John S. Ryan

Sermon, etc.

‘The Lord hath taken away all my mighty men out of the midst of me: he hath called against me the time to destroy my chosen men. Therefore do I weep, and my eyes run down with water; because the comforter, the relief of my soul, is far from me. —— How hath the Lord cast down from heaven to earth the glorious one of Israel. The Lord hath cast down headlong, and hath not spared all that was beautiful in Jacob.’ (Lamentations of the Prophet JEREMIAS, chap. 12.)

IN this affecting language, my Brethren, did the Prophet once describe the miseries of his country humbled for the sins of its children; its capital in ruins, and its Temple levelled with the dust. It was the language of a heart sinking under the weight of accumulated woes; it was the lamentation of Sion oppressed with bitterness; despoiled of her ancients and her priests; bereft of all the sources of her consolation and her pride.

How often has my imagination dwelt on the venerable and melancholy figure of this great Prophet mourning amidst the ruins of Jerusalem. How often have I not imagined that I beheld  p.2 him turning away from the contemplation of that desolate city, as from an object unworthy of the magnitude of his sorrows, to weep over the remains of its wise and mighty men; to deplore the untimely fall of some exalted individual whose wisdom might have saved the people of God, or in whose virtues they might at least have found refuge and consolation in their miseries. Little did I think that a day was at hand, when those scenes, so distressing even in imagination, should be realized amongst ourselves; that I should behold this Temple in mourning; that I should ascend this sacred place, to render the last tribute of veneration and of ardent love to the memory of that great man who was so long its ornament and its glory, and who poured forth from it all the riches of the word of God, in such strains of eloquence as you shall never witness again. Little did I anticipate this mournful day, when the humblest of those numberless friends whom the kindness of his nature had attracted around him, should stand before this afflicted multitude; to recall to their fond remembrance a treasure lost for ever; to solicit their prayers in behalf of him who was once their guide to heaven, and their consolation on earth.

As yet, my Brethren, you cannot have forgotten the scenes that preceded the fatal event to which we owe the sad solemnity of this day. You cannot have forgotten that time of agonizing  p.3 uncertainty, when fear and hope alternately reigned in every bosom: when the throne of divine mercy was assailed by one great and universal prayer: when every heart was prostrate before its God; to implore that he might avert the threatened calamity. It is an awful source of reflection to us, that such a prayer has been rejected. It is a circumstance well calculated to carry terror and dismay into the heart of the most insensible, that a God who has so solemnly declared that the prayers of man should carry heaven as it were by violence; has denied to the entreaties of so many thousand Christians the restoration of their common Father.

Our petition has been rejected my Brethren. Let us bow down in humble submission to that Power which has thus greatly afflicted us. Amidst the various causes of depression under which we were suffering in these times of universal gloom; we counted alas too presumptuously on one treasure as placed beyond the power of fortune; one exhaustless source of consolation throughout all reverses. We possessed one of those men who are raised up by Providence to live for the general benefit of their fellow-creatures. We gloried in the possession of a man highly gifted by nature and grace; and of such ardent zeal as rendered all his virtues and acquirements a common property amongst That he should have been an object of general  p.4 reverence in the community, was only the natural consequence of his public character and his eminent station. His extraordinary talents, his unexampled labours, and his private worth rendered him also the object of our affection and our pride.

It is to renew the funeral obsequies of such a man, that we have assembled here this day. To have made his virtues or his labours the subject of public eulogy, during his life, would have been an act of flattery which his great mind would have spurned. Now when he is no more; it becomes an act of justice as it regards his memory; an act of gratitude, and an incitement to every thing that can exalt and improve our nature as it regards ourselves.

My Brethren; it was not the will of God to employ the aid of splendid talents or learning in the original establishment of our religion. The world had heard too long of the fame of sages and philosophers. The benefits which it derived from their labours were confined altogether to human science: and while they carried eloquence and all the fine arts to a degree of perfection almost unrivalled in modern times; they remained as ignorant of the great truths of natural religion; as entangled in the chains of the rankest idolatry; and as utterly destitute of the pure virtues of morality; as the lowest and most ignorant classes of mankind.

