CATHARINE. 

BY THE AUTHOR OF

"AGNES AND THE LITTLE KEY. "

[Transcriber's Note: Nehemiah Adams]

THIRD THOUSAND. 

BOSTON:J. E. TILTON AND COMPANY. LONDON. KNIGHT AND SON. 1859. 

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by J. E. TILTONand Co. , In the Clerk's Office of the District Comm. Of the District ofMassachusetts. 

PRINTED BYGEORGE O. RAND & AVERY. 

ELECTROTYPED AT THEBOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY. 

TO THEYOUNG LADIES OF MY CONGREGATION, FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES OfCATHARINE, AND TO EVERY FATHER, HAVINGA DAUGHTER IN HEAVEN, These PagesARE AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED. 

CONTENTS. 

I. 

MORE THAN CONQUEROR, 9

II. 

THE FEAR OF DEATH ALLEVIATED, 58

III. 

THE SEARCH FOR THE DEPARTED, 89

IV. 

THE SILENCE OF THE DEAD, 119

V. 

THE REDEMPTION OF THE BODY, 144

CATHARINE

I. 

MORE THAN CONQUEROR. 

 Is that a death-bed where the Christian lies? Yes, --but not his: 'Tis death itself there dies. 

COLERIDGE. 

She was not an infant--an unconscious subject of grace. But the Saviourhas led through a long sickness, and through death, a daughter ofnineteen years, and has made her, and those who loved and watched her, say, We are more than conquerors. To speak of Him, and not to gratifythe fondness of parental love, to commend the Saviour of my child toother hearts, and to obtain for Him the affections of those to whom Heis able and willing to be all which He was to her, is the sole object ofthese pages. Listen, then, not to a parent's partial tale concerninghis child, nor concerning mental nor bodily suffering, but to the wordsof one who has seen how the presence of Christ, and love to Him, canfill the dying hours with the sweetest peace, and even beauty, and thehearts of survivors with joy. 

Wishing to dwell chiefly on the last scenes of this dear child's life, the reader will not be delayed by any biographical sketch. Nine yearsbefore her death, when she was between ten and eleven years of age, shegave the clearest evidence that she was renewed by the Holy Spirit. Wehad since that time been made happy by the growing power of Christianprinciple in her conduct, the clearness and steadfastness of her faith, her systematic endeavors to live a holy life, her deep regret when shehad erred, and her resolute efforts to improve in every part of hercharacter. 

Through a long sickness, with consumption, for two years and threemonths, she felt the soothing power of unfaltering Christian hope, which was evidently derived from a very clear perception of the way tobe saved through Christ, and complete trust in the promises made tosimple faith in him. 

He who gave me this child, and crowned my hopes and wishes by themanifest signs of his love towards her, merits from me a tribute ofgratitude and praise to which I desire and expect that eternity itselfmay bear witness. They who read the story, which I am about to relate, of her last few days, and think what it must be for a father to see hischild made competent to meet so intelligently and deliberately, and toovercome, the last enemy, and, in doing so, helping to sustain and tocomfort those who loved her, will perceive that it is a gift from Godwhose value nothing can increase. Bereavement and separation takenothing from it, but, on the contrary, they illustrate and enforce ourobligations. For since we must needs die, and are as water that isspilled upon the ground, which cannot be gathered up again, such a deathas this amounts to positive happiness by the side of a contrastedexperience in the joyless, hopeless death of a child, or friend. Butwithout further preface, I proceed to the narrative. 

