{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_15485/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_15485","id":"gutenberg_15485","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/15485","summary":null,"tags":["Category: American Literature","Category: Novels","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Consolation","Death","Fiction"],"text":"Produced by Robert Shimmin, Karina Aleksandrova and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCATHARINE.\n\nBY THE AUTHOR OF\n\n\"AGNES AND THE LITTLE KEY.\"\n\n[Transcriber's Note: Nehemiah Adams]\n\n\n\nTHIRD THOUSAND.\n\n\nBOSTON:\nJ.E. TILTON AND COMPANY.\nLONDON. KNIGHT AND SON.\n1859.\n\nEntered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by J.E. TILTON\nand Co., In the Clerk's Office of the District Comm. of the District of\nMassachusetts.\n\nPRINTED BY\nGEORGE O. RAND & AVERY.\n\nELECTROTYPED AT THE\nBOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY.\n\n\n\n\nTO THE\nYOUNG LADIES OF MY CONGREGATION,\nFRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES Of\nCATHARINE,\nAND TO EVERY FATHER,\nHAVING\nA DAUGHTER IN HEAVEN,\nThese Pages\nARE AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\nI.\n\nMORE THAN CONQUEROR,                9\n\nII.\n\nTHE FEAR OF DEATH ALLEVIATED,      58\n\nIII.\n\nTHE SEARCH FOR THE DEPARTED,       89\n\nIV.\n\nTHE SILENCE OF THE DEAD,          119\n\nV.\n\nTHE REDEMPTION OF THE BODY,       144\n\n\n\n\n\nCATHARINE\n\n\n\n\nI.\n\nMORE THAN CONQUEROR.\n\n    Is that a death-bed where the Christian lies?\n    Yes,--but not his: 'Tis death itself there dies.\n\nCOLERIDGE.\n\n\nShe was not an infant--an unconscious subject of grace. But the Saviour\nhas led through a long sickness, and through death, a daughter of\nnineteen years, and has made her, and those who loved and watched her,\nsay, We are more than conquerors. To speak of Him, and not to gratify\nthe fondness of parental love, to commend the Saviour of my child to\nother hearts, and to obtain for Him the affections of those to whom He\nis able and willing to be all which He was to her, is the sole object of\nthese pages. Listen, then, not to a parent's partial tale concerning\nhis child, nor concerning mental nor bodily suffering, but to the words\nof one who has seen how the presence of Christ, and love to Him, can\nfill the dying hours with the sweetest peace, and even beauty, and the\nhearts of survivors with joy.\n\nWishing to dwell chiefly on the last scenes of this dear child's life,\nthe reader will not be delayed by any biographical sketch. Nine years\nbefore her death, when she was between ten and eleven years of age, she\ngave the clearest evidence that she was renewed by the Holy Spirit. We\nhad since that time been made happy by the growing power of Christian\nprinciple in her conduct, the clearness and steadfastness of her faith,\nher systematic endeavors to live a holy life, her deep regret when she\nhad erred, and her resolute efforts to improve in every part of her\ncharacter.\n\nThrough a long sickness, with consumption, for two years and three\nmonths, she felt the soothing power of unfaltering Christian hope,\nwhich was evidently derived from a very clear perception of the way to\nbe saved through Christ, and complete trust in the promises made to\nsimple faith in him.\n\nHe who gave me this child, and crowned my hopes and wishes by the\nmanifest signs of his love towards her, merits from me a tribute of\ngratitude and praise to which I desire and expect that eternity itself\nmay bear witness. They who read the story, which I am about to relate,\nof her last few days, and think what it must be for a father to see his\nchild made competent to meet so intelligently and deliberately, and to\novercome, the last enemy, and, in doing so, helping to sustain and to\ncomfort those who loved her, will perceive that it is a gift from God\nwhose value nothing can increase. Bereavement and separation take\nnothing from it, but, on the contrary, they illustrate and enforce our\nobligations. For since we must needs die, and are as water that is\nspilled upon the ground, which cannot be gathered up again, such a death\nas this amounts to positive happiness by the side of a contrasted\nexperience in the joyless, hopeless death of a child, or friend. But\nwithout further preface, I proceed to the narrative.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNever before had it fallen to my lot to bear that message to one who was\nsick, \"The Master is come, and calleth for thee.\" In previous cases of\ndeep, personal interest, this has been unnecessary. But in the present\ncase there was a resolute purpose, and an expectation, of recovery, till\nwithin a week of dissolution, and, on our part, a belief that life might\nstill be lengthened. Such cases involve nice questions of duty. Where\nthe patient has evidently made timely preparation to die, it is needless\nto dispel that half illusion which seems to be one feature of\nconsumption--an illusion which is so thin that we feel persuaded the\npatient sees through it, while, nevertheless, it serves all the purposes\nof hope. To take away that hope where no beneficial end is to be\nsecured, is cruel. A mistaken, and somewhat morbid, sense of duty to\ntell the whole truth, and a conscientious but unenlightened fear of\npractising deception, sometimes lead friends to remove, from a sick\nperson, that power which hope gives in sustaining the sickness, in\nprolonging comfort, and in helping the gradual descent into the grave.\nWhen a sick person is resolute and hopeful, it is surprising to see how\nmany annoyances of sickness are prevented or easily borne, and how life,\nand even cheerfulness, may be indefinitely extended. But when hope is\ntaken away, or, rather, when, instead of looking towards life with that\ninstinctive love of it which God has implanted, we turn from \"the warm\nprecincts of the cheerful day,\" and look into the grave, it is affecting\nto see how the disease takes advantage of it, and sufferings ensue which\nwould have been prevented by keeping up even the ambiguous thoughts of\nrecovery. Sick people have reflections and feelings which exert an\ninfluence upon them beyond our discernment, and which frequently need\nnot our literal interpretations of symptoms, and our exhortations, to\nmake them more effectual. But where there is evidently no preparedness\nfor death, and the patient, we fear, is deceiving himself, no one who\nhas suitable views of Christian duty will fail to impress him with the\nnecessity of attending to the things which belong to his peace, even at\nconsiderable risk of abridging life.\n\nWaiting, therefore, for medical discernment to signify when the last\npossible effort to lengthen out the days of the sufferer had been made,\none morning I received the intimation that those days would, in all\nprobability, be but very few. After the physician had left the house,\nand I had sought help and strength from God, I lost no time, but took my\nplace at the dear patient's side, to make the announcement.\n\nGod help those on whom he lays such duty. The hour had virtually come in\nwhich father and child must part, and the father was to break that\nmessage to his child. But how could mortal strength endure the effort?\n\nBefore I left my room for hers, there came to my mind these words--\"But\nnow, thus saith the Lord that created thee, O Jacob, and he that formed\nthee, O Israel, Fear not, for I have redeemed thee; I have called thee\nby thy name; thou art mine. When thou passest through the waters, I will\nbe with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee; when\nthou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned, neither shall\nthe flame kindle upon thee.\" Trusting in that promise, I sat down, as it\nwere, over against the sepulchre, to prepare my child for her entrance\ninto it,--nay, for her departure into heaven.\n\nThe gradual arrival of the truth to her apprehension, through questions\nwhich she began to ask, and my answers to them, finally led her to\ninquire if I supposed she could not live long. I told her that the\nphysician thought that she was extremely weak, and that we must not be\nsurprised at any sudden event in her case. She said, without any change\nof countenance, \"Why, father, you surprise me; I thought that I might\nget well; is it possible that I cannot live long? I have thought of\nrecovering much more than of dying... It seems a long space to pass over\nbetween this and heaven, in so short a time. I wonder how I can so\nsuddenly obtain all the feelings which I need for such a change.\" These\nexpressions I wrote down immediately after the interview. I told her, in\nreply, that she had been living at peace with God through his Son; that\nit had hitherto been her duty to live, and to strive for it; but now God\nhad indicated his will concerning her, and she might be sure that God\nwill always give us feelings suited to every condition in which he sees\nfit to place us.\n\nOn seeing her again towards evening, I found that the expression of her\nsick face--the weary, exhausted look of one grappling with a stronger\npower--had passed away, and, in exchange, there was peace, and even\nhappiness. She began herself to say, \"When you told me this forenoon\nthat I could not live, it surprised me; but I have come to it now, and\nit is all right. Every thing is settled. I have nothing to do--no fear,\nno anxiety about any thing. More passages of Scripture and verses of\nhymns have come to my mind to-day, than in all my sickness hitherto.\"\nWishes respecting some family arrangements were then expressed,\nparticularly with reference to the younger children, and these wishes\nwere uttered in about the same tone and manner as though we were parting\nfor a temporary absence from each other. The mother of my youngest child\nhad, at her death, given her in special charge to this daughter, and she\nwished to live that she might educate her. She made the transfer of her\nlittle trust with calmness, and then her \"Good night\" was uttered with a\ngentle playfulness, like that of her early days.\n\nNor was her frame of mind an excitement, or a fictitious experience, to\nend with sleep. The next forenoon she renewed the conversation. She\nsaid, \"In the night I awoke many times, and always with this thought--I\nam not going to live. Instead of fear and dread, peace came with it.\nNames of Christ flowed in upon my mind; and once I awoke with these\nwords in my thoughts--'And there shall be no night there.' Now I know\nthat I am to die, I feel less nervous. I have a calm, unruffled\nfeeling.\" She expressed some natural apprehensions, only, about the\npossibility of dissolution not having occurred when we should suppose\nthat she was no more. I told her how kindly God had ordered it that we\ndo not all die together, but one by one, the survivors doing all that\nthe departed would desire--which satisfied her, and removed her only\nfear.\n\nShe asked leave to make a request respecting her grave; that, if any\ndevice were placed upon the stone, it might be of flowers, which had\nbeen such a joy and consolation to her in her sickness. She named the\nlily-of-the-valley and rose buds. \"I love the white flowers,\" said she.\n\"If you think best, let them be represented in some simple way... One\ngreat desire which I have had was to assort some leaves of flowers into\nforms for you. As my bouquets fell to pieces; I gathered the best\npetals, and leaves, and sprigs, and I have them in a book;\" which, at\nher request, I then reached for her. I turned the pages. The book was\nfull of beautiful relics from tokens of remembrance which kind friends\nhad sent to her, and among them were some curiously mottled, green and\nrose-colored, petals, which she had designed for a wreath, on the first\npage of the little herbarium, which it was her intention to prepare; and\nthen, with great hesitancy, and protesting their unworthiness, she\nrepeated these simple lines, which she had composed for an inscription\nwithin the wreath. I wrote them down from her lips:\n\n\nTO MY FATHER.\n\n    These flowers, which gave me such comfort and hope,\n      I pressed, in my sickness, for you;\n    Accept them, though faded; they never will droop;\n      And believe that my heart is there too.\n\nThey who showered these tokens of their regard upon her, will be\npleased to know that their gifts did not wholly perish, but that they\nwill constitute an abiding memorial of her friends, as well as of her.\n\n\"I know,\" she continued, \"that I am a great sinner; but I also believe\nthat my sins are washed away by the blood of Christ.\" The way of\njustification by faith was clear to her mind. She knew whom she\nbelieved, and was persuaded that he was able to keep that which she had\ncommitted to him against that day.\n\nIn her whispering voice, which disease had for some time so nearly\nhushed, she said, \"I shall sing in heaven.\" Her voice had been the charm\nof many a pleasant circle. But she added, \"I shall no more sing--\n\n    'I'm a pilgrim, and I'm a stranger;\n    I can tarry, I can tarry but a night.'\"\n\nAnd in a moment she added,--\n\n    \"Of that country to which I am going,\n    My Redeemer, my Redeemer is the light.\"\n\n\"Some people,\" she said, \"wish to die in order to get rid of pain. What\na motive! I am afraid that sometimes they get rid of it only to renew\nit. There was--\" And here she checked herself, saying, \"But I will not\nmention any name,\" a feeling of charitableness and tenderness coming\nover her, as though she might be thought to have judged a dying person\nharshly.\n\nThe day before she died, as I was spending the Sabbath forenoon by her,\nshe breathed out these words:--\n\n    \"O, how soft that bed must be,\n    Made in sickness, Lord, by thee!\n    And that rest, how soft and sweet,\n    Where Jesus and the sufferer meet!\"\n\nIn almost the same breath, she said, \"O, see that beautiful\nyellow,\"--directing my attention to a sprig of acacia in a bunch of\nflowers; all showing that her religious feelings were not raptures, but\nflowed along upon a level with her natural delight at beautiful objects.\nTo illustrate this, I have mentioned several of the incidents already\nrelated.\n\nShe spoke of a young friend, who has much that the world gives its\nvotaries to enhance her prospects in this life. I said, \"Would you\nexchange conditions with her?\" \"Not for ten thousand worlds,\" was her\nenergetic reply. \"No!\" she added; \"I fear she has not chosen the good\npart.\"\n\nSabbath afternoon, the mortal conflict was upon her. The restlessness of\ndeath, the craving for some change of posture, the cold sweats, the\nlabored respiration, all had the effect merely to make her ask, \"How\nlong do you think I must suffer?\" That labored breathing tired her; she\nwished that I could regulate it for her. \"How long,\" said she, \"will it\nprobably continue?\"\n\nI told her that heaven was a free gift at the last as well as at first;\nthat we could not pass within the gate at will, but must wait God's\ntime; that there were sufferings yet necessary to her complete\npreparation for heaven, of which she would see the use hereafter, but\nnot now. This made her wholly quiet; and after that she rode at anchor\nmany hours, hard by the inner lighthouse, waiting for the Pilot.\n\nThe last words which she uttered to me, an hour before she died, were,\n\"I am going to get my crown.\" I wondered at her in my thoughts, (O, help\nmy unbelief!) to hear a dying sinner so confident. I said to myself, \"O\nwoman, great is thy faith.\" She knew that her crown was a free gift,\npurchased at infinite expense; a crown, instead of deserved chains,\nunder darkness. All unmerited, and more than forfeited, yet she spoke of\nher crown, because she believed with a simple faith, taking Christ at\nhis word, and being willing to receive rewards and honors from him\nwithout projecting her own sense of unworthiness to stay the\noverflowings of infinite love and grace towards her. So that, in her own\nesteem as undeserving as the chief of sinners, thinking as little as\npossible of her own righteousness, and being among the last to claim any\nthing of God, she could say with one who would not admit that any\nsinner was chief above him, \"Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown\nof righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at\nthat day; and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his\nappearing.\"\n\nBetween two and three o'clock on Monday afternoon, January 19, she was\nquietly receiving some food from the nurse, when suddenly she said, \"The\nroom seems dark.\" She then made a surprising effort, such as she had\nbeen incapable of for some time, and reached forward from her pillow,\nsaying, \"Who is that at the door?\" The nurse was with her alone, and at\nher side, the family being at the table. Coming to her room, we found\nthat she was apparently sinking into a deep sleep, as though it were\nonly a sleep, profound and quiet.\n\nI asked her if she knew me.\n\nShe made no answer.\n\nI said, \"You know Jesus.\" A smile played about her mouth. We rejoiced,\nand wept for joy.\n\nI then said, \"If you know father, press my hand.\" She gave me no\nsign--that smile being her last intelligent act.--And so she passed\nwithin the veil.\n\nI was able to relate all this from my pulpit the Sabbath after her\ndecease, not merely because the period of the greatest suffering under\nbereavement had not come, but chiefly because the consolations of the\ntrying scene, and hopes full of immortality, had not lost their new\npower. I was therefore like those who, on the first Christian Sabbath\nmorning, \"departed quickly from the sepulchre with fear and great joy,\nand did run to bring his disciples word.\"\n\nIt is intimated above that the greatest suffering at the death of a\nfriend does not occur immediately upon the event. It comes when the\nworld have forgotten that you have cause to weep; for when the eyes are\ndry, the heart is often bleeding. There are hours,--no, they are more\nconcentrated than hours,--there are moments, when the thought of a lost\nand loved one, who has perished out of your family circle, suspends all\ninterest in every thing else; when the memory of the departed floats\nover you like a wandering perfume, and recollections come in throngs\nwith it, flooding the soul with grief. The name, of necessity or\naccidentally spoken, sets all your soul ajar; and your sense of loss,\nutter loss, for all time, brings more sorrow with it by far than the\nparting scene.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nShe who was the sweet singer of my little Israel is no more. The child\nwhose sense of beauty made her the swiftest herald to me of every fair\ndiscovery and new household joy, will never greet me again with her\nsurprises of gladness. She who, leaning upon my arm as we walked,\nsilently conveyed to me such a sense of evenness, firmness, dignity; she\nwhose child-like love was turning into the womanly affection for a\nfather; she who was complete in herself, as every good child is, not\nsuggesting to your thoughts what you would have a child be, but filling\nout the orb of your ideal beauty, still partly in outline; her seat,\nher place at the table, at prayers, at the piano, at church; the sight\nof her going out and coming in; her tones of speech, her helpful spirit\nand hands, and all the unfinished creations of her skill, every thing\nthat made her that which the growing associations with her name had\nbuilt up in our hearts,--all is gone, for this life; it is removed like\na tree; it is departed like a shepherd's tent.\n\nAnd all this, too, is saved. It survives, or I would not, I could not,\nwrite thus. There comes to my sorrowing heart some such message as the\nsons of Jacob brought to their father, when they said, \"Joseph is yet\nalive, and he is governor over all the land of Egypt.\"\n\nJesus of Nazareth has been in my dwelling, and has done a great work of\nhealing. He has saved my child; saved her to be a happy spirit; forever\nsaved her for himself, to employ her powers of mind and heart in his\nblissful service; saved her for the joyful welcome and embraces of her\nmother, and of a second mother, who laid deep and strong foundations in\nher character for goodness and knowledge. He has saved her for me,\nthrough all eternity. She will be my sweet singer again; she will have\nin store for me all the wonderful discoveries which her intense love of\nbeauty will have made her treasure up, to impart, when the child\nbecomes, as it were, parent, for a little while, to the soul of the\nparent in heaven, new-born. I said to her, a day or two before she died,\n\"Those mothers will show you things in heaven; for we read, '_And he\nshewed me_ a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding\nout of the throne of God and the Lamb.'\"\n\nBut John mistook this heavenly saint for an angel, so glorious was his\nappearance, and he fell down to worship him, but was told, \"See thou do\nit not; for I am thy fellow-servant, and of thy brethren the prophets,\nand of them which keep the sayings of this book.\" Then what will she\nherself be, when these eyes behold her again? And what will she have\ntreasured up to tell me? she, who always brought rare things for me from\nthe woods and the shore, surpassing those of her companions. If He who\nredeemed her, and has presented her faultless before the presence of his\nglory with exceeding joy, will bestow that nurture and culture upon her\nwhich are implied in leading her to living fountains of waters, what\nwill she be? and how good it will seem that she left earth so early,\nsince it was the will of God, to enter upon such a career of bliss!\n\nA few years ago, I appropriated a wedding gift from a friend to the\npurchase of a guitar for her, as a birthday gift in her early sickness.\nTo assist her in learning to play upon it, I first gained some knowledge\nof the instrument. We kept it in its case in my study; and sometimes, on\ncoming home, and feeling in the mood of it, I wished to handle it, and\ninstead of unlocking the case to see if the instrument were there, I\nwould knock upon it; and straightway what turbulence of harmonies rang\nfrom all the strings. Now, it is so with every thing connected with her\nmemory; every thing associated with her, even though outwardly sombre\nand dreary, like those black cases for musical instruments, being\nappealed to, or accidentally encountered, sings of her still, with a\ntroubled and a pathetic, pleasing music.\n\nIn her very early childhood, she and two of the children were sick with\na children's epidemic. The crisis had passed; an anxious day with regard\nto one of the children had been followed by entire relief from our\nfears. As we sat at table that evening, we heard music from the chambers\nof the sick children; we opened the door and listened. This daughter was\nsinging, and the chorus of her little school song was, \"All are here,\nall are here.\" She did not think of the signification which those words\nhad to our hearts. It was one of those household pleasures which have so\nmuch of heaven in them. I can sometimes hear her singing to me now,\nfrom those upper skies, in the name of the four who have gone there from\nmy dwelling, \"All are here, all are here.