It was a design worthy of a wise and merciful  p.5 Providence, to humble human pride, and record the divinity of the christian religion by enabling a few simple unlettered men to unfold those sublime truths which had eluded all the strength of reason. The same design seems to govern in a great measure, the economy of Providence in the guidance of the Church throughout all ages. We find the great body of the ministry generally composed of men of ordinary powers of mind: and in the preservation of the great universal church by instruments so humble, we behold an irresistible and ever living proof of that omnipotent power by which it is invisibly upheld.

To this general rule however there must be at all times many splendid exceptions. It is necessary that God should raise up men of extraordinary talents; men fitted to obtain the confidence of those of their fellow-creatures who have neither leisure nor power nor ability to examine the abstruse and captious objections by which truth is so liable to be assailed. When we behold a man of this description with a mind abounding in all the acquirements of philosophy, and all the riches of genius; embracing a ministry which cuts him off from every honour and distinction with which the world might have rewarded his talents, or crowned his ambition; a ministry substituting the most laborious and humble duties in the place of domestic ease and happiness; rendering him an alien to his family and in his native land, that he may be exclusively  p.6 devoted to the service of the great family of mankind: we feel an implicit confidence of the truth of the religion to whose authority and in whose cause, such a man has been induced to make a sacrifice of all his worldly interests.

For purposes thus wise and beneficent does the spirit of God, call such men to the ministry of his Church: — to disarm prejudice of its inveteracy and give confidence to humble faith.

If ever such a blessing was necessary in one portion of the Church of God, more than in any other; the Catholic Church in this country, had a peculiar claim on Heaven for the gift. Bending under the weight of calumny and persecution; abhorred by thousands merely because they understood not its tenets, the Catholic religion in Ireland stood in need of such a man as Doctor Mac Carthy, whose character might have been alone sufficient to arrest prejudice in the madness of its career, and compel it to exclaim, “there is a man whose religion cannot be a system of idolatry: nor can its moral principles be less pure or less benevolent than his life.”

The existence of such a man, was of more consequence than a thousand volumes of controversy. It was a book which the most unlettered could read. It was the most noble vindication of our insulted faith.

Florence Mac Carthy was born in the town of Macroom in this county in the year 1761. He was one of the younger brothers of a family  p.7 known to us all for its respectability. Some of those peculiarities which usually indicate a mind of superior cast, were observable in his earliest, youth. He evinced a high and ardent spirit, and an uncommon quickness of perception. It is not extraordinary that such a mind, when judiciously formed and impressed with an early sense of religion, should have made a rapid progress in the development of its faculties; and accordingly, before Florence had passed that time of life when the ordinary classes of youth, have scarcely begun to think; he had already assumed a seriousness of deportment, a depth and solidity of reflection; such as might have done honour to maturer age.

There are sometimes events in life, which appear to result from a mere casual combination of circumstances; while they really proceed from the deliberate purposes of Providence. Some time after the birth of this eminent man, his family went to reside at Killarney: and this circumstance so apparently trivial, seems to have been the occasion of his call to the ministry. The diocese of Kerry was then governed by a Prelate whose presence here this day, will necessarily restrain whatever disposition I may feel to speak of his character in such terms as it justly demands. That prelate is Doctor Moylan. With a discrimination reflecting honour on his understanding, he distinguished Florence at a very early period: he taught his young mind to consecrate  p.8 its growing energies to the cause of charity and heaven; and he wisely directed his ambition to objects infinitely exalted above the perishable honours of this world.

In the year 1777 Florence was appointed by this Bishop to a place in the Irish College at Rome where he commenced his studies soon after.

To you my Lord are we indebted for the blessings which have since accrued to society from the ministry of this splendid ornament of our religion. It is one; and my Lord it is not the least of the fortunate circumstances of your career, to have contributed to the glory of that cause to which your life has been so long and zealously devoted, by the acquisition of this great man.

Born with a mind of uncommon strength and activity; it is likely that he would have devoted himself to some profession suited to his talents, and becoming his respectable rank in society. And as those penal statutes so disgraceful to the fame of our country, were at that time flourishing in all the vigour, and rankness of their maturity; he might have been constrained to seek some foreign clime. Spurned by his infatuated country, he might have reluctantly gone forth to some more wise and generous people. He might have sought and won the soldier's laurel and his fame. He might have been reserved to waste his blood in the falling cause of the Austrian or the Spaniard; to die the hero and the  p.9 boast of a strange land, the ornament and the reproach of his own. But Providence destined him for a station of higher dignity, and more consonant to the native piety and tenderness of his heart; while it distinguished your Lordship as its instrument in consecrating his great talents to the sublime purpose of upholding the religion of our fathers, and increasing the real happiness of our country.