 * * * * *

Never before had it fallen to my lot to bear that message to one who wassick, "The Master is come, and calleth for thee. " In previous cases ofdeep, personal interest, this has been unnecessary. But in the presentcase there was a resolute purpose, and an expectation, of recovery, tillwithin a week of dissolution, and, on our part, a belief that life mightstill be lengthened. Such cases involve nice questions of duty. Wherethe patient has evidently made timely preparation to die, it is needlessto dispel that half illusion which seems to be one feature ofconsumption--an illusion which is so thin that we feel persuaded thepatient sees through it, while, nevertheless, it serves all the purposesof hope. To take away that hope where no beneficial end is to besecured, is cruel. A mistaken, and somewhat morbid, sense of duty totell the whole truth, and a conscientious but unenlightened fear ofpractising deception, sometimes lead friends to remove, from a sickperson, that power which hope gives in sustaining the sickness, inprolonging comfort, and in helping the gradual descent into the grave. When a sick person is resolute and hopeful, it is surprising to see howmany annoyances of sickness are prevented or easily borne, and how life, and even cheerfulness, may be indefinitely extended. But when hope istaken away, or, rather, when, instead of looking towards life with thatinstinctive love of it which God has implanted, we turn from "the warmprecincts of the cheerful day, " and look into the grave, it is affectingto see how the disease takes advantage of it, and sufferings ensue whichwould have been prevented by keeping up even the ambiguous thoughts ofrecovery. Sick people have reflections and feelings which exert aninfluence upon them beyond our discernment, and which frequently neednot our literal interpretations of symptoms, and our exhortations, tomake them more effectual. But where there is evidently no preparednessfor death, and the patient, we fear, is deceiving himself, no one whohas suitable views of Christian duty will fail to impress him with thenecessity of attending to the things which belong to his peace, even atconsiderable risk of abridging life. 

Waiting, therefore, for medical discernment to signify when the lastpossible effort to lengthen out the days of the sufferer had been made, one morning I received the intimation that those days would, in allprobability, be but very few. After the physician had left the house, and I had sought help and strength from God, I lost no time, but took myplace at the dear patient's side, to make the announcement. 

God help those on whom he lays such duty. The hour had virtually come inwhich father and child must part, and the father was to break thatmessage to his child. But how could mortal strength endure the effort?

Before I left my room for hers, there came to my mind these words--"Butnow, thus saith the Lord that created thee, O Jacob, and he that formedthee, O Israel, Fear not, for I have redeemed thee; I have called theeby thy name; thou art mine. When thou passest through the waters, I willbe with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee; whenthou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned, neither shallthe flame kindle upon thee. " Trusting in that promise, I sat down, as itwere, over against the sepulchre, to prepare my child for her entranceinto it, --nay, for her departure into heaven. 

The gradual arrival of the truth to her apprehension, through questionswhich she began to ask, and my answers to them, finally led her toinquire if I supposed she could not live long. I told her that thephysician thought that she was extremely weak, and that we must not besurprised at any sudden event in her case. She said, without any changeof countenance, "Why, father, you surprise me; I thought that I mightget well; is it possible that I cannot live long? I have thought ofrecovering much more than of dying. . . It seems a long space to pass overbetween this and heaven, in so short a time. I wonder how I can sosuddenly obtain all the feelings which I need for such a change. " Theseexpressions I wrote down immediately after the interview. I told her, inreply, that she had been living at peace with God through his Son; thatit had hitherto been her duty to live, and to strive for it; but now Godhad indicated his will concerning her, and she might be sure that Godwill always give us feelings suited to every condition in which he seesfit to place us. 

On seeing her again towards evening, I found that the expression of hersick face--the weary, exhausted look of one grappling with a strongerpower--had passed away, and, in exchange, there was peace, and evenhappiness. She began herself to say, "When you told me this forenoonthat I could not live, it surprised me; but I have come to it now, andit is all right. Every thing is settled. I have nothing to do--no fear, no anxiety about any thing. More passages of Scripture and verses ofhymns have come to my mind to-day, than in all my sickness hitherto. "Wishes respecting some family arrangements were then expressed, particularly with reference to the younger children, and these wisheswere uttered in about the same tone and manner as though we were partingfor a temporary absence from each other. The mother of my youngest childhad, at her death, given her in special charge to this daughter, and shewished to live that she might educate her. She made the transfer of herlittle trust with calmness, and then her "Good night" was uttered with agentle playfulness, like that of her early days. 

Nor was her frame of mind an excitement, or a fictitious experience, toend with sleep. The next forenoon she renewed the conversation. Shesaid, "In the night I awoke many times, and always with this thought--Iam not going to live. Instead of fear and dread, peace came with it. Names of Christ flowed in upon my mind; and once I awoke with thesewords in my thoughts--'And there shall be no night there. ' Now I knowthat I am to die, I feel less nervous. I have a calm, unruffledfeeling. " She expressed some natural apprehensions, only, about thepossibility of dissolution not having occurred when we should supposethat she was no more. I told her how kindly God had ordered it that wedo not all die together, but one by one, the survivors doing all thatthe departed would desire--which satisfied her, and removed her onlyfear. 