\" She bequeathed her guitar,\nbut her voice and hand now join with \"the voice of harpers harping with\ntheir harps.\"\n\nWe sometimes think that they miss great good who depart from us in early\nyears; that one who has arrived at the entrance to the world's great\nfeast must be sadly disappointed to be led away, never to go in. Now, it\nis true that we must not shrink from the battle of life; we must take\nupon ourselves, if God ordains it, the great jeopardy of disappointment\nand sorrow, and the chance of life's joys; we must each stand in his\nlot; we must send children forth into the harvest of the earth for\nsheaves, and whether they faint and die under their load, or deck\nthemselves with garlands,--still, let them be laborers together with\nGod, and let us not seek exemption for them. But if God ordains their\nearly translation to heaven, what can earth afford them in the way of\npleasure, granting the cup to be full and unalloyed, to be compared with\nfulness of joy? Fair maidens in heaven,--and O, how many of them has\nconsumption gathered in!--fair maidens there are like the white flowers,\nwhich are sacred to peculiar times and scenes. How goodly must be their\narray! What a perpetual spring tide of vivacious joy and delight do they\ncreate in heaven. It is pleasant to have a child among them.\n\nIt has been my privilege to see, in this child, an example of true\npreparation for death, which begins before the expectation of dying\nbrings the least discredit, or breath of suspicion, upon our motives in\nattending to the subject of religion. Preparation for death consists in\njustification by faith, extending its influence into the whole\ncharacter, to bring us under the rule of Christ. The fruit of this is\nfriendship with God, the confidence of love, knowing whom we have\nbelieved, with the persuasion of our having committed to him an infinite\ntrust, and that he will keep it with covenant faithfulness. So when\ndeath comes and knocks at the door, it is true the heart beats quicker,\nas it is apt to do whoever knocks there; for, to give up one's hold on\nlife, to turn and look eternal things full in the face, to think of\nmeeting God, and of having your endless condition fixed, summons the\nwhole of natural and acquired fortitude; and only they who have an\nunseen arm to lean upon at such a time, endure in that trial. Then past\nexperience comes in with her powerful aid: \"I have fought a good fight;\"\n\"the wise took oil in their vessels with their lamps;\" \"remember, O\nLord, how I have walked before thee.\" Thus there is something to make\nyou feel that your justification, by free grace, has the evidence\nafforded by its fruits; and the preparation to die may be likened to\nthat of which the Saviour speaks when he says, \"He that is washed\nneedeth not save to wash his feet, but is clean every whit.\" I have seen\nit, have watched it, have studied it, in the dying scenes of this child.\nHers was not the experience of the sinner, pulled suddenly from the\nwaves by a hand which he had for a long time, nay, always, spurned; but\nher dying was an arrival at the end of a voyage, the coming home of a\ngood child to long-expecting hearts and arms. We said one to another\naround her dying bed,--yes, we had composure to say, as we watched that\nparting scene, that fading cloud, that sinking gale, that dying wave,\nthat shutting eye of day,--\"Think of such a poor, helpless, dying\ncreature, if, in the sense intended by those words, she should 'fall\ninto the hands of the living God.'\" And we glorified God in her. Never\ndid I see and feel more deeply, by contrast, the folly of trusting to a\ndeath-bed repentance, to repair the errors of a wasted life. It is a\ndeliberate attempt at fraud upon the Most High; it is folly; for the\nrisk is fearful, and could we obtain salvation, how mercenarily!--and\nwhat a memorial would it be in heaven of loss, instead of being \"a crown\nof righteousness!\" They who are all their lifetime ignorant, being\nunfortunately deprived of opportunity for religious instruction, may\nwith wonder and joy accept the surprising news of pardon, through\nChrist, on a dying bed, and soar to the same heights with apostles in\ntheir praises of redeeming love. But if we hear of salvation by Christ\nall our life long, and know our duty, but prefer the pleasures of sin\nfor a season, and think that in the swellings of Jordan we shall find\npeace and safety, our conduct deserves all the opprobrious names which\nare heaped upon it by inspired tongues and pens. We who are parents must\nteach our children that religion does not consist merely in being\npardoned, and, if pardoned, no matter whether early or late; but that it\nis the first, the constant, the all-pervading rule of life, God and his\nservice the chief end of man, and that the pleasures of religion are the\nsweetest pleasures, hallowing all others which are innocent, and leading\nus to reject those, and only those, which would be unsuitable or\ninjurious, even if religious custom did not forbid them. We must know\nthis, and practise upon it, ourselves; else, how can we expect the\nchildren to believe it?\n\nThe exceeding relief which a timely preparation for death by an early\nconsecration of herself to God, imparted to this child and to us, was\nfelt in this, that she and we had no distressing thoughts at her total\ninability, for a long time, to join in prayer with others, or to be\nconversed with in any way that excited much feeling. The diseased\nthroat, where, as we all know, our emotions, even in health and\nstrength, make such interference with our comfort, prevented her from\njoining in any religious exercises, because she would then be liable to\nthe excitement of feelings which, in the way just intimated, would have\ninjured her. With such affections of the bronchial passages, efforts of\nmind which are not spontaneous are sometimes agony. Connected endeavors\nto follow conversation and prayer were impossible, and she told me, on\nsaying this, that she took great comfort from a remark, in a book,\naddressed to a sick person--\"Do not think, but pray.\" She prayed much\nherself; her thoughts, too, were prayers, in certain cases. Now, in that\nweakened condition, what could she have done, and what would have been\nher father's feelings, had she not, in health and strength, arrived at\nsuch a state of religious knowledge and experience as to remove anxiety\nfor her spiritual welfare, and to make us feel that she had Christ in\nher, the hope of glory? When the cry was made, \"Behold, the bridegroom\ncometh,\" she arose and trimmed her lamp, and had oil in her vessel with\nher lamp. Wealth could not purchase the relief and satisfaction which\nthis gave to her friends;--so truly is religion called the \"pearl of\ngreat price;\" so literally true are the Saviour's words, \"But one thing\nis needful.\" It is the greatest blessing which a young person can bestow\non Christian parents, to be a Christian; and what its value is to\nsurviving parents, ask those who sorrow as they that have no hope. When\na young Christian comes to die, he testifies that he lost nothing, but\ngained every thing, with eternal life, by being a Christian in his early\nyears. I can imagine what this child would say to one and another of her\nyoung friends who may read these pages, and how she would seek to\npersuade them, as the first great duty of their existence, and for their\nbest good here, and for their everlasting peace, to choose the good\npart, which will never be taken away from them.\n\nHer funeral was a scene from which many went away rejoicing in God; and\nnot a few date new progress in the Christian life from it, by means of\nthe new and striking illustration which they there had of the Saviour's\npower and love. The Choir struck the key note of heaven in their opening\nstrains, by chanting, \"Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, to receive\npower, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honor, and glory, and\nblessing.\" They gave us, too, her favorite song, by which she was\nremembered in several circles, at home and abroad, before she was sick,\nand the words of which, now, seem to have had a prophetic meaning from\nher lips:--\n\n    \"I'm a pilgrim, and I'm a stranger;\n    I can tarry, I can tarry but a night;\"--\n\nwhich was sung at the funeral with a sweetness which added much to the\nassociations with it in our minds; and in the closing hymn, how strange\nit seemed, at a funeral, to hear the singers, though by our own request\nand though in accordance with all which had passed, bid us\n\n    \"Proclaim abroad his name,\n    Tell of his matchless fame,\n      What wonders done!\n    Shout through hell's dark profound,\n    Let the whole earth resound,\n    Till the high heavens rebound,\n      The victory's won;\"--\n\nand to hear them, as they cried one to another, saying,--\n\n    \"All hail the glorious day,\n    When, through the heavenly way,\n      Lo, He shall come;\n    While they who pierced him wail;\n    His promise shall not fail;\n    Saints, see your King prevail;\n      Come, dear Lord, come.\"\n\nFor those ministrations of love and tenderness in the last, sad offices\nto the dead, which no wealth could buy, repeated now by some of the same\nhands several times in my dwelling, there are no words of gratitude\nadequate to the great debt of love. The mothers of my church, who met\nweekly with her mother for prayer, remembered her child, and provided\nnurses for her, to her own unspeakable comfort and our great relief.\nFriends and strangers, touched with her protracted sickness, poured\nblessings around her couch; fruits, in their season, and when out of\ntheir season, of what almost unearthly beauty! and flowers which, with\nthe fruits, made that sick room seem like the garden which the Lord\nplanted in Eden. Such have been the alleviations of pain and suffering,\nthe comforts, and even the pleasures, and above all the rich spiritual\nconsolations and joys, and the more than conquering faith of the dying\nhour,--such a union in all this of Jesus and his friends,--that I have\nmade the case of the ruler of the synagogue mine, of whom, as he went to\nhis afflicted house, it is said, \"And Jesus arose and followed him, and\nso did his disciples.\" They will go wherever Jesus leads the way; and he\nwill lead the way wherever there is a lamb to be folded in his bosom.\n\nThere were not wanting those who lent me their sepulchre, in the city,\nfor a season--a kindness always peculiar and affecting, but also needful\nin this instance, because of the great snows which made the roads to\nMount Auburn impassable for several days. Nor can I forget that, when\nSaturday evening closed upon us, words and tokens of kindness came from\nthe younger members of my congregation, who had provided for the last\nearthly things which the precious dust of their young friend required;\nand so they seemed to bid me rest from all care and thoughtfulness, upon\nthe \"Sabbath day, according to the commandment.\" All which should\nincrease my feelings of sympathy and kindness for the sick, and\nespecially for the sick poor, whose rooms, and whose dying hours, and\nwhose griefs, are oftentimes in such contrast to those into which divine\nand human loving kindness seem striving to pour their abundant\nconsolations. As the family retired from the dying scene, and were\nweeping together, a father came to my door, in that great snow-storm, to\nsay that his son, the young man, not a member of my congregation, whom I\nhad several times visited, was near his end, and would like to see me.\nStranger comparatively though he was, and impassable as the streets were\nby any vehicle, and almost by foot passengers, my gratitude for the\nsweet and peaceful end of my own dear child, and for her undoubted\nadmission to the realms of bliss, was such, that, within an hour or two,\nI forced my way to a distant part of the city, to assist another\ndeparting spirit for its flight. This heart has no more fortitude, nor\nhas it less of natural affection and sensibility, than ordinarily falls\nto the lot of men; hence those consolations must have been great, that\nsupport and strength equal to the day, that hope concerning my child an\nanchor sure and steadfast, which enabled me thus to go from her clay,\njust cold, to aid a passing spirit in obtaining like precious faith with\nhers, and the same inheritance. My motive in thus lifting a little of\nthe veil, or in placing a light behind the transparency, of my private\nfeelings, I trust will be seen to be, that I may comfort others with the\ncomfort wherewith I was comforted of God.\n\nBut there awaits me a blessing, with a joy, surpassing all that has gone\nbefore. \"My daughter is even now dead; but come and lay thy hand upon\nher, and she shall live.\" From her grave, which was soon made by the\nside of kindred dust, Jesus will raise her up at the last day; her voice\nwill come to that body; her youthful beauty will be reestablished by\nher likeness to Christ's own glorious body; she will lean upon my arm\nagain; the separation and absence will enhance the joy of meeting; we\nshall say, How like a hand-breadth was the separation! We shall see\nreasons full of wisdom and love for the sickness and the early death. We\nshall part no more. All this has more than once made me say, and sing,--\n\n    \"O, for this love, let rocks and hills\n      Their lasting silence break,\n    And all harmonious human tongues\n      The Saviour's praises speak.\"\n\nYoung friend, you will need him as the great Physician, the Friend in\nsorrow, the Forerunner in the dark passages of life, the Conqueror of\ndeath, the Lord our Righteousness, and, all endearing names in one,\nImmanuel, God with us.\n\nParents, you will need him for your children. Children, you will need\nhim when father and mother, one or both, have forsaken you, or, if\nalive, can only make you feel how little their fond love can do for you.\nWhen the name of _father_, cannot rouse you, nor your cold hand return\nthe pressure of your father's hand, you will need a nearer, dearer\nfriend, in the person of Him who loved you, and gave himself for you.\n\nIt has been one of the richest joys of my pastoral life, that I have\nsent to her mother in heaven her child, whom God had prepared for so\nearly a departure out of this world. This ministry of reconciliation has\nbeen blessed to the salvation of my child. It should make me love the\nchildren of my pastoral charge more than ever, seek to gather them into\nthe fold of Christ, that whole families, each like a constellation, may\nrise together in the firmament of heaven; and, in the mean time, that\nthe members of every household, as they desert us one by one, may call\nback to us, and say, for the departed, \"All are here.\"\n\nGod takes a family here and there, in a circle of acquaintances and\nfriends, and greatly afflicts them; and thus he teaches others. As we\nlook, therefore, upon the afflicted, we ought to say,--\n\n    \"For us they languish, and for us they die;\n    And shall they languish, shall they die, in vain?\"\n\nGod is the same when he takes away the child, as when he laid that gift\nin our hands. Perhaps, indeed, the removal is really a greater exercise\nof love than the gift. It must seem good and acceptable in the sight of\nGod, if, when we are bereaved, we employ ourselves occasionally in\nrehearsing before him the circumstances in his past goodness, which, at\nthe time, made it exceedingly sweet and precious. Our debt of obligation\nfor it is not yet fully paid; nor is it diminished at all by the removal\nof the blessing. Instead of abandoning ourselves to grief, we do well if\nwe commune with God more frequently respecting his signal acts of favor\nin connection with the lost blessing.\n\nBut the memory of lost joys is always apt to depress the mind\ninordinately. We question whether it is really better to have\n\n        \"loved and lost\n    Than never to have loved at all.\"\n\nTaking a future life into the account, surely no doubt can remain as to\nthat question; but one who has really loved, will not be long in coming\nto the same conclusion, irrespective of the future. Must God abstain\nfrom making us exceedingly happy, because, forsooth, we shall be so\nunhappy when, in the exercise of the same goodness and wisdom which\ndictated the gift, he sees it best to take it away? If we love him more\nthan we love his gifts, then the removal of them will make us love him\nmore than ever.\n\n    \"Though now He frowns, I'll praise the Almighty's name,\n    And bless the source whence past enjoyments came.\"\n\nWe often hear it said, that every thing which happens to us is for our\ngood, even in this world.--Many things happen to men, even to\nChristians, which are plainly not for their good in this life, though\nall things will, eventually, work together for good to them that love\nGod. Some things, then, even here, are intended to be life-long sorrows\nand trials. Their object is reproof and constant admonition. We need\nanother state of existence to explain the present. If that future state\ndoes not prove that earthly discipline has had its designed effect, the\nsorrows of this life show that God can bear to see us suffer, even when\nhe foresees that no good will result to the sufferer. For while men\nsuffer excruciatingly under bereavements, these sufferings often fail to\nmake them better. God foresees all this. Hence God is able to look upon\nsuffering which he sees will not be for the good of the afflicted.\n\nIf, now, his design in our trials (which pierced his heart before they\nreached ours) is utterly frustrated by our sins, the question will\narise, whether the God who can bear to see us suffer for our good,\nwhich, nevertheless, he foresees will not be effected, will not be able\nto see us suffer as the fruit of our sins, and of our resistance to his\ndesigns. One who has endured much mental suffering cannot have failed to\nsee, that God's parental relation to us is not analogous to that of\nparent and child among men. It terminates in the relations of governor\nand of judge; being, indeed, from the first, included in those\nrelations. This is not so in our earthly relationship. God sees men\nsuffer as no earthly parent could; he inflicts pain as no earthly parent\nshould. All is for our profit; but if that object fails through our\nperverseness, we are instructed, by our experience, that if God can look\non mental anguish and not relieve it, because he seeks an ulterior good,\nthe punishment of sin, the natural and just consequences of disobedience\nto the great laws of the universe, may be, in their extended impression,\nanother ulterior good, which will warrant the same mental sufferings\nafter death, and forever.\n\nCould I be permitted, therefore, I would take by the hand every bereaved\nfather whom so great an affliction as the death of a child has not\nsucceeded in bringing into a state of preparation for heaven, and kindly\nask how he expects to bear a final and endless separation. \"If thou hast\nrun with the footmen, and they have wearied thee, then how canst thou\ncontend with horses? and if in the land of peace, wherein thou\ntrustedst, they wearied thee, then how wilt thou do in the swelling of\nJordan?\" God describes to his ancient people one of the great sorrows\nwhich will happen to them, if they forsake him, in their separations, by\ncaptivity, from their children: \"Thy sons and thy daughters shall be\ngiven unto another people, and thine eyes shall look, and fail with\nlonging, for them all the day long; and there shall be no might in thy\nhand.\" Pains of absence, sudden convulsions of feeling at the remembered\nlooks, form, words, and motions of a loved one, sometimes are as when\nmen feel the earth quaking under them; and then, again, they entirely\nprostrate us, for the moment, like a tornado. Homesickness in a foreign\nland,--an ocean stretching between us and the objects of our love--is\nan admonition to us with respect to future, endless separations. The\nhopeless death of a child has sometimes had the effect to change the\nlong-established faith of a parent with regard to future retribution;\nall the acknowledged principles of interpretation, all the results of\nmeditation and prayer, the theory of the divine government which has\nbeen built up in the soul, till it became identified with personal\nconsciousness, the whole analogy of faith,--all, have been swept away by\nthe overmastering power of parental love for one who, when he died, left\nhis friends to sorrow as they that have no hope. Now, supposing a parent\nto fail of heaven, and to retain his instinctive parental feelings, the\nendless separation between him and his family will be a source of sorrow\nwhich needs only to be kept up, by an ever-living memory, to constitute\nall which is pictured in the boldest metaphors of inspired tongues and\npens. A father in disgrace, or under ignominy, suffers intensely when\nhe sees or thinks of his children, provided his natural sensibilities\nare not destroyed. A father punished, hereafter, by his Redeemer and\nJudge, a father banished from the company of heaven, knowing that his\nfamily are there, and that if his influence had had its full effect,\nthey would all have perished with him,--or a father with a part of his\nchildren with him in perdition, the wife and mother with one or more of\nthe children in heaven,--is a picture of woe which nothing but timely\nrepentance and faith in Christ may prevent from being a reality in the\nexperience of some who read these lines. Can it be true, as Bishop Hall\nsays, that \"to be happy is not so sweet a state as it is miserable to\nhave been happy\"? O man, if you have a child in heaven, think that,\namong the sweet influences of divine love, there probably is no more\npowerful motive to draw your affections towards God, than that glimpse\nwhich you sometimes seem to have of this child's face, on which heaven\nhas traced its lineaments of peace and bliss; or that sudden whisper of\na gentle, child-like voice, now and then heard by the ear of fancy,\npersuading you to be a Christian. Do not let the world, or shame, or\nprocrastination, lead you to resist such efforts of almighty love to\nsave you. He who has had a child saved by Christ, and will not be\nhimself a Christian,--what more can God do to save him?\n\nThe breaking up of our homes is one of the mysteries of God's\nprovidence. The last thing, perhaps, which we might suppose would be\nallowed, is, the removal of a mother from a family of young children.\nThis being so frequent, we cease to wonder at any other dispensations;\nwe conclude that separations are to be made, regardless of any and every\nseeming necessity and endearment. \"Sirs, I perceive that this voyage\nwill be with hurt and much damage, not only of the lading and ship, but\nalso of our lives.