FUNERAL  DISCOURSE
COMMEMORATIVE OF
DR.  JOHN  PORTER,
Rev. JOSIAH MOORE.
Delivered in the Unitarian Chnrcli, Dnxbary, on Snnday, April i, 1865.
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SURGEON GENERAL'S OFFICE
   PLYMOUTH:
M K 31 O R IAI. AND ROCK PRESS.
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9
FUNERAL  DISCOURSE
COMMEMORATIVE OF
DR. JOHN PORTER,
BY
Rev. JOSIAH MOORE.
Delivered in the Unitarian Chnrch, Duxbary, on Sunday, April 2,
  LIBRARY
SU^GCON CENTAL'S OFFICE
6<?
£
   PLYMOUTH:
MEMORIAL AND ROCK PRESS.

      1865. 
                                  Duxbury,  May 1st, 1865.
  Rev. Josiah Mooke :
          Dear Sir —
                  To preserve fresh in our minds the valued recol-
lections  of our "Beloved Physician,"  and give  more permanent
form to the touching tribute of a Pastor and Friend to his memory,
in behalf of his many friends, we  request a copy of his Funeral
Sermon for publication.
                             SAMUEL LORING,
                              Capt. EDEN  WADSWORTH,
                             BENJ. ALDEN,
                              ISAAC KEEN.
                                    Duxbttry, May 4, 1865.
  Gentlemen : —
                    Although averse to coming before the public
through the agency of the press, I cannot refuse your request for a
copy of the Discourse preached on occasion of the  death of Doctor
John  Porter, as your object I understand to be  simply " to pre-
serve  fresh  the  valued recollections of ' the  Beloved Physician/ "
independently, I presume, in some measure, of the intrinsic worth
of those memorials which, in your judgment, may serve this purpose.
                    Yours, with much esteem,
                                         JOSIAH MOORE.
  To Messrs.  Samuel Lobing, Eden Wadsworth, Benj. Alden,
and Isaac Keen. 
DISCOURSE.
          Colossians, 4 : 14.  "Luke, the beloved Physician."

   The  beloved physician was a man, we are happy to know, who
 had embraced  the Christian religion  on account of his conviction
 of its Divine origin and the unparalleled character of its Teacher.
 In the Gospel  in which he wrote, as well as in his Acts of the
 Apostles, this  physician has left to the world a delineation of his
 own character  and  attainments, without a word of  himself, which
 reveals  the secret of the appellation of beloved.  His  character
 and attainments it would be of  much  interest to delineate, but the
 occasion which calls us together, and the time reasonably to be
 appropriated to the public services  of the hour, will not permit
 such  indulgence.   Our thoughts instinctively  gravitate nearer
 home, and impress  upon our hearts another  name, with the same
 appropriate appellation.  It will not  be out of place, however, to
 look into the relations in which the medical practitioner stands to
 a community,  as therefrom we may learn the  reasons of  those
strong and peculiar attachments which  gather  around the  good
 doctor.
  The physician has been found and is found to-day in all climes
and  among all people.  His profession grows  out of tho'se un-
changeable conditions of human  life under which the Creator has 
4
 seen fit to place his children during their sojourn upon this earth.
 There are countless ills to which flesh is heir, ordained of Heaven
 or induced by the violation of the laws  of Nature.  These are
 designed to remind mankind of their  weakness  and dependence,
 or by a sad experience to  teach  them to  walk in the  paths  of
 truth and soberness.  Yet all these visitations are made subject to
 alleviation; even  that sickness which is unto death may be modi-
 fied so as to ease the  way down to the grave.  What the  termina-
 tion of these  visitations may be is in the main  uncertain; and, to
 the eye of those who are sick, there is the vision of the grim king
 of terrors in the vista, who will sooner or later come to take them
 hence to return no more.
   Death, even under the promises and hopes of Christian truth,
 is and always  has  been a subject of fear; consequently, when the
 almost invariable  forerunner thereof  invades  the  citadel of life,
 we hear  the constant inquiry: "Is there no balm in Gilead ? is
 there no physician there ? "   And if  the  balm and the physician
 be at hand, under what  circumstances does  he visit his patients?
 God is no respecter of  persons, and he has wisely ordained  that
 his children shall  not be deprived of those lessons  best calculated
to remind them of this fact.
   Sickness  calls  in the  thoughts of the  proudest, as well as the
humblest, from all worldly distinctions, and forces them to  con-
template  their naked. self alone.  It  humiliates while it exalts,
teaching  the unsatisfactory nature of earthly things and the infinite
worth  of God, and of those great truths,  emanating from  his
existence, to the  soul of  man.   Sickness, next to  faith in the
Redeemer, is  the great  revealer  of man to himself.  From it he
learns what is priceless and  what is valueless ; the worth of the
knowledge of a future life  to one who is soon to be deprived  of
the present by the loss  of those  powers  that  place the  soul  in
rapport and in sympathy with this state of existence. 
