{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/wikisource_Reflections_among_the_monuments/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/wikisource_Reflections_among_the_monuments","id":"wikisource_Reflections_among_the_monuments","license":"Public Domain / CC-BY-SA (see source)","rights_basis":"wikisource_site_inclusion_policy","source":"wikisource","source_url":"https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Reflections_among_the_monuments","summary":null,"tags":["1800s_works","Chapbooks","Christianity","Main_pages_with_authority_control_data","PD-old","Prose","Religion","Scotland","Works_of_uncertain_date","Works_using_categories_parameter","Works_with_non-numeric_dates","Works_with_reconstructed_words_or_phrases"],"text":"CHEAP TRACTS,\n\nCalculated to promote the Interests of Religion, Virtue, and Humanity.\n\nNo. VII.\n\nREFLECTIONS\n\nAMONG THE\n\nMonuments.\n\nExtracted from Meditations among the Tombs, by the Rev. Mr. Hervey.\n\nThe man how wi\u017fe, who \u017fick of gaudy \u017fcenes,\n\nIs led by choice to take his fav'rite walk\n\nBeneath death's gloomy, \u017filent, cypre\u017fs \u017fhades,\n\nUnpierc'd by vanity's fanta\u017ftic ray!\n\nTo read his monuments, to weigh his du\u017ft\n\nVi\u017fit his vaults, and dwell among the tombs!\n\n\u00a0\n\nDUNBAR:\n\nPrinted by G. Miller:\u2014at who\u017fe Shop may be had a variety of Pamphlets, Ballads, Children's Books, Pictures, Catechi\u017fms, &c.\n\nWHOLESALE AND RETAIL.\n\nREFLECTIONS\n\nAMONG THE\n\nMONUMENTS.\n\nI pa\u017fs, with melancholy \u017ftate.\nBy all the\u017fe \u017folemn heaps of fate;\nAnd think, as \u017foft and \u017fad I tread\nAbove the venerable dead,\n\"Time was, like me they life po\u017f\u017fe\u017fs'd;\n\"And time will be when I \u017fhall re\u017ft.\"\nParnel.\n\nYonder white \u017ftone, emblem of the innocence it covers, informs the beholder of one, who breathed out its tender \u017foul almo\u017ft in the in\u017ftant of receiving it.\u2014\n\nHappy voyager; no \u017fooner launched, than arrived at the haven\u2014\u2014But more eminently happy they, who have pa\u017f\u017fed the waves, and weathered all the \u017ftorms of a trouble\u017fome and dangerous world; who, \"through many tribulations, have entered into the kingdom of heaven;\" and thereby brought honour to their divine Convoy, admini\u017ftered comfort to the companions of their toil; and left an in\u017ftructive example\nto \u017fucceeding pilgrims.\n\nHighly favoured probationer I accepted without being exerci\u017fed! It was thy peculiar privilege, not to feel the \u017flighte\u017ft of tho\u017fe evils which oppre\u017fs thy \u017furviving kindred; which frequently fetch groans from the mo\u017ft manly fortitude, or mo\u017ft elevated faith; the arrows of calamity, barbed with angui\u017fh,\nare often fixed deep in our choice\u017ft comforts. The fiery darts of temptation, \u017fhot from the hand of hell, are always flying in \u017fhowers around our integrity. To thee, \u017fweet babe, both the\u017fe di\u017ftre\u017f\u017fes and dangers were alike unknown.\n\nCon\u017fider this, ye mourning parents, and dry up your tears. Why \u017fhould you lament, that your little ones are crowned with victory, before the \u017fword was drawn, or the conflict begun?\u2014Perhaps, the \u017fupreme\ndi\u017fpo\u017fer of events fore\u017faw \u017fome inevitable \u017fnare of temptation forming, or \u017fome dreadful \u017ftorm of adver\u017fity impending. And why \u017fhould you be \u017fo di\u017f\u017fatisfied with that kind precaution, which hou\u017fed your plea\u017fant plant, and removed into \u017fhelter a tender flower, before the thunders roared; before\nthe lightnings flew; before the tempe\u017ft poured its rage?\u2014\u2014O remember! they are not lo\u017ft, but taken away from the evil to come.\n\nAt the \u017fame time, let \u017furvivors, doomed to bear the heat and burden of the day, for their encouragement, reflect,\u2014that it is more honourable to have entered the li\u017fts, and to have fought the good fight, before they come off conquerors. They who have born the cro\u017fs, and \u017fubmitted to afflictive providences, with a cheerful re\u017fignation, have girded up the loins of their mind, and performed their Ma\u017fter's will, with an hone\u017ft\nand per\u017fevering fidelity;\u2014the\u017fe, having glorified their Redeemer on earth, will probably be as \u017ftars of the fir\u017ft magnitude in heaven. They will \u017fhine with brighter beams, be repleni\u017fhed with \u017ftronger joys, in their Lord's everla\u017fting kingdom.