\" The conviction is forced upon us that there is\nanother world, for which we must make all our calculations. \"There is a\nbetter world,\" said the distinguished William Wirt, after the death of\nhis daughter, in 1831,--\"there is a better world, of which I have\nthought too little. To that world she has gone, and thither my\naffections have followed her. This was Heaven's design. I see and feel\nit as distinctly as if an angel had revealed it. I often imagine that I\ncan see her beckoning me to the happy world to which she has gone. She\nwas my companion, my office companion, my librarian, my clerk. My papers\nnow bear her indorsement. She pursued her studies in my office, by my\nside, sat with me, walked with me, was my inexpressibly sweet and\ninseparable companion,--never left me but to go and sit with her mother.\nWe knew all her intelligence, all her pure and delicate sensibility, the\nquickness and power of her perceptions, her seraphic love. She was all\nlove, and loved all God's creation, even the animals, trees, and plants.\nShe loved her God and Saviour with an angel's love, and died like a\nsaint.\"[A]\n\n[Footnote A: Kennedy's Life of William Wirt--letter to Judge Carr.]\n\nAbout the same time, he writes to his wife,--\n\n\"I want only my blessed Saviour's assurance of pardon and acceptance to\nbe at peace. I wish to find no rest short of rest in him,--Let us both\nlook up to that heaven--where our Saviour dwells, and from which he is\nshowing us the attractive face of our blessed and happy child, and\nbidding us prepare to come to her, since she can no more visibly come to\nus. I have no taste now for worldly business. I go to it reluctantly. I\nwould keep company only with my Saviour and his holy book. I dread the\nworld, the strife, and contention, and emulation of the bar; yet I will\ndo my duty--this is part of my religion.\"\n\nIn December, 1833, another daughter died; but he writes,--\n\n\"I look upon life as a drama, bearing the same sort, though not the\nsame degree, of relation to eternity, as an hour spent at the theatre,\nand the fictions there exhibited ... do to the whole of real life. Nor\nis there any thing in this passing pageant worth the sorrow that we\nlavish on it. Now, when my children or friends leave me, or when I shall\nbe called to leave them, I consider it as merely parting for the present\nvisit, to meet under happier circumstances, when we shall part no\nmore.\"[B]\n\n[Footnote B: Kennedy's Life of William Wirt--letter to Judge Cabell.]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"All my children,\" said the venerable John Eliot, of Roxbury, \"are\neither with Christ or in Christ.\" Happy, happy man! The little ones,\nblighted soon by the touch of death, surely are with Christ; \"for of\nsuch is the kingdom of God.\" The cherub boy, and the blooming, broken\nflower, the young daughter,--the young man in his strength, the young\nmaiden in her beauty,--are there. As we commune together, in the pages\nwhich follow, on themes touching this subject, God grant that every one\nwho has not yet gladdened the heart of parent, and pastor, nay, of that\ninfinite Friend, our Saviour, by the surrender of the heart to God, and\nevery father and mother who is yet unprepared to join the growing circle\nof the family in heaven,--('how grows in Paradise their store!')--may,\nas we reach the last page, find that with cords of a man, with bands of\nlove, He who made Pleiades, and Arcturus and his sons, has united them\nin eternal fellowship with their departed loved ones, through faith in\nChrist. This, while it hallows the remainder of life with the rich,\nmellowed beauty of the changing leaf, and ripening grain, and shortening\ndays, lays the foundation of that perfect happiness for which our homes\nare intended to prepare us; their joys alluring, their separations\npointing, us to heaven.\n\n\n\n\nII.\n\nTHE FEAR OF DEATH ALLEVIATED.\n\n    Yea, and moreover this full well know I:\n    He that's at any time afraid to die\n    Is in weak case, and (whatsoe'er he saith)\n    Hath but a wavering and a feeble faith.\n\nGEORGE WITHER.\n\n\nUnless we know the customs of the wandering shepherds with their flocks,\none verse in the twenty-third Psalm, so often quoted in view of death,\nappears abrupt, but otherwise appropriate and very beautiful. One of a\nflock is expressing his confidence in God, his Shepherd: \"When I have\nsatisfied my hunger from the green pastures, he makes me to lie down in\nthem; and the still, clear streams are my drink.\" Then a thought occurs\nwhich appears as though a dying man were speaking, and not a sheep: but\nit is still the language of a sheep. Keeping this in mind, let it be\nremembered that the shepherds wandered from place to place to find\npasture. In doing so, they were sometimes obliged to pass through dark,\nlonely valleys. Wild beasts, and creatures less formidable, but of\nhateful sight, and with doleful voices, made it difficult for the flocks\nto be led through such passages. There was frequently no other way from\none pasturage to another but through these places of death-shade, or\nvalleys of the shadow of death,--which was a term to express any dark\nand dismal place.\n\nNow, let us imagine a flock reposing in a green pasture, and by the side\nof still waters, conversing about their shepherd, their pastures, and\nstreams. One of them says, \"In the midst of all this peace and\ncontentment, there is a thought which spoils my comfort. We cannot stay\nhere forever; we are to go, presently, beyond the mountains; they say\nthat there are valleys, in those regions, full of dangers. My\nexpectation is, that we shall be torn to pieces. My enjoyment of these\npastures and waters is nearly destroyed by my forebodings about those\nvalleys.\"\n\nAnother of the flock replies, \"Have we not an able, faithful,\nexperienced shepherd? Have we not seen his ability to defend us in past\ndangers? Is he not as much concerned for our defence and safety as\nourselves? While he is my shepherd, I shall not want.--Yea, though I\nwalk through those valleys of death-shade, I will fear no evil; for he\nis with me; his rod and his staff they comfort me.\"\n\nThe shepherd carried with him two instruments--the staff, for his own\nsupport, and to attack a beast or robber; and the crook, or rod. By this\ncrook, the shepherd guided a sheep in a dangerous pass, placing the\ncrook under the sheep's neck, to hold him up and assist his steps. When\na sheep was disposed to stray, the shepherd could hold him back with his\ncrook. When the sheep had fallen into the power of a beast, the crook\nassisted in drawing him away. A good sheep loved the crook as much as\nthe staff,--to be guided, as well as to be defended. Both of the\nshepherd's instruments were a great comfort to the sheep, while passing\nthrough a frightful and dangerous valley.\n\nThe interpretation usually given to the words, \"thy rod and thy\nstaff\"--as though they meant \"thy gentle reproofs and thy severe\nrebukes\"--is erroneous. A sheep would hardly tell his shepherd that his\nchastising rod, and the heavy blows of his staff, comforted him. The\nmeaning is, It is a comfort to me to feel the crook of thy rod helping\nme in trouble, and to know that thy staff is my defence against wild\nbeasts.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThrough fear of death, many who are truly the followers of Christ, are,\nnevertheless, all their lifetime subject to bondage. On whatever\nmountains, into whatever pastures, and by whatever streams, their\nShepherd leads them, they know that there is a valley into which they\nmust go down, and the imagined darkness and horrors of the place make\nthem continually afraid.\n\nA fear of death, without doubt, is frequently permitted, as a means of\nreligious restraint. Some, who have wondered at this trial all their\nlife long, find that its influence is great in keeping them near to the\nShepherd and Bishop of their souls. If a flock could reason, no doubt\nthe shepherd would make use of the fears of the sheep, in many\ninstances, to keep them from going astray. If one of them were inclined\nto wander, it would be natural for the shepherd to caution that sheep\nagainst the dark valley, warning him of its terrors, and making him feel\nhow necessary it would be to have a shepherd there, with his crook and\nstaff. It may be that apprehensions with regard to death are the most\npowerful means, with some, of keeping them from going astray, and of\nholding their minds to the contemplation of spiritual things.\n\nIt has often been observed that those Christians whose fears of death\nwere very great for a large part of their life, frequently die with\ntriumph. The reality is not such as they feared; they found support and\nconsolation which they did not anticipate.\n\nOne of the most trying anticipations with regard to death, in the minds\nof many, long before the event arrives, is, separation from those whom\nwe love. And yet, there is probably nothing in human experience more\nremarkable, than the singular resignation, and even cheerfulness, with\nwhich some, who have had every thing to make life desirable, have left\nall and followed Christ when he came to lead them through the valley.\nThe young wife and mother, in her dying hours, becomes the comforter of\nher husband; she turns and looks at the infant who is held up to receive\nher farewell, and the mother alone is calm, sheds no tear, gives the\nfarewell kiss with composure. \"Thy rod\" is supporting her; \"thy staff\"\nis keeping at bay the passions and fears of the natural heart. So a\nwidowed mother leaves a large family of young children, with a peace\nwhich passes all understanding. And the father of a dependent family,\nwhich never could, in a greater measure, need a father's presence, looks\nupon them from his dying bed, and says to them, with the serenity of the\npatriarch, \"Behold, I die; but God shall be with you.\" Nothing is more\ntrue than this, that dying grace is for a dying hour; that is, we\ncannot, in health and strength, have the feelings which belong to the\nhour of parting; but as any and every scene and condition, into which\nGod brings his children, has its peculiar frames of mind fitted to the\nnecessity of each case, we need not make the useless effort to practise\nall the resignation, and experience all the comforts, which come only\nwhen they are actually needed. We do not often hear the first part of\nthe following passage quoted; but in such rocky and thorny paths as we\nare often made to pass through, how good it is to read: \"Thy shoes shall\nbe iron and brass; and as thy days, so shall thy strength be.\" If God is\nour Shepherd, he will cause us to pass, one by one, through the valley\nwhich is before us, leaving some most dear to us on the hither side.\nSuppose that when a shepherd is employed in removing his flock from one\nmountain to another, through a valley, one of the flock should mourn his\nseparation from companions, or from its young. The shepherd would say,\n\"You cannot all pass together; leave your companions and the young to\nme; I will restore them to you on the other side.\" He might also\nremonstrate and say, \"Am I not, as their shepherd, interested in\nprotecting and removing them? You can add nothing to my strength and\nwisdom; let me take you safety through the valley, and trust me to do\nthe same for them.\"\n\nThe ancient shepherd was specially careful of the lambs; he carried them\nin his arms, and sometimes folded them beneath his shepherd's coat. We\ncan imagine the feelings of some of a flock when, leaving them at a\nshort distance, but within sight, the shepherd would take a lamb, carry\nit down into the valley, and disappear with it for a little while. With\nall their confidence in their shepherd, some of the flock would manifest\nuneasiness at the separation, especially if the valley looked dark and\ndangerous. If it were the only lamb of its mother, it was natural for\nthat mother to be distressed, and to lament. Though the young creature\nhad gone safely to the other side, and was at play in the new pasture,\nand the mother believed it, this could not always quiet her. The good\nShepherd has taken some of our lambs through the valley. They are safe\nupon the other side. They have joined the flock of Christ. Let us give\nour lambs to the Shepherd's care, to bear them through the valley,\nwhenever he sees fit that they should be removed. We must all pass\nthrough that valley. If, from special love to our young, he will see\nthem safely on the other side before he calls for us, we will intrust\nthem to Him who claims our confidence by saying to us, I am the Good\nShepherd. One of the prophecies concerning Christ reveals that tender\nlove and care, on his part, for children, which characterized him while\non earth: \"He shall gather the lambs with his arm, and carry them in his\nbosom.\"\n\nThe fear of death is owing, in many cases, to the dread of dissolution.\n\nThe previous sickness prepares the soul and the body for their\nseparation, so that, in very many cases, it is the greatest relief to\ndie. We are, perhaps, mistaken if we suppose that those Christians who\nare in great bodily pain in their last hours, suffer in mind. The\neffects of death on the frame do not necessarily disturb the\ntranquillity of the soul. The body may be in spasms while the soul is at\npeace; and the reverse is true;--as in nightmare, when the mind is\ndistressed while the body sleeps. A Christian has nothing to fear in\nthis respect. To die will not be--as in full health we suppose it is--a\nviolent rending asunder of the soul from the unyielding grasp of the\nbody; but the preparation of the mortal frame for dissolution, by the\nsickness, however rapid, also fits the mind for the event. Even in\ncases of death by accidents, this appears to be true.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBut many feel that to die is to be transferred suddenly, and with\nviolence, into strange scenes, which must overwhelm and distract the\nsenses. It seems to them that it must be like being whirled instantly\ninto a distant, unknown city, and waking up amidst the confusion and\nstrangeness of that place. We cannot believe that such is the experience\nof dying Christians. It would rather seem that there is, at first, a\nperception of spiritual forms, of ministering spirits, whispering peace\nto the soul, and assuring it of safety, and bidding it fear not. It is\nsaid of angels, \"Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to\nminister for them who shall be heirs of salvation?\" When can we need\ntheir ministry more, than in the passage from this world to the world of\nspirits? Perhaps the disclosure is made of some departed friends; and\nthe fancy of those who thought that they saw beloved ones beckoning them\naway, may have had its foundation in truth. There is much of\nprobability in that well-known piece, \"The dying Christian's address to\nhis soul;\"--and no part of it is more probable than this:--\n\n    \"Hark! they whisper; angels say,\n    Sister spirit, come away.\"\n\nIt is not improbable--it seems accordant with divine goodness--that such\nmethods should be employed to relieve the anxiety of the departing\nspirit. Sometimes the dying Christian has declared that he heard\nenrapturing music. It is possible that voices were employed to soothe\nhim to sleep, and to soften the transition, from the full consciousness\nof life, to the revelations of the heavenly world. Perhaps the effect of\ndisease upon the organs of hearing was such as to produce something like\nsounds, which, in a joyous state of mind, were pleasurable. During the\nsiege of Jerusalem in 1836, the wife of an American missionary sung\nwhile dissolution was actually taking place. The tones of her voice,\nthey said, seemingly more than mortal, were far different from any\nthing which they had ever heard, even from her. God is often pleased to\nuse these natural effects of dissolution on the body, to comfort the\npassing spirit of his child. Whether visions or real voices are actually\nseen or heard, is of no consequence, so long as the soul has a rational\nand assured hope. Some means are unquestionably used in every case to\nmake the dying believer feel that he is safe. He is not compelled to\nwait in uncertainty and fear for a moment. His fears are anticipated; he\nis among other friends, the moment that he grows insensible to those who\nwatch his departing breath. Neither are we to suppose that heaven breaks\nupon the senses of the spirit with such an overpowering brightness, as\nto excite confusion and pain. No doubt the revelation is gradual and\nmost pleasant. Perhaps the celestial city appears at first in the\ndistance, having the glory of God most precious; the approach to it is\ngradual; voices are heard afar off, and from the convoy of ministering\nspirits, such information and instructions are received as prepare it\nfor the full vision of heaven. Every thing is calm and serene; the light\nis attempered to its new and feeble vision. He who makes the sun to rise\nby slow degrees, and does not pour straight, fierce rays upon the waking\neyes even of sinful men, certainly will not torment the soul of his\nchild with any such revelations of unseen things as will give pain. The\nsame care which has redeemed and saved him, will order all these things\nin covenanted love.\n\nSome of the preceding thoughts are well expressed in the following\nanonymous lines, written on seeing Mr. Greenough's group of the Angel\nand Child ascending to Heaven:--\n\n \"CHILD.  Whither now wilt thou proceed?\n  ANGEL.    Come up hither; I will show thee.\n          Follow me with joyful speed;\n            Leave thy native earth below thee.\n  CHILD.  Stop! mine eyes cannot contain\n            Such a wondrous flood of light.\n  ANGEL.  Come up hither. Thou shall gain,\n            As thou risest, stronger sight.\n  CHILD.  Lost in wonder without end,\n            Joyful, fearful, longing, shrinking,\n          Lead me, O thou heavenly friend;\n            Keep a trembling child from sinking.\n          O, I cannot bear this glory!\n            Angel brother! how canst thou?\n  ANGEL.  I will tell thee all my story;\n            I was once as thou art now.\n  CHILD.  When some sorrow did befall me,\n            Or I felt some strange alarms,\n          Then my mother's voice would call me,\n            To the shelter of her arms.\n          Now what bids my heart rejoice,\n            Clasped in arms I cannot see?\n          Hark, I hear a soothing voice\n            Sweetly whispering, Come to me.\n  ANGEL.  Yes, it calls thee from on high;\n            Come to God's most holy mountain;\n          Thou hast drunk the stream of life;--\n            I will lead thee to the fountain.\"\n\nSome dread the thought of being out of the body and finding themselves\nspirits. This is wholly without reason. The soul will not suffer from\nlosing this body of sin and death; it will have as perfect a\nconsciousness, it will know where it is, and what is passing before it,\nas seems to be the case in a vivid dream when the bodily senses are\nlocked in slumber.\n\nAs to the natural repugnance which we have to the thoughts of burial and\nthe grave, it is probable that the soul of a redeemed spirit thinks and\ncares as little concerning these things, so far as painful sensations\nare concerned, as we do about our garments when we are falling asleep.\nThe vesture which we formerly wore gives us no solicitude. It is\nwonderful to hear the sick, long before they die, give directions, or\nexpress desires, respecting their burial. So far from thinking of the\ngrave as a melancholy place, no doubt the departed spirit will often\nthink of it in the separate state with pleasure, as the place where it\nis hereafter to receive a form like Christ's; and the thought of\nresurrection adds greatly to the joys of heaven.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere is something still which affects the minds of many Christians with\nfear as they think of dying; and that is, their appearing before God.\nThey cannot imagine the possibility of seeing him without distraction;\nhis infinite majesty, and their own sense of unworthiness, make them\nafraid.\n\nBut who is God? Is he the Christian's enemy? Will he sit like a king on\nhis throne, and see his subject come trembling into his presence? Is\nthis the God who loved him? Is this the Saviour that died for him? Is\nthis the Holy Spirit who awakened, converted, sanctified, comforted him,\nand promised to present him faultless before the presence of his glory\nwith exceeding joy? God will not have done so much to bring him to\nheaven, and, when he comes there, make his appearance before his throne\na matter of fear and uncertainty. He who fell on the neck of the\nreturning prodigal and kissed him, will not keep him at a distance when,\nwith the best robe, and the ring, and the shoes, he comes into his\nfather's house. Our first apprehensions of God will be happy beyond our\npresent comprehension. What an image have we, in these words, of a man\nhelping a child, by the hand, through a dangerous or dark way: \"For I\nthe Lord thy God will hold thy right hand, saying unto thee, Fear not;\nI will help thee.\" If \"I will be with thee,\" is the reason, which he\nhimself assigns why we should not be afraid, why should we fear to come\ninto his presence?\n\nAs to a consciousness of guilt, there is no doubt that he who falls\nasleep in Jesus, with reliance on his blood and righteousness, will\nimmediately, at death, receive such a consciousness of being purified\nfrom all taint of sin, as now is beyond our conception. In the language\nof Scripture, we shall be presented faultless before the presence of his\nglory with exceeding joy. For the sake of Christ, in whom we trust, we\nshall be received and treated as though we had never sinned; we shall\nsay, in the full assurance of pardon, righteousness, and peace with God,\nwithout waiting for the question to be asked in our behalf, \"Who is he\nthat condemneth?\" \"It is Christ that died.\"\n\nAnd if this be so, as it surely is, why may not Christians in this world\nbefore they die, nay, from the first hour of justification by faith in\nChrist, triumph thus in him? Why should their remaining sinfulness,\ntheir poor, frail, erring nature, which they must carry with them to the\ngrave, prevent them from having the same joy in God through our Lord\nJesus Christ, by whom also we have received the atonement? Every true\nbeliever in Jesus Christ is warranted in having the same consciousness\nof pardon and peace with God, now, as after death; the justifying\nrighteousness of Christ is as powerful now as it will be then. Some tell\nus, \"Live a sinless life, and you may have this perfect peace.\" That is\nself-righteousness. It will not be a sinless life which, in the moment\nafter death, will make us to be openly acknowledged and acquitted; it\nwill be the righteousness of Jesus Christ which is by faith; and he who\nhas faith in that righteousness may, living as well as dying, here as\nwell as in heaven, say, 'There is, therefore, _now_ no condemnation to\nthem which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after\nthe spirit.'\n\nThere are several things which may reconcile us to the thought of dying:\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAll the people of God since the creation, with two exceptions, have\ndied. Of the two who were excepted, neither of them was his only\nbegotten Son. Those whom God has loved peculiarly have not been exempted\nfrom the stroke of death. Shall we ask exemption from that which, all\nthe good and great have suffered? Let me die the death of the righteous.