A Sermon Preached on the Anniversary of the Boston Female Asylum for Destitute Orphans, September 25, 1835 — Text and Context

The Bountiful Eye as a Divine Economy

Wainwright begins not with the orphan but with God's character. He argues that divine commandments come 'united with the promise of ample rewards,' framing obedience as a transaction where God 'treats us as if we were in a measure independent of him.' This theological premise—that charity is both duty and source of present gratification—sets up the sermon's central tension: benevolence is its own 'luxury,' yet it will also be 'remunerated' hereafter. The opening paragraphs rely on balanced clauses and conditional logic, building a rational case before any emotional appeal. Readers should note how this abstract framework prepares the ground for the concrete institution that follows.

A Eulogy for the First Directress

Midway through, the sermon pivots sharply to commemorate 'the last of this respected and excellent band' of founders, who 'went gently and peacefully, in a blessed old age.' Wainwright names no individual but describes her as 'a model of the efficient but unassuming and lovely graces that constitute the character of the christian matron.' The passage functions as a public eulogy, linking the asylum's past to its present managers—'you, Ladies'—who are urged to 'walk worthy of their example.' This section reveals the sermon's occasional nature: it was preached at an anniversary, and the tribute anchors the institution's history in a specific, revered life. The language shifts from general exhortation to personal remembrance, offering a glimpse of the social networks sustaining the asylum.

The Orphan's Plea Made Vivid

Wainwright's most direct appeal constructs a hypothetical scene: a child 'almost naked, shivering with cold and fainting with hunger,' whose mother has just died 'in all the wretchedness of poverty and disease.' The detail is sensory and specific—'her hands that had cherished it cold, and her eyes closed'—designed to provoke an immediate emotional response. He then declares, 'It is this sacred duty which our Institution has performed for many such suffering and innocent beings.' The rhetorical strategy moves from imagined case to institutional fact, making the asylum the answer to a problem the listener has just been made to feel. This section exemplifies how the sermon uses pathos to reinforce its earlier theological and historical arguments.

The Closing Address to Hearers and the City's Growth

In his final paragraphs, Wainwright directly addresses 'my hearers generally,' acknowledging their known benevolence while warning that the asylum's 'necessities must of course increase with our rapidly increasing population.' This pragmatic note—linking charity to urban growth—grounds the sermon in Boston's 1835 context. He then returns to the imagined orphan, urging parents to 'realize the pitiable condition of an orphan infant.' The conclusion thus circles back to the opening theme of duty and reward, but now with a concrete institutional ask. The sermon's structure—from divine economy to eulogy to vivid plea to civic appeal—traces a deliberate arc that a first reader can follow as a model of occasional preaching.

A first reading of Wainwright's sermon benefits from attending to its layered audience: the managers, the founders' memory, the general hearers, and the implied orphan. Each section addresses a different group with a distinct rhetorical mode—theological, commemorative, pathetic, hortatory. Recognizing these shifts clarifies how the sermon works as both a religious discourse and a fundraising appeal. The excerpts do not include the full text, but the surviving portions reveal a careful architecture worth observing.

There’s a particular ache in Wainwright’s plea for the orphans, that sense of duty bound to a quiet reward, which lingered with me long after closing the sermon. It reminded me of how his Gospel discourses hold the same tender gravity, though softer, almost like a conversation remembered. I found myself reaching for The Gospel of St. John: A Series of Discourses. New Edition — Reading Notes afterward, simply to sit with that voice a while longer.