She asked leave to make a request respecting her grave; that, if anydevice were placed upon the stone, it might be of flowers, which hadbeen such a joy and consolation to her in her sickness. She named thelily-of-the-valley and rose buds. "I love the white flowers, " said she. "If you think best, let them be represented in some simple way. . . Onegreat desire which I have had was to assort some leaves of flowers intoforms for you. As my bouquets fell to pieces; I gathered the bestpetals, and leaves, and sprigs, and I have them in a book;" which, ather request, I then reached for her. I turned the pages. The book wasfull of beautiful relics from tokens of remembrance which kind friendshad sent to her, and among them were some curiously mottled, green androse-colored, petals, which she had designed for a wreath, on the firstpage of the little herbarium, which it was her intention to prepare; andthen, with great hesitancy, and protesting their unworthiness, sherepeated these simple lines, which she had composed for an inscriptionwithin the wreath. I wrote them down from her lips:

TO MY FATHER. 

 These flowers, which gave me such comfort and hope, I pressed, in my sickness, for you; Accept them, though faded; they never will droop; And believe that my heart is there too. 

They who showered these tokens of their regard upon her, will bepleased to know that their gifts did not wholly perish, but that theywill constitute an abiding memorial of her friends, as well as of her. 

"I know, " she continued, "that I am a great sinner; but I also believethat my sins are washed away by the blood of Christ. " The way ofjustification by faith was clear to her mind. She knew whom shebelieved, and was persuaded that he was able to keep that which she hadcommitted to him against that day. 

In her whispering voice, which disease had for some time so nearlyhushed, she said, "I shall sing in heaven. " Her voice had been the charmof many a pleasant circle. But she added, "I shall no more sing--

 'I'm a pilgrim, and I'm a stranger; I can tarry, I can tarry but a night. '"

And in a moment she added, --

 "Of that country to which I am going, My Redeemer, my Redeemer is the light. "

"Some people, " she said, "wish to die in order to get rid of pain. Whata motive! I am afraid that sometimes they get rid of it only to renewit. There was--" And here she checked herself, saying, "But I will notmention any name, " a feeling of charitableness and tenderness comingover her, as though she might be thought to have judged a dying personharshly. 

The day before she died, as I was spending the Sabbath forenoon by her, she breathed out these words:--

 "O, how soft that bed must be, Made in sickness, Lord, by thee! And that rest, how soft and sweet, Where Jesus and the sufferer meet!"

In almost the same breath, she said, "O, see that beautifulyellow, "--directing my attention to a sprig of acacia in a bunch offlowers; all showing that her religious feelings were not raptures, butflowed along upon a level with her natural delight at beautiful objects. To illustrate this, I have mentioned several of the incidents alreadyrelated. 

She spoke of a young friend, who has much that the world gives itsvotaries to enhance her prospects in this life. I said, "Would youexchange conditions with her?" "Not for ten thousand worlds, " was herenergetic reply. "No!" she added; "I fear she has not chosen the goodpart. "

Sabbath afternoon, the mortal conflict was upon her. The restlessness ofdeath, the craving for some change of posture, the cold sweats, thelabored respiration, all had the effect merely to make her ask, "Howlong do you think I must suffer?" That labored breathing tired her; shewished that I could regulate it for her. "How long, " said she, "will itprobably continue?"

I told her that heaven was a free gift at the last as well as at first;that we could not pass within the gate at will, but must wait God'stime; that there were sufferings yet necessary to her completepreparation for heaven, of which she would see the use hereafter, butnot now. This made her wholly quiet; and after that she rode at anchormany hours, hard by the inner lighthouse, waiting for the Pilot. 