\nIf he must find the grave, there will I be buried. We would not go to\nheaven but in the way which prophets, apostles, martyrs trod. The\nfootsteps of the flock lead through the valley; we will seek no other,\nno easier, way.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSurely we should be willing to follow our great Forerunner. He tasted\ndeath for every man; and he could enter into his triumph only by dying.\nWe should be more than resigned to follow our blessed Lord into the\ntomb. Christ conquered death by dying; we shall be more than conquerors\nin the same way. If we suffer great pain, we cannot suffer more than\nChrist suffered on our account. Sufferings borne in the spirit of Christ\nare counted as sufferings borne for Christ. \"If we suffer, we shall also\nreign with him.\" \"If so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also\nglorified together.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nDeath is a part of the penalty of sin. We should, therefore, submit to\nit, giving up our bodies to be destroyed, in fulfilment of that sentence\nwhich we have so justly incurred--\"and unto dust shalt thou return.\" He\nwho hates sin, and condemns himself for it, and is willing to have\nfellowship with Christ in his sufferings for it, as it is most\ngraciously represented that we may, will bear the execution of God's\nrighteous sentence with a willing mind.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nDeath is the perfecting of our redemption. It is the last act of\nredeeming grace. When the Saviour, who says, \"I have the keys\nof--death,\" (i.e., no one can die but at the time and manner prescribed\nby me,) takes us out of the world, it is to finish the work of our\npersonal salvation. All the circumstances attending it will be as\ndeliberately appointed, and as carefully watched and directed, as the\nfirst great act of grace towards us in our regeneration. He, too, who\nhas provided such pastures and streams for us here, in removing us to\nliving pastures and to living streams, will, of course, see that we go\nsafely through the valley which must be passed to reach them. It will\nnot be a new thing to Christ to see us die. He has watched the dying\nbeds of millions of his friends, he has had great experience as a\nShepherd in bringing them through the valley.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSee that chamber in yonder mansion, where all the comforts, and some of\nthe luxuries, of life, have contributed to prepare for some mysterious\nevent. The garden of Eden failed to possess such joys as are there in\nanticipation, and are soon to be made perfect. Every thing seems\nwaiting, with silent but thrilling interest, for the arrival of an\nunknown occupant. And there is raiment of needle-work, and of fine\ntwined linen, and gifts of cunning device, from the looms of the old\nworld, and from graceful fingers and loving hearts here, every want\nbeing anticipated, and some wants imagined, to gratify the love of\nsatisfying them. And now God breathes the breath of life, and a living\nsoul begins its deathless career, amidst joys and thanksgivings, which\nswell through the wide circles of kindred and acquaintanceship. The Holy\nSpirit, in the process of time, renews and sanctifies the soul through\nthe blood of the everlasting covenant; and having, through life, walked\nwith God, the day arrives when the spirit must return to God who gave\nit. You saw how it was received here, at its entrance into the world.\nYou have seen what the atonement, and regeneration, and sanctification,\nand providence, and grace, have done for it, and with what accumulated\nlove the Father of Spirits, and Redeemer, and Sanctifier, must regard\nit. And now do we suppose that the shroud, and coffin, and the funeral,\nand the narrow house, and the darkness, and the solitude and corruption,\nand the whole dreary and terrible train of death and the grave, are\nsymbols of its reception into heaven, the proper pageantry of its\narrival and resting place within the veil? Believe it not! If God\nprepared in our hearts such a welcome for the infant stranger, that even\nits helpless feet were thought of and cared for, surely when those feet,\nwearied in the pilgrimage of the strait and narrow way, arrive at\nheaven's gate, it must be, it is, amidst rejoicings and ministrations of\nlove to which earth has no parallel. Let kings and queens prepare a\nroyal room for the new-born prince: \"In my Father's house are many\nmansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a\nplace for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come\nagain, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be\nalso.\"\n\nCould we look into that place, as it stands waiting for its occupant\nfrom earth, we should behold sights which would instantly clothe even\ndeath with beauty, and make it seem now, as it will seem then, a blessed\nthing to die.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTo miss of dying would no doubt be a calamity. Dying will be an\nexperience to the believer which will be fraught with inestimably good\nthings; that is, the act of dying, and not merely the being dead. It is\nno doubt as necessary to the nature of the soul, to its psychology, its\nsoul-life, as the changes of the worm, chrysalis, and butterfly, are to\nthe insect. And thus, as in all other things, where sin abounded, grace\nmuch more abounds, and even death, like a cross, is turned into a\nministration of infinite blessing.\n\nIt is not unsuitable for a dying Christian to consider, that he is\ncompassed about with a great cloud of witnesses, who themselves have\ndied, and who are watching his departure. We ought to die with such\nfaith in Jesus, such confidence in God, such confident expectation and\nhope, that they will rejoice to see us conquer death. Our last conflict\nshould be fought in a manner worthy of the company and scenes into which\nwe are immediately to pass.\n\nWe should not anxiously seek to remove entirely from any one, in the\ncourse of his life, his fears with regard to death, except as we may\nsubstitute faith for those fears. God probably intends them now for the\nincrease of faith. Moreover, when the event of death happens, it will be\nmingled with so much mercy as to make the Christian smile at his fears.\nThe exhortation of the apostle in view of his great discourse of death\nand resurrection is noticeable: \"Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye\nsteadfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord;\nforasmuch as ye know that your labor is not in vain in the Lord.\"\n\nThere are cases in which the clouded faculties, or delirium, prevent\nthe full enjoyment of a peaceful, happy death. Such cases seem painful\nto friends, but the Shepherd knows when it is best to hide the face of a\nsheep which he carries through the valley, and that it is sometimes\nbetter for the sheep to pass the valley in the black and dark night,\nthan when daylight, by revealing the horrors of the place, would excite\nfear. All this may safely be left to those hands which spoiled death of\nhis sting, and to that love which is stronger than death. Wherever, and\nwhenever, and in whatever manner we may die, it will be under the care\nand direction of Him who will no more see us in the power of the enemy,\nthan a strong and faithful shepherd would suffer a beloved member of his\nflock to fall into the power of the lion.\n\nThe last lines of a hymn by Doddridge--\n\n    \"Then speechless clasp thee in my arms,\n    The antidote of death\"--\n\nare altered, by some compilers, who substitute the word _conqueror_ for\n_antidote_. But the author saw the truthfulness of his own chosen\nlanguage, though the word in question be not convenient for musical\nexpression. When we are already stung by a poisonous creature, we take\nsomething which proves an antidote to the effect of the sting. This\nmedicine is not so much a conqueror, as an antidote; for the poison is\nnot developed. But the sting is inflicted, and before the poisonous\ninjury is felt, the antidote prevents it. These words of Christ\ncorrespond to this: \"Verily, verily I say unto you, If a man keep my\nsaying, he shall never see death.\" How often we behold this verified!\nThe spectators \"see death,\" in his approach, in his effects; they weep\nand tremble, while the dear patient does not \"see\" it; for something\nelse absorbs his thoughts, fixes his attention; he is stung, indeed, by\nthe monster; but Christ is an antidote to death, causes it to pass by\nwithout inflicting pain upon the mind, or in any way hurting its victim.\nDr. Watts illustrates and confirms all this:--\n\n    \"Jesus, the vision of thy face\n      Hath overpowering charms;\n    Scarce shall I feel death's cold embrace,\n      If Christ be in my arms.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe piece of paper which would suffice to write the twenty-third Psalm\nupon it, would not be large enough for a common title deed; and yet that\nPsalm, if it expresses our experience, is worth infinitely more than is\nconveyed, or secured, by all the registries of deeds under the sun. We\nare each of us to see a time when we shall feel the truth of this. If\nbut these first few words of the Psalm are true in my case, if \"the Lord\nis my Shepherd,\" all the rest of the Psalm is a record, a promise, a\npledge, of past, present, and future good.\n\nThere are six things declared by Christ to be characteristic of the\nrelation which he and his people sustain to each other, as Shepherd and\nthe sheep:\n\n1. \"My sheep hear my voice;\n\n2. And I know them;\n\n3. And they follow me;\n\n4. And I give unto them eternal life;\n\n5. And they shall never perish;\n\n6. Neither shall any pluck them out of my hand.\"\n\nHere we find directions to duty, as well as promises of future good.\n\nSince it is more important how we live than how we die, and since death\nis merely the arrival at the end of a journey, the beginning, progress,\nand history of the journey determining what the arrival is to be, we\nshall do well to dismiss our borrowed trouble with regard to the manner\nof our departure out of the world, and be solicitous only with regard to\nthe right discharge of present duty. We read, \"Precious in the sight of\nthe Lord is the death of his saints.\" The death of every child of his\nis, with God, an object of unspeakable interest; his own honor is\nconcerned in it; its influence on survivors is of great importance; it\nwill be among the means by which God accomplishes several, it may be\nmany, purposes of providence, but especially of his grace. \"No man\ndieth to himself.\" Great interests are involved in his death, beyond\nhis own personal welfare. Now, if we have lived for God, he will make\nour death the object of his especial care, and will honor it by its\nbeing the means of promoting his glory. Instead, therefore, of gloomy\napprehensions as to dying, we should cherish the noble wish and aim that\nChrist may be magnified in our body, whether it be by life or by death.\nIf our life has been a walking with God, \"THOU ART WITH ME\" will be a\nperfect warrant, now, and in death, to \"FEAR NO EVIL.\"\n\n\n\n\nIII.\n\nTHE SEARCH FOR THE DEPARTED.\n\n    No bliss mid worldly crowds is bred,\n    Like musing on the sainted dead.\n\nBISHOP MANT.\n\n\nWe seek in vain, on earth, for one who has gone to heaven. Though better\ninformed as to the objects of our love than they who lingered about the\ndeserted tomb of the Saviour, and were asked, \"Why seek ye the living\namong the dead,\" we nevertheless find ourselves, in our thoughts,\nsearching for them; so difficult is it at once to feel that they are\nwholly and forever departed. There is an affecting and beautifully\nsimple illustration of our thoughts and feelings, in this respect, in\nthe search which was made for Elijah after his translation. Fifty men of\nthe sons of the prophets went and stood to view afar off, when Elijah\nand Elisha stood by the Jordan. Elisha returned alone, and these men\ncould not feel reconciled to the loss of their great master. They were\nnot persuaded that he had gone to heaven, no more to return; they sought\nleave to seek him, and to recover him: \"Peradventure,\" they said, \"the\nSpirit of the Lord hath taken him up and cast him upon some mountain, or\ninto some valley.\" Elisha peremptorily refused to grant them leave. They\nwere importunate; and when, at last, it would, perhaps, seem like\nobstinacy in him, or like jealousy of their superior love for Elijah, to\nforbid the search, which at the worst would only be fruitless, he\nyielded. Three days they explored the valleys, ransacked the thickets,\ngroped in the caves, traversed hills, followed imaginary trails and\nfootprints, but found him not. When they came again to Elisha, \"he said\nunto them, Did I not say unto you, Go not?\"\n\nWe cannot become accustomed at once, nor for a long time, to the absence\nof our friend. If his death was sudden, or if it took place away from\nhome, or during our absence, we expect to see him again; if a vehicle\nstops at the door, the heart beats with an instantaneous hope which dies\nwith its first breath, bringing over us a deeper and stronger refluence\nof sorrow. We catch a sight of articles familiarly used by a departed\nfriend; they are identified with little passages in his history, or with\nhis daily life: is it possible that he is altogether and forever\ndisconnected from them? They are the same; those perishable things,\nthose comparatively worthless things, having no value at all except as\nhis use of them made them precious, retain their shapes and places; but\nwhere is he? and must not he return and abide, like them?\n\nNo, he is gone to heaven. The places which knew him shall know him no\nmore forever. Those things, which have an imperishable value in being\nassociated with his memory, are, to him, like the leaves of a past\nautumn to a tree now filled with blossoms. The mention of every valued\npossession once indescribably dear to him, would awaken but slight\nemotions; even the recent history of the dwelling which he built and\nfurnished, would be no more to him than the rehearsal to a grown person\nof that which had happened to a block house, or card figure, which\namused his childhood. We walk and sit in the places identified with our\nlast remembrances of the departed; but he is not there; we hallow the\nanniversaries of his birth and death; but he gives us no recognition; we\nread his letters; they make him seem alive; his voice, his smile, his\nlove are there; and when we have finished, nature, exhausted with its\nweeping, sighs, \"And where is he?\"\n\nHe is gone to heaven. Even the earthly house of his tabernacle is\ndissolved; that part of him which was all of which we were cognizant by\nour senses, is no more. We could not recognize it; to the earth, out of\nwhich it was taken, it has, by slow degrees, returned,--as though every\nthing earthly, belonging to him, 'must needs die, and be as water spilt\non the ground, which cannot be gathered up again.' We travel to his\nbirthplace; there is the house where he was born; we meet those who grew\nwith him side by side; we are among the scenes which were most familiar\nto him; he planted those trees; he collected those pictures; there is\nhis portrait, he rested here, he studied, he worked, he rejoiced, he\nwept, in these consecrated places; but did we go thinking to find him\nthere? \"Did I not say unto you, Go not?\"\n\nWe shall surely make him real to our thoughts, if not to our senses,\nwhere he lies buried. But we may as well stand upon the sea shore, where\nwe had the last look of a sea-faring friend, and think that those\nwaters, and those sands, and that horizon, will restore him. They only\nserve to open farther the path of his departure; they lead our thoughts\naway to dwell upon him where we imagine him to be. Nowhere does heaven\nseem more real than at the grave of a friend; for we know that he has\nnot perished, and as we stand on that verge of all our fruitless search\nand expectation, we are compelled to fix him somewhere in our thoughts;\nbut as he is nowhere behind us, we look onward and upward.\n\nOur desire for departed friends, however natural and innocent, if it\nresulted as we sometimes would have it, would prove to be unwise.\n\nSuppose that those \"fifty strong men\" had found Elijah, or in any way\ncould have prevented his translation to heaven. With exultation, they\nwould have led him back across the Jordan to the company of their\nfriends, amidst the thanksgivings of the people. But, alas! for the\nprophet himself, this would have been his loss, even had it proved to be\ntheir gain. The opening Jordan, cleft in twain by his rapt spirit,\npressing its way to the skies, had returned to its course; and now the\nfords of the river, with its rocky bed, would have required his laboring\nfeet to grope their way back to his toil; or the arms of men, instead of\nthe chariots of fire and horses of fire, would have borne him again to\nthe dull realities of life; and there, rebuking Ahab, and fleeing from\nJezebel, punishing the prophets of Baal, and upbraiding the people of\nGod in their idolatries, fasting and faint under junipers, or covering\nhis face with his mantle at the still small voice of the Lord his God,\nhe would again have prayed, \"O Lord God, take away my life, for I am no\nbetter than my fathers.\" 'Let me not wait longer for my promised\ntranslation; let me die as my fathers did; for wherein am I better than\nthey?' So weary had he grown of life. Blind and weak do these fifty\nstrong men seem to us, in searching for this ascended prophet, this\ntraveller over the King's road in royal state, one of the only two who\nmight not taste of death; the companion, in heaven, of Enoch, with a\nbody which fills all the ransomed spirits there with joyful expectation,\nbecause it is a pledge and earnest of \"the adoption, to wit, the\nredemption of their bodies.\" If, amid the new wonders and raptures of\nthe heavenly world, he had had one moment to look down upon those\n\"fifty strong men,\" as they searched for him, he might well have used,\nin cheerful irony, something like his old upbraidings of the priests\nnear Baal's altar: \"Search deeper, ye 'strong men,' in the thickets and\ncaves; peradventure I sleep in the brakes, and must be awaked; call,\nwith your fifty voices together, that I may be startled from my trance;\nwill ye give over till ye bring me back to Jericho? Will ye search but\nthree days? Shall I lose the remnant of my life on earth?\"\n\nAnd while they grew weary and discouraged, and concluded that, if he\nshould be found, it might be in the far distant hills of Moab, or the\nwilds of Philistia, or they knew not where, and went back with hearts\nunsatisfied, and debating whether he were yet a wanderer upon earth, or\nwhether so impossible a thing as they deemed his translation to heaven,\nwithout dying, had taken place, the glorified Elijah was with Abraham,\nIsaac, and Jacob, with Moses, Joshua, Samuel, and David. But even\nSolomon, in all his glory, was not arrayed like him. There, with a body\nlike unto Christ's own future glorious body, he sat, with but one\ncompeer--Enoch, and he, transcending all the hosts of the redeemed in\nthe foretasted glories of the resurrection. Adam, by whom came death,\nsees in him that which he himself is to share, when by one Man, also,\nshall come the resurrection from the dead. Abel, whose feet first trod\nthe dark, cold stream, leaving his murdered body behind him, beholds\nwith love and wonder him who passed the river of death (\"that ancient\nriver!\") without dying. Even the Word beholds in him an earnest of his\nown incarnation, resurrection, and ascension from Olivet. To-day, our\nloved ones in heaven look upon him, and say, as Peter did at this\nprophet's visit on Tabor, (when he spoke of tabernacles there--\"one for\nElias,\") \"Master, it is good for us to be here.\" But we, like the \"fifty\nstrong men,\" would find them and bring them back; and, like Peter,\nwould build tabernacles to retain them. The family circle is gathered\ntogether at some birthday or festival, and, perhaps, we long for the\ndeparted, and think that they long for us; and we would bring them back,\nand place them in their deserted chairs. We are \"strong men\" in the\npower of grief, and in our wishes; but the search for Elijah is the\ncounterpart of our vain desires and most unreasonable sorrow.\n\nWhen our friends have gone to heaven, it is not apt to be heaven, so\nmuch as earthly sorrow, which fills our minds. Happily, we have been\ntaught to believe, and we do generally believe, that the souls of the\nrighteous enter immediately into glory; that their happiness is perfect,\nthough not completed; they are as happy as disembodied spirits can be;\nunspeakably happier than they were here, but still not in full\npossession of those sources of pleasure which they will receive when\ntheir bodies are raised, and their whole natures are made complete. But\n\"to die is gain;\" it is \"to depart and to be with Christ, which is far\nbetter;\" it is entering \"into the joy of their Lord.\" That dreary\nthought of sleeping after death till the day of judgment; the idea that\nAbraham, Isaac, and Jacob, became insensible at death, and that the last\nthing which Jacob, for example, knew, was Joseph's kiss, and the next\nthing which he will know will be the archangel's trump, the interval of\nmany thousands of years being a perfect blank in his existence, is so\nunlike the benevolent order of God's providence in nature and grace,\nthat it cannot gain much credence with believers in the simple\nrepresentations of the Bible. What a mockery Elijah's translation seems,\nupon that theory! Whither was he translated? Did the chariots of fire,\nand the horses of fire, convey him to a dreamless sleep of thousands of\nyears? Was that pomp, that emblazonry, all that fiery pageant, a\ndeception signifying nothing but that the greatest of prophets was to\nbegin a stupid slumber, which, this day, under a heaven with not one\nredeemed soul in it, and in a world where there is every thing to be\ndone for God and men, holds him, and every other dead saint, in a\nuseless suspension of his consciousness, and, indeed, for so many ages,\nannihilation? Poor economy in the dispensation of overflowing love to\nintelligent beings,--we say it with submission,--does this seem to be;\nnor can we think that, in the case of Elijah, it was this which was\nheralded by horses and chariots of fire. Chariots and horses are emblems\nof flight; but if sleep were descending upon the hero of the prophetic\nage, twilight would more appropriately have drawn her soft veil over\nnature, birds would have begun their vespers, clouds would have put on\ntheir changing, pensive colors, while cadences of music, breathed by the\nwinds, would have shed lethargic influences into the scene. Inspiration\ndoes not trifle with us by really meaning such a preparation for a sleep\nof ages, and yet informing us, in so many words, that \"the Lord would\ntake up Elijah into heaven by a whirlwind.