\n\nHere lies the grief of a fond mother, and the bla\u017fted expectation of an indulgent father.\u2014The youth grew up, like a wellwatered plant; he \u017fhot deep, ro\u017fe high, and bid fair for manhood: but ju\u017ft as the c\u0117dar began to tower, and promi\u017fed ere long to be the pride of the wood, and prince among the neighbouring trees:\u2014behold! the axe is laid unto the root; the fatal blow \u017ftruck; and all its branching honours tumbled to the du\u017ft.\u2014And did he fall alone? No: The hopes of his father that begat him, and the plea\u017fing pro\u017fpects of her that bare him, fell, and were cru\u017fhed together with him.\n\nFrom this affecting repre\u017fentation, let parents be convinced how highly it concerns them to cultivate the morals, and \u017fecure the immortal intere\u017fts of their children. If you really love the offspring of your own bodies; if your bowels yearn over tho\u017fe amiable pledges of conjugal endearment; \u017fpare no pains, give all diligence, I entreat you, to \"bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.\" Then may you have joy in their life, or con\u017folation in their death. If their \u017fpan is prolonged, their unblameable and u\u017fetul conduct will be the \u017ftaff of your age, and a balm for declining nature. Or, if the number of their years be cut off in the mid\u017ft, you may commit their remains to the du\u017ft, with much the \u017fame comfortable expectations, and with infinitely more exalted views, than you \u017fend the \u017furvivors to places of genteel education. You may commit them to the du\u017ft with cheering hopes of receiving them again to your arms, inexpre\u017f\u017fibly improved in every noble and endearing accompli\u017fhment.\n\nIt is certainly a \u017fevere trial, and much more afflictive than I am able to imagine, to re\u017fign a lovely blooming creature, \u017fprung from your own loins, to the gloomy rece\u017f\u017fes of corruption. But, O! how much more cutting to you, and confounding to the child, to have the \u017foul \u017feparated from God; and for \u017fhameful ignorance or early impiety con\u017figned over to places of eternal torment!\n\nOn this hand is lodged one, who\u017fe \u017fepulchral \u017ftone tells a mo\u017ft pitiable tale indeed! Well may the little images, reclined over the \u017fleeping a\u017fhes, hang down their heads with that pen\u017five air! None can con\u017fider \u017fo mournful a \u017ftory, without feeling \u017fome touches of \u017fympathizing concern.\u2014\u2014His age twenty-eight; his death \u017fudden; him\u017felf cut down in the prime of life, amid\u017ft all the vivacity and vigour of manhood: while \"his brea\u017fts were full of milk, and his bones\nmoi\u017ftened with marrow.\"\u2014\u2014Probably he entertained no apprehen\u017fions of the evil hour. And indeed, who could have \u017fu\u017fpected, that \u017fo bright a fun \u017fhould go down at noon? To human appearance, his hill \u017ftood \u017ftrong. Length of days \u017feemed written in his \u017fanguine countenance. He \u017folaced him\u017felf with the pro\u017fpect of a long, long \u017feries of earthly \u017fatistactions.\u2014When, lo! an unexpected \u017ftroke de\u017fcends! de\u017fcends from that mighty arm, which \"overturneth the mountains by their roots; and cru\u017fhes the imaginary hero. before the moth;\" as quickly, and more ea\u017fily, than our fingers pre\u017fs \u017fuch a feeble fluttering in\u017fect to death.\n\nPerhaps the nuptial joys were all he thought on Were not \u017fuch the breathings of his enamoured soul? \"Yet a very little while, and I \u017fhall po\u017f\u017fess the utmost of my wi\u017fhes. I \u017fhall call my charmer mine; and in her enjoy whatever my heart can crave.\"\u2014\u2014\n\nWho can tell, but the bride-maids, girded with gladness, had prepared the marriage-bed! had decked it with the riche\u017ft covers, and dre\u017f\u017fed it in pillows of down? When,\u2014Oh! tru\u017ft not in youth or \u017ftrength, or in any thing mortal; for there is nothing certain, nothing to be depended on, beneath the unchangeable God;\u2014Death, relentless death, is making him another kind of bed in the du\u017ft of the earth. On this he mu\u017ft take up a lonely lodging, nor ever be relea\u017fed, till \"the heavens are no more.