LAST SERMON PREACHED IN THE ANCIENT MEETING HOUSE OF THE FIRST PARISH IN IPSWICH, FEBRUARY 22, 1846. BY DAVID T. KIMBALL, PASTOR. BOSTON: TEMPERANCE STANDARD PRESS, 4 CONGRESS SQUARE. DANIEL KIMBALL, PRINTER. 18557a16 Love of the bulker REV. MR. KIMBALL: Dear Sir,-In conformity to the expressed wish of many of your people, who are desirous to preserve an authentic account of the valuable statistics, communicated in your able and eloquent discourse of yesterday, on taking leave of their old Meeting House, and in accordance with their own feelings, the Trustees of the Parish cordially and respectfully request you to furnish them with a copy for the press. With great respect and regard, I am your obedient servant, JOSIAH CALDWELL. Per order of the Trustees of the First Parish, Ipswich. Ipswich, Feb. 23, 1846. GENTLEMEN: I cheerfully submit to your disposal a copy of the sermon, requested for publication, in the hope that it will tend to perpetuate the remembrance of our ancient and venerable house of worship, when we shall sleep with our fathers. With sentiments of strong affection to you and all whose wishes you represent, I am your friend and Pastor, D. T. KIMBALL. JOSIAH CALDWELL, Esq., Col. NATHANIEL HARRIS, Trustees of the First Parish in Ipswich. Feb. 25, 1846. SERMON. "IT IS THE LAST TIME." -1 John, 2: 18. WHILE these words fall with great weight upon the ear, they awaken deep emotions in the soul. Were an angel from heaven to announce to us, It is the last time for you to look upon these heavens and this earth; it is the last time for you to look on these familiar faces; it is the last time for you to hold an interview with each other, before the earth and sea shall give up their dead, and you shall meet at the final judgment; how solemnly would the sound strike our ears; how deeply affect our hearts! Scarcely less solemn, scarcely less affecting is the thought, that this is the last time we shall enter this house for religious worship; this is the last time prayer will be offered, and praise sung in this sanctuary. This is the last time I shall speak, and you listen to instruction under the shadow of these time-honored walls. In a few days this building, sacred and venerable as it is, will be converted to other purposes. Here, where for nearly a century our fathers and we have assembled from Sabbath to Sabbath to worship the King of kings, we shall never meet again. The solemn hour of parting has come. must bid adieu to this sacred desk, to these seats below and above, hallowed in our eyes, and dear to our hearts. This crumbling edifice, erected and consecrated by our fathers' fathers to the service of religion, must give place to one more congenial to the taste of the present day. We To me this house has attractions of peculiar interest and strength. Here, in the days of my youth, surrounded by 1 many devoted friends, I commenced my ministerial life. The first day I spent here was communion Sabbath. Your then respected Pastor introduced me to this desk, and officiated at the breaking of bread, the last service he performed here. I was then a slender stripling, less than twenty-three years old; but my sermons of that day, on 'What must I do to be saved?' and ' Behold, how good and how pleasant it it is for brethren to dwell together in unity!' with the blessing of God, united all hearts, and rendered this house the place of my subsequent labors. Here, by prayer and the imposition of hands, I was set apart to the pastoral office. Here, for more than a third of a century have I dispensed the words of eternal life. Here, my children received the sacred rite of baptism. Here, in company with your sons and daughters, have my own received religious instruction, and some of them entered into covenant with God. Here, in labors and prayers for the salvation of souls, I have spent the strength of my past days. In this sacred desk have I stood, dispensing divine truth, till the seats, the aisles, and the very timbers seem familiar friends. I have been so long accustomed to lift up my voice in prayer within these walls, that they seem identified with the principles of my spiritual life. I love the very dust of this sanctuary, the ground and rock on which it stands. I love to call to mind the faces that were familiar to me in my youthful days, the fathers and mothers in Israel who then occupied these seats, and who, full of years and of wisdom, have descended to the tomb. With emotions of joy and delight I look back upon the thousands of Sabbaths on which I have led the devotions of this house; the sacramental rites I have here administered; the anthems of praise I have heard; the revival seasons I have witnessed; and the sons and daughters here trained for happiness on earth and glory in heaven. Here, by prayer I have cherished a love for souls which, I trust, will never die. The God whom I have served, though with great imperfection, from my youth, is a witness; the walls of this sacred edifice are a witness; the aged friends of religion now present are witnesses, that for the space of near ly forty years my prayers have been offered here for your union and strength, for your spiritual growth and prosperity. The love, thus enkindled and fed in my bosom, nothing can extinguish, short of the dissolution of my spiritual existence. Time may roll its ages; this house may be removed; the visible universe may pass away; but the love of souls, kindled at this altar; kindled here by prayer, will continue immortal as the soul itself. The present hour, in its solemnity, savors of eternity. It is 'pregnant with all eternity can give.' The number now present; the stillness pervading the assembly; the fixed eye; the expressive countenance; the whole the whole appearance, indicates that the occasion is one of unusual interest. Rogers and Frisbie and the Christians they instructed here, and guided to the New Jerusalem, look down from their high and holy abode with intense desire to see in what state of mind we perform the duties, close the book, and terminate the services of this house to-day. The impression, the moral impression of these last services on this great assembly is interesting to those upon and around the throne of glory; and it will be interesting to us, when the books shall be opened, and the last sentence shall be pronounced. Assembled as we are, my friends, to bid farewell to this venerable house, permit me to pour out my heart in connexion with such thoughts as the occasion naturally suggests. Having the text more or less in my eye, but sketching no particular landmarks, I proceed to say in familiar terms, that we should take a respectful leave of this sanctuary, because it is an old friend. It is older than was either of its predecessors; almost as old as all of them put together. This is the fourth house, in which this religious Society has statedly worshipped God, since the year 1634, when this church of visible believers was gathered. The first house, erected soon after the settlement of the town, stood on the south side of the river, near the spot where the South Church now stands. It was 'beautifully built, and afforded a good prospect to a great part of the town,' The second was on the north side of |