\" No; going to heaven is not\ngoing to sleep, and going to sleep is not going to heaven. Sleep and\ndeath are used figuratively for each other, according to the laws of\nlanguage, which describes appearances without regard to scientific\ntruth, as in speaking of the sun's rising, for example, and the going\ndown of the sun; but to fall asleep in Jesus is to awake in heaven; to\nbe absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. This we all\nbelieve; and may we never be moved away from this cheering, animating\nhope. Yet how little power has this belief and hope upon our feelings\nand conduct! for our Christian graces partake of the same imperfection\nwhich characterizes our whole nature; the soil is poor in which they\ngrow; the seasons are short, the climate cold; they do not reach\nmaturity. It is instructive to notice how men who have had the very best\nadvantages, and the greatest knowledge, are, nevertheless, prone to\nunbelief. Christ appeared to his disciples, and upbraided them because\nthey believed not them which said he was risen. Their incredulity\nstrikes us as marvellous. They were not the first, nor the last, whose\nwant of faith is a marvel. These sons of the prophets in Elisha's day\nwere equally slow to believe. They themselves had said to him, \"Knowest\nthou that the Lord will take away thy master from thy head to-day?\"\nElisha came back to them from the scene of the translation. Of course he\ntold them what had happened, describing minutely the whole of that\npreternatural scene; he probably related the conversation which Elijah\nhad with him as they walked; and this inspired companion of the departed\nprophet, having himself no doubt that Elijah had gone to heaven, so\ninstructed these sons of the prophets. But how hard it is for the things\nwhich are unseen and eternal to seize and hold our minds! how readily we\nyield to surmises, rather than admit the clear disclosures of spiritual\nthings! Straightway these sons of the prophets, who should have retired\neach to his secret place, for contemplation and prayer, and, in the\nsolemn assembly, should have directed the thoughts of each other and of\nthe people to the instructive lessons suggested by the departure of\nElijah to heaven, were making up an exploring party, to prove that their\nillustrious chief had met with some disaster in being left forlorn upon\nsome mountain, or in a valley; that the spirit of God had entranced him,\nand that his weary feet, instead of treading the pavement of heaven,\nwere ensnared in some dark place; and so, in pity for him, and with\nfilial love, they would seek him, and bring him back to Jericho!\n\nIf we had clear and strong faith, our joy at the thought of a glorified\nspirit, however necessary its presence to us here, would transcend all\nour sorrows; the streaming beams of sunshine would irradiate our\nweeping; we should think more of his happiness than of our discomfort.\nInstead of departed spirits falling asleep, it is we who have a spirit\nof slumber. O that we might walk by faith with glorified spirits before\nthe throne, instead of remanding them,--as it seems we sometimes would\ndo, if we could,--to the ignorance and infirmity of our condition.\n\nOur feelings towards the departed are the same as towards other\nprohibited things. Many are continually seeking for pleasures which God\nhas taken away, or is purposely withholding from them. Let any one look\nat the history of his feelings, and see if his state of mind be not one\nof perpetual expectation of some form of happiness yet to arrive; an\nideal of bliss, some prefigured condition, in which contentment and\npeace are to abide; while the discovery that he is not to have it, would\nmake him inconsolably miserable. Our search for lost joys, or for those\nwhich God is not prepared, or not disposed, to give us, and the\nhappiness which he desires rather to give us, and to have us seek, are\nseverally represented to us by this search for Elijah, and by Elijah\nhimself, who is, meanwhile, at God's right hand. At his right hand are\npleasures forever-more; but some, in the ardor and strength of their\naffections, are seeking for that which they will never obtain, and that\nis, happiness independent of God. Some tell us that they mean to make\nthe most of life, and to be happy while they live; therefore, begone,\nreflection! religion is not for the spring-tide of youth; mirth and\nmerry days are for the young; soberness and the russet garb of autumn\nbelong to the decline of life, which certainly to them, they think, is\nfar off;--as though every material necessary for their last, long sleep,\nmay not at this moment be in the warerooms and shops; as though they\ncould boast themselves even of one to-morrow, and knew what the\nto-morrows of many years would bring forth. The Bible is against their\nway of thinking and manner of life; and to push aside the Bible in our\nsearch after any thing, is a certain sign of being in the wrong. And all\nthis with the mistaken belief that to love God, and to be loved of him,\nis not the greatest, the only satisfying good,--the God that framed the\nvoice for that music which charms a circle of friends, and made those\ncurious fingers, and gave them all that cunning skill which sheds\ndelight on others, and empowered that heart to swell with such\nconceptions of earthly pleasure;--and that to love him, and be loved by\nhim, is the direst necessity of our being, to be postponed as long as\npossible, and then to be accepted as a last resort and the less of two\nevils. Where is the Lord God of Elijah, the God of all power and might,\nthe God of all grace and consolation, the God of our life, and the\nlength of our days? Banished from the world which these friends have\nmade for themselves; an intruder into the charmed circle in which the\nwand of fancy has enclosed them; a dreaded power standing over them, to\nsnatch away the only bliss which they ever expect to enjoy. O gilded\nbutterflies, made for a few days of sunshine, and doomed to perish at\nthe first touch of frost! had they no souls; were there no hereafter, no\nheaven, no hell; if it would not be as desirable to be happy millions of\nyears from to-day, as now; if they were not including all their hopes\nand efforts to be happy within a handbreadth of time, and liable to lose\neven that,--the wise man might stop with saying, \"Rejoice, O young man,\nin thy youth; and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and\nwalk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes;\" but\nthe infinite future compels him to add, \"but know thou, that for all\nthese things God will bring thee into judgment.\" Such are the motives by\nwhich, in their present condition, and with their present views, they\nare most likely to be affected; yet some of them, we are glad to say, in\ntheir best moods, are also affected and influenced aright when we tell\nthem that, even if our existence terminated at death, the joys which are\nnow to be found in loving and serving God, are better than the pleasures\nof sin for a season.\n\nThere is not one of us who has not lost a friend, a schoolmate, a\ncompanion of early life, one who has disappeared from our side, a\nfrequent associate in the business of life, or one whom we have been\naccustomed to see in the places of business; and perhaps a member of our\nfamily circle.\n\nNow, it is profitable to consider that the same thoughts which we have\nof them, others will ere long have concerning us. What would make us\nsatisfied and happy to know respecting them? What are we glad to say of\ntheir preparation for an eternal state? What would we have had that\npreparation be? In what respects better or different? Where do we love\nto assign them their places? And what is it pleasant to believe are\ntheir thoughts of us, of earth, of eternity, of the gospel, of this life\nas a season of preparation for heaven? We shall soon be the subjects of\nthe same contemplations in the minds of others. The hosts of that long\nprocession, of which we are the part now passing over the stage, are\nurging and pressing us from behind, and we must go down, as others have\nbefore us,--our love, our envy, our hatred perish,--and we no more have\nany portion in all that is done under the sun.\n\nWe must give up happiness as the great aim and end of existence, and,\ninstead of it, take this for our supreme endeavor and chief end--the\nconscientious performance of our duty to God, and to others. We are\nnever really happy till we cease to expect happiness from the things of\nthis world. As soon as we begin to be satisfied with God, and find that\nto think of God, to love him, to trust in him, to serve him, is\nhappiness enough, we attain to solid peace; and then, turning and\nfollowing the sun, all desirable pleasure pursues us and solicits us,\nlike our shadows, the more eagerly and steadily the more that we flee\nfrom them, and the less that we turn ourselves to them. We never can be\nhappy by searching for happiness; but when we give up this search, and\nduty becomes the motto of life, we are inevitably happy. God must\nsatisfy us--his personal love to us, communion with him, the\ncontemplation of his character, ways, and works; in short, the\nconsciousness of having him for a personal friend, disclosing all our\nthoughts to him, looking to him and waiting for him in all things, and,\nas the Bible expresses it, \"walking\" with him. Then he makes our wants\nhis care; and while he leads us through strange paths which we should\nnot have chosen, it is to bring us, at the last, into a condition which\nwill make us happy chiefly from the reflection that God himself\nappointed it. Disappointments, of which we were forewarned, and which we\nhad every reason to expect, embitter that life whose only sources of\nhappiness are confined to this world, and do not relate to God. Making\nhim the supreme source of our happiness, we give up undue sorrow for\ndeparted friends, feeling that they are removed from all need of our\ncommiseration, and all power to afford us comfort and help, any further\nthan their example and remembered words instruct us. We shall then be\nchiefly concerned to know and to do the will of God, to watch over the\ninterests of our souls, preparing for life, with its important duties,\nand storing up those recollections which are to occupy our thoughts in\nthe review of life beyond the grave. We shall bear in mind that we, too,\nare to have survivors, to whom it will be the greatest favor if we leave\na good assurance, based upon their remembrance of our piety, that we are\nhappy, thus constraining them to follow us to heaven. We shall do well\nif we habitually say, as Elijah said to Elisha, \"The Lord hath sent me\nto Jordan;\" and that we are one day to be taken up and conveyed to that\nsame heaven whither Elijah went, and from which he came to meet Christ,\nand to speak with him of his decease, which he should accomplish at\nJerusalem. What if we knew that some day, not far distant, flaming\nchariots and horses, over our dwelling, would wait to bring us home to\nGod? The ministering spirits are already designated who are to perform\nthis office for those who are heirs of salvation. What, then, are we\nsearching for among the dark, gloomy valleys of sorrow, or on the hills\nof earthly vision? If our friends are with Christ, we must be prepared\nto be with him, or lose their society; and that loss will be worse than\nthe first.\n\nSometimes we feel as though we were sailing away from our departed\nfriends, leaving them behind us. Not so; we are sailing towards them;\nthey went forward, and we are nearer to them now than yesterday; and the\nnight is far spent; the day is at hand. If life, or any undue portion,\nbe spent in grief which unfits us for duty, we shall see, in heaven, how\nmuch better it would have been had we had more faith, and had lived more\nas then we should desire our surviving friends to live, quickened and\nstrengthened by the assured hope of our being in heaven, and by the\nexpectation of meeting us there.\n\nBut there is one kind of sorrow and desire for departed friends which,\nin its consequences, is greatly to be deplored. Some refuse to become\ndecided Christians, because their friends, they think, were not\nbelievers in the faith which these surviving friends are now persuaded\nis the truth. To embrace this truth, as essential to salvation, it is\nfelt, will be to condemn these departed friends; and some have, in so\nmany words, declared that they preferred to share the fate of their\ncompanions, or children, who gave no evidence of having accepted the\ngospel, as it is now viewed by these survivors.\n\nHow sad would be such a catastrophe as this: The departed friend, in the\nsecret exercises of his mind, and by the good Spirit of God, may have\nbeen, at the last hour, prevailed upon to accept the offers of salvation\nby a crucified Redeemer. He gave no intimation of this, owing, perhaps,\nto bodily weakness, or to fear and distrust; but, through infinite\nmercy, he was saved by faith in the Lamb of God. The surviving friend,\npersuaded of the truth, refuses to comply with it, and loves the\ndeparted friend more than Christ, or truth and duty; and then, dying,\nfinds that the departed friend is saved, through that very faith, which\nthe other refused from idolatrous attachment to the departed; and now\nthey are separated; whereas, had the survivor forsaken all for Christ\nand the truth, he would have had a hundred fold in this world, and, in\nthe world to come, would have found that friend whom he would, as it\nwere, have forsaken for Christ's sake and the gospel's. It is safe, it\nis best, for each of us to do his duty, to walk by the light afforded\nus, and not to make a creature our standard, nor our chief good.\n\nIf we meet certain of our friends at the end of their search after\npleasure, having forgotten their God and Saviour, and see them\ndisappointed, and utterly destitute of any thing to make them happy\nforever, and all because they would not forego their chase after\nunsatisfying pleasure,--there is many a faithful Christian friend, whose\nexample and advice they disregarded, who could then reply, \"Did I not\nsay unto you, Go not?\"\n\nIn the name of some unspeakably dear to you, we say, \"We are journeying\nunto the place of which the Lord said, I will give it you; come thou\nwith us, and we will do thee good; for the Lord hath spoken good\nconcerning Israel.\"\n\nOur friends, who have gone to heaven, ought not to be invested, in our\nthoughts, with such melancholy associations as we are prone to connect\nwith them. To die is gain. Trouble, and sorrow, and the dark river,\ninterpose between us and heaven; but in the prospect which has opened\nbefore the eye of the redeemed spirit, there is nothing but widening and\nbrightening glory. We must not seek for consolation at their departure\nby bringing them back, in our thoughts, to our dwellings, but by going\nforward, in faith, ourselves, to their dwelling. There is much to\nencourage and help us in doing so, in the following lines, which may be\nread with profit upon each anniversary of a friend's departure to\nheaven, until surviving friends read them at the returning anniversaries\nof our own entrance into the joy of our Lord:--\n\n    \"A YEAR IN HEAVEN.\n\n\n    A YEAR UNCALENDARED; for what\n      Hast thou to do with mortal time?\n    Its dole of moments entereth not\n      That circle, mystic and sublime,\n    Whose unreached centre is the throne\n      Of Him, before whose awful brow,\n    Meeting eternities are known\n      As but an everlasting now.\n    The thought removes thee far away,--\n      Too far,--beyond my love and tears;\n    Ah, let me hold thee, as I may;\n      And count thy time by earthly years.\n\n    A YEAR OF BLESSEDNESS; wherein\n      Not one dim cloud hath crossed thy soul;\n    No sigh of grief, no touch of sin,\n      No frail mortality's control;\n    Nor once hath disappointment stung,\n      Nor care, world-weary, made thee pine;\n    But rapture, such as human tongue\n      Hath found no language for, is thine.\n    Made perfect at thy passing, who\n      Can sum thy added glory now?\n    As on, and onward, upward, through\n      The angel ranks that lowly bow,\n    Ascending still from height to height\n      Unfaltering, where rapt spirits trod,\n    Nor pausing 'mid their circles bright,\n      Thou tendest inward unto God.\n\n    A YEAR OF PROGRESS, in the love\n      That's only learned in heaven; thy mind\n    Unclogged of clay, and free to soar,\n      Hath left the realms of doubt behind,\n    And wondrous things which finite thought\n      In vain essayed to solve, appear\n    To thy untasked inquiries, fraught\n      With explanation strangely clear.\n    Thy reason owns no forced control,\n      As held it here in needful thrall;\n    God's mysteries court thy questioning soul,\n      And thou may'st search and know them all.\n\n    A YEAR OF LOVE; thy yearning heart\n      Was always tender, e'en to tears,\n    With sympathies, whose sacred art\n      Made holy all thy cherished years;\n    But love, whose speechless ecstasy\n      Had overborne the finite, now\n    Throbs through thy being, pure and free,\n      And burns upon thy radiant brow.\n    For thou those hands' dear clasp hast felt,\n      Where still the nail-prints are displayed;\n    And thou before that face hast knelt,\n      Which wears the scars the thorns have made.\n\n    A YEAR WITHOUT THEE; I had thought\n      My orphaned heart would break and die,\n    Ere time had meek quiescence brought,\n    Or soothed the tears it could not dry;\n    And yet I live, to faint and quail\n      Before the human grief I bear;\n    To miss thee so, then drown the wail\n      That trembles on my lips in prayer.\n    Thou praising, while I vainly thrill;\n      Thou glorying, while I weakly pine;\n    And thus between thy heart and mine\n    The distance ever widening still.\n\n    A YEAR OF TEARS TO ME; to thee\n      The end of thy probation's strife,\n    The archway to eternity,\n      The portal of immortal life;\n    To me the pall, the bier, the sod;\n      To thee the palm of victory given.\n    Enough, my heart; thank God! thank God!\n      That thou hast been a year in heaven.\n\n\n\n\nIV.\n\nTHE SILENCE OF THE DEAD.\n\n    Dear, beauteous Death, the jewel of the just.\n      Shining nowhere but in the dark,\n    What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust,\n      Could men outlook that mark!\n    He that hath found some fledged bird's nest, may know,\n      At first sight, if the bird be flown;\n    But what fair field, or grove, he sings in now,\n      That is to him unknown.\n\nHENRY VAUGHAN.\n\n\nThe silence of the dead is one of the most impressive and affecting\nthings connected with the separate state of the soul. We hear the voice\nof a dying friend, in some last wish, or charge, or prayer, or farewell,\nor in some exclamation of joy or hope; and though years are multiplied\nover the dead, that voice returns no more in any moment of day or night,\nof joy or sorrow, of labor or rest, in life or in death.\n\nThe voices of creation return to us at periodical seasons. The early\nspring bird startles us with her unexpected note; the winter is over and\ngone. But no periodical change brings back the voices of departed\nfriends. A member of the family embarks on a long voyage; but, be it\never so long, if life is spared, the letter is received, in which the\nwritten words, so characteristic of him, recall his looks and the tones\nof his voice. Years pass away, and the sound of his footsteps is at the\ndoor again, and his voice is heard in the dwelling. But of the dead\nthere comes no news; from the grave no voice, from the separate state no\nmessage. With our desire to speak once more to the departed, and to hear\nthem speak, we feel that they must have an intense desire to speak to\nus. We wonder why they do not break the silence. There is so much of\nwhich they could inform us; it would be such a relief, we think, to have\none word from them, assuring us that they arrived safely, and are happy,\nand, above all things, granting us their forgiveness for the sins which\nnow have awakened sorrow. But we wait, and look, and wonder, in vain.\n\nWhen we think of the number of the dead, this silence appears\nimpressive. Their number far exceeds that of the living. Could they be\nassembled together, and could those now alive be set over against them,\nupon an immense plain, to a spectator from above we should be a small\ncompany in comparison with them. Should they lift up their voices\ntogether, ours could not be heard. Yet from that vast multitude we never\nhear a voice,--not even a whisper,--nor see a sign. Standing in a\ncemetery a few miles distant from the great city, you hear the low,\nmuffled roar from the streets and bridges, reminding you of the living\ntide which is coursing along those highways. But with eight thousand of\nthe dead around you in that cemetery, and a world of spirits, which no\nman can number, just within the veil, you hear nothing from them. No one\ncomes back to tell us of his experience; no warning, nor comfort, nor\ncounsel, ever reaches our ears. Whatever our trouble, or our joy may be,\nour need or prosperity; however long and painful the absence of the\ndeparted may have been; however lonely we may feel, wishing for some\nword of remembrance and love; and though we visit the grave day by day,\nand call on the name of the departed, and use every art of endearment to\npierce the veil between us,--there is the same determined, cold, lasting\nsilence. \"To go down into silence\" is a scriptural phrase for the state\nof the dead.\n\nOur feelings seek relief from those vague, uncertain thoughts respecting\nthe dead which we find occasioned by the gentle manner in which death\nmost frequently occurs. The breath is shorter and shorter, and finally\nceases, yet so imperceptibly, that, for a moment, it is uncertain\nwhether the last breath has expired. There is no visible trace of the\noutgoing of the soul. Could we see the spirit leave the body, we should\nfeel that one of the mysteries of death is solved. Could we trace its\nflight into the air, could we watch its form as it disappeared among\nthe clouds, or melted away in a distance greater than the eye can\ncomprehend, we should not, perhaps, ask for a word to assure us\nrespecting the state of the soul. But there is no more perfect\ndelineation of the appearances which death presents to us, than in the\nfollowing inspired description: \"As the waters fail from the sea, and\nthe flood decayeth and drieth up, so man lieth down and riseth not; till\nthe heavens be no more, they shall not awake, nor be raised out of their\nsleep.\" We see the lying down, the fixedness of the posture, the utter\ndisregard, in the cold remains, of every thing which passes before them;\nand these remains are like the channels of a river, or the flats of the\nsea, when the tide has utterly forsaken them. The soul is like those\nvanished waters, as to any manifestation that it continues to exist.