Rev. William Morrow Cooley was born March 8, 1822, and died May 28, 1903, aged 81 years, 2 months and 20 days. When about seventeen years old he professed faith in Christ and joined the Cumberland Presbyterian Church. Soon afterward he began preaching, and has been actively engaged in the ministry ever since, until the last few years of his life, when old age forced him to abandon regular work. I am often brought to realize what a wonderful power for good was this grand old man, as I hear so many claim him as their spiritual father. He was known and loved by every one all over this section of the country, and so universal was this feeling toward him that I have never heard a single word against him. His reputation is without a blemish, and besides he is the ideal and best-loved character in all this country, where he spent his life. Every one felt that he had a true friend in Mr. Cooley, and while he was not a brilliant preacher, yet he could and did win the hearts of all, and this made him more successful than many more brilliant preachers. Upon one occasion Dr. DeWitt visited him for the purpose of dedicating a church for him, and when he left he stated that he had never seen any one who had the heart of the people as did Mr. Cooley. When informed of Mr. Cooley's death, and that his funeral was to be preached next day, one who had known him all his life said: "That man's life has already preached his funeral; it speaks for itself, and no eulogy can be pronounced equal to that which his deeds of love and faithfulness have already spoken." Another said: "You need have no fear of painting the picture too bright." Truly this was a grand old man--a man of God. Who can ever measure the good that such a life has done and which the memory of it will do? When we think of the churches that have been established and the souls converted, of the many homes made happier, the lives that have been made nobler and are being lived and have been lived for Christ and the church, we can truly thank God for the gift of this man to us. It was meet that such a life should have a fitting close, and so when death's shadows were gathering about his couch, and it seemed that death had kissed down his eyes forever, he rallied and spoke of the beautiful city to be his home forever, of loved ones gone before whom he had seen, and how glad he was to go after having spent his life for the Master and "finished his course." He said death had no terrors, and then closed his eyes and went to sleep, after bidding all to meet him in the King's palace. He was buried at Amanda's chapel, on Harpeth river. He leaves behind a host of friends and relatives to mourn their loss. The funeral was conducted by the writer.--T.S. Matthews, Pastor Cumberland Presbyterian Church, Charlotte, Tenn.[Source: "The Cumberland Presbyterian," August 20, 1903, page 254]