, he expressed his anxiety that a
broken pump should be repaired without delay.

Indeed, so great was his desire that nothing
should be neglected, and so unceasing his vigilance
in this respect, that, — except that all agreed *' no
one could ring the hell like JolirH'^ — it would hardly
have been known from any outward sign about
the College, that its Janitor was laid on a bed of
death.

I.!

!i i

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

John's friends were very numerous, and many
of them claimed the privilege of a farewell visit.
He spoke to all kindly and cheerfully, sometimes
adding an affectionate wish or a parting counsel.
When one of his old Sabbath scholars came to
see him, he spoke to her of all the old members of
his class, many of whom had long left the place.
He said he had thought of and prayed for each
one during his illness. He expressed his sense of
the kindness of the Professors in their frequent
visits to his chamber, and thanked his Minister
warmly for his attention, praying for him that he
might be ** faithful, zealous, diligent and consci-
entious," and might receive ''a crown of glory
that fadeth not away."

To the students, too, he spoke in kindly warn-
ing where he thought it needed, — in some cases so
long and earnestly that it was feared he was
injuring himself. " Living near God " was the
point he dwelt on most earnestly. This done, —
all would be well. Even to students at a dis-
tance, whom he had known well, he sent mes^
sages of affectionate Christian counsel. At this
time it cost him an effort to articulate, but the spirit
was strong, and triumphed over the failing flesh.

For a short time previous to his death, the
power of swallowing returned to him, so that he
was once more able to take the food for which his
appetite craved, while the relief removed the fear
that he might die of suffocation, — the only thing

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

from which lie seemed to shrink with dread. On
the day which was his last on earth, he did not
seem weaker than he had been for some days pre-
viously. He prayed for some time audibly, and
in a very earnest manner, — first for himself, —
then for his father and his relations, and lastly for
the Church and the College. One of his kind
visitors repeated the text "I will that they whom
Thou hast given me, be with me where I am, that
they may behold my glory ;" — and asked him
whether he did not find it precious now ? His
earnest response showed how deeply he felt its
comfort.

The same friend also read to him one of
McDuff 's Night Watches. The following passage
is extracted from it as being so peculiarly applica-
ble to the circumstancas of him who was listening,
for almost the last time, to a human voice.

" May I be enabled to enjoy more and more,
every day, holy filial nearness to the mercy seat
— there unburdening into Thine ear all my wants
and trials — my sorrows and perplexities — my
backslidings and sins. Give me grace to bow with
child-like submission to a Father's will — to bear
without a murmur a Father's rod — to hear in every
dealing, joyous or sorrowful, a Father's voice —
and when death comes, to have every fear dispelled
by listening to a Father's summons — " To-day shall
thou he with me in Paradise^

Towards the middle of that day — the 1st of

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

1 'I

ti: !

li':

February 1859, he seemed to revive a little ; —
but soon sank back into his former vreakness.
About five o^clock in the afternoon, one of the
Professors, — who had been his constant visitant
since his illness began,— came in to see him. He
engaged in prayer, but before it was concluded,
John Anderson no longer needed it ; — silently, —
almost unperceived, — the summons had come, and
he had gone away to the *' better country " he had
been '* looking for " so long !

In taking leave of the last scene of John's
life, the following passage from a recent publica-
tion, though not originally bearing reference to
hirrij is quoted as being a beautiful and accurate
description of his Christian character.

" He was a man of a most kind and generous
heart — ^beloved and trusted by all who knew him.
Cheerful, and in earnest, he did the world's work
well. But he did it to the glory of God. For his
highest distinction was, that he was a Christian,
and a Christian of no ordinary sort, — not one
who can hide his light under a bushel, nor one
who can put his religion aside when it stands in
the way of his advantage, but an honest, fearless
assertor and doer of what was right. He was a
pains-taking labourer, too, in the vineyard of his
Lord ; and after the example of his Lord took
special delight in encouraging the little children

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

id
id

to come into the kingdom of Heaven. Such a
man we would like to have kept for the world'd
sake ; but God had better things in store for him.
And I wish all timid and misgiving souls could
have witnessed the peace that he enjoyed, and
could have listened to his words of joyful trust
and rest in God. " The ways of the Lord are
right.'* " As a father piticth his children, — so
the Lord pitieth them that fear Him." " The will
of God be done.'* These and such like words of
God, rooted and wrought into his inmost thoughts,
were the sources of his unmurmuring happy trust
in God.