\n\nWe miss the departed from his accustomed places; we expect to meet him\nat certain hours of the day; those hours return, and he is not there;\nwe start as we look upon his vacant place at the table, or around the\nevening lamp, or in the circle at prayers. No tongue can describe that\nblank, that chasm, which is made by death in the family circle, or the\nvariations in the tones of sorrow and desire with which those words are\nsecretly repeated, day after day, and night after night: \"And where is\nhe?\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIs there any assignable cause for the silence of the dead?\n\nWe cannot, with certainty, assign the reason for it, and we do not know\nwhy the dead are not suffered to reappear to us. We can, nevertheless,\nsee great wisdom and use in this silence, and in our perfect ignorance\nrespecting their state.\n\n_It is the arrangement of divine Providence that faith, and not sight,\nshall influence our characters and conduct._--It would be inconsistent\nwith this great law if we should see or hear from the dead.\n\nThe object of God, in his dealings with us, is to exalt the Bible as our\ninstructor. If men were left to visions and voices, in which there is so\nmuch room for mistake and delusion, the confusion of human affairs would\nbe indescribably dreadful. Every man would have his vision, or his\nmessage, the proof, or the correctness, of which would necessarily be\nconcealed from others, who might have contrary directions, or\nimpressions; and human affairs would then be like a sea, in which many\nrivers ran across each other.\n\nIt would not be safe for departed spirits to be intrusted with the power\nof communicating with the living. Though they know far more than we, yet\ntheir information is limited; and, especially, if they should undertake\nto counsel us about the future, as they would do in their earnestness to\nhelp us, we can easily see that, being finite as they are, and unable to\nlook into the future, they might involve us in serious mistakes, either\nby their ignorance, or by the contrariety of their information. Far\nbetter is it for man to look only to God, who sees the end from the\nbeginning, with whom is no variableness, and who is able, as our anxious\nfriends would not be, to conceal from us the future, or any information\nrespecting it, which it would be an injury for us to know. Should we be\ninformed of certain things which will happen to us years hence, either\nthe expectation of them would engross our attention, and hinder our\nusefulness, or the fear of them would paralyze effort, and destroy\nhealth, if not life. Borrowed trouble, even now, constitutes a large\npart of our unhappiness; but the certain knowledge of a sorrow\napproaching us with unrelenting steps, would spread a pall over every\nthing; while prosperity, far in the prospect, would tempt us to forget\nour dependence upon God, and would weaken the motives to patient\ncontinuance in well doing for its own sake.\n\nThen, with regard to any assurance which the dead would give us about\ntruth and duty, we need not their help. For the dead can tell us\nsubstantially no more than we find recorded in the Bible. They would\ndescribe heaven to us, and speak of future punishment. But suppose that\nthey did. What language would they use more graphic, or more\nintelligible to us, than the language of the Bible? Whatever they said,\nwe should feel obliged to compare it with the Scriptures; if it should\nbe according to them, we do not need it. Besides, the appearance to us\nof departed friends, would, in many cases, only operate on our fears.\nBut the Bible pleads with us by many gentle motives, as well as by\nwarnings and terrific descriptions, and sets before us numberless\ninducements to repent, which the whole world of the dead, uninspired,\ncould not so well furnish. The appearance and words of a spirit would\nexcite us, and make us afraid; we could not feel and act as well, under\nsuch influences, as we can under the calm, dispassionate, convincing,\nand persuasive influences of the Bible. One of the most intelligent and\ncultivated of women, the wife of a missionary in Turkey, in her last\nsickness, having heard her husband read to her several times, from the\nPilgrim's Progress, respecting the River of Death and the Celestial\nCity, at last said to him, as he was opening the book, \"Read to me out\nof the Bible; that soothes me; I can hear it for a long time; but even\nBunyan agitates me.\"\n\nAs much as we suppose it would comfort us to have intercourse with the\ndead, it is easy to see that the great law of the divine government, by\nwhich faith, and not sight, is the appointed means of our spiritual\ngood, would be violated, could the dead speak with us. We are to trust\nin the mercy and the justice of God. This we could not so well do, if we\nknew things about which, now, we are obliged to exercise faith. The\ninspired Word, the only and the all-sufficient rule of faith and duty,\nis a better guide than the voices of the dead.\n\nAn interesting illustration of this is given by one who witnessed the\nappearance of departed spirits on a certain most interesting occasion.\nTwo illustrious men, of the Jewish line, appeared and spake with\nChrist. The person of the Saviour experienced a remarkable\ntransfiguration, assuring his human soul of the joy set before him; the\npresence of the celestial spirits, also, confirming his assurance\nrespecting the separate existence of souls, and the whole transaction\nbeing designed to strengthen the faith of the disciples, and of the\nworld, in the Saviour.\n\nBut what comparative value does one of the inspired witnesses of this\nscene give to this heavenly communication, these voices of the dead, and\nthis visit from the heavenly world? Does he build his faith upon it, as\nupon a corner stone? No; but after telling us, in glowing language,\nrespecting this most wonderful and impressive scene, he says, \"We have\nalso a more sure word of prophecy; whereunto ye do well that ye take\nheed as unto a light that shineth in a dark place, until the day dawn,\nand the day star arise in your hearts.\" That sure word,--\"more sure\"\nthan the testimony of departed spirits, or than voices from the other\nworld,--is the Bible; for he immediately adds, \"For the prophecy came\nnot in old time by the will of man, but holy men of God spake as they\nwere moved by the Holy Ghost.\" The testimony of departed spirits, even\nof Moses and Elijah, might be, after all, only \"the will of man;\" but in\nthe Bible men have spoken as they were moved by the Holy Ghost.\n\nAs to its being a comfort, in any case, that departed friends should\nspeak to us, it is doubtful whether it would prove to be so. Suppose\nthem to utter words of endearment; this would open the fountains of\ngrief in our souls afresh. Suppose them to tell us that they are safe\nand happy; it would be far better for us, in many cases, to hope\nrespecting this, than to know it; the knowledge of it might make us\ncareless and too confident about ourselves; we should be less inclined\nto shun the errors of these friends, to guard against their\nimperfections, and to fear lest a promise being left us of entering into\nthat rest, any of us should seem to come short of it. One of the most\ninconvenient and uneasy states of mind, is that of insatiable\ncuriosity--longing to know that which is concealed, dispirited at the\ndelay of information, refusing effort except under the spur of absolute\nassurance. Far better and more healthful is that state of mind which\nperforms present duty, and leaves the rest to the unfolding hand of\ntime; which disdains that prying, inquisitive disposition which is all\neye and ear, which lives on excitement, which has no self-respect, nor\nregard for any thing but to know something yet unknown. If God suffered\nthe dead to speak to us, we should always be on the watch for some sign;\nwe should be unfitted for the common, practical duties of life; we\nshould be superstitious, visionary, fanatical, timorous. As it is, how\neager we are to pry into the future, or into things purposely hidden\nfrom us! If it were certainly known that one had communication with the\ndead, or if we had good reason to expect such communications, labor\nwould be neglected, faith, prayer, hope, confidence in God would\ndecrease, the Bible would be undervalued through a superior regard to a\ndifferent mode of revelation, and we should live, as it were, among the\ntombs. A morbid state of feeling would pervade our minds, and the world\nwould be full of enchantments, necromancy, and cunning craftiness.\nBlessed be God for the silence of the dead! We are glad that our weak\nand foolish hearts, so prone to love the creature more than the Creator,\nare broken off, by the impenetrable veil of death, from all connection\nwith the departed. The salutary influences of death on survivors would\nbe greatly lessened, if our connection and communication with them were\ncontinued. God is our chief good, not our friends, nor our children; he\nshuts them up in silence from us, to see if we can say, \"Whom have I in\nheaven but thee? And there is none upon earth that I desire besides\nthee.\" The painful effect upon our feelings, and upon our nervous\nsystem, of separations from departed friends, is involuntary and\nnatural; but to cherish our griefs, to spend much time in melancholy\nmoods, or in poring over the memorials of the departed, so as to excite\nand indulge morbid feelings, is not Christian nor wise.\n\nWhile this is true, and there is much immoderate and irrational grief,\nthe disposition, with many, is to forget the dead as soon as possible,\nand forever. Some need to think far more of the deceased. They should\nremember that the dead are alive; that no doubt they think of them; and\nthat, instead of being separated farther and farther from the deceased,\nby the lapse of time, they are every day coming nearer and nearer to\nthem, and they must meet again.\n\nIt is well for us frequently to remember that the silence of the dead is\nno true exponent of their real state. Incoherent and wild as the\nthoughts and feelings sometimes are, under the distracting influence of\naffliction and death, and all uncertain as we are about the departure of\nthe soul, we are not left without sure and most satisfying information\nrespecting the separate state.\n\nThere is no annihilation. The life of the soul is not extinguished like\nthe flame of a lamp. Existence is not that lingering, twinkling spark\nwhich it seems to be in the moments preceding death. To be absent from\nthe body, for a Christian, is to be present with the Lord; to die is\ngain; to depart, and be with Christ, is far better. When the dust\nreturns to the earth as it was, the spirit ascends to God, who gave it.\nThe soul is more vigorous and active than when shut up in the body,\nbecause a higher form of life is required in being with God and angels.\nWe are told that the pious dead are \"the spirits of just men made\nperfect.\" All imperfection arising from bodily organization, as well as\nfrom our fallen state here, has ceased, and the soul has become a pure\nspirit, in a spiritual world, engaged in spiritual pursuits. Memory is\nawake; every perceptive faculty is in perfection; the soul that sees far\ndistant places, in a moment, in sleep,--that holds converse with other,\nbut absent, minds, while the body is sealed in slumber,--not only does\nnot need the present body to make it capable of perception, but when\nescaped from this material condition, and from dependence upon these\nbodily senses, which now are like colored glass to the eyes, it will be\nfar more capable than before; though the spiritual body, at the last,\nwill advance it to a still higher condition. Its judgment is sound, its\nsensibilities are quick, its thoughts are full of unmixed joy. But we\nprobably could not understand the nature of its employments, nor its\ndiscoveries, nor its sensations, any further than we now do from the\nword of God. We have no record, nor tradition, of any disclosures made\nby Lazarus, or the widow of Nain's son, or the dead who came out of\ntheir graves at the crucifixion, and went into the Holy City, and\nappeared unto many. The only way to account for this seems to be, to\nsuppose that they told nothing of what they had seen or heard. Had they\nmade any disclosures of the unseen world, those disclosures would never\nhave been forgotten. They would have been preserved in the memories of\nmen, to be handed down from age to age. Paul himself had no very\ndistinct recollection of what he had heard and seen in Paradise; for he\nsays that he could not tell whether he was in the body or out of the\nbody. We think in words, which at the time are intelligible, but we\noften fail when we try to produce them; so that Paul's expression, very\nsingular in each part of it,--\"heard unspeakable words,\"--may refer to\nthe impressions made on his own mind in his revelations, as not possible\nto be clothed in speech. It may have been with him, upon his return to\nthe body, and with the risen dead, as it was with Nebuchadnezzar, who\nknew that he had dreamed, and the dream had made powerful impressions on\nhis mind, but the dream itself had departed from him. Now, if the bodily\nsenses, or the soul while in the body, cannot comprehend so as to\nexpress what has been seen in heaven, it is doubtful if we could\nunderstand it if it should be revealed by a spirit from heaven. The\nBible has probably given us as definite information about heaven as we\ncould possibly understand--certainly as much as God judges best for our\nusefulness and happiness. But we must probably learn an unearthly\nlanguage, and, in order to this, unearthly ideas, before we can\nunderstand the things which are within the veil. The modes of\ncommunication in heaven between people of strange languages, whether by\na common speech, or by the power given to the disciples at the day of\nPentecost, or by intuition, are not made known to us; but this wonderful\nfaculty of language, holding an intermediate place between spirit and\nmatter, has, of course, a corresponding faculty in the world of spirits.\nIt is, no doubt, an inconceivably pleasurable source of enjoyment. This\nincreases the sublimity which there is in the silence of the dead, and\nits impressiveness. For what fancy can conceive of the communications,\nfrom heart to heart, in that multitude where every new acquaintance is\nthe occasion of some new joy, or wakes some thrilling recollection, or\nleads to some interesting discovery, and gives some fresh objects of\nlove and praise! The land of silence surely extends no farther than to\nthe gates of that heavenly city. All is life and activity within; but\nfrom that world, so populous with thoughts, and words, and songs, no\nrevelation penetrates through the dark, silent land which lies between\nus and them. Our friends are there. Stars, so distant from us that their\nlight, which began its travel ages since, has not reached us, are none\nthe less worlds, performing their revolutions, and occupied by their\nbusy population of intelligent spirits, whose history is full of\nwonders. Yet the first ray denoting the existence of those worlds, has\nnever met the eye of the astronomer in his incessant vigils.\n\nThe silence of the departed will, for each of us, soon, very soon, be\ninterrupted. Entering, among breaking shadows and softly unfolding\nlight, the border land, we shall gradually awake to the opening vision\nof things unseen and eternal, all so kindly revealing themselves to our\nunaccustomed senses as to make us say, \"How beautiful!\" and instead of\nexciting fear, leading us almost to hasten the hand which is removing\nthe veil. Some well-known voice, so long silent, may be the first to\nutter our name; we are recognized, we are safe. A face, a dear, dear\nface, breaks forth amidst the crayoned lines of the dissolving night;\na form--an embrace--assures us that faith has not deceived us, but\nhas delivered us up to the objects hoped for, the things not seen.\nO beatific moment! awaiting every follower of them who, by faith and\npatience, inherit the promises--dwellers there \"whither the Forerunner\nis for us entered.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAs we are soon to be utterly silent towards surviving friends, and the\nworld in which we now live, we should use our speech as we shall wish we\nhad done when we are silent in death. Any counsels, instructions,\nrecords, explanations, communications of any kind, which we would make,\nwe should be diligent to perform. All the loving words, and tokens of\naffection, which we may suppose we shall hereafter desire to\ncommunicate, we shall do well habitually to bear in mind, and let them\ninfluence our feelings and conduct, day by day. In times of sickness, of\nseparation, of absence, at happy returns, our feelings towards familiar\nfriends and members of the family are such as might well be the\nstandard, and pattern, of our general intercourse, especially when we\nthink that the days will come when we shall highly prize and long for\nthat intercourse, which now we have such opportunity to enrich with\nsweet and fragrant recollections, occasioning no pang of regret, nor\nsting. It is well to remember that, one day, we must part, and to let\nthat anticipation intensify our love, and add charms to this daily\ncompanionship, which may soon appear to be a privilege which we did not\nsufficiently prize.\n\nThe time will come, when, to many a beloved survivor, a word or sign,\nbreaking the silence of the departed spirit, and giving some assurance\nthat it is happy, would, perhaps, be the means of dispelling a life-long\nsorrow--would lift a crushing burden from the heart. The time to prepare\nthat assurance, so that it shall come with most effectual power, is now,\nin days of health, when the evidences of our piety shall not be\nattainted by a suspicion of constraint and insincerity, arising from\nlate repentance and an apparently forced submission to God. Our\nrecollections of a departed Christian friend, of whose salvation his\npious life makes us perfectly assured, come over us like the soft\npulsations of a west wind in summer, laden with the sweets of a new-mown\nfield; or like the clear, streaming moonlight in the brief interval\nbetween the broken clouds; or like remembered music, which some\naccidental word of a song has startled from its place and diffused\nthrough the soul. Thus departed Christian friends are the means of\nunspeakable happiness to survivors; thus \"their works do follow them;\"\nand we should make large account of this when we are weighing the\nquestion whether we will now, or in the closing hours of life, so\nfearfully uncertain, begin to love and serve God.\n\nThe question which earth asks respecting one and another, \"Where is he?\"\nis no doubt repeated in heaven: Have you met him in any of these\nstreets? Did you see him on yonder hills? Angels, returned from other\nhappy worlds, have you heard of him? Where is he? He is conscious,\nintelligent, receiving sensations from objects around him as vividly as\never. But, Where is he?\n\nOf others, the question could be answered by ten thousand happy voices,\n\"All is well.\" With regard to many, the silence of the dead, forbidding\nour inquiries, is the only thing which, in any measure, composes the\ngrief of friends. But as to our Christian friends, we have no more\nreason to inquire with solicitude respecting them, than concerning the\nSaviour himself. \"I go to prepare a place for you,\"--\"that where I am,\nthere ye may be also.\" The dying Christian may truly say to his friends,\nas the Saviour did to his: \"WHITHER I GO YE KNOW, AND THE WAY YE KNOW.\"\n\n\n\n\nV.\n\nTHE REDEMPTION OF THE BODY.\n\n    What though my body run to dust?\n      Faith cleaves unto it, counting every grain\n    With an exact and most particular trust,\n      Reserving all for flesh again.\n\nGEORGE HERBERT.\n\n\nIt is good to think of Michael, the archangel, disputing with the devil\nabout the body of Moses. The dispute was over a grave. The Most High had\nhimself performed the funeral rites of his servant; for, we read, \"The\nLord buried him.\" We naturally think of the archangel as placed in\ncharge of the precious dust.\n\nSome great commission, connected with the resurrection of the dead,\nappears to be held by the chief spirit of the angelic world. \"For the\nLord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of\nthe archangel, and the trump of God.\" The burial of each and every body\nwhich is destined to the resurrection of the just, is, therefore, not\nimprobably an object of interest with him who, under the God-man, will\nhave the supervision of the last day. With a view to that harvest of the\nearth, he will now see the furrows made, the seed planted, the hill\nprepared. He will have a care that every thing lies down, whether by\nseeming accident, or by violence, or by design, in just the place from\nwhich the arranging mind of Him who is Lord both of the dead and of the\nliving, has appointed it to come forth. Every circumstance attending\nthat event, the great object of hope in heaven and on earth,--our\nresurrection,--is of sufficient importance to be the subject of thought\nand preparation on the part of Christ, himself the first fruits of them\nthat slept.\n\nThe care of the patriarchs concerning their burial places is like one of\nthose premonitions in an antecedent stratum of geology, or species of\nanimals, of a coming manifestation;--a prophesying germ, a yearning,\ncreated by Him who, with all-seeing wisdom, establishes anticipations\nin the moral, as well as in the natural, world, concerning things with\nregard to which a thousand years are with him as one day.\n\nNot on earth alone, as it seems, is an interest felt in the death and\nburial of the righteous.\n\nFor when the leader of Israel in the wilderness went up to the hill top\nto die, the two great angels, of heaven and hell, met and contended over\nhis grave.\n\nDenied the privilege of burial in the promised land, Moses may have\nappeared to Satan so evidently under the frown of God, as to encourage\nhis meddlesome efforts to inflict some injury upon him, through dishonor\ndone to his remains. Perhaps he would convey them back to Egypt, a gift\nto the brooding vengeance of the Pharaohs, who would gratify their anger\nby preserving that body in the house of their gods;--thus showing their\nspiteful satisfaction at the disappointment of the prophet whom Jehovah\nwould not permit to enter that promised land, in hope of which the\ngreat spoiler had led away the bondmen of Egypt.\n\nPerhaps the devil would gratify the desire of some idolatrous nation,\ncraving new objects of worship, by leading them to canonize this Hebrew\nchief; and thus make of the lawgiver and prophet of Israel a false god.\n\nPerhaps he could even prevail on some of the Israelites themselves, if\nnot the whole of them, to worship this revered form; or might he but\nhave the designation and the custody of his grave, he would, perhaps,\nfix it where it would be most convenient for the nation to assemble, at\nstated times, for some idolatrous rites.