Florence had not been long in Rome when he began to evince that vigour of mind, which was to distinguish his future life. During a residence of eight years in that city, he continued to attract the esteem and the admiration of his superiors and fellow students, by an unexampled application to his studies, and a uniform piety as solid as it was free from ostentation.

Before he had attained his twenty-fifth year, he defended his public theses, for the attainment of his degree as Doctor in Divinity, a distinction conferred on him in such a way as did the highest honour to his talents and learning.

It seldom happens that a mere student becomes known beyond the circle of his literary companions. But there was something in Dr. Mac Carthy's character, that rendered him an exception to this remark. Destined by nature for pre-eminence his mind seems to have unconsciously assumed its superior station even at this early period. He was so much distinguished at Rome; that one of the Cardinals then Secretary  p.10 of State, having determined to go on a tour throughout Italy and a part of France, made choice of this interesting stranger as the companion of his journey; and actually sent to the Irish College, an invitation to that effect. But it arrived too late: for our young missionary had already quitted Rome; and was proceeding towards his own country, filled with ardour and impatience to enter on the labours of his humble ministry.

His return to this country, took place in the year 1785; when he became Curate to Doctor Moylan who still continued to reside at Killarney.

The high opinion of his talents, which his Bishop was known to entertain; and the literary honours which Doctor Mac Carthy had acquired in so distinguished a manner, and at so early a period, excited in this first scene of his labours an anxious expectation regarding his exertions as a public speaker. It was indeed natural to suppose that a man who had been placed under such circumstances as might have justly inspired him with a confidence in his mental powers, would have pressed eagerly forward to a distinguished place in that department of the ministry, the most seductive to a young and ardent mind. But his mind although constitutionally ardent; was yet so abhorrent of vanity; so chastened by a delicacy of taste and a strength of judgment, not always combined even with great talents, that he betrayed the utmost reluctance  p.11 on this point: and it became necessary that his friends should remonstrate with him. This task was undertaken by a nobleman ¹ now no more; and who adorned the high rank to which he was raised, while he gloried in his attachment to our church under all its depressions and stripped as it has been in our country, of so much of its exterior majesty.

A mind of inferior cast, would have at once obtruded itself on public observation; and perhaps might have succeeded in obtaining that kind of sudden popularity which the world will often bestow as an appropriate reward to mere youthful enterprise; but of which it invariably strips the wearer, as soon as it becomes sensible of the hastiness of its former judgment.

Doctor Mac Carthy's career as a christian orator, did not so commence. It was the opening of a great mind conscious of difficulties, in proportion to its elevated station and the extent of its horizon: restrained by a diffidence the natural result of innate modesty and refined taste. He chose the most obscure and laborious duties of his sacred calling: and that eloquence which was destined to command ere long the admiration of the most enlightened; to warm at once and illumine the most cultivated minds, was devoted at this time of his life, to the simple catechistical instruction of children; or concealed beneath the impenetrable veil of the confessional  p.12 where heaven was its almost only witness; and where it dropped like the dews of heaven in obscurity; and became known only in the blessings and fruitfulness which sprung up wherever it had fallen.

After the lapse of some time, an event took place, which however melancholy in itself, and distressing in its immediate impressions on the public mind, had finally the effect of procuring to this diocese and city the advantages which have since resulted from the zeal of our venerable Bishop; and from the labours of that great man of whom Providence has deprived us for ever.