His peace flowed like a river, — not however,
because he had an impassive nature that could
not feel, far less because he was patient of sin. He
would weep over sins that would scarcely have
touched a less tender conscience. The elements
of his peace were, on the one hand, an abiding
consciousness of his own unwortliincss, and on
the other, an entire and absolute reliance upon the
atonement of Christ He believed in real inith
what many believe only in appearance. He be-
lieved in man's utter ruin, and in God's perfect
remedy. He believed in the disease, but he be-
lieved also in the cure ; — and it was this double,
but not doubtful faith, this belief that he was dis-
eased, and this belief that he was cured, that
made the last conflict easv, and left him — Death's
victim apparently^ — but his conqueror in reality."

FATTHFUL UNTO DEATH.

• i

ii^

it:'

r-' '

If-;

VI.

FAREWELL.

8
I

'' Then break the rotten bonds away
That hinder you your race to run, —
That make you linger oft and stay, —
Oh ! be your course afresh begun !
Let no false rest your souls deceive,
Up ! 'tis a Heaven ye must achieve !

Press on l"

" Omnipotence is on your side

And Wisdom watches o'er your heads,
And God Himself will be your Guide,

So ye but follow where He leads :
How many, — guided by His hand.
Have reached ere now their native land I

Press on !"

— ^Lyra Germanica.

The death of John Anderson, though an
event daily expected by those who had been sor-
rowfully watching the progress of his illness, —
could not fail, when it id occur,— to be an event
of solemn and effecting interest. While none
could mourn that the weary frame was at rest, and
the spirit freed forever from its burden of sin and

FAITHFUL CNTO DEATH.

suffering, many sorrowed for the blank that had
been left among them ; — a blank that might not
soon be filled. To the College, it was felt, almost
any loss might have been more easily supplied
than that of its faithful Janitor, and the dispensa-
tion seemed a mysterious one, which removed one
so useful, from a post to which he seemed so indis-
pensable. It was a striking exemplification of
the truth — "His ways are not as our ways."

As John's departure took plac(- viWilo some
of the College Classes were in session, it was? an-
nounced to each at the close of the e::^,e:('.is<\s. In
the Chemistry Class-room a largo body ofi^udents
were just commencing the usufi noiMy l-reak-iip,
when the announcement was male. I' s-antlv
every sound was hushed, and a stillness of ^;omo
minutes succeeded, — a tribute of rospect. which
those who know the usual characterlstica of Medi-
cal Students, will not fail to appreciate.

The Students of the other faculties with whom,
as Janitor, John was more particularly connected,
manifested their sincere sorrow for liis loss, and as
if to show how thoroughly they idour/fied them-
selves with his memory, — tlicr raised a united
subscription to present a va) lablo testimonial to the
family who had beevi his constant attendants
during his last days. The College business was
suspended till after the interment, and both Pro-
fessors and Students were careful to secure that no

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

Ill

'nil

i 1 if

I r

;!
1 II

in. I

m
w

i •

If:,
k,

M
h

customary mark of respect to the deceased, should
in his case, be omitted.

At the usual Wednesday evening meeting
which succeeded his death, John's Pastor alluded to
the event which was uppermost in the hearts of
all. He touched upon the Christian life, the
peaceful death, and the beautiful expressions of
the love, faith and hope which had illumine! the
dark days of suffering for him who was gone. He
reminded his hearers, too, of the faithfulness with
which John had for so many years attended that
weekly prayer-meeting, and even while he spoke,
the eye instinctively turned to the place so long
occupied by that familiar form, as if still expecting
to see there, him whose place was no longer in an
earthly sanctuary.

Thursday the 8rd of February, the day ap-
pointed for the funeral, was one of thickly falling
snow, and few would have chosen to leave their
homes unnecessarily and expose themselves to its
discomfort. Yet; notwithstanding this, it was a
numerous assemblage which collected at the Col-
lege Hall to attend the remains of the Janitor to
their resting-place in the Cemetery, — about three
miles distant from the town. As the long proces-
sion of Professors, gowned students and private
friends of the dead, wound slowly along the snowy
streets, it would naturally have excited surprise in
the mind of a bystander to be told, that he to whose
memory this tribute of respect was paid, had never

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

been in a higher position than that of a servant. In
this demonstration, worldly interest or estimation
had no place. It was Christian worth which secure 1
it, and that alone.

