the New England churches. The raw, cheerless, dead air of a necessitarian philosophy was to give place to a more genial, life-inspiring atmosphere. Only a thunder-storm that should sweep the entire realm of religious thought, and leave echoes and reverberations here and there skirting the horizon for long years to come, would sift its deadly elements from the moral atmosphere, and give it moisture and vitalizing energy. God works in the spiritual world as truly as in the natural, by laws and agents adapted to the end in view. In the line of this thought is a fact worthy of our special notice just here. The eighteenth century produced, in these New England churches, a number of stalwart Christian thinkers, and the first half of the present century was marked by the appearance of just that conflict of opinion which is incidental to real progress, in the apprehension of spiritual truth. Without naming others, of whom there were many, we may notice six eminent divines who may be said to have prepared the way for, and contributed largely to, that battle of the bishops which was in progress fifty years ago-called by one writer the "Connecticut Controversy," and some of the veterans in which were just resting upon their laurels when I entered the ministry. Let me name them in the order of their birth, and do not fail to observe that five of them were natives of our little State, and the sixth did his life-work in it. Jonathan Edwards was born. at Windsor in 1703; Joseph Bellamy at New Cheshire in 1719; Samuel Hopkins at Waterbury in 1721; Nathaniel Emmons at East Haddam in 1745; Timothy Dwight at Northampton in 1752; and Charles G. Finney at Warren in 1792. These names are as household words in the discussions and Christian activities of the present century. Beginning with Jonathan Edwards, who wrestled with the mighty problem of sin and salvation while teaching savages in the wilderness, and closing with Charles G. Finney, who swept the broad and barren field of logical skepticism with the fire of a new spiritual life, the last century gave birth to the efficient agents in a grand movement forward and upward of Christian thought and purpose.

The progress has been slow, and some of the steps in it have seemed for a time to be backward rather than forward, but viewed as a whole the trend of thought and feeling has been steadily in advance. From 1750 to 1850 we easily trace the steps of progress toward this result, and this Institution is an incidental product of the transition process.

Already had the sturdy logic of Edwards, blended with the facile rhetoric of Dwight, and fired with the fervor, aggressive zeal and questioned methods of Finney, brought on an irrepressible conflict of views and utterances, when I first became a servant of the churches. A host of Christian champions were wrestling with the new thought-forms which the spirit of progress demanded. To me, then, they seemed like giants, and I doubt not they were honestly, as they certainly were earnestly, contending for the faith once delivered to the saints. The rank and file of our Connecticut ministers recognized as worthy leaders such men as Dow of Thomson, Yale of New Hartford, Cleveland of New Haven, Hewett of Bridgeport, Calhoun of Coventry, Nettleton the Evangelist, and Perkins of West Hartford, who did not fully agree with Porter of Farmington, McEwen of New London, Goodrich of New Haven, Bushnell of Hartford, Bacon of New Haven, and Arms of Norwich, in the choice of terms and methods to be used in their work. These valiant soldiers, with others of equal worth and ability, too numerous to name in this brief sketch, were in active service on the field, when, as a raw recruit, I entered the ranks on duty. Noble men they were, loyal to the Master, and seeking the spread of truth, but having gifts differing and seeing the truth under different phases or aspects, it quite naturally followed that some of the words they employed were not fitly chosen, and not always fitly spoken. But we trust they have all now entered those realms of light and harmony, where they see as they are seen and know as they are known, and these differences by which they were so disturbed in the flesh have melted away in the light and warmth of the Sun of Righteousness.

We have thus a background upon which to set the picture of Dr. Tyler. It will doubtless seem to you that the back