The last words which she uttered to me, an hour before she died, were, "I am going to get my crown. " I wondered at her in my thoughts, (O, helpmy unbelief!) to hear a dying sinner so confident. I said to myself, "Owoman, great is thy faith. " She knew that her crown was a free gift, purchased at infinite expense; a crown, instead of deserved chains, under darkness. All unmerited, and more than forfeited, yet she spoke ofher crown, because she believed with a simple faith, taking Christ athis word, and being willing to receive rewards and honors from himwithout projecting her own sense of unworthiness to stay theoverflowings of infinite love and grace towards her. So that, in her ownesteem as undeserving as the chief of sinners, thinking as little aspossible of her own righteousness, and being among the last to claim anything of God, she could say with one who would not admit that anysinner was chief above him, "Henceforth there is laid up for me a crownof righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me atthat day; and not to me only, but unto all them also that love hisappearing. "

Between two and three o'clock on Monday afternoon, January 19, she wasquietly receiving some food from the nurse, when suddenly she said, "Theroom seems dark. " She then made a surprising effort, such as she hadbeen incapable of for some time, and reached forward from her pillow, saying, "Who is that at the door?" The nurse was with her alone, and ather side, the family being at the table. Coming to her room, we foundthat she was apparently sinking into a deep sleep, as though it wereonly a sleep, profound and quiet. 

I asked her if she knew me. 

She made no answer. 

I said, "You know Jesus. " A smile played about her mouth. We rejoiced, and wept for joy. 

I then said, "If you know father, press my hand. " She gave me nosign--that smile being her last intelligent act. --And so she passedwithin the veil. 

I was able to relate all this from my pulpit the Sabbath after herdecease, not merely because the period of the greatest suffering underbereavement had not come, but chiefly because the consolations of thetrying scene, and hopes full of immortality, had not lost their newpower. I was therefore like those who, on the first Christian Sabbathmorning, "departed quickly from the sepulchre with fear and great joy, and did run to bring his disciples word. "

It is intimated above that the greatest suffering at the death of afriend does not occur immediately upon the event. It comes when theworld have forgotten that you have cause to weep; for when the eyes aredry, the heart is often bleeding. There are hours, --no, they are moreconcentrated than hours, --there are moments, when the thought of a lostand loved one, who has perished out of your family circle, suspends allinterest in every thing else; when the memory of the departed floatsover you like a wandering perfume, and recollections come in throngswith it, flooding the soul with grief. The name, of necessity oraccidentally spoken, sets all your soul ajar; and your sense of loss, utter loss, for all time, brings more sorrow with it by far than theparting scene. 

 * * * * *

She who was the sweet singer of my little Israel is no more. The childwhose sense of beauty made her the swiftest herald to me of every fairdiscovery and new household joy, will never greet me again with hersurprises of gladness. She who, leaning upon my arm as we walked, silently conveyed to me such a sense of evenness, firmness, dignity; shewhose child-like love was turning into the womanly affection for afather; she who was complete in herself, as every good child is, notsuggesting to your thoughts what you would have a child be, but fillingout the orb of your ideal beauty, still partly in outline; her seat, her place at the table, at prayers, at the piano, at church; the sightof her going out and coming in; her tones of speech, her helpful spiritand hands, and all the unfinished creations of her skill, every thingthat made her that which the growing associations with her name hadbuilt up in our hearts, --all is gone, for this life; it is removed likea tree; it is departed like a shepherd's tent. 

And all this, too, is saved. It survives, or I would not, I could not, write thus. There comes to my sorrowing heart some such message as thesons of Jacob brought to their father, when they said, "Joseph is yetalive, and he is governor over all the land of Egypt. "

Jesus of Nazareth has been in my dwelling, and has done a great work ofhealing. He has saved my child; saved her to be a happy spirit; foreversaved her for himself, to employ her powers of mind and heart in hisblissful service; saved her for the joyful welcome and embraces of hermother, and of a second mother, who laid deep and strong foundations inher character for goodness and knowledge. He has saved her for me, through all eternity. She will be my sweet singer again; she will havein store for me all the wonderful discoveries which her intense love ofbeauty will have made her treasure up, to impart, when the childbecomes, as it were, parent, for a little while, to the soul of theparent in heaven, new-born. I said to her, a day or two before she died, "Those mothers will show you things in heaven; for we read, '_And heshewed me_ a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceedingout of the throne of God and the Lamb. '"

But John mistook this heavenly saint for an angel, so glorious was hisappearance, and he fell down to worship him, but was told, "See thou doit not; for I am thy fellow-servant, and of thy brethren the prophets, and of them which keep the sayings of this book. " Then what will sheherself be, when these eyes behold her again? And what will she havetreasured up to tell me? she, who always brought rare things for me fromthe woods and the shore, surpassing those of her companions. If He whoredeemed her, and has presented her faultless before the presence of hisglory with exceeding joy, will bestow that nurture and culture upon herwhich are implied in leading her to living fountains of waters, whatwill she be? and how good it will seem that she left earth so early, since it was the will of God, to enter upon such a career of bliss!

