Another of the saintly ministers of our church was Rev. DAY KELLOG LEE. He entered the Christian ministry early in life, and, although his educational advantages in the beginning were not many, he was so close and constant a student as to become an expert in literature and science, as well as an able expounder of the Christian faith. He was one of those who felt that he was called upon to preach, and that he must not be kept too long from entering upon his work. The text of his first sermon indicates his anxiety in this regard: "Let me go, for the day breaketh." Gen. xxii. 36. And he went out into the fields of the Lord to be his faithful and profitable servant. Astronomy was a favorite study with him. His sermons were often illustrated and beautified by his presentation of its facts, and he came to be a most acceptable lecturer on the science itself. He had seven pastorates in New York and Massachusetts, and in them all was deeply loved for his admirable character and intense interest in his calling. He was a son of song, and put his soul into his verse. What can be sweeter than his tribute to the beloved poet and author, Mrs. Scott, inserted in her "Memoir"? "To say I'd pressed her hand, 't was not for me-- To share her friendship, it was not my gladness; 'T was ne'er the blessing of these eyes to see The form whose slumber wakes this note of sadness. But O! I weep for those who yet remain, To know so bright a spirit hath ascended! Fond of that lyre, enraptured of its strain, I weep to hear its melodies are ended! "Short years ago, in boyhood's rosy morn, When Aspiration seemed its measure brimming, Longing for joys that crown the spirit-born, I heard the lays of life that she was hymning. Who that hath drunk those melodies that rose Sweet as the murmur of celestial fountains, Hath not in fancy pictured her with those Whose feet are beautiful upon the mountains! "The seraphs all had joy in fuller streams, When her pure lips their symphonies were swelling; They'll want her there, while God's own glory beams, And while the ransomed keep their starry dwelling, To hymn the beauty of immortal mind,-- For, of that world, mind is the greatest splendor,-- Lift holier anthems as new bliss they find And drink new life as loftier praise they render."