The Rev. Dr. Machar, who had for manv
years been John Anderson's beloved and esteemed
pastor, in his funeral address, took as his text the
words — ** Oh taste and see that the Lord is good."
In showing how this passage was illustrated by
the course and experience of the departed, he bore
the following high testimony to his Christian
character ; testimony which is of no small weiglit,
when it is considered that it was the result of
twenty years close personal observation :

'* He whose body we are met to carry forth
to the grave, was a singularly unpretending man.
In few men has there l)eenso much substance with
so little show. Of his piety he never made any
display, yet, as many here will bear witness, — no
man could be long in his company without feeling
that he wa£: a truly pious man, — that he possessed
not the form of godliness only, but the power, —
that he had actually tasted and seen that the Lord
was good. There was that about him, and in ev-
erything in him that told you at once that he lived
in nearness to God. His attendance upon divine
ordinances was remarkable. Never was he missed
from his place in the sanctuary, forenoon or after-
noon ; never was he absent from a meeting of the
Church for prayer, when it was possible for him

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

I'!;;

:■; I

|m,

to be present. And you could read not only in
the constancy, but in the reverence and enjoyment
with which he attended upon the ordinances of
God, — that he attended upon them because his
soul was richly fed by the nourishment which
they supplied. There was in him what many will
look upon as better evidence of his piety than this;
as a good tree is known by the good fruit it pro-
duces, so was he proved a tree of rigtiteousness,
the planting of the Lord, by the abundance and
excellence of the fruits of righteousness, which
were ever to be seen in him. And his piety was
an intelligent piety, — ^his spiritual eye was quick
and far-reaching. He had but little of the learn-
ing of an institution like this, but no man of un-
derstanding would have pronounced him an uned-
iccaled man. He had an education which many
might covet to possess, for it was a learning«which
made him true in feeling, sound in judgment, and
upright in conduct. He was true in feeling, his
sympathies with the readiness of instinct, ever
siding with what was good and praiseworthy. He
was sound in judgment, arriving through whatever
process of ratiocination at the right conclusion.
And that he was upright in conduct, I need hardly
say ; none who knew John Anderson will re-
fuse their testimony to him as a truly honest man.
He was sober-minded and steady, — no extrava-
gance in him, no flightliness. His spirit was uni-
formly charitable. He of course differed from

FAITHFUL UKTO DEATH.

others in many things, but he differed in love ;
and I believe that no one ever heard from his lips
a bitter word or a harsh judgment.

** His religion made him usofiil in life, and
peaceful and blessed at death. It made him useful
in life. This is no little thing to say. Our de-
parted friend was most useful in the situation he
held in this institution ; its governors may look
long and far, before they find a Janitor like him.
And he found time to be useful beyond the limited
sphere of his service here ; for one thing, he taught
a Sabbath Class in our Church with undeviating
regularity, and I ca n add with eminent success, at
least, if I may judge from the love in which they
held him, a love shown by the deep and unaffected
sorrow with which I know that they mourn his loss.
And his religion made him peaceful and blessed at
death. There are those here who know that it was
a privilege to stand and minister at his dying
couch. I need not enlarge upon his closing suffer-
ings, they were severe and protracted ; but through-
out them all he uttered no murmur. When askei
how it fared with him, his reply was " The Lord
is dealing graciously, very graciously with me."
You who have cultivated Physical Science know the
importance of a trial, an experiment. An experi-
ment has for weeks been going forward within these
walls, — unnoticed perhaps, or disregarded by many,
but nevertheless one of the most interesting kind, —
an experiment as much more interesting than others

I'AITHPUL 0NTO DEATH.

1 ■ 1
1 '

!■!

i '

jii'i

jii ; ;

It'i.

going forward here, as the things of eternity sur-
pass in interest the things of time. Yes, brethren,
Christianity — that Christianity which we all pro-
fess, but which we may not have learned to value as
we ought — has just been subjected among us to an
** experimentum crucis'^ of its suflSciency to support
and bless in the hour of the deepest need. You
have been eye-witnesses of this grand experiment
under all the conditions best fitted to give it value ;
and the results stand out clear and distinct before
you in the patience, the peace, the triumph in death
of him who has gone fi:om among us.

" Let not the results of this experiment be lost
upon any of us. Professors in this University, let
it not be lost upon you ^ and while you are led by it
to take a firmer hold of Christ yourselves, account
it also a higher privilege to drop a word for him to
those who sit at your feet. Students in this Uni-
versity, let it not be lost upon you. Hear the
voice which it addresses to you. ^f ake trial of the
good ways of the Lord. Do not dwell any more
upon the outside of Christian truth, but try to get
at its marrow and substance, " taste and see that
the Lord is good." Taste and see this now ; and
in whatever sphere you may have to move, — whether
a humbler or a more elevated one, — ^yours shall be
a useful life and a blessed death. When with you
the battle is over, and the victory won, — those who
look upon our cold remains as we look to-day upon
those of our departed friend, — dear as you may have

FAITHFCL UNTO DEATH.

been to them, will not bewail your departure with a
sorrow that cannot be comforted. They will say, as
they lay your body in the body's temporary resting-
place, — ** Over him we sorrow not as those that have
no hope, — for them that sleep in Jesus, God will
bring with Him !"