A few years ago, I appropriated a wedding gift from a friend to thepurchase of a guitar for her, as a birthday gift in her early sickness. To assist her in learning to play upon it, I first gained some knowledgeof the instrument. We kept it in its case in my study; and sometimes, oncoming home, and feeling in the mood of it, I wished to handle it, andinstead of unlocking the case to see if the instrument were there, Iwould knock upon it; and straightway what turbulence of harmonies rangfrom all the strings. Now, it is so with every thing connected with hermemory; every thing associated with her, even though outwardly sombreand dreary, like those black cases for musical instruments, beingappealed to, or accidentally encountered, sings of her still, with atroubled and a pathetic, pleasing music. 

In her very early childhood, she and two of the children were sick witha children's epidemic. The crisis had passed; an anxious day with regardto one of the children had been followed by entire relief from ourfears. As we sat at table that evening, we heard music from the chambersof the sick children; we opened the door and listened. This daughter wassinging, and the chorus of her little school song was, "All are here, all are here. " She did not think of the signification which those wordshad to our hearts. It was one of those household pleasures which have somuch of heaven in them. I can sometimes hear her singing to me now, from those upper skies, in the name of the four who have gone there frommy dwelling, "All are here, all are here. " She bequeathed her guitar, but her voice and hand now join with "the voice of harpers harping withtheir harps. "

We sometimes think that they miss great good who depart from us in earlyyears; that one who has arrived at the entrance to the world's greatfeast must be sadly disappointed to be led away, never to go in. Now, itis true that we must not shrink from the battle of life; we must takeupon ourselves, if God ordains it, the great jeopardy of disappointmentand sorrow, and the chance of life's joys; we must each stand in hislot; we must send children forth into the harvest of the earth forsheaves, and whether they faint and die under their load, or deckthemselves with garlands, --still, let them be laborers together withGod, and let us not seek exemption for them. But if God ordains theirearly translation to heaven, what can earth afford them in the way ofpleasure, granting the cup to be full and unalloyed, to be compared withfulness of joy? Fair maidens in heaven, --and O, how many of them hasconsumption gathered in!--fair maidens there are like the white flowers, which are sacred to peculiar times and scenes. How goodly must be theirarray! What a perpetual spring tide of vivacious joy and delight do theycreate in heaven. It is pleasant to have a child among them. 

