Our dear friend was a tried Christian, but he did not parade his troubles in the pulpit. He was careful not to speak about himself, but his sermons were brimful and running over with a precious Christ. I have seen the tears start in his eyes, and an expression of glory in his countenance, while he exclaimed in Rutherford's language:— “O Christ, He is the fountain,  The deep sweet well of love, The streams on earth I've tasted  More deep I'll drink above;” His sermons were sweetly interspersed with choice hymns, and they were always most appropriate. I asked him once how it was that he expressed himself so often in poetical language, and he quietly replied because hymns or verses expressed his feelings in…