\"\u2014In vain does the con\u017fenting fair one put on her ornaments, and expect her \u017fpou\u017fe. Little thinking that the intended bridegroom had for ever done with tran\u017fitory things: that now everla\u017fting cares employ his mind, without one \u017fingle remembrance of his lovely Lucinda!\u2014Go, di\u017fappointed virgin! go, mourn the uncertainty of all created bli\u017fs! Teach thy \u017foul to a\u017fpire after a \u017fure and immutable felicity! For the once gay and gallant Fidelio \u017fleeps in other embraces; even in the icy arms of death! forgetful, eternally forgetful, of the world\u2014and thee.\n\n\u2014another monitor be\u017fpeaks me, from a neighbouring \u017ftone. It contains the narrative of an unhappy mortal, \u017fnatched from his friends, and hurried to the awful bar; without lei\u017fure, either to take a la\u017ft farewel of the one, or to put up \u017fo much as a \u017fingle prayer preparatory for the other; killed,\naccording to the u\u017fual expre\u017ffion, by a \u017fudden \u017ftroke of ca\u017fualty.\n\nWas it then a random blow? Doubtle\u017fs, the \u017ftroke came from an aiming, though invi\u017fible hand. God pre\u017fideth over the armies of heaven; God ruleth among the inhabitants of the earth; and God conducteth what men call chance. Nothing, nothing comes to pa\u017fs through a blind and undi\u017fcerning fatality. If accidents happen, they happen according to the exact fore-knowledge, and conformable to the determinate coun\u017fels of eternal wi\u017fdom. The Lord, with whom are the i\u017f\u017fues of death, \u017figns the warrant, and gives the high commi\u017f\u017fion. The \u017feemingly fortuitous di\u017fafter is only the agent, or the in\u017ftrument, appointed to execute the \u017fupremne decree. When the impious monarch was mortally wounded it \u017feemed to be a ca\u017fual \u017fhot. A certain man drew a bow at a venture*.\u2014At a venture, as he thought. But his hand was \u017ftrengthened by an omnipotent aid, and the \u017fhaft levelled by an unerring eye. So that what we term ca\u017fualty, is really providence, accompli\u017fhing deliberate de\u017figns, but concealing its own interpo\u017fition.\u2014How comforting this reflection! Admirably adapted to \u017foothe the throbbing angui\u017fh of the mourners, and compo\u017fe their \u017fpirits into a quiet \u017fubmi\u017f\u017fion! Excellently \u017fuited to di\u017f\u017fipate the fears of godly \u017furvivors and create a calm intrepidity even amid\u017ft innumerable perils!\n\nThe marble, which graces yonder pillar, informs me, that near it are depo\u017fited the remains of Sophronia; the much lamented Sophronia, who died in child-bed.\u2014How often does this calamity happen? The branch \u017fhoots; but the \u017ftem withers. The babe \u017fprings to light; but \u017fhe that bare him, breathes her la\u017ft. She gives life, but gives it (O pitiable con\u017fideration\u00a0!) at the expence of her own: and becomes, at once, a mother and corp\u017fe.\u2014Or el\u017fe, perhaps, \u017fhe expires in \u017fevere pangs, and is her\u017felf a tomb for her infant; while the melancholy complaint of a monarch's wo is the epitaph for them both; The children are come to the birth, and there is not \u017ftrength to bring forth*. Le\u017fs to be lamented, in my opinion, this misfortune than the other. Better, for the tender \u017ftranger, to be \u017ftopped in the porch, than to enter only to conver\u017fe with affliction. Better to find a grave in the womb, than to be expo\u017fed to a hazardous world, without the guardian of its infantile years, without the faithful guide of its youth.\n\nThis monument is di\u017ftingui\u017fhed by its finer materials, and more delicate appendages. It \u017feems to have taken its model from an affluent hand, directed by a generous heart, which thought it could never do\nenough for the decea\u017fed. It \u017feems, al\u017fo, to exhibit an emblematical picture of Sophronia's per\u017fon and accompli\u017fhments. Is her beauty, or, what is more than beauty, her white robed innocence, repre\u017fented by the \u017fnowy colour? The \u017furface \u017fmoothly poli\u017fhed, like her amiable temper, and engaging manners. The whole elegantly adorned, without either extravagant pomp or \u017fordid negligence; like her undi\u017f\u017fembled goodne\u017fs remote from the lea\u017ft o\u017ftentation, yet in all points exemplary. But ah! how vain were all the\u017fe endearing charms! How vain the lu\u017ftre of thy \u017fprightly eye! How vain the bloom of thy bridal youth! How vain the honours of thy \u017fuperior birth! How unable to \u017fecure the lovely po\u017f\u017fe\u017f\u017for from the \u017favage violence of death! How ineffectual the univer\u017fal e\u017fteem of thy acquaintance; the fondne\u017fs of thy tran\u017fported hu\u017fband; or even the \u017fpotle\u017fs integrity of thy character, to prolong thy \u017fpan, or procure thee a \u017fhort reprieve!