It has been my privilege to see, in this child, an example of truepreparation for death, which begins before the expectation of dyingbrings the least discredit, or breath of suspicion, upon our motives inattending to the subject of religion. Preparation for death consists injustification by faith, extending its influence into the wholecharacter, to bring us under the rule of Christ. The fruit of this isfriendship with God, the confidence of love, knowing whom we havebelieved, with the persuasion of our having committed to him an infinitetrust, and that he will keep it with covenant faithfulness. So whendeath comes and knocks at the door, it is true the heart beats quicker, as it is apt to do whoever knocks there; for, to give up one's hold onlife, to turn and look eternal things full in the face, to think ofmeeting God, and of having your endless condition fixed, summons thewhole of natural and acquired fortitude; and only they who have anunseen arm to lean upon at such a time, endure in that trial. Then pastexperience comes in with her powerful aid: "I have fought a good fight;""the wise took oil in their vessels with their lamps;" "remember, OLord, how I have walked before thee. " Thus there is something to makeyou feel that your justification, by free grace, has the evidenceafforded by its fruits; and the preparation to die may be likened tothat of which the Saviour speaks when he says, "He that is washedneedeth not save to wash his feet, but is clean every whit. " I have seenit, have watched it, have studied it, in the dying scenes of this child. Hers was not the experience of the sinner, pulled suddenly from thewaves by a hand which he had for a long time, nay, always, spurned; buther dying was an arrival at the end of a voyage, the coming home of agood child to long-expecting hearts and arms. We said one to anotheraround her dying bed, --yes, we had composure to say, as we watched thatparting scene, that fading cloud, that sinking gale, that dying wave, that shutting eye of day, --"Think of such a poor, helpless, dyingcreature, if, in the sense intended by those words, she should 'fallinto the hands of the living God. '" And we glorified God in her. Neverdid I see and feel more deeply, by contrast, the folly of trusting to adeath-bed repentance, to repair the errors of a wasted life. It is adeliberate attempt at fraud upon the Most High; it is folly; for therisk is fearful, and could we obtain salvation, how mercenarily!--andwhat a memorial would it be in heaven of loss, instead of being "a crownof righteousness!" They who are all their lifetime ignorant, beingunfortunately deprived of opportunity for religious instruction, maywith wonder and joy accept the surprising news of pardon, throughChrist, on a dying bed, and soar to the same heights with apostles intheir praises of redeeming love. But if we hear of salvation by Christall our life long, and know our duty, but prefer the pleasures of sinfor a season, and think that in the swellings of Jordan we shall findpeace and safety, our conduct deserves all the opprobrious names whichare heaped upon it by inspired tongues and pens. We who are parents mustteach our children that religion does not consist merely in beingpardoned, and, if pardoned, no matter whether early or late; but that itis the first, the constant, the all-pervading rule of life, God and hisservice the chief end of man, and that the pleasures of religion are thesweetest pleasures, hallowing all others which are innocent, and leadingus to reject those, and only those, which would be unsuitable orinjurious, even if religious custom did not forbid them. We must knowthis, and practise upon it, ourselves; else, how can we expect thechildren to believe it?

The exceeding relief which a timely preparation for death by an earlyconsecration of herself to God, imparted to this child and to us, wasfelt in this, that she and we had no distressing thoughts at her totalinability, for a long time, to join in prayer with others, or to beconversed with in any way that excited much feeling. The diseasedthroat, where, as we all know, our emotions, even in health andstrength, make such interference with our comfort, prevented her fromjoining in any religious exercises, because she would then be liable tothe excitement of feelings which, in the way just intimated, would haveinjured her. With such affections of the bronchial passages, efforts ofmind which are not spontaneous are sometimes agony. Connected endeavorsto follow conversation and prayer were impossible, and she told me, onsaying this, that she took great comfort from a remark, in a book, addressed to a sick person--"Do not think, but pray. " She prayed muchherself; her thoughts, too, were prayers, in certain cases. Now, in thatweakened condition, what could she have done, and what would have beenher father's feelings, had she not, in health and strength, arrived atsuch a state of religious knowledge and experience as to remove anxietyfor her spiritual welfare, and to make us feel that she had Christ inher, the hope of glory? When the cry was made, "Behold, the bridegroomcometh, " she arose and trimmed her lamp, and had oil in her vessel withher lamp. Wealth could not purchase the relief and satisfaction whichthis gave to her friends;--so truly is religion called the "pearl ofgreat price;" so literally true are the Saviour's words, "But one thingis needful. " It is the greatest blessing which a young person can bestowon Christian parents, to be a Christian; and what its value is tosurviving parents, ask those who sorrow as they that have no hope. Whena young Christian comes to die, he testifies that he lost nothing, butgained every thing, with eternal life, by being a Christian in his earlyyears. I can imagine what this child would say to one and another of heryoung friends who may read these pages, and how she would seek topersuade them, as the first great duty of their existence, and for theirbest good here, and for their everlasting peace, to choose the goodpart, which will never be taken away from them. 

Her funeral was a scene from which many went away rejoicing in God; andnot a few date new progress in the Christian life from it, by means ofthe new and striking illustration which they there had of the Saviour'spower and love. The Choir struck the key note of heaven in their openingstrains, by chanting, "Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, to receivepower, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honor, and glory, andblessing. " They gave us, too, her favorite song, by which she wasremembered in several circles, at home and abroad, before she was sick, and the words of which, now, seem to have had a prophetic meaning fromher lips:--

 "I'm a pilgrim, and I'm a stranger; I can tarry, I can tarry but a night;"--

which was sung at the funeral with a sweetness which added much to theassociations with it in our minds; and in the closing hymn, how strangeit seemed, at a funeral, to hear the singers, though by our own requestand though in accordance with all which had passed, bid us