\n\nBut the great vicegerent of the resurrection was there. To him the body\nof a saint is suggestive of the last day; it is a special assignment by\nChrist, an official trust, to the archangel. Bodies of saints are,\ntherefore, most precious to him. Particles of the precious metal are not\nmore precious to the miner, pearls to the diver, ivory to the\nCoast-merchant, and the shell-fish to the maker of Tyrian purple. The\nbody of each saint is an unfinished history of redemption; a destiny of\nindescribable interest and importance belongs to it. Any subaltern angel\nmay have charge of winds and seas, of day and night, of summer and\nwinter; but only the archangel is counted meet to have charge, and to\nkeep watch and ward, over the bodies of saints as they sleep in Jesus.\n\n\"He disputed about the body of Moses.\" It was a dispute characterized on\nthe part of the archangel more by act than word. Words are hushed in\ngreat encounters. Debate with a pirate, a body-snatcher, would be folly;\nno arguments, therefore, were wasted, on the top of Nebo, by Michael,\nover the grave of Moses. \"The Lord rebuke thee,\" was his retort; his\nheavenly form stopping the way, his baffling right arm hindering the\naccursed design, were the invincible logic of that dispute.\n\nO prince of angels, watchman, herald, master of the guard, at the\nresurrection of the just,--comptroller, now, of that treasury which\nreceives and keeps their precious forms,--from whose lips that signal\nis to come which millions on millions are to hear, and live,--what\nimages of glory and terror fill thy mind in the anticipation of that\nmoment when thy dread commission is to be fulfilled! Is not that\n\"trumpet\" sometimes taken into thy hand? Dost thou not place it to thy\nlips, but quickly lay it aside, and patiently and joyfully watch the\nswelling number of the graves of saints? Funerals of those who fall\nasleep in Jesus, to thee are pleasant scenes; they are spring-work,\nplanting times, for thy harvest, O chief reaper! While, with bursting\nhearts, we turn from the new-made mound, one more glorified body, in\nanticipation, is added to thy charge.\n\nSmiling at our sorrow, in joyful thought of the change to be witnessed\nin and around that sepulchre when the family circle shall there put on\nincorruption, thou canst not pity us except as we pity the brief sorrows\nof children. If the devil should approach that spot, to work some\nunknown, and, to us, inconceivable, harm to that body,--be it the body\nof the humblest saint, one of those little ones who believe in Jesus, or\nof those infants whose angels do always behold the face of God,--thou,\nmighty cherub, wouldst be there, and, if need be, with a band of angels,\n\"every one with his sword upon his thigh, because of fear in the night;\"\nand Nebo and its \"dispute\" would reappear. Poor, dying, mouldering body!\nhast thou the archangel himself for thy keeper? Not only so:\n\n    \"God, my Redeemer, lives,\n      And often from the skies\n    Looks down and watches all my dust,\n      Till he shall bid it rise.\"\n\n\nNor is it strange, since we read, \"The body is for the Lord, and the\nLord for the body.\" \"Know ye not that your body is the temple of the\nHoly Ghost which is in you?\"\n\nTo rise from the dead seems to have been something more to Paul than\ngoing to heaven, or than being in heaven. He knew that he was to spend\nthe interval between death and the resurrection in heaven; but beyond\neven this, he had a joy which he felt was essential to the completeness\nof the heavenly state.\n\nSee the proof of this in the following words: \"If by any means I might\nattain unto the resurrection of the dead.\"\n\nSince he was destined, like all of Adam's race, to come forth from his\ngrave, he needed to make no effort whatever merely to rise from the\ndead; that was inevitable, and irrespective of character. Besides, he\nrepresents this object for which he strove as something which required\neffort, which cannot be said of merely rising from the grave.\n\nPaul had been permitted to know, by personal observation, what the\nrising from the dead implies. Caught up into Paradise, we may suppose\nthat he had seen the patriarch Enoch, and the prophet Elijah, with their\nglorified bodies; the presence of which in heaven, we may imagine, has\never served to enhance the happiness of that world, by holding forth,\nbefore the eyes of the redeemed, the sign and pledge of their future\nexperience when they shall receive their bodies. For it is not\npresumptuous to suppose that the sight of Enoch and Elijah has been, and\nwill be, till the last trumpet sounds, a source of joyful expectation to\nthe inhabitants of heaven, leading them to anticipate the final day with\nintense interest, as the time when they will be invested, like those\nhonored saints, with all the capacities of their completed nature, which\nnature, while the body lies buried, is in a dissevered state. If Paul,\nwhen in heaven, saw and felt the power of this expectation in the minds\nof glorified saints, no wonder that the resurrection of the body seemed\nto him, ever after, to be the crown of Christian expectation and hope.\n\nMore than all, he had seen the man Christ Jesus, in his glorified body;\nwho on earth had said, \"I am the resurrection and the life\"--himself an\nillustration of it, whom alone the grave has yielded up to die no more.\nHe is, therefore, to saints in heaven, a far more interesting object\nthan Enoch and Elijah, who never died. \"For now is Christ risen from the\ndead, and is become the first fruits of them that slept.\" This sight, of\nChrist in heaven, must have had unutterable interest for Paul, from the\nassurance that Christ will \"change our vile body, that it may be\nfashioned like unto his glorious body;\" for \"we know that when he shall\nappear,\" Paul himself tells us, \"we shall be like him; for we shall see\nhim as he is.\" This knowledge, obtained in the heavenly world, may have\nled the apostle to think of the resurrection as the crown of all his\nexpectations and hopes.\n\nIt is noticeable that the writers of the New Testament, and Jesus\nhimself, refer chiefly to the resurrection and the last day as sources\nof comfort, and also of warning. Now this is made a principal ground of\nbelief, with many, that there is either no consciousness between death\nand the resurrection; or, that none have gone to heaven, nor to hell,\nbut to intermediate places, seeing that final rewards and punishments\nare, in so many instances, wholly predicated of the last day.\n\nBut those who believe that the souls of the righteous are, at their\ndeath, made perfect in holiness, and do immediately pass into glory, see\nproof, in all this prominence which is given to the last day, and to the\nresurrection, that the sacred writers regarded the resurrection and\nfinal judgment as the great consummation, towards which souls, in heaven\nand in hell, would be looking forward with intense expectation and\ninterest; that neither will the joys of heaven nor the pains of hell be\ncomplete, till the account of our whole influence upon the world,\nextending to the end of time, is made up, and the body is added to the\nsoul. When Paul comforts the mourners of Thessalonica, he bids them to\n\"sorrow not as they that have no hope; for,\" (and now he does not speak\nof heaven, and of souls being already there, as the source of\nconsolation, but) \"if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so\nthem, also, that sleep in Jesus will God bring with him;\" and he\nproceeds to speak of the resurrection,--not of the speedy reunion of\nfriends after death, but of the departed as coming with Christ at the\nlast day. This, instead of being an argument against the immediate\ndeparture of souls to heaven, arises from the desire to employ the\nstrongest possible proof that the pious dead are not only safe, but are\ngreatly honored. \"Resurrection\" was an abounding subject of thought,\nargument, and illustration in those days; the state of the dead between\ndeath and the last day, is comparatively disregarded by the apostles,\nwhile their minds were full of the great question of the age--the\nResurrection. This fullness of thought and constant occupation of mind\nabout the resurrection, as the cardinal doctrine of Christian hope,\nexplains the apparent belief of the apostles, in some passages, that the\nfinal day was near. This the apostle Paul expressly denies, in the\nsecond chapter of the Second Epistle to the Thessalonians. But a greater\nevent, looked at in the same line of vision with an intermediate and\nsmaller object, will, of course, have the prominent place in our\nthoughts. The less will be held subordinate to the greater; perhaps we\nshall seem to underrate the less, in our exalted conceptions of that\nwhich rises beyond and above. We shall see, as we proceed, why the\nexpectation of the last day seemed to occupy the thoughts of apostles as\nthe paramount object of expectation.\n\nIt is perfectly obvious that, at the resurrection, the bodies of the\njust will be endued with wonderful susceptibilities and powers. This is\nrendered certain by the great mystery of godliness,--God manifest in the\nflesh. The greatest honor which could be conferred upon our nature, and\nthe greatest testimony to its intrinsic dignity, and to its being, in\nits unfallen state, in the image of God, is bestowed upon it by the\nincarnation of the Word. True, there was a necessity that the Redeemer\nshould be made like unto us, however inferior human nature might be in\nthe scale of creation; still, unless there had been such intrinsic\ndignity and excellence in our sinless nature, as to make it compatible\nfor the second Person in the Godhead to be united with it, we cannot\nsuppose that this union would have been permanent; it would have\nfulfilled a temporary purpose, and then have ceased.\n\nPerhaps we slightly err if we think of Christ's assumption of human\nnature as, in any respect, an incongruous act of humiliation. For man\nwas made in the image of God; so that when Christ was made flesh,\nwithout sin, he took upon himself that which, in some sense, was\ncongruous with his divine nature. His humiliation consisted, in part, in\nhis doing this; but more especially in his doing this for such a\npurpose--for sinners; \"in his being born, and that in a low condition,\nmade under the law, undergoing the miseries of this life, the wrath of\nGod, and the cursed death of the cross, in being buried and continuing\nunder the power of death for a time.\" Had there been no inherent\ncongruity between our nature and the divine, the human nature of\nChrist, having accomplished its purpose of suffering and death, would\nhave been left in the grave. \"But now is Christ risen from the dead;\"\nthe body and the human soul, which were disunited when he hung upon the\ncross, now constitute the same man, Christ Jesus. \"The only Redeemer of\nGod's elect is the Lord Jesus Christ, who, being the eternal Son of God,\nbecame man, and so was, and continues to be, God and man, in two\ndistinct natures and one person, forever.\" The latter part of this\nanswer of the Assembly's Shorter Catechism is thus substantiated by the\nNew Testament: \"When he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall\nsee him as he is.\" In other words, he will be, when he appears, that\nwhich he now is--will remain the same until his second coming. After\nthat, he will remain as he was before: \"Jesus Christ, the same\nyesterday, to-day, and forever.\" He is represented as holding an eternal\nrelation to the redeemed in his glorified nature: \"The Lamb which is in\nthe midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto\nliving fountains of waters.\" We might, indeed, suppose that the man\nChrist Jesus would have an eternal recompense for his sufferings and\ndeath in an everlasting union with the Godhead; nor can any one think,\nwith satisfaction, of a severance between his two natures, and of a\nconsequent humiliation, or deposition, of that human nature, which, at\nthe great day, will, for so long a time, have sustained such a\nconnection with the divine nature. For our present purpose, however,\nwhich is to show the intrinsic dignity of the human nature, it would be\nenough that it has been in such connection with the Godhead, and has\npassed through such scenes, and sustained such vast responsibilities.\nThis is sufficient to prove that human nature is intrinsically capable\nand great; and, indeed, it reveals to us as nothing else does, the real\ndignity of our nature. Some, who have rejected the doctrine of Christ's\ntwo natures, have written much and eloquently with regard to man's\ngreatness in creation. They, however, missed the very thing which\nchiefly proves it; for all who believe in the Deity of Christ have a\nproof and illustration of this great theme which trancend all others.\n\nThis idea, of future capability and exaltation for human nature, as\nproved by the Saviour's incarnation, is brought to view in the second\nchapter of the Epistle to the Hebrews. The second Psalm is there quoted\nas speaking of man: \"Thou hast put all things under his feet.\" \"But\nnow,\" the apostle says, \"we see not yet all things put under him;\" man,\nas a race, has not reached his full destiny of glory and honor; but, in\nthe person of Christ, human nature has taken possession of its future\ninheritance. We see not yet all things put under man, as a race; but \"we\nsee Jesus, who was made a little lower than the angels for the suffering\nof death, crowned with glory and honor;\"--a sign and pledge of our\ndestiny.\n\nTo the mind of Paul, the sight, in heaven, of what he was to become, set\nforth by the glorified person of the Son of God, his Saviour and\ninfinite Friend, no doubt made the resumption of the body, at the last\nday, the most desirable experience of which it was possible for him to\nconceive. Paradise, with all its social pleasures, gates of pearl,\nstreets of gold, every thing, in short, external to him, must have\nseemed, to the apostle, not worthy to be compared with the glory which\nwas to be revealed in him. An intelligent man is far more interested in\nhis own personal endowments, than in the accidental circumstances of his\nsituation. Every one, who is not degraded in his feelings, would prefer\nto be enriched with natural, moral, and intellectual powers, rather than\nbe the richest of men, or an hereditary monarch, with inferior talents\nand worth. To such a man as Paul, the possession of his complete,\nglorified nature, at the resurrection, must, for this reason, have\nseemed far better than all the pleasures or honors of the heavenly\nworld. That completed nature would constitute him a being wholly\nperfected, invest him with a likeness to the Son of God, bring him into\nstill nearer union with that adorable Redeemer, who, Paul says, loved\nhim and gave himself for him, and for whom, he says, he had suffered the\nloss of all things. The sight of the man Christ Jesus wearing Paul's\nnature in a glorified state, no doubt lived and glowed in his memory\nafter his return to earth, and made him think of the resurrection as the\nevent, in his personal history, to which every thing else was\nsubordinate. He shows the interest which he felt in this event, when,\nwriting to the Romans, he says, \"And not only they,\"--that is, \"the\ncreatures,\" or creation,--\"but ourselves, also, which have the first\nfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting\nfor the adoption, to wit, the redemption, of our body.\" In his address,\nat Jerusalem, before his accusers and the people, he cried out, \"Of the\nhope and resurrection of the dead I am called in question.\" It was\nuniformly a prominent topic of his thoughts.\n\nIt is by no means impossible, nor improbable, judging from analogy, that\nthere may be, in the human soul, faculties which are slumbering, until\na glorified body assists in their development. Persons born blind have\nthe dormant faculty of seeing; the gift of the eye would bring it into\nexercise. So of the other senses, and their related mental faculties.\nWith a glorified body, then, truly it doth not yet appear what we shall\nbe; but the thought itself is rapture, that our souls at present may be\nas disproportioned to their future expansion, as the acorn is to the oak\nof a century's growth, which is infolded now, and dormant, in the seed.\n\nThe addition of a body to the glorified spirit will, therefore, be a\nhelp, and not an encumbrance. For we are not to suppose that the soul,\nafter having been for centuries in a state superior to its present\ncondition, would retrograde, in returning to the body. A common idea\nrespecting a body is, that it is necessarily a clog. True, by reason of\nsin and its effects, it is now a \"vile body;\" and Paul speaks of it as\n\"the body of this death.\" But, even while we are in this world, a body\nis an indispensable help to the soul. The disembodied spirit, probably,\nis not capable of sustaining a full, active relation to a world of\nmatter; a material form is necessary to make its powers serviceable\nhere. This being so, there is certainly reason, from analogy, to suppose\nthat the addition of a spiritual body to the glorified soul will not\nnecessarily work any deterioration to the spirit. At all events, we\ncannot suppose that the bliss of heaven will be suffered to diminish, by\nremanding the emancipated spirit into connection with any thing which\nwill subtract from the state to which it will have arrived. There is a\nlaw of progress in the divine government, by which the intelligent\nuniverse will be forever advancing. We are to be changed \"from glory to\nglory;\" not from a greater glory to a less, but into the same image with\nChrist.\n\nIt is the opinion of some that every created being has a corporeal part,\nand that God alone is perfectly a spirit. However this may be, it is\nevident that the souls of believers after death, though advanced far\nbeyond their present earthly condition, and though they are \"with\nChrist,\" and though to die is gain, and though they are in the heaven of\nheavens with Christ, (which is where the penitent thief went, and where\nPaul had his revelation, and where Christ went when he died;--for Paul\nuses the words \"third heavens,\" and \"Paradise,\" interchangeably,) are,\nnevertheless, incomplete as to their natures, \"waiting for the adoption,\nto wit, the redemption of our body.\" Where in the Bible are we led to\nsuppose that they are detained in an inferior region, or that there are,\nat most, only two redeemed human beings now in \"heaven,\" viz., Enoch and\nElijah, or probably not even they? But a corporeal part, we may suppose,\nis necessary to the fullest participation in the employments and\nenjoyments of the spiritual world. Light requires atmosphere to modify\nit for the human eye, which otherwise could not endure its brightness.\nSo it may be that a corporeal part is necessary to modify many of the\nthings which are unseen and eternal, that they may be apprehended by the\nsoul. Let no one say that matter must obstruct or dim the senses of the\nsoul; that a body must act as a veil to the spirit, and shut out much\nknowledge. It is not so here. Matter helps us in the acquisition of\nknowledge, as, for example, glass in optical instruments. The telescope,\nwith its lenses, gives the eye vast compass; the microscope gives it a\npower, equally wonderful, of minute vision. True, in these cases it is\nmatter helping matter--glass assisting the eye; the analogy is not\nperfect between this and the aid which the spiritual body may afford the\nsoul. But, if we remember that there is to be progression in the powers\nand faculties of our nature, and that if a body is added to the\nglorified spirit, it must be to assist it, to put it forward in its\nacquisitions and enjoyments, we cannot resist the belief that the\naddition of the new body to the soul will be a vast accession of power\nand capability. If the eye and the mind can receive such aid from the\ntelescope here, who knows that the eye of the glorified body may not be\nitself a telescope, increasing in its capability with the progress of\nits being.\n\nWe may have some view of what the glorified body must necessarily be, in\nthinking of it as a fit companion to the glorified spirit. The soul\nhaving been in heaven for ages, and having grown in all spiritual\nexcellence, the body, to be a help to such a spirit, to be an occasion\nof joy, and not of regret, must, of course, be in advance of our present\ncorporeal nature. What must the body of Isaiah, and of David, be, at the\nresurrection, to correspond with the vast powers and attainments of\nthose glorified spirits? We could not believe, certainly we could not\nsee, how these bodies of ours could be made capable of such union, were\nit not that, in the man Christ Jesus, we see our corporeal nature\ncapable of such transformation as to make it compatible for his human\nmind, and indwelling Deity, to receive it into their ineffable union.\n\nAll this being so, we may, in some measure, conceive of the feelings\nwith which the souls in heaven anticipate the resurrection; and we cease\nto wonder why Paul speaks of his resurrection as the great object of his\ndesire--not merely to be in heaven, but, being in heaven, with Christ,\nto be in possession of a completed nature, like Christ's.\n\nFrom the grave where it was sown in corruption, it will come forth in\nincorruption; sown in dishonor, it will be raised in glory; sown in\nweakness, it will be raised in power; sown a natural body, it will be\nraised a spiritual body. It was \"bare grain\" when it fell into the\nearth; but the corn, with its stalk, and leaves, and the curious ear,\nwith its silk, and its wrappings, the multiplication of the \"bare grain\"\ninto such a product, are an illustration of the apostle's words,--\"Thou\nsowest not that body that shall be;\" hence, he argues, say not,\nincredulously, \"How are the dead raised, and with what body do they\ncome?\" God giveth the grain a body as it hath pleased him; he can do\nthe same with regard to that part of man's nature which is committed for\na while to the earth. Let not the natural difficulties connected with\nthis subject make us sceptical. There are no more difficulties connected\nwith a grave than with a grape vine. Those distant twigs, on that dry\nvine, begin to bud and blossom; grapes form upon them; it is filled with\nclusters. Is there any thing in the resurrection more strange than this?\nTwice, inspiration says to a man, \"Thou fool!\"--once, to a godless, rich\nman, and, once, to him who is sceptical about the resurrection of the\nbody.