\u2014The concurrence of all the\u017fe circum\u017ftances reminds me of tho\u017fe beautiful and tender lines,\n\nHow lov'd, how valu'd once, avails thee not:\nTo whom related, or by whom begot.\nA heap of du\u017ft alone remains of thee:\n\"Tis all THOU art\u2014and all the proud \u017fhall be!\n\nYet, though unable to divert the \u017ftroke, Chri\u017ftianity is \u017fovereign to pluck out the \u017fting of death. Is not this the \u017filent language of tho\u017fe lamps, which burn; and of that heart, which flames: of tho\u017fe palms, which flouri\u017fh; and of that crown. which glitters in the well imitated ahd gilded marble? Do\nthey not, to the di\u017fcerning eye, de\u017fcribe the vigilance of her faith; the fervency of her devotion; her victory over the world; and the cele\u017ftial diadem, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, \u017fhall give her at that day?*\n\nHow happy the hu\u017fband, in \u017fuch a \u017fharer of his bed, and partner of his fortunes! Their inclinations were nicely-tuned uni\u017fons, and all their conver\u017fation was harmony. How \u017filken the yoke to \u017fuch a pair, and what ble\u017f\u017fings were twi\u017fted with \u017fuch bands? Every joy was heightened, and every care alleviated. Nothing \u017feemed wanting to con\u017fummate their bli\u017fs, but a hopeful progeny, ri\u017fing around them; that they might \u017fee them\u017felves multiplied in their little ones; \u017fee their mingled graces transfu\u017fed into their\noffspring; and feel the glow of their affection augmented, by being reflected from their children. \"Grant us this gift,\" \u017faid their united prayers, \"and our \u017fatisfactions are crowned; we reque\u017ft no more.\"\n\nAlas! how blind are mortals to future events? how unable to di\u017fcern what is really good! Give me children, \u017faid Rachel, or el\u017fe I die. An ardour of impatience altogether unbecoming, and as mi\u017ftaken as it was unbecoming. She dies not by the di\u017fappointment, but by the accompli\u017fhment of her de\u017fire. If children are, to parents, like a flowery chaplet, who\u017fe beauties blo\u017f\u017fom with ornament, and who\u017fe dours breathe delight; death or \u017fome fell misfortune, may find means to entwine them\u017felves with the lovely wreath. Whenever our \u017fouls are poured out, with pa\u017f\u017fionate importunity, after any inferior acqui\u017fition; it may be truly \u017faid, in the words of our divine Mafter. Ye know not what ye a\u017fk\u2014Does Providence with hold the thing that we long for? It denies in mercy; and only with holds the occa\u017fion of our mi\u017fery, if not the in\u017ftrument of our ruin. With a \u017fickly appetite, we often loath what is whole\u017fome, and hanker after our bane. Where imagination dreams of unmingled \u017fweets, there experience frequently finds the bitterne\u017fs of wo.\n\nHere a \u017fmall and plain \u017ftone is placed upon the ground; purcha\u017fed, one would imagine, from the little fund, and formed by the hand of frugality it\u017felf.\n\nI perceive, upon a clo\u017fer in\u017fpection, that it covers the remains of a father; A religious father: \u017fnatched from his growing offspring, before they were \u017fettled in the world, or \u017fo much as their principles fixed by a thorough education.\n\nThis, \u017fure, is the mo\u017ft complicated di\u017ftre\u017fs, that has hitherto come under our con\u017fideration. The \u017folemnities of \u017fuch a dying chamber are \u017fome of the mo\u017ft melting and melancholy \u017fcenes imaginable.\u2014There lies the affectionate hu\u017fband; the indulgent parent; the faithful friend; and the generous\nma\u017fter. Here lies, in the la\u017ft extremities, and on the very point of di\u017f\u017folution. Art has done its all. The raging di\u017fea\u017fe mocks the power of medicine. It ha\u017ftens with re\u017fit\u017fle\u017fs impetou\u017fity, to execute its dreadful errand; to rend a\u017funder the \u017filver cord of life, and the more delicate tie of \u017focial attachment, and conjugal affection.