5
  No  less powerful  and beneficent is  sickness upon the social
nature.  None can experience it, even in its mildest forms, with-
out recognizing the  dependence  of man upon  man  for  a large
share  of those  things that  constitute  true  earthly  enjoyment.
Those in high places may turn to the broad-cast eminence of their
name, and those whose coffers are full, to their worldly wealth for
health and  strength; but they are as sounding brass or a tinkling
cymbal.   They  yearn for the  gentle and unjeweled  hand to be
laid upon the throbbing head; for the services the  humble  can
best render; for  the  balm that Nature  provides in abundance for
all; for  the good physician to allay the burning heat or restore
the  failing  strength.  The  good doctor then visits his  patients,
when, if ever,  their  religious  sensibilities and faith  are alive;
when  their sense of dependence upon God and man forces itself,
however unwelcome, upon  the thoughts;  and those genial kind-
nesses, sympathies and services  which  no class and no condition
can monopolize are met with emotions of gratitude  and humility.
  Hence the need  that  those whose calling it is to deal with the
ills to which flesh is  heir, should, like  the Evangelist Luke, the
beloved  physician, be Christians in faith, in character, and life, that
while  they  prescribe for the pains  of the  body they may admin-
ister to  the troubled  soul.  To  them  are offered opportunities
which not even the minister of Christ may possess,  for impressing
upon  their  patients  a sense of religious truth  and obligation;  a
regard for  the  welfare  of humanity in  all conditions, best  met
under the exercise of the Christian virtues  and a conviction of the
necessity of faith  and hope  in immortality to satisfy the longmg
soul.
  With all classes of people the medical practitioner, from the neces-
sities of  his calling, becomes familiar.   Few  are wholly  exempt,
for  any length of time, from  the visitation of disease;  few families 
6
that have not frequent occasion for his services.  He thus becomes
familiar with all.  When blessed with the boon of health, he is
always  welcome at their firesides,  and at the social  board; his
counsel gladly received, not only in the line of his profession, but
in other matters unseen by the public eye, and unknown even to
confidential dnmates.   He is the depositary of  many a secret grief,
that he may not disclose; many a sore trial  he must retain as a
sacred trust.   With  the high and the low, the rich and the poor,
the young and  the  old, he  stands in the relation of equal, —
brother, father, and friend; none more accessible by night and by
day, in sunshine and storm.
   Who can wonder, then,  at the interest so  manifest, when a
vacant  place is to be filled, or at the deep-seated grief so widely
felt when the good doctor is removed.  Without his presence and
prescriptions, fail as  he  may in consequence of the limitations of
human knowledge and the power of the Divine decrees, fail as he
must  without  the  power to  work miracles,  how  greatly would
human  suffering be  multiplied and how unspeakably intensified;
how largely the number of the dead be increased and the sorrows
of the bereaved extended and deepened.   Resolved, as the nations
still are, to  right their  imaginary or  real wrongs by the sword,
how terrible would  the carnage and  the agonies of  the hospital
and the battle-field  become  beyond what they now are were the
physician  excluded therefrom, and the oil and wine  of the good
Samaritan denied to the wounded, the  sick and the dying soldier.
   But  I may  not pursue this fruitful topic  into  further detail.
I am reminded, by the gathering here on the morning of  this holy
day, of the scenes that here transpired  on  the last Sabbath; of the
still form  and  the placid face that lay in their last  quiet repose
before this altar, and of the immense congregation collected within
the walls of this church, in numbers, in devotion, in interests  and 
                               7
affection seldom or  never equalled in this community or this
vicinity; never since the form of our great Statesman was wrapped
m the  flag of his  country, which he had so long and faithfully
served, and borne from his home to the tomb, where he now rests,
undisturbed  by the  storms that have  so shattered the ship of
State  since his hand was palsied at the helm, and his watch for-
ever closed.
   In the passage of Scripture — which  I have placed at the  head
of this Discourse, as  a  not  inappropriate  introduction to the
thoughts which press upon my mind, and to which I cannot give
suitable utterance, or clothe in language to do justice to the feel-
ings of many or all present here to-day — we are told that Luke,
the Christian, the Evangelist, the beloved  physician, sent his  salu-
tation  to the church at Colosse; but John, our beloved physician,
has left with us his parting  adieus, to meet with us no more  upon
earth in visible form.   We cannot yet realize that he has gone, to
return no more; no  more to cheer us with his welcome presence
at our firesides; no more to share with us the social meal to which
he was always  so  sincerely welcome, not so much as a guest as a
member of our households.   We cannot  yet feel that when  sick-
ness shall  visit us, our children  or  friends, we may not summon
him to our own or their  bedside; and  when he comes, put  aside
the anxious thought and  cherish in its stead the conscious convic-
tion that with him to direct all will be well.