\n\nWhen the glorified spirit and the glorified body meet, the moment when\nthe investiture of the soul with its spiritual form takes place, and the\nforcible divorce of the soul and body is terminated by new, strange\nnuptials, there must be an experience which now defies all power of\nimagination. We may have known, in this world, all the thrilling\nexperiences of which our natures here are capable; we shall also have\nseen and felt what it is to awake in heaven, satisfied with Christ's\nlikeness; and all the new-born joys of heavenly sensations will have\nseemed to leave us nothing to be experienced which can bring a new\nrapture to the heart; yet when the body is raised, and the triumphant\nspirit comes to put it on afresh, it will be an addition to all the past\njoys of the heavenly state. As we look on one another, and see, in each\nother's beauty and glory, an image of our own; as we remember how we\nvisited the graves of loved ones, and what thoughts and feelings we had\nthere, and then see those graves yielding forms like Christ's; as we see\nthe Saviour's person mirrored in ours on every side, and behold the\nliving changed in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, there will be an\nexceeding great joy, such, perhaps, as the universe had never before\nknown. But to each of us the most perfect joy will be his own\nconsciousness, existence being then a rapture such as we never\nexperienced. Then the bird is winged, the jewel is set in gold, the\nflower blooms, the harp receives all her strings, the heir is crowned.\nNo wonder that Paul said, looking through and beyond heaven, \"If by any\nmeans I might attain unto the resurrection of the dead.\"\n\nPerhaps we now think of the last day with dread, as a day of\nconsternation. It is not always that we can think of the heavens on\nfire, the earth dissolved, the dead arising, and the judgment\nproceeding, without some feeling of dismay. But in heaven, we shall long\nhave anticipated that day as the day of our complete triumph. The grave\nwill, till that time, have imprisoned one part of our nature. The curse\nof the law will not have passed away entirely, and in every respect,\ntill all which belongs to us is redeemed from every natural, as well as\nmoral, consequence of sin. It will be an expectation of unmingled joy to\nsee this accomplished. The approach of the day will fill us with more\npleasure than the arrival of any other wished-for moment. We shall come\nwith Christ to judgment. \"Them that sleep in Jesus will God bring with\nhim.\" We shall have a part in the glory of Christ, and be associated\nwith him; for, \"Do ye not know that the saints shall judge the world?\"\n\"Know ye not that we shall judge angels?\" What curious interest there\nwill be to receive back from the dust of the earth the dishonored,\ncorrupted, mouldered, wasted, perished body. In the Saviour, even, we\nshall not have seen all the wonders of the resurrection from the dead;\nfor, \"He whom God raised saw no corruption;\" but we shall be raised from\ncorruption. To be clothed upon with that house which is from heaven, to\nbe a completed, perfected human being, will be, up to that time, the\ngreatest possible manifestation to us of divine wisdom and power.\n\nThe new body will bring with it sources of enjoyment which will be a\nvast addition to the previous happiness of heaven. There will be perfect\nsatisfaction in every one with his own body--no consciousness of\ndefects, of deformity, of weakness. Comparisons of ourselves with others\nwill not excite dissatisfaction and envy; every one will be perfect of\nhis kind, and will differ in some things from every other, and will be\nan object of love and admiration with all. We are astonished here with\nthe intellectual, oratorical, vocal powers of others, with their\nknowledge, their talent, their skill; but there we shall no doubt be\nfilled also with astonishment at our own powers and acquisitions, and\nthus we shall be more capable of appreciating and enjoying the\nendowments of others. God is pleased to raise up one and another, from\ntime to time, with great powers to charm their fellow-creatures; and\nthus he would lure us on to heaven, teaching us how much we can enjoy,\nand how much we shall lose if we are not saved. Those who are deprived\nof very many intellectual and social pleasures here, which they could\nappreciate as well as their more favored friends, will soon have it made\nup to them. By the likeness of their glorified nature to the human\nnature of Christ, they are to be intimately associated with him forever.\nThis, of itself, is an assurance and pledge, that their heavenly\nhappiness will not be measured by their relative inferiority to their\nbrethren in this world. To a benevolent mind it is a great joy to think\nof good people, who are deprived, in this world, of education and\nculture, entering upon a career of boundless knowledge, rising to the\nhighest pitch of mental development, and enjoying it all the more for\ntheir former disadvantages in their probationary state. \"And, behold,\nthere are last which shall be first.\" Distinctions made here by\nknowledge will be transient, like gifts of prophecy, and tongues; for it\nis in this sense that it is said, \"whether there be knowledge, it shall\nvanish away.\" And when we look upon those dear children of God who have\nlong suffered under bodily deformity, and \"have borne, and have had\npatience, and have not fainted,\" we love to think of their glorified\nbodies, and of that rich zest in the possession of them which will be\nboth the natural consequence, and the gracious reward, of their\npatience; nay, we love to think that some special, personal beauty, some\npeculiar grace and glory, may be given them by Him who so delights in\ncompensatory acts in nature, in providence, and in grace.\n\nWas it not the object of the transfiguration, in part, to give the human\nsoul of Christ such an idea of his future glory in heaven, as to\nstrengthen him for his agony and death? Yes; for the heavenly visitants\n\"spake of his decease which he should accomplish at Jerusalem.\" That\nanticipation of his glorified nature was a part of \"the joy set before\nhim.\" Let Christ on Tabor, and faith, do for us, with regard to present\nbodily sorrows and sufferings, that which the transfiguration did for\nJesus in the days of his humiliation. \"Who shall change our vile body,\nthat it may be fashioned like unto his glorious body, according to the\nworking whereby he is able even to subdue all things unto himself.\"\n\nThrough the long interval of death and the separate state, the\nanticipation of the last day and of the resurrection will, no doubt,\nbe to the wicked a predominant source of terror. While the joyful\nanticipations of it, in heaven, will be like the advancing steps of\nmorning, when there begin to be signs, in the tabernacle for the sun,\nof that bridegroom coming out of his chamber, and of that strong man\nrejoicing to run a race, and every thing will be astir with the notes\nof preparation for that day, for which all other days were made, the\napproach of it will be, to the lost, a deepening gloom, its arrival the\nsettling down of interminable night. Instead of entering into their\nbodies with transport, as the righteous do, they will each be like a\nprisoner removed from one jail to another with new bars and bolts. If\nit be not unreasonable to suppose that the appearance of the body will\nconform to the character, and if the bodies of Isaiah, and Paul, and\nJohn must be seraphic, to correspond with their experience and\nattainments, what must the bodies of the wicked be! They will have spent\ncenturies in sinning, and suffering, debased in every part, the image of\nGod supplanted by the image of him whose service they preferred to that\nof a holy God and Saviour. What a moment will that be, when the sinner's\ngrave is opened by the last trumpet, and a hideous form rises to receive\na frantic spirit! \"The harvest is the end of the world, and the reapers\nare the angels.\" \"As, therefore, the tares are gathered and burned in\nthe fire, so shall it be in the end of this world. The Son of man shall\nsend forth his angels, and they shall gather out of his kingdom all\nthings that offend, and them which do iniquity, and shall cast them into\na furnace of fire; there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth.\" \"And\nmany of them that sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to\neverlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt.\" There\nwill be separations at the graves of those who lay side by side in\ndeath; many a tomb will yield up subjects both for heaven and for hell;\nthe differences in character, between the regenerate and unregenerate,\nwill there be made conspicuous in the correspondence of the risen body\nto the soul, according as the soul shall have arrived at the grave from\na state of joy or of woe. Arrests will be made, there will be forcible\ndetentions, overpowering strength, disregard of entreaties, remorseless\nrendings asunder of families, unclasping of embraces, and an\nindiscriminate mixture of all classes among the wicked, indicated by the\ncommand, \"Bind ye the tares together, in bundles, to be burned.\" Nor\nwill this be worse for holy angels to witness, than it was to see those\nsinners turn their backs on the Lord's supper, year after year. They\ncould treat their Saviour's dying agonies, and his blood, with perfect\nneglect and contempt, through their love of the world and sin; now they\neat the fruit of their own way, and are filled with their own devices.\nOur treatment of the Saviour will return upon our own heads. What a\nchange will be made in the ideas which many sentimentalists had of holy\nangels, when they see them executing the terrible orders of their King!\nand what an illustration it will give of the severity of justice,--the\nrigors of its execution being compatible with the pure benevolence of\nholy angels, because of God. We are constantly admonished that the\npunishment of the wicked will be a great part of the proceedings on that\nday. It is called \"the day of judgment and perdition of ungodly men.\"\n\"Behold, the Lord cometh, with ten thousands of his saints, to execute\njudgment.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAll this serves to invest the death of a dear Christian friend, in our\nthoughts, with inexpressible peace and comfort. He, with his Redeemer,\ncan say, \"My flesh, also, shall rest in hope.\" If we are confident that\na friend is gone to be with Christ, death is, even now, swallowed up of\nlife; and now the thought of what the soul is to inherit, both before\nand after the resurrection, and its contrast with the experience of the\nlost, should make us joyful in tribulation. True, we cannot, by any\nartifice or illusion, make death itself cease to be a curse. Full of\nbeauty and consolation as it may be,--nay, we will call it\ntriumphant,--yet nothing saddens the mind, for the time, more than the\nsight of true beauty. In heaven things beautiful will not make us sad;\nnor will the remembrance of a past joy, which so inevitably has that\neffect upon us here. We are beholding a sunset. Day is flinging up all\nits treasures, as though it were breaking to pieces its pavilion forever\nand scattering the fragments; and now, when all seemed past, one more\nflood of glory streams over the scene, but only for a moment; then comes\na last touch of pathos, here and there, like a more distant farewell, a\nwhispered good night. Have tears never come unbidden, do we never feel\nsad, at such a time? Is not the whole of life, past, present, and to\ncome, then tinged with sombre hues? and all because the dying day\nexpires with such beauty and peace. Not so when a storm suddenly brings\nin night upon us. Then we are nerved and braced; we hear no minor key in\nthe voice of the departing day. It is perfectly natural, therefore, to\nweep over our dead, even when every thing in their departure is\nconsolatory and beautiful. It is interesting to observe that it was even\nwhen he was on his way to raise the dead body of his friend, and thus to\ncomfort the weeping sisters, that \"Jesus wept.\"\n\nLet us more and more love the Christian's grave. Angels love it. Two of\nthem sat in the tomb where the body of Jesus had lain--they loosed the\nnapkin that was about his head, and \"wrapped\" it \"together in a place by\nitself;\" and when Jesus had left the place, instead of following him,\nthey lingered, to comfort the weeping friends on their arrival at the\nsepulchre. Can it be Michael, guardian of the dead Moses and his grave,\non \"the great stone\" which has been rolled \"from the door of the\nsepulchre\"? Is he thinking how he will one day hear the command, \"Take\nye away the stone\" which covers all who sleep in Jesus? As the cross is\nhallowed by the death of the Son of God upon it, the grave is hallowed\nfor the believer through the Saviour's burial. There are three places\nwhich must possess intense interest for a glorified friend. One is his\nhome; another is his seat in the house of God; and another is his grave.\nLet us cherish it. We do well to visit such a spot. Sometimes\napproaching it with sadness and fear, we go away with surprising peace;\nlooking back for a last view of the stone, and feeling towards the spot\nas we do when we are leaving little children in the dark for the night,\nunutterable love, we find, has cast out fear. Those graves are treasures\nwhich heaven has made sure, \"sealing the stone, and setting a watch.\" Of\nthose who still live, we are not certain that, in the providence of God,\nthey will henceforth be an unmingled source of comfort; but they who are\nin those graves are garnered fruits, are finished works, are each like\nthe rod of Aaron laid up in the ark, which \"bloomed blossoms and yielded\nalmonds.\" All else which is dear to us on earth may seem changeful, or\nchanged; the property may have disappeared, the home may have been\nbroken tip, the plighted faith and love may have been recalled; the\nwhole condition of life may have been altered: but we visit that burial\nspot, and there is permanence; that fast-anchored isle has defied the\nsurges and roaring currents; the grave seems beautifully constant; it\nhas not betrayed our confidence; it is not weary of its precious charge;\nit has kindly staid behind to permit and encourage our griefs when all\nelse may have fled. The winter's snows have fallen, the tempests have\nbeaten, there; and now, this April or May morning, it is as steadfast\nand quiet as when the slumber there began.\n\nGreat honor is paid to the dead in giving them precedence to the living\nat the last day. \"The dead in Christ shall rise first,\" that is, before\nthe living are changed;--they shall rise, and after that, in a moment,\nin a twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet, the living will be\ntransformed; for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised\nincorruptible, and we shall be changed. This is said in order to comfort\nthose who mourn the death of Christian friends,--intimating such care on\nthe part of their Redeemer, that the apostle is directed to tell us \"by\nthe word of the Lord, that we which are alive, and remain to the coming\nof the Lord, shall not\" have precedence of \"them that are asleep.\" It is\ndeclared that the change of the living will be effected \"in a moment, in\nthe twinkling of an eye.\" This must be a matter of pure revelation; for\nit could not have been foretold, from any apparent probabilities,\nwhether it would happen instantaneously or by degrees. It is suited to\nimpress the mind with the power and majesty of Christ, inasmuch as this\nis to be one of the great acts connected with his second coming, and as\nreally an exercise of his omnipotence as the raising of the dead. For he\nis \"Lord both of the dead and of the living.\"\n\n\"And the sea shall give up the dead that are in it.\" Many a form of a\nbeliever is waiting there for the redemption of the body. Nor has it\nescaped the eye of the great archangel. Wrapped in its rude shroud, or\ndecomposed and scattered, or in whatever way seemingly annihilated,\npersonal identity still attaches to it, and the all-seeing eye watches\nevery thing which is essential to that identity, as easily as though the\nbody were in the grave with kindred dust. That the power of God in the\nresurrection may be fully illustrated, and that some may be preeminent\nwitnesses in their own persons of that mighty power, perhaps it will\nappear that they were permitted, for that purpose, to be devoured, or to\ndissolve and to waste away in the sea. If they who came out of great\ntribulation are arrayed in white robes among the righteous, we may look\nfor some special sign of glory and joy in those who receive their\nbodies, not from the sheltering grave, but from the sea, and from the\nvery frame of nature, into which their bodily organization will, in one\nway and another, have been incorporated. O the unspeakable wonders and\nraptures connected with the resurrection, both as it relates to our own\nexperience, and to the illustrations which the resurrection will afford,\nof the divine wisdom and power. No wonder, we say, that Paul esteemed\nit the height of Christian privilege, that he, as a redeemed human\nbeing, \"might attain unto the resurrection of the dead.\"\n\nIt is an innocent fancy, if it be not worthy of a better name, that the\ngreat attention which has been given of late years to new cemeteries,\nnow in such contrast to the old graveyards, whose reckless disorder so\nperfectly expressed abandonment to sorrow and unresisting surrender to\nthe last enemy, is a symptomatic token of growing faith in the great,\ngeneral heart of the Christianized part of the race, with regard to that\nconsummation of all things, the resurrection of the dead.\n\nAs at sea there is, within certain degrees of latitude and longitude, an\nuphill and a downhill, made by the convexity of the globe, we, perhaps,\nmay have reached the meridian of the great voyage, and may have begun to\nfeel the inclination which will set us forward more swiftly to the end.\nThe power of the great consummation will be waxing stronger and\nstronger. Men are looking to the cemeteries as places where great\ntreasures went down, or were abandoned, and they begin to think that\nsome great restoration awaits them. These costly and beautiful\ncemeteries, which men are preparing, are like Hiram's contributions to\nthe building of the temple; they foretell some great thing; they have a\nlook not only of expectation, but of design, not merely of faith, but of\nhope. With a truly liberal regard to the decoration of those burial\nplaces with costly works of general interest, in the department of art,\nwe shall do well to make provision, by statute, for the perpetual repair\nand preservation of every enclosure, and every grave, the whole body\ncorporate thus pledging itself, as far as possible, to each incumbent,\nthat his last resting place shall be the care of the perpetuated\nfraternity to the end of time.\n\nAnd when the prophecies are accomplished, and the stone cut out of the\nmountain without hands has filled the earth, and the apostasy which is\nto follow the general prevalence of religion, has deluged the world\nwith blood, and Satan, loosed a little season, is triumphing in his\nmaddened career, and the graves are full, and the souls under the altar,\nwith their importunate cry, can no longer wait for the avenging\narm,--then shall be seen the sign of the Son of man coming in the clouds\nof heaven, with power and great glory.\n\nAs we commit a Christian friend to the earth, and as we visit his\nresting place, let us think that now, the anticipation of the rising\nfrom the dead is, to him, the great object of personal expectation and\nhope. The time is not far distant, when, in heaven, we, in like manner,\nshall be filled with that expectation, as we look down upon the places\nwhere our bodies await the signal of the resurrection.\n\nLet not the image of our friends, as sick and in pain, occupy our\nthoughts. \"For the former things are passed away.\" Their language, as\nthey call back to us, is, \"As dying, and behold, we live.\"\n\nWe who have children and friends that sleep in Jesus, and who expect\nourselves to be, with them, and with one another, children of the\nresurrection, will soon know each other in the presence of Christ. We\nshall have become reunited in the presence of each other to our loved\nand lost ones. The great question then will be, How did we fulfil God's\nspecial and benevolent designs in our trials? If we revisit scenes of\ndeep affliction where death and the grave usurped their dread power over\nus for a season, we shall remember our misery as waters that pass away.\nIn hope of this, we will patiently and joyfully labor and suffer. \"The\nnight is far spent; the day is at hand.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOn a pleasant morning in April, three months from the time of her\ndecease, the mortal part of the dear child whose name gives this book\nits title, was removed from its temporary resting place in the city, to\nher grave in the family cemetery. As the hands of her father, which\nbaptized her, laid her to rest in her sweet and peaceful bed, and the\nsimple stone, with her chosen \"lilies of the valley and rose buds\"\ncarved on it, was set up,--the gift of one whose consanguinity was made\nby him the delicate ground of claim to do this touching and abiding act\nof love,--it seemed as though, in some sense, there had already been\nbrought to pass the saying which is written, \"Death is swallowed up in\nvictory.\"\n\nBut in the night, a gentle April shower fell; and as the thoughts were\ncarried by it, spellbound, from the chamber where she was born, to her\nnewly-made grave,--that night being the first of her sleeping there,--it\nseemed very plain that, though Death had been conquered, the Grave still\nkept possession of the field.--Christ \"will be thy destruction,\" O\nGrave, as he has been \"thy plagues,\" O Death! The early rain seemed to\nhave made good haste in visiting the fresh mound and the flower seeds\nalready placed there, conspiring with them to cover the grave speedily\nwith emblems of the resurrection, as though, with confident boast and\nexultation, they would, beforehand, say, \"Where is thy victory?\" Simple\nthoughts and fancies, which we hardly dare utter, have wonderful power,\nin great sorrows, to change the whole current of the feelings; for while\nthat soft shower was heard, falling on the grave, it seemed as if a\nheavenly watcher was in care of the place; and so, leaving them\ntogether, it was easy and pleasant to fall asleep.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd now, seeing that there is not one experience in this volume which is\nnot, or may not be, enjoyed, and surpassed, by every dying saint, and by\nsurviving friends, and as the narrative is thus saved from all just\nthought either of ostentation, or of setting forth a discouraging\nstandard of experience, may the book find protection from those who,\nknowing the innocent weaknesses, and, at the same time, the blessedness,\nof those who mourn, will kindly appreciate the motives with which it is\nwritten. For more than a year the narrative has been laid by, from\nindefinable reluctance at the thought of publication. But this\naffliction, which was, at first, like the bulb of the hyacinth with its\nwhite, pendulous roots in water,--those symbols of hope and pledges of\ngrowth,--has now bloomed and become fragrant with such comforts and\nconsolations, that we venture to set the plant in our window, perchance\nit may meet the eye of one and another as they walk and are sad. Perhaps\nit may, here and there, win love and praise for Jesus. \"He hath done all\nthings well.\"","title":"Catharine","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":32658}