\n\nTho\u017fe poor innocents, the children croud around the bed; drowned in tears, and almo\u017ft frantic with grief, they \u017fob out their little \u017fouls, and pa\u017f\u017fionately cry, \"Will he leave us? leave us in a helple\u017fs condition! leave us to an injurious world!\"\n\nThe\u017fe \u017feparate \u017ftreams are all united in the di\u017ftre\u017f\u017fed \u017fpou\u017fe, and overwhelm her brea\u017ft with an impetuous tide of \u017forrows. In her, the lover weeps, the wife mourns, and all the mother yearns. To her, the lo\u017fs is beyond mea\u017fure aggravated, by months and years of delightful \u017fociety, and exalted\nfriend\u017fhip.\u2014Where alas! can \u017fhe meet with \u017fuch un\u017fu\u017fpected fidelity, or repo\u017fe \u017fuch unre\u017ferved confidence? where find \u017fo di\u017fcreet a coun\u017fellor, \u017fo improving an example, and a guardian fo \u017fedulou\u017fly attentive to the intere\u017fts of her\u017felf, and her children\u2014See! how \u017fhe hangs over the langui\u017fhing bed;\nmo\u017ft tenderly \u017folicitous to prolong a life, important and valuable, far beyond her own; or, if that be impracticable, no le\u017fs tenderly officious to \u017foothe the la\u017ft agonies of her dearer\u017felf. Her hands, trembling under direful apprehen\u017fions; wipe the cold dews from the livid cheeks; and \u017fometimes \u017ftay the \u017finking head on her gentle arms, \u017fometimes re\u017ft it on her compa\u017f\u017fionate bo\u017fom.\u2014See! how the gazes, with a \u017fpeechle\u017fs ardour, on the pale countenance, and meagre features! While all her \u017foft pa\u017f\u017fions beat unutterable fondne\u017fs, and her very \u017foul bleeds with exqui\u017fite angui\u017fh.\n\nThe \u017fufferer, all patient and adoring, \u017fubmits to the divine will; and, by \u017fubmi\u017f\u017fion, becomes \u017fuperior to his affliction. He is \u017fenfibly touched with the di\u017fcon\u017folate \u017ftate of his attendants, and pierced with an anxious concern for his wife and his children; his wife, who will soon be a de\u017ftitute widow; his children, who will soon be helpless orphans. Yet, \"tho' ca\u017ft down, not in dispair.\" He is greatly refre\u017fhed by his tru\u017ft in the everla\u017fting covenant, and his hope of approaching glory. Religion gives a dignity to di\u017ftress. At each interval of ease, he comforts his very comforters; and \u017fuffers with all the maje\u017fty of wo.\n\nThe soul, ju\u017ft going to abandon the tottering clay, collects all her force, and exerts her la\u017ft efforts. The good man raises himself on his pillow; extends a kind hand to his servants, which is bathed in tears; takes an affecting farewel of his friends; clasps his wife in a feeble embrace; ki\u017f\u017fes the dear pledges of their mutual love, and then pours all that remains of life and of \u017ftrength,\nin the following words;\u2014\u2014\"I die, my dear children: but God, the everla\u017fting God, will be with you\u2014Though you lo\u017fe an earthly parent you have a father in heaven, who lives for evermore.\u2014Nothing, nothing but an unbelieving heart, and irreligious life, can ever \u017feparate you from the regards of his providence,\u2014from the endearments of his love.\"\n\nHe could proceed no farther. His heart was full; but utterance failed.\u2014\u2014After a \u017fhort pau\u017fe, prompted by affectionate zeal, with difficulty, great difficulty, he added,\u2014\u2014\"You the dear partner of my \u017foul;\nyou are now the only protector of our orphans.\u2014\u2014I leave you under a weight of cares.\u2014\u2014But God, who defendeth the cau\u017fe of the widow,\u2014God, who\u017fe promi\u017fe is faithfulne\u017fs, and truth,\u2014God hath \u017faid, I will never leave thee, nor for\u017fake thee\u2014\u2014This revives my drooping \u017fpirits.\u2014\u2014Let this \u017fupport the wife of my bo\u017fom\u2014\u2014And now, O Father of compa\u017f\u017fions, into thy hands. I commend my \u017fpirit.