   But our reason tells us that we shall  see him no more, although
the  unwilling heart refuses to believe it.   His memory remains,
and for this we may  be grateful, and to this we may essay to do
justice, while the affections gather around it as a shadow when the
form is no longer  visible.   Yet do not expect of me, my friends,
any elaborate eulogy or any extensive analysis of the character of
Dr. Porter.  The former would be a work of sepererogation among 
8
 those  who  knew  him so well,  and by whom he was so highly
 esteemed; and from  the  latter I shrink, not only from incompe-
 tency, but as  savoring too  much of the painful  duty sometimes
 devolved upon the surgical  operator, of dissecting the remains of
 a friend.
   My main purpose, in what I have said and in what I may say,
 is to render my humble  tribute of grateful  recollections to one
 with  whom, for thirty years, I have had pleasant  social inter-
 course, to whom  I have  been indebted for many a  gratuitous
 professional visit,  and for much good counsel in other matters.
   Dr. John Porter was born January  25th, 1795, at Voluntown,
 in the State of Connecticut.   He  was a son of  the Rev. Micaiah
 Porter and Elizabeth,  his  wife, whose maiden  name was Gallup,
 and who was of highly respectable connections in her native State.
   During the  early youth of Dr. Porter his father removed  with
 his family to the  town of Plainfield, New Hampshire, and was
 installed over the  Meriden parish.  It was here, under the tuition
 of his father,  that he was fitted for the medical department of
 Dartmouth  College, from which  he graduated in  1820.   This
 institution, at  that period of time, had  attained a  high reputation
 under the instruction of Dr.  N. Smith, well  known throughout
 New England  for his great professional attainments, especially on
 account of his skill as a physician and surgeon.
   In  1836, Dr. Porter became a member of the Medical Society
 of Massachusetts.  His father and  mother died at Plainfield; the
 former in 1829, aged eighty-four years; the latter in 1841.
   Dr. Porter  first  located himself in  the  neighboring town  of
 Kingston, but soon removed  to Duxbury.   He established  him-
 self in this place  about the year 1820, at the age of twenty-five.
He had  consequently been in practice among  the inhabitants of
Duxbury and  the  towns  in  the immediate vicinity, at the time of
his death, forty-five years. 
9
   July 19th, 1829,  Dr.  Porter  was  married to Ann Thomas,
daughter  of  John  Thomas, Esq., of  South  Marshfield.   His
widow, six sons and  one daughter, survive  him  to lament his
loss, to cherish his memory, gratefully to remember  the  deep
interest he felt in their welfare, and profit by the counsels which,
as a dying bequest, he left with them.
   Dr. Porter died on the 23d of March,  at the close of  a bright
and genial day.   He breathed his last as the sun, which had  been
shining upon his couch, sunk behind the western forests.   He died
in his parlor, of whose cheerful  surroundings he was unwilling to
be deprived, in  the midst of all the members of his family who
could be summoned together; his venerable brother, of the  same
profession, sitting by his  side and watching his fading pulsations.
He  died, as he wished to die,  without a struggle, with  scarcely
the movement of a muscle, retaining the  full  possession of his
mental  faculties, and  with the calmness  and  submission of the
Christian philosopher; with his  finger, as it  were professionally,
laid upon  his wrist  almost to the moment when his heart ceased
to beat.  He was  a lover of Nature,  and he had expressed a
desire to live until the trees should be in foliage, the grass become
verdant and the birds resume their carol;  and although  his  hour
had come  before the  inanimate  world  had put on its robes of
green, — as if to gratify his wishes in all  other respects, a feath-
ered songster perched itself upon a bough by the open  casement,
where had been  placed some favorite plants, and warbled its cheer-
ful notes  until the spirit of the dying man was released to return
to the  God who gave  it upon  its  music; leaving the  body with
which it had been  associated for seventy years, and through the
agency of which its work had been accomplished, to be returned
to the dust out of which it was formed, by his kindred and friends- 
10
  A ruling sentiment with Dr. Porter was  the desire  to benefit
his fellow beings, not only in the line of his professional business,
but in all ways open to him.   He was ready at all times to answer
the calls made  upon him.   In his practice he never consulted his
own convenience, comfort, or even  safety.   During the darkest
and most inclement  nights he would be threading our  streets, or
feeling his path through the forests, when all others were  enjoy-
ing the boon of quiet and refreshing repose; and at all hours of
the day, in sunshine or storm, might he be seen making his way
to some sick  bed,  or returning,  after  having  administered to a
body or a mind diseased.