 "Proclaim abroad his name, Tell of his matchless fame, What wonders done! Shout through hell's dark profound, Let the whole earth resound, Till the high heavens rebound, The victory's won;"--

and to hear them, as they cried one to another, saying, --

 "All hail the glorious day, When, through the heavenly way, Lo, He shall come; While they who pierced him wail; His promise shall not fail; Saints, see your King prevail; Come, dear Lord, come. "

For those ministrations of love and tenderness in the last, sad officesto the dead, which no wealth could buy, repeated now by some of the samehands several times in my dwelling, there are no words of gratitudeadequate to the great debt of love. The mothers of my church, who metweekly with her mother for prayer, remembered her child, and providednurses for her, to her own unspeakable comfort and our great relief. Friends and strangers, touched with her protracted sickness, pouredblessings around her couch; fruits, in their season, and when out oftheir season, of what almost unearthly beauty! and flowers which, withthe fruits, made that sick room seem like the garden which the Lordplanted in Eden. Such have been the alleviations of pain and suffering, the comforts, and even the pleasures, and above all the rich spiritualconsolations and joys, and the more than conquering faith of the dyinghour, --such a union in all this of Jesus and his friends, --that I havemade the case of the ruler of the synagogue mine, of whom, as he went tohis afflicted house, it is said, "And Jesus arose and followed him, andso did his disciples. " They will go wherever Jesus leads the way; and hewill lead the way wherever there is a lamb to be folded in his bosom. 

There were not wanting those who lent me their sepulchre, in the city, for a season--a kindness always peculiar and affecting, but also needfulin this instance, because of the great snows which made the roads toMount Auburn impassable for several days. Nor can I forget that, whenSaturday evening closed upon us, words and tokens of kindness came fromthe younger members of my congregation, who had provided for the lastearthly things which the precious dust of their young friend required;and so they seemed to bid me rest from all care and thoughtfulness, uponthe "Sabbath day, according to the commandment. " All which shouldincrease my feelings of sympathy and kindness for the sick, andespecially for the sick poor, whose rooms, and whose dying hours, andwhose griefs, are oftentimes in such contrast to those into which divineand human loving kindness seem striving to pour their abundantconsolations. As the family retired from the dying scene, and wereweeping together, a father came to my door, in that great snow-storm, tosay that his son, the young man, not a member of my congregation, whom Ihad several times visited, was near his end, and would like to see me. Stranger comparatively though he was, and impassable as the streets wereby any vehicle, and almost by foot passengers, my gratitude for thesweet and peaceful end of my own dear child, and for her undoubtedadmission to the realms of bliss, was such, that, within an hour or two, I forced my way to a distant part of the city, to assist anotherdeparting spirit for its flight. This heart has no more fortitude, norhas it less of natural affection and sensibility, than ordinarily fallsto the lot of men; hence those consolations must have been great, thatsupport and strength equal to the day, that hope concerning my child ananchor sure and steadfast, which enabled me thus to go from her clay, just cold, to aid a passing spirit in obtaining like precious faith withhers, and the same inheritance. My motive in thus lifting a little ofthe veil, or in placing a light behind the transparency, of my privatefeelings, I trust will be seen to be, that I may comfort others with thecomfort wherewith I was comforted of God. 

But there awaits me a blessing, with a joy, surpassing all that has gonebefore. "My daughter is even now dead; but come and lay thy hand uponher, and she shall live. " From her grave, which was soon made by theside of kindred dust, Jesus will raise her up at the last day; her voicewill come to that body; her youthful beauty will be reestablished byher likeness to Christ's own glorious body; she will lean upon my armagain; the separation and absence will enhance the joy of meeting; weshall say, How like a hand-breadth was the separation! We shall seereasons full of wisdom and love for the sickness and the early death. Weshall part no more. All this has more than once made me say, and sing, --

 "O, for this love, let rocks and hills Their lasting silence break, And all harmonious human tongues The Saviour's praises speak. "

Young friend, you will need him as the great Physician, the Friend insorrow, the Forerunner in the dark passages of life, the Conqueror ofdeath, the Lord our Righteousness, and, all endearing names in one, Immanuel, God with us. 