\u2014\u2014Encouraged by thy promi\u017fed goodness, I leave my fatherle\u017fs\"\u2014\u2014\n\n\u2014the afflicted family \u017fearch for the \u017fentence, which fell unfinished from tho\u017fe loved, tho\u017fe venerable and pious lips. They find it recorded by the prophet Jeremiah, containing the direction of infinite wi\u017fdom, and the promi\u017fe of unbounded goodne\u017fs: Leave thy fatherle\u017fs children; I will pre\u017ferve them alive: and let thy widows tru\u017ft in me\u2014This, now, is the comfort of their life, and the joy of their heart. They treafure it up in their memories. It is the be\u017ft of legacies, and an inexhau\u017ftible fund. A fund, which will \u017fupply all their wants, by entailing the ble\u017f\u017fing of heaven on all their hone\u017ft labours.\n\nNo sooner turned from one memento of my own, and memorial of another's decea\u017fe, but a \u017fecond, a third, a long \u017fucce\u017f\u017fion of the\u017fe melancholy monitors crowd upon my \u017fight.\u2014\u2014That which has fixed my ob\u017fervation, is one of a more grave and \u017fable a\u017fpect than the former. I \u017fuppo\u017fe it pre\u017ferves the relicks of a more aged per\u017fon. One would conjecture, that he made \u017fomewhat of a figure in his \u017ftation among the living, as his monument does among the funeral marbles. Let me draw near, and enquire of the \u017ftone. \"Who, or what, is beneath its \u017furface?\"\u2014I am informed, he was once the owner of a con\u017fiderable e\u017ftate: which was much improved by his own application and management; that he left the world in the bu\u017fy period of life, advanced a little beyond the meridian.\n\nProbably, replied my mu\u017fing mind, one of tho\u017fe indefatigable drudges, who ri\u017fe early, late take re\u017ft, and eat the bread of carefulne\u017fs, not to \u017fecure the loving-kindne\u017fs of the Lord, not to make provi\u017fion for any rea\u017fonable nece\u017f\u017fity, but only to ama\u017fs together ten thou\u017fand times more than they can po\u017f\u017fibly u\u017fe.\u2014\n\nBut \u017fee the folly of worldly wi\u017fdom! How \u017filly, how childi\u017fh is the \u017fagacity of (what is called) manly and ma\u017fterly prudence, when it contrives more \u017folicitou\u017fly for time, than it provides for eternity! When every wheel-moves on \u017fmoothly; when all the well-di\u017fpo\u017fed de\u017figns are ripening apace for execution; and the long expected cri\u017fis of enjoyment \u017feems to approach; behold! God from on high laughs at the Babel-builder. Death touches the bubble and it breaks; it drops into nothing.\n\nSome, I preceive, arrived at three\u017fcore years and ten, before they made their exit: nay, \u017fome few re\u017figned not their breath, till they had numbered four\u017fcore revolving harve\u017fts.\u2014\u2014The\u017fe, I would hope, \"remembered their Creator in the days of their youth,\" before their \u017ftrength became labour and \u017forrow;\u2014before that low ebb of langui\u017fhing nature, when the keepers of the hou\u017fe tremble, and tho\u017fe that look out of the windows are darkened; when even the lighting down of the gra\u017fhopper is a burden on the bending \u017fhoulders, and de\u017fire it\u017felf fails in the li\u017ftle\u017fs lethargic \u017foul;\u2014before tho\u017fe heavy hours come, and those tire\u017fome moments draw nigh, in which, there is too much reason to say, \"We have no plea\u017fure in them; no improvement from them.\"\n\nIf their lamps were unfurni\u017fhed with oil, how unfit mu\u017ft they be, in such decrepit circum\u017ftances, to go to the market and buy! For, be\u017fides a variety of disorders, ari\u017fing from the unfeebled con\u017ftitution, their corruptions mu\u017ft be surpri\u017fingly \u017ftrengthened, by such a long course of irreligion.\n\nSome, no doubt, came to this their la\u017ft retreat full of piety, and full of days; \"as a shock of corn, ripe with age, and laden with plenty, cometh in, in his \u017fea\u017fon.\"\n\n\u2014\u2014The\u017fe were children of light, and wi\u017fe in their generation; wise with that exalted wi\u017fdom which cometh from above: and with that enduring wi\u017fdom which la\u017fts to eternity.\u2014Rich al\u017fo they were, more honourably and permanently rich, than all the votaries of mammon. The wealth of the one has made\nit\u017felf wings and is irrecoveraly gone; while the wretched acquirers are tran\u017fmitted to that place of penury and pain, where not \u017fo much as one drop of water is allowed to cool their \u017fcorched tongues, the \u017ftores of the other \u017ftill abide with them; will never depart from them; but make them glad, for ever\nand ever, in the city of their God.\n\nWhat figure is that which \u017ftrikes my eye, from an eminent part of the wall? It is not only placed in a more elevated \u017fituation than the re\u017ft, but earries a more \u017fplended & \u017fumptuous air than ordinary. Swords and \u017fpears, murdering engines, and in\u017ftruments of \u017flaughter, adorn the \u017ftone with a formidable magnificence\u2014\u2014It proves to be be the monument of a noble warrior.\n\nIs \u017fuch re\u017fpect, thought I, paid to the memory of this brave \u017foldier, for \u017facrificing his life to the public good?\u2014\u2014Then, what honours, what immortal honours, are due to the great Captain of our \u017falvation? who, though Lord of the angelic legions, and \u017fupreme commander of all the heavenly ho\u017fts,\nwillingly offered him\u017felf a bleeding propitiation for \u017finners.\n\nNever, O my \u017foul, never forget the amazing truth. The Lamb of God was \u017feized, was bound, was \u017flaughtered with the utmo\u017ft inhumanity, and endured death in all its bitterne\u017fs, for thee. His murderers \u017ftudiou\u017fly cruel, \u017fo guided the fatal cup that he ta\u017fted every drop of its gall, before he drank it off to the very dregs.\n\nWhat \u017fuitable returns of inflamed and adoring devotion, can we make to the Holy One of God, thus dying that we might live? dying in ignominy and angui\u017fh, that we might live for ever in the heights of joy, and \u017fit for ever on thrones of glory. Alas! it is not in us, impotent, in\u017fen\u017fible mortals, to be duly thankful. He only who confers \u017fuch inconceivable rich favours, can enkindle a proper warmth of grateful affection.\n\nThen build thy\u017felf a monument, mo\u017ft gracious Immanuel, build thy\u017felf an everla\u017fting monument, of gratitude in our \u017fouls Let it \u017ftand con\u017fpicuous and indelible, not on outward tables of \u017ftone, but on the very inmost tables of our hearts.\n\nWhat a poor \u017fub\u017ftitute for a \u017fet of memorable actions, is poli\u017fhed alaba\u017fter, or the mimicry of \u017fculptured marble! The real excellency of this bleeding patriot is written on the minds of his countrymen: it would be remembered with applau\u017fe, \u017fo long as the nation \u017fub\u017fi\u017fts, without this artificial expedient to perpetuate it.\u2014And \u017fuch, \u017fuch is the monument I would wi\u017fh for my\u017felf. Let me leave a memorial in the brea\u017fts of my fellow creatures. Let \u017furviving friends bear witne\u017fs that I have not lived to my\u017felf alone, nor been altogether un\u017ferviceable in my generation. O! let an uninterrupted\n\u017feries of beneficent offices be the in\u017fcription, and the be\u017ft intere\u017fts of my acquaintance the plate that exhibits it.\n\nLet the poor, as they pa\u017fs by my grave, point at the little \u017fpot, and thankfully acknowledge,\u2014\u2014\"There lies the man, who\u017fe unwearied kindne\u017fs was the con\u017ftant relief of my various di\u017ftreffes; who tenderly\nvi\u017fited my langui\u017fhing bed, and readily \u017fupplied my indigent circum\u017ftances. How often were his coun\u017fels a guide to my perplexed thoughts, and a cordial to my dejected \u017fpirit! It is owing to God's ble\u017f\u017fing on his \u017fea\u017fonable charities, and prudent con\u017folations, that I now live, and live in comfort.\"\u2014Let a per\u017fon, once ignorant and ungodly, lift up his eyes to\nheaven, and \u017fay within him\u017felf, as he walks over my bones, \"Here are the la\u017ft remains of that \u017fincere friend, who watched for my \u017foul. I can never forget with what heedle\u017fs gaiety I was po\u017fting on in the\npaths of perdition; and I tremble to think, into what irretrievable ruin I might quickly have been plunged, had not his faithful admonitions met me in the wild career. I was unacquainted with the go\u017fpel of peace, and had no concern for its un\u017fearchable trea\u017fures: but now, enlightened by his in\u017ftructive conver\u017fation, I \u017fee the all-\u017fuf\u017ficiency of my Saviour; and, animated by his repeated exhortations, I count all things but lo\u017fs that I may win Christ. Methinks, his di\u017fcour\u017fes, \u017fea\u017foned with religion, and ble\u017f\u017fed by grace, \u017ftill tingle in my ears: are \u017ftill warm on my heart; and, I tru\u017ft, will be more and more operative, till we meet each other in the hou\u017fe not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.