ground is made the chief feature of the picture. There are two reasons for this. First, the face itself has been already drawn in his published memoir, to which, as a portrait of the man himself, I cannot hope to add, and which you would not wish me to repeat. And secondly, to get a right view of the man we must see him as he was encircled by the earnest Christian men of his day, intent upon what seemed to them a momentous issue. Upon this background he rises before us, the central figure of a school or phalanx, over against whom, in a like aspect of leadership, was Dr. Taylor of New Haven. It was my privilege as a student to sit at the feet of both, and it is my pleasure here to express a high admiration of them, as able, honest, and earnest teachers and preachers of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Differing widely in mental structure and furniture, each possessed a special fitness for the position he occupied on the battle-field of the hour. Taking their observations from different stand-points, it was natural that they should emphasize different truths, and different phases of the same truth. It brings out the features of Dr. Tyler more minutely to mark the difference between the two. In both there is reverence for the truth, and zeal in proclaiming it. In one it is reverence for the truth as formulated by the fathers. In the other it is reverence for the truth as personally apprehended. With Dr. Tyler there was something valuable in old associations. He loved not only truth, but the familiar dress which it wore. Besides, he was distrustful of human speculations. With him faith had no need of philosophy as a voucher. Not what man can comprehend, but what God has revealed, was with him the ruling question. Yet he would retain and use the old technical terms as the signs of living ideas, not as the monuments of dead ones. Nor would he allow rhetorical beauties to harden into logical perplexities. To know and teach the truth as revealed in the word of God was his guiding purpose. While partial to the old terms and methods, he was not blind to new aspects of truth and new expressions for it. Indeed, so kindly did he carry himself toward any improvement in this respect, that at one time he fell under the suspicion of favoring the "

new

departure" of his day, and was under formal surveillance by certain strict constructionists, as tending to a departure from the faith. Nor is it difficult to see by a comparison of his earliest with his latest writings, that his own views of truth were modified and enlarged by his study and criticism of the views of others. But his loyalty to the word of God was unfeigned and steadfast.

With our canvas and its background thus prepared, if we view Dr. Tyler in a comparison with others,-say Drs. Taylor, Hewett, Goodrich, Calhoun, and Porter of Farmington, it will help us to get the more important features of the man. While he differed from each of these in character as a whole, he combined their leading features in well-rounded and happily-balanced harmony. The adventurous assurance of Taylor; the dictatorial push of Hewett; the quick zeal of Goodrich; the stern conservatism of Calhoun; and the winning benevolence of Porter, make striking personal contrasts when put in bold relief and distinct outline upon the same canvas. But the Divine Artist so wrought the extremes of these virtuous impulses into a golden mean of true saintliness in the character of Dr. Tyler, that his face alone upon the picture gives us their embodied harmony. This happy combination of qualities fitted him for the special relation in which he stood to this institution, and to the churches and ministers of his time.

As a man he was well furnished, and of comprehensive affinities for all the relations of life. The well-ordered Christian family was to him an earthly paradise. There, in all the quiet beauty and loveliness of chastened piety, he scattered benedictions and was refreshed by the responses of love and devotion. Mild and loving as a husband and father, yet always firm for the right at the home altar; kind, cheerful, and genial as a companion, a friend, a neighbor, the largehearted benevolence written upon his face found constant play in the more social relations of life.

As a pastor he was impartial, sympathetic, and tender in all required ministries; as a preacher he was always instructive, often very earnest, and sometimes he brought a magnetic

influence to bear upon the attentive hearer; as a reasoner he was methodical rather than incisive, and sought more to persuade than to compel men to believe; as a teacher he was winsome and helpful in developing truth rather than imperious and positive in stating it. In form, of medium height, with broad shoulders and full chest; a ruddy face, susceptible of varied expression; a mild eye that often kindled with feeling, and a physique noticeable for its symmetry, Dr. Tyler stood among the noble Christian workers of his day, the embodiment of qualities and powers of a very high order. His life-work developed in happy proportions practical theology working through practical religion for the salvation of

men.

Dr. Tyler was born July 10, 1783, in Middlebury, Conn. At the age of seventeen he entered Yale College, and was graduated in 1804. He studied theology with the Rev. Asahel Hooker of Goshen, was licensed by the Litchfield North Association in 1806, and was installed pastor of the church in South Britain, June, 1808. In 1822 he was elected and made president of Dartmouth College. In 1828 the Second Church in Portland, Me., invited him to become their pastor, and he accepted the call. When this institution was founded in 1834, he was persuaded to give it his services, and continued at the head of it until 1857, when he resigned. His work was nearly done. He died May 14, 1858. The manner of his death is thus recorded: "On the morning of Friday, May 14, 1858, he had taken his usual exercise in the garden of his daughter, Mrs. Greeley, and at nine o'clock entered the house, saying, 'I have finished the garden, if I do not live to eat of its fruit.' He was immediately seized with a neuralgic affection in the head and lungs, from which he suffered exceedingly. He could not be moved home. His wife, children, and grand-children gathered round the bed of the dying patriarch, and received his parting counsels. He was asked if it was a pleasant thought that he should be free from sin. He replied, 'It is the pleasantest thought I have;' then added, with characteristic self-distrust, 'But O, if I should be