The task of summing up this brief history of a
humble Christian life is now completed, and in say-
ing farewell, the writer would only linger to re-echo
with all earnestness, the exhortation of the address
just quoted. "An experiments^ has been set before
you, in the life you have just read, and is its result
not fraught with deep interest for you f If you
already know and love the gracious Master in whose
service it was spent, your heart will swell with grate-
ful thanks to Him, for a new proof of His unfailing
and supporting love.

If you have not yet " avouched the Lord to be
your God and Redeemer, does not the experiment
contain for you yet more important lessons ? You
have seen it tried both for life and for death. You
have seen that the love and strength of the Saviour
is able not only to overcome the evil tendencies of
the soul, — to guide it in daily duty and to light up
with sunshine even a lonely and common-place life,
but also to give " perfect peace" and unclouded hap-
piness when the body is oppressed by languor and
suffering, and the soul is entering into the mysteries
of an unseen eternity. Do you doubt that Chris-

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

itli'

5 '

.;'!

'"'< ^.1

M-

tianity is true f No vague hallucination, no fanci-
ful enthusiasm could have satisfied a mind like
John Anderson's at such a moment. "W hen time is
fading into eternity, the sheet anchor must be a suh^
stance, not a shadow.

Perhaps you have heard of the wonderful effects
of the religion of Christ, effects which you have
hardly believed, or at least, have thought over-
wrought and exaggerated. Here you have abundant
proof that they are sober truth. And do you not —
whatever be your circumstances, — need the same
Friend and Guide for life, — the same all sufficient
refuge for a dying hour ? Then is this never-failing
Elder Brother ready and willing to be all to you that
He ever was to any of His chosen people.

Are you unwilling then to make that entire and
unwavering self-dedication for which you shall re-
ceive so overflowing a return ; — a dedication which
so deeply affects your well-being in time and in eter-
nity, — which can alone keep your conduct and mo-
tives pure amidst the struggles and emulations and
contests of the world, and preserve for you a perennial
spring of real happiness, even amidst its most har-
rassing losses and cares 1 Without iliis, — the labors
of the loftiest rank,' — the most aspiring genius, —
may be mean and low ; — with it, the toil of the hum-
blest artisan acquires an ennobling element.

And then, what a work lies before you ; — what
an aim for a life, — rising high above all intermediate
and transitory dreams of success, — wealth,— power,

Wr'-i

FAITHFUL UNTO DfiATH*

JtS

Or fame. It is a work that you will find opportuni-
ties of pursuing whatever be vour lot in life, — yes,
and in the very discharge of the duties to which you
are called. Whatever be your calling — professional,
commercial or mechanical, — whether it lie in the
high or the lowly walks of life, — you can always in
your " daily paths" find work to be done for youi'
Master, hearts to be won for Him. enemies of His
kingdom to be resisted and overcome. And no
calling on which you may lawfully enter, can make
this impracticable. Difficult your path may be, and
at times discouraging, but He who placed you
among the difficulties will help you to overcome
them.

And is there no sublimity to be found in a work
in which the best r-nd wisest of the human race have
thought themselves privileged to engage I — no iub^
limity in joining in a labour which angels deem it
an honour to be allowed to aid ^ — no sublimity, —
above all, - in filling even a humble post in that
great "army of the living God," which is mustered
against all the powers of darkness, — whose leader
and Captain is our Gracious and Glorious Saviour—
God manifest in the flesh !

But ■ *Uhe love of Christ constraineth usy^^ and
it is this love alone, — rising in gratitude to Him who
has borne our sins, and procured our ransom at the
price of His own precious blood and bitter anguish,
— which can induce the consecration, or animate f<Mr
the work^

e(^

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

[it;

'I.

^ /

May each reader of this little book find this
love awakened in his heart, and having come as a
repentant sinner to Him who will in no wise cast
out, — go on, by prayer, by watchfulness, by con-
stant working for Him — to live the life of " the
righteous," and then,— his " last end" shall " be
like his I"

Where once lie dwelt, we see his face no more,

"We miss him from the paths he trod so long,
The well-known form, — the kindly gleaming eye,
The loving heart, so full of sympathy—
The strong and manly spirit which he bore —

That " did the nV;A<," unbending to the wrong!
No more the church-bell that he loved of old

Hath power to call him to his wonted place,
And when the "lambs" are gathered to the fold

We miss the smile of that familiar face.
But faithfully his Christian course was run,—
Nor may we sorrow that his work is done,

But rather joy that he has gone to rest^
Par from all coming evil, toil and strife,

At peace foi ever on his Saviour's breast.
To wic that rest — may we, too, live ihut U/et

)t
1-
le
be