\"\n\nYonder entrance leads, I \u017fuppo\u017fe, to the vault. Let me turn a\u017fide and take one view of the habitation, and its tenants.\u2014\u2014What a \u017folemn \u017fcene! how di\u017fmal the gloom! Here is perpetual darkne\u017fs, and night even at noon day.\u2014\n\nA beam or two finds its way through the grates; and reflects a feeble glimmer from the nails of the coffins. No vulgar dead are depo\u017fited here. The mo\u017ft illu\u017ftrious, and right honourable, have claimed this for their la\u017ft retreat. And, indeed, they retain \u017fome what of a \u017fhadowy pre-eminence. They lie,\nranged in mournful order, and in a \u017fort of \u017filent pomp, under the arches of an ample \u017fepulchre, while meaner corp\u017fes, without much ceremony, \"go down to the \u017ftones of the pit.\"\n\nTho\u017fe who received va\u017ft revenues, and called whole lord\u017fhips, their own, are here reduced to half a dozen feet of earth, or confined in a few \u017fheets of lead. Rooms of \u017ftate, and \u017fumptuous furniture, are re\u017figned for no other ornament than the \u017fhroud, for no other apartment than the dark\u017fome niche. Where is the \u017ftar that blazed upon the brea\u017ft; or the coronet that glittered round the temples? The only remains of departed dignity are, the weather-beaten hatchment and the tattered e\u017fcutcheon. I \u017fee no\n\u017fplended retinue \u017furrounding this folitary dwelling. The lordly equipage hovers no longer about the lifele\u017fs ma\u017fter. He has no other attendant, than a du\u017fty \u017ftatue; which, while the regardle\u017fs world is as gay as ever, the \u017fculptor's hand has taught to weep.\n\nTho\u017fe who gloried in high born ance\u017ftors, and noble pedigree, here drop their lofty preten\u017fions. They acknowledge kindred with creeping things, and quarter arms with the meane\u017ft reptiles. They \u017fay to corruption, Thou art my father; and to the worm, Thou art my mother and my \u017fi\u017fter.\u2014\u2014\u2014Or, should they \u017ftill a\u017f\u017fume the \u017ftyle of di\u017ftinction, alas! how impotent were the claim! how apparent the o\u017ftentation! It is \u017faid by their monument, Here lies the Great! How ea\u017fily is it replied by the \u017fpectator?\u2014Fal\u017fe marble! Where? Nothing but poor and \u017fordid du\u017ft lies here.\n\nFor now, ye lying vanities of life!\nYe ever tempting, ever cheating train!\nWhere are ye now? and what is your amount?\n\nWhat is all the world to the\u017fe poor breathle\u017fs beings?\u2014what are their plea\u017fures? A bubble broke.\u2014What their honours? A dream that is forgotten.\u2014What the \u017fum-total of their enjoyments below?\n\nAlas! it is \u017fhorter than a \u017fpan, lighter than the dancing \u017fpark, and driven away like the di\u017f\u017folving \u017fmoke.\n\nIndulge, my \u017foul, a \u017ferious pau\u017fe. Recollect all the gay things that were wont to dazzle thy eyes, and inveigle thy affections. Here examine tho\u017fe baits of \u017fen\u017fe; here form an e\u017ftimate of their real value.\n\nI thank you, ye relics of founding titles, and magnificent names: ye have taught me more of the littlene\u017fs of the world, than all the volumes of my library. Your nobility, arrayed in a winding \u017fheet; your grandeur, mouldering in an urn: are the mo\u017ft indi\u017fputable proofs of the nothingne\u017fs of created things. Never, \u017furely, did Providence write this important point, in \u017fuch legible characters, as in the a\u017fhes of My Lord, or on the corp\u017fe of His Grace.\u2014Let others, if they plea\u017fe, pay their obfequious court to your wealthy \u017fons; and ignobly fawn, or anxiou\u017fly \u017fue for preferments; my thoughts \u017fhall often re\u017fort, in pen\u017five contemplation, to the sepulchre of their fires; and learn, from their \u017fleeping du\u017ft\u2014to moderate my expectations from mortals;\u2014to \u017ftand disengaged from every undue attachment to the little intere\u017fts of time;\u2014to get above the delu\u017five amusements of honour, the gaudy tinsels of wealth, and all the empty \u017fhadows of a peri\u017fhing world.\n\n\u00a0\n\nFINIS\n\n\u00a0\n\nPrinted by G Miller, Dunbar.\n\nThis work was published before January 1, 1931, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.\n\nPublic domainPublic domainfalsefalse","title":"Reflections among the monuments","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":5044}