  We  should  be astonished  could  we  ascertain the  number of
professional visits he made, within the limits of his labors, during
the almost half-century of his practice;  the  number of different
patients to whom he was called; the many who under his helping
hand he had restored, from sickness unto death, made whole;  the
number who now slumber under the  sod whom he  attended to the
very gates of the grave; and the  number of those whom he was
the first to introduce to the life and light of this world.
  Dr.  Porter never put off the harness; he sank down in it.  For
many a month his  strength was inadequate to meet the demands
upon his professional labors, but he refused not to go when  called,
even to the last few weeks of his life, when he had to be wrapped
up  as a child and borne by strong arms to his carriage; and even
to the  last day of his life, it is no exaggeration to say, that he
refused  not to  give his professional advice to such as sought it
with pressing  urgency.  He  could  never be justly charged with
neglecting his patients.  Murmurings might have been heard from
the lips of the over-anxious,  but he, better than they, knew when
they had need of him, and when not; and all, I think,  will justly
acquit him of any desire  to multiply his visits for the purpose of 
11
emolument.   Few can  know how extensive have been his chari-
ties in the way of his profession, and what sums he virtually dis
tributed, as he had  not the heart to press the collection among
those whom he considered as not well able to pay.
  Of his  professional  attainments and  skill it is  not for me to
speak; those of  his  own cloth know what they were much better
than I.  Yet we all know that he had the confidence of the people
among whom he  practiced;  and public judgment so long exercised,
under so many experimental tests,  seldom fails of reaching true
results.
  I believe  Dr. Porter, both in head and heart, to have been a
religious man.  His early lessons were of the Calvinistic  creed,
but the  influences of a truly Christian  home  are much the same
under all forms of faith.  Those doctrines which he was convinced
were not in  accordance with the Christian Scriptures or human
understanding, he had the independence to discard; but beneath
all these was a solid stratum of faith and  trust based in the emo-
tions of the heart and cherished as the work of a pious father and
a tender Christian mother.   He had a firm trust in God;  a well
established faith  in  the  Lord Jesus Christ and in the immortality
of the soul.   He said that  his Heavenly Father had taken care of
him through life, and  he could trust him in death.   He despised
all cant, affectation and hypocricy in religion;  but where he found
the spirit of Christ, he  appreciated  and honored it.  He was not
a man to boast of his attainments in anything, yet he knew what
he knew, and how  far  he  was justified in placing confidence in
himself, and  how far  his judgment ought to be relied upon by
others.  Hence  that humility and acquiescence in regard to the
opinions of those whom  he considered better  informed than him-
self, and the positiveness and demand for consideration with which
he pronounced his own in cases where he felt he had a right to be
heard. 
12
   But the one  thought is  earnestly pressing  upon us that he is
gone from  among us  in bodily form to visit our  families and our
bed-sides never again.   The physician  cannot  heal himself when
it is God's will that he  cease his labors and go to his rest.   He
died as he  had lived, a man and a philosopher;  may I not say a
Christian man and a Christian philosopher ? yet no stoic, no cynic.
He had a heart to  feel for other's woes, and a  disposition to alle-
viate where he could not heal.   Hence the interest so universally
felt in  the progress of his decline, the  affection  with which  his
name was pronounced, and  the  respect  that was allowed him by
young  and old, by the strong and  the weak, by high and  low, by
rich and poor.  Hence  the  impressive  solemnity that pervaded
the large assembly here gathered on the  last Sabbath, on occasion
of his  burial;  the sadness manifest in the countenances of  all who
passed this altar to take a last look at that benign face which they
should see  never  again; and the touching tenderness with which
many a female hand was gently laid upon his  placid brow.
  And now, my friends,  I have said my say and contributed my
offering, poor as it is,  to the memory of John, the beloved physi-
cian.   I have  no improvement of the subject to  make.   Your own
hearts  will  suggest all  that it might be necessary for me to say.
We are all mourners; and the stricken soul, left to its own reflec-
tions, will best provide  for its  own instruction and  consolation.
Let us  turn our reflections from our bodily ailments when we can,
and the engrossing thought of those who have power only to pre-
scribe for corporeal diseases to those moral distempers, trials and
sorrows that reach the inner man, and to the Great Physician, who
alone  can remedy these, who  alone can heal the wounded heart,
who alone can give  the  oil of joy for mourning and the garment
of praise for the spirit of heaviness.