There are many who still remember that day when the Church of Ireland had occasion almost for the first time during a period of fourteen hundred years, to mourn over one of her Prelates fallen from his station. The diocese of Cork an object of sympathy to the Catholic world; widowed not by the hand of death, but by one of those instances of human frailty sometimes permitted by Providence as lessons of humility to men, wanted no common character to restore its fallen honours, and light up new glories in its temples; and Doctor Moylan was selected for the task. With such a heart as he possesses, he must have felt the heaviest affliction in beholding the disgrace of his native diocese. He must have been deeply impressed with the importance of the task imposed on him; a task unexampled in its nature  p.13 and its difficulties. The event has shewn how anxiously he felt; for he availed himself of the most powerful aid within his reach, and removed Doctor Mac Carthy to his new diocese of which he made him Vicar General: placing him soon after over the parish of St. Peter and Paul's in this city. During eight years while he remained in that situation; the uncommon talents of this great man, were necessarily forced into exercise. It seemed to have been reserved for charity the mistress of the virtues, to subdue the diffidence of his mind. He became the most able and eloquent advocate that our pulpits have ever produced, in behalf of those wise and benevolent institutions which do honour to the heart and the understanding of the people.

During this period, those revolutionary events were passing in a neighbouring kingdom, which have since involved the world in scenes of blood. Whatever difference of opinion might have then existed regarding the causes of this shocking convulsion; there must have been only one common feeling regarding the atrocities which attended it, as its immediate consequences. It was the reign of all the worst passions of fallen nature. It was the triumph of horror and darkness over humanity and religion. The ministers of the altar were driven in crowds to slaughter: while a monarch distinguished for his moral virtues, and his attachment to his subjects, was led to an ignominious scaffold. The sympathy  p.14 of the civilized world, was excited by these cruelties which were soon crowned in their sanguinary atrocity by the public execution of the Queen of that miserable country.

Doctor Mac Carthy appeared perhaps unrivalled among the ministers of religion, whose eloquence has recorded the fate and the virtues of these unfortunate personages. But it was in portraying the character of the late Pius the sixth torn from the capital of the christian world, where he had so often beheld him in the midst of prosperity and power; led in sacrilegious and savage triumph while tottering under the pressure of extreme age, to resign his breath amidst the gloom of a prison and in a foreign land, that this eminent man evinced all the sympathies of his nature; his manly and pathetic eloquence; and that invincible force of reasoning by which he had brought his own great mind to a conviction, and by which he was enabled to convince the minds of others; that the church however assailed by persecution, is destined to continue to the end of time, upheld by the power of omnipotence, and surviving the fall of the most mighty states.

Early in the year 1800 Doctor Mac Carthy was removed to the south parish in this city. And here my Brethren, was a task worthy of this uncommon man, the most able missionary perhaps that our country has produced in modern times. Without meaning to cast the  p.15 slightest imputation on the memory of his respectable predecessor afflicted as he had been by infirmity and age during many years before his resignation; it may be most truly asserted that this parish stood at that time greatly in need of a man of Doctor Mac Carthy's character. Containing a population of more than twenty thousand Roman catholics; no ordinary measure of zeal would have been commensurate to its wants.

To this task Doctor Mac Carthy approached with a mind which seemed to expand itself in proportion to the magnitude of its objects, and the number of the difficulties opposed to it. His whole time became devoted to the labours of his new station. He knew that the most valuable duties of a christian ministry, are also the most obscure; and he did not hesitate to sacrifice his comforts, his ease, even his love of study; and in no inconsiderable degree, the cultivation of his great talents for eloquence, in the pursuit of objects now more dear to his conscience and his heart. The morning's dawn uniformly lighted him to the confessional where surrounded by the poor, he administered to their spiritual and temporal wants, with a degree of patience and perseverance almost unexampled. He seemed to live for them only. He visited every poor family in his parish, exhorting and beseeching them to approach the sacraments: he accommodated himself to their leisure; and when the term of their daily labours was gone bye, they were always sure to find him at his post.

Not satisfied with thus devoting itself to their immediate necessities; his lively and ardent mind traced their disorders and the neglect of their religious duties to the very source; — that ignorance arising inevitably out of the peculiar situation of the people of this country, deprived by circumstances beyond their controul, of a sufficient number of persons qualified to instruct them in the principles of our religion which becomes loved in proportion as it becomes known; and is necessarily productive of moral demeanor in proportion as it is practised.

To obviate these evils he instituted a society consisting of many respectable persons of both sexes, who attended in his chapel on Sundays to instruct the children in the catechism. A number of classes was formed: and thus every difficulty arising from the assemblage of a crowd of young persons was avoided; while they became individually known and attached to their respective instructors. As soon as the last mass was ended, these little groups were formed throughout the chapel. It was a scene truly interesting to the heart. You might have beheld females of the most respectable rank in society, unmindful of the calls of pleasure, and raised above the littleness of pride; participating in the spirit of this great minister of heaven; and communicating to the children of ignorance and poverty those divine principles of religion, which rendered themselves so many models of virtue. When the examination of the respective classes,  p.17 was ended; he ascended the pulpit, to explain the principles, and inculcate the pure maxims of our religion; accommodating himself to the lowest capacities; and, cloathing the finest eloquence of the heart, and the strongest elucidations of reason in the utmost simplicity of language. On these occasions he was surrounded by great numbers of the poor: and he made it an invariable rule to relate to them the history of some one of the remarkable characters recorded in the scriptures, impressing the minds of his hearers with such practical moral truths as happened to arise out of the subject.

The days of this admirable man, were thus filled up when in the year 1803 he was named bishop of Antinoe, and coadjutor to Doctor Moylan. He was consecrated in the month of June of that year. It now seemed as if his labours as a parish priest, were about to terminate. But far from availing himself of the privileges to which his new dignity entitled him, this truly apostolic man appeared rather to gather new zeal from his promotion: and he who held so high a place in public esteem: whose exaltation to the episcopal dignity, had been hailed by the prelates of our church, as a subject of pride and an honour to their body; was still to be found engaged in the most laborious duties of a missionary, in common with the curates of his parish. He was to be found in some humble retreat of wretchedness; at the bed of disease and  p.18 contagion; tenderly administering the consolations of that religion whose brightest ornament he was. No circumstance was ever fonnd to relax his zeal; or divert him from that plan of life, which he had chosen, and which he had determined to pursue to the last. If business or the necessity of some relaxation drew him occasionally from his parish, he burned with desire to return: he flew back with parental anxiety to the objects of his affections and his cares. He appeared to us my Brethren, as destined for a long course of labours; as nature had bestowed on him a constitution of uncommon strength, which had remained unaffected by all his exertions. Inured to hardships, he seemed like the mountain oak to strengthen amidst the storm and defy its fury. But that God before whom the utmost strength of man is weakness: whose designs are raised to an infinite distance above our comprehension, has been pleased to cast down this cherished stay of our happiness and our hopes.

On the evening of the ninth of June, which was the vigil of Pentecost, this great prelate was attacked by strong symptoms of fever while in his confessional where he had been as usual during many hours. As it was an invariable rule with him never if possible to quit that place until he had attended to every individual; he did not leave the chapel before ten o'clock at night,  p.19 although in extreme suffering. Unacquainted with illness and unfortunately not aware of the dangerous situation in which he was involved; he contented himself with some slight remedies; and so far had the natural strength of his mind, and his habitual zeal subdued all feelings of indisposition; that on the next day he commenced his usual course of labours: and having devoted the morning to the confessional; he proceeded to celebrate the solemn mass of the festival.

These exertions my Brethren, became the source of that fatality which has deprived us for ever, of this extraordinary man. A fever of the most malignant kind, seized on his frame and before many days had passed, it was judged necessary that he should receive the last sacraments. Before this period he manifested a suspicion of his approaching danger; and endeavoured to ascertain the opinion of one of his physicians, who had ever enjoyed a great share of his esteem and confidence. With a mild and playful benignity which distinguished his intercourse with those on whom he bestowed his friendship, he took occasion to remind that gentleman, of the necessity of dealing with him on this essential point, with the utmost candour.

But my Lord, it was to you that the painful task devolved of announcing the approach of death to him whom you had so long considered as the future head and father of your flock. I  p.20 think I behold again that distressing scene. I see you bending beneath the weight of your sorrows; approaching this long cherished object of your affections to render to him those last, melancholy offices which you had expected to receive at his hands. I again behold his loved form. I hear those unbroken accents in which; forgetful for a moment of his own sufferings and his fate, he administered to your Lordship those consolations of which you stood so greatly in need. I hear him recapitulate the many favours which he had received from you throughout his glorious and eventful course. I hear his tender and dignified expressions of gratitude when he exclaims — “I offer your Lordship my last ardent thanks for so many proofs of your confidence, so many favours; but most of all for this last and greatest favour. It is the last and to me the most valuable office of your friendship and your ministry. I am resigned.”

