“I count it a great privilege to stand here this day, and utter the love and sorrow of so many souls. Words are but feeble expedients for such a task; yet there is, in one respect, a significant choice of words. Shall we express grief or gratitude? Shall we measure our loss by the vacancy it has left behind, or count with joy the treasure we have had, giving God thanks that we had it so long and so abundantly? For my part, I would not desecrate with the wailing of grief this sky of Sabbath peace, or that face of serene triumph and repose. Let us measure our love and our sorrow, then, in terms of gratitude. Thanks be to God for the unspeakable gift to us of a victorious, happy, fruitful, helpful, sincere, loving, devout, inspired life, which, once received among us, we can never lose. Even the nearest and dearest and most bitterly bereaved can comfort grief with gratitude. “I say it was a victorious life. I knew William Hamilton Gibson when he was a boy; and I knew the struggle of his early life, when, impelled by an irresistible impulse towards art, and nature as its inspiration, he steadily pursued that ideal, “not disobedient to the heavenly vision,’ until, in spite of the warnings of the would-be wise, and the carpings of the would-be critical, he won for himself a recognition of his genius and the love and thanks of multitudes whose lives he had enriched and exalted by his work. He accomplished what he set out to do; and I say his victorious life is in that respect a blessing to us, as showing for our encouragement, in these days of change and failure, that a man may still be lord of his circumstances, and, as in the affairs of the heart, so also in the affairs of business, may win and wear his first love. “But some men gain their victories at heavy cost, and bear always the scars of the conflict. Not so he. His was a harmonious, happy life, attuned to love and beauty and peace, and aflame with joy. And for this reason it was a fruitful and helpful life. There was no power wasted in friction or in blind resistance. He breasted waves of difficulty like a strong, exultant swimmer cleaving his way through the opposing element. Like some gay knight of chivalry, he went into battle with a song. And whithersoever he came--handsome, eager, sympathetic, debonair--he was the bringer of gladness. “Because he wrought in an atmosphere of joy, his life was peculiarly fruitful and helpful. The record of what he accomplished is indeed amazing. I do not hesitate to say that only a happy man could do so much so well. And that same joyous spirit made him a welcome guest at every fireside and in every heart. What a delightful companion he was! How many thousands who never saw his face have nevertheless found in his pictures and his books that bright companionship! Is there anything which the world needs so deeply or welcomes so heartily as such a messenger of hope and cheer?