Parents, you will need him for your children. Children, you will needhim when father and mother, one or both, have forsaken you, or, ifalive, can only make you feel how little their fond love can do for you. When the name of _father_, cannot rouse you, nor your cold hand returnthe pressure of your father's hand, you will need a nearer, dearerfriend, in the person of Him who loved you, and gave himself for you. 

It has been one of the richest joys of my pastoral life, that I havesent to her mother in heaven her child, whom God had prepared for soearly a departure out of this world. This ministry of reconciliation hasbeen blessed to the salvation of my child. It should make me love thechildren of my pastoral charge more than ever, seek to gather them intothe fold of Christ, that whole families, each like a constellation, mayrise together in the firmament of heaven; and, in the mean time, thatthe members of every household, as they desert us one by one, may callback to us, and say, for the departed, "All are here. "

God takes a family here and there, in a circle of acquaintances andfriends, and greatly afflicts them; and thus he teaches others. As welook, therefore, upon the afflicted, we ought to say, --

 "For us they languish, and for us they die; And shall they languish, shall they die, in vain?"

God is the same when he takes away the child, as when he laid that giftin our hands. Perhaps, indeed, the removal is really a greater exerciseof love than the gift. It must seem good and acceptable in the sight ofGod, if, when we are bereaved, we employ ourselves occasionally inrehearsing before him the circumstances in his past goodness, which, atthe time, made it exceedingly sweet and precious. Our debt of obligationfor it is not yet fully paid; nor is it diminished at all by the removalof the blessing. Instead of abandoning ourselves to grief, we do well ifwe commune with God more frequently respecting his signal acts of favorin connection with the lost blessing. 

But the memory of lost joys is always apt to depress the mindinordinately. We question whether it is really better to have

 "loved and lost Than never to have loved at all. "

Taking a future life into the account, surely no doubt can remain as tothat question; but one who has really loved, will not be long in comingto the same conclusion, irrespective of the future. Must God abstainfrom making us exceedingly happy, because, forsooth, we shall be sounhappy when, in the exercise of the same goodness and wisdom whichdictated the gift, he sees it best to take it away? If we love him morethan we love his gifts, then the removal of them will make us love himmore than ever. 

 "Though now He frowns, I'll praise the Almighty's name, And bless the source whence past enjoyments came. "

We often hear it said, that every thing which happens to us is for ourgood, even in this world. --Many things happen to men, even toChristians, which are plainly not for their good in this life, thoughall things will, eventually, work together for good to them that loveGod. Some things, then, even here, are intended to be life-long sorrowsand trials. Their object is reproof and constant admonition. We needanother state of existence to explain the present. If that future statedoes not prove that earthly discipline has had its designed effect, thesorrows of this life show that God can bear to see us suffer, even whenhe foresees that no good will result to the sufferer. For while mensuffer excruciatingly under bereavements, these sufferings often fail tomake them better. God foresees all this. Hence God is able to look uponsuffering which he sees will not be for the good of the afflicted. 

If, now, his design in our trials (which pierced his heart before theyreached ours) is utterly frustrated by our sins, the question willarise, whether the God who can bear to see us suffer for our good, which, nevertheless, he foresees will not be effected, will not be ableto see us suffer as the fruit of our sins, and of our resistance to hisdesigns. One who has endured much mental suffering cannot have failed tosee, that God's parental relation to us is not analogous to that ofparent and child among men. It terminates in the relations of governorand of judge; being, indeed, from the first, included in thoserelations. This is not so in our earthly relationship. God sees mensuffer as no earthly parent could; he inflicts pain as no earthly parentshould. All is for our profit; but if that object fails through ourperverseness, we are instructed, by our experience, that if God can lookon mental anguish and not relieve it, because he seeks an ulterior good, the punishment of sin, the natural and just consequences of disobedienceto the great laws of the universe, may be, in their extended impression, another ulterior good, which will warrant the same mental sufferingsafter death, and forever. 

Could I be permitted, therefore, I would take by the hand every bereavedfather whom so great an affliction as the death of a child has notsucceeded in bringing into a state of preparation for heaven, and kindlyask how he expects to bear a final and endless separation. "If thou hastrun with the footmen, and they have wearied thee, then how canst thoucontend with horses? and if in the land of peace, wherein thoutrustedst, they wearied thