Memorial of Bro. Bostwick.
By John Matteson
BROTHER, thou art gone to rest. Thy course is finished, thy toils ended, thy record made in the books of God. Thy sins, imperfections, tears, resolutions, and labors, those books alone can tell in full. Thy pains and sorrows, doubts and fears, temptations, and victories are best known to God. Thy love and sympathy hath ceased, and the tender cords of friendship are broken for a little while. But still they speak loudly in those gentle hearts which are left to mourn. O Death! why hast thou taken our brother from us? Why hast thou cruelly destroyed those expectations which we entertained of him? Why hast thou taken away from a sorrowing family their kind protector? From the little flock of God one of their friends?—Cruel Death! when wilt thou cease, when shall my poor heart be wounded by thee no more? “Behold I come quickly, and my reward is with me.” “Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. . . . I am the way, the truth, and the life.”—Whose voice is this, sweeter than honey and the honey comb, more precious than silver and gold, more soothing than the choicest balm of the earth? Jesus, blessed Jesus! I praise and adore thee, my Saviour! Thou art the way. Soon thou wilt come again to redeem thy people. To gather all who have washed their robes in the blood of the Lamb. To unite all loving friends, to heal every broken heart, to bestow honor and immortality on poor, undeserving mortals, and take them home to thee in glory. Then we will not murmur. In bright expectation we look forward. By faith we stand firm upon the immutable promises of God. Hope smiles and love sings glory to God in the highest, and unto the Lamb for ever and ever. Amen.