Such my Brethren, was the firmness of this uncommon man, at the approach of death for which his life had been one continued preparation. He now proceeded to make the last disposition of his affairs: bequeathing for wise and benevolent purposes the residue of that property which had ever been the resource of the afflicted. When he beheld the most holy sacrament now, to be administered to him for the last time; his great soul arose at once superior to the power of his mortal disease; and he cast  p.21 himself on his knees, to render his last adorations to his Redeemer veiled under these humble and mysterious appearances: — to confirm with his latest breath that faith which he had so long and invincibly supported with all the ardour and the strength of a mind pre-eminently endowed by nature and enlightened by science.

From this time he continued in calm resignation throughout the most painful suffering: declaring that he had no wish for life, except what arose from a desire to accomplish some designs which he had in view, for the advantage of religion. He retained his faculties until within a few hours before his death; and even then when reason had fallen from its throne where it had reigned so gloriously and so long: even then the mind of this great man, turned amidst its wanderings to his flock the object of its best affections; revisited the confessional, the altar, the bed of sickness and sorrow; rendering the last tribute of its expiring eloquence to the cause of its creator, and the happiness and eternal welfare of men. He died on the morning of the nineteenth of June; before he had yet attained the fiftieth year of his age; in the seventh year of his consecration; and the twenty-sixth of his labours on the mission.

Such was the career of a man who was an ornament and a blessing to society. He combined in his character an assemblage of qualities seldom  p.22 found united in the same person. A judgment of uncommon strength and discrimination, enlivened by that eminent faculty of creating and combining ideas, which constitutes genius, had given to his mind a superior degree of natural eloquence; while a course of long and indefatigable application to the acquirement of useful knowledge; and an ardent zeal for the glory of God, determined that eloquence to the most valuable ends. His mind could bend itself alternately to the most abstruse studies, and to the elegant pursuits of imagination and taste. His public discourses invariably bore the stamp of a great and original mind. Subjects which seemed the least susceptible of ornament, were rendered attractive by his genius surrounding them with illustrations sometimes borrowed from the most sublime works of nature, and sometimes from the most exquisite productions of the fine arts which he had beheld in their perfection, during his residence in Italy and all expressed in language so familiar, that the most simple mind was capable of conceiving it.

Never perhaps was there a man under such circumstances, so totally divested of literary pride. He valued his faculties and acquirements merely as they were capable of being made useful to others: and it is well known to those who enjoyed an intimate intercourse with him; that from the time when he undertook the care of this great parish, he neglected almost entirely  p.23 the regular composition of his sermons; conceiving that his time was demanded by more humble duties. He was a man above the influence of human respect. While he consumed a greater portion of his revenues in the relief of the indigent, than almost any one in a like situation, had ever done; he scrupulously avoided all ostentation. He was never seen surrounded by those impostors who live on the credulity of others: but he gave charity, with the same wisdom and reflection that pervaded all his actions; effectually assisting those whom he found to be real objects; and often bestowing such sums as contributed to the permanent comforts of entire families. With all these great qualities he possessed a heart formed for the finest affections, overflowing with unaffected benevolence towards all his fellow creatures, and singularly ardent in its friendships. His manners bore that dignified simplicity peculiar to great minds which are placed above the want of those artificial ornaments so necessary to give dignity to the lesser characters: and he was accessible alike to all, in the spirit of this maxim of the Holy Ghost — have they made thee a ruler? be. not lifted up: but be among them as one of themselves. — Ecclesiasticus 22. ch.

My Brethren; if I had detained you so long on any other subject; I should feel that an ample apology was due to you. But the melancholy subject of this day, supercedes all ordinary  p.24 considerations. It demands no common tribute. It is identified with that natural feeling which leads the widowed heart to linger awhile beside the grave of the object of its affections; to indulge its wounded sensibility, in the fond though perhaps tedious enumeration of excellencies now lost to it for ever.

Some cold, uninterested mind might look on; and mock this propensity of nature. But no such mind is here this day. The sorrows which bedew that grave yet scarcely closed, are not confined by any narrow, vulgar bounds: they spring from the deepest sources in the heart: nay they are the result of reason. You have seen them rise like a mighty flood; and overflow, and obliterate all the boundaries that form the great distinctions in society. You have experienced on this sad occasion, the sympathy of your fellow citizens of every rank and every religion. It is a common cause. It is one of those fatalities that challenge a sympathy as extended as human nature. For it so often happens that great talents, and great vices are united in the same character; as to threaten the establishment of an opinion that talents and vice are naturally allied to each other. When therefore a man appears among us at once great and virtuous; the heart instinctively attaches itself to him as its best defence against so monstrous a libel on our common nature.

It is not the loss of talents employed in laying  p.25 waste the world, in establishing an empire on the ruins of every thing dear to humanity; that you have come here to deplore. You behold no trophies stained with human blood. No widow surrounded with her little orphan group, stands before you: her indignant sorrow reproving an idle pageantry purchased with the blood of the husband and father. The orphan and the widow are indeed here: but they are come to pay the tribute of their griefs and their prayers to the memory of him who cherished the husband and father, throughout his lingering and painful disease; who soothed his troubled bosom, and rejoiced his departing spirit with the brightest hopes of religion.

Such was the man whose funeral rites we are solemnizing; the minister of peace on earth. While conquerors were filling the world with the fame of their exploits; this christian priest passed obscurely along, diffusing blessings in his humble progress. While the deeds of the conqueror came like the lightenings of heaven, spreading destruction as they excited astonishment and awe: the actions of this man of charity, were enriching the stock of human happiness, almost as unperceived and as silent as the operations of nature in the hour of her fruitfulness. And when the fame of the conqueror, shall have passed away like the remembrance of the storm; the name of this minister of benevolence  p.26 shall live; and his memory like his life, be a source of blessing and instruction.

Often will the father come and lead his child to the spot where the humble monument shall record the name of Mac Carthy; where the mild benignity of his features, shall be faintly pourtrayed. He will recount to his beloved charge, the history of this excellent man. He will contrast him with his cotemporaries who laid waste the vineyard of God, by the seduction of innocence: who employed their talents in destroying with an impicus sophistry, the hope of their fellow creatures in the religion of Christ : whose names shall have been long dead to fame; while the heart shall tremble for their eternal fate. If he discover in his young mind, the latent fire of ambition; he will direct that ambition to the road through which this great man pursued his way, to solid and lasting glory.

I have done my Brethren, with this melancholy subject. I consign you to the consolations of your religion. You have still a rich and living source from whence to derive them. Your Bishop has selected a man the most worthy to succeed to your beloved Pastor, in the guidance of this great flock: the companion of his early life: the friend of his brightest days. ² He possesses an hereditary claim to your confidence,  p.27 and your veneration. He possesses within himself, a stock of talents, of wisdom, and of piety, which will enable him to emulate the splendid example bequeathed to him by his friend; and to lead your steps to everlasting happiness.

O Thou who art our true parent, our eternal pastor; of whom even death cannot deprive us. Son of the living God. Thou whose mighty word can raise up ministers of religion; rendering them sources of light and blessing. We beseech thee to strengthen us by thy grace. Thou hast called away thy servant the object of our veneration. We beseech thee in his behalf, in the earnestness of our hearts greatly afflicted. If he has not yet fully satisfied thy justice: if he remain in a state of suffering: allow thy people to whom he was ever a messenger of consolation, to become this day the instruments of his. But my God: he has intercessors more powerful than us miserable sinners. Thousands surround thy throne, who owe their salvation, to his zeal. Receive their intercession: and conduct their pastor, into the enjoyment of that glory to which he has so powerfully contributed to raise so many of thy children.

THE END.

@book{E810002,
  title 	 = {A Sermon preached on the 8th of August, 1810, at the solemn Office and High Mass celebrated in the South Chapel, for the repose of the soul, of the late Rt. Rev. Florence Mac Carthy, Bishop of Antinoe, and Coadjutor in the See of Cork},
  author 	 = {John Ryan},
  edition 	 = {1},
  note 	 = {27 pages},
  publisher 	 = {Printed By Michael Mathews, 19, St. Patrick's-Street, for himself and Richard Coyne, 165, Capel-Street},
  address 	 = {Dublin},
  date 	 = {1810}
}
 E810002.bib