Frederic hastened to the study, but started back at one view of his father's face. "It shone like that of an angel," he said afterward. "Yes," he answered, when the young man's question was put to him. "Yes, I do wish it, but I have thrown aside the sermon I had prepared. Helen has given me a text, and I shall speak of the glories of heaven to the redeemed." On hearing the church-bell, he made ready as usual, his wife with trembling fingers tying the knot in his white cravat as she had done for fifty years. And then arm in arm they proceeded across the well-beaten path to the house of God. Never will those present forget the occasion. Leaving his wife at the pew-door, his son offered his stronger arm for support, but he refused aid and walked slowly but firmly up the pulpit steps. Frederic performed the introductory service, gave out the hymns which his father had selected, offered the first prayer, and then sat down. When the aged man arose and pronounced his text, scarcely a breath disturbed the intense stillness. It was this: "Who is the King of glory? The Lord of hosts, He is the King of glory." Never, in the days of manhood's prime, had the utterances of the pastor been so impassioned, his voice so clear and sonorous, his style so pure and elevated, his persuasion so powerful. After depicting the glories of Christ, as the present ruler and king of the church, he dwelt in the most enrapturing strain upon the future revelation of his glory, when he shall have delivered up the kingdom to God, even the Father; when he shall have put down all rule, and authority and power, and have put all enemies under his feet. The close, with words of tenderness and love, besought every one of his beloved flock to yield submission to this glorious King, and meet him at the right hand of God. This was solemn and affecting beyond description. Weeping and sobbing were heard from every part of the house, and were only restrained by noticing that the customary prayer at the close of the sermon was omitted, and their dearly loved and venerated pastor was spreading his arms to pronounce the benediction: "Now may the God of peace which brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus Christ make you perfect in every good work." A few words were spoken to his son and then Frederic repeated the request that the congregation would unite in singing the words: "Praise God from whom all blessings flow." Some near the pulpit afterward said they saw their pastor's countenance change as he took his seat, but he leaned forward and rested his head on the cushion. When the doxology was finished, he did not move. The congregation slowly left their slips, as if conscious that this was the last time they should hear warning or entreaty from his familiar voice. Alas! His lips were already sealed in death. While the praises of God were sounding in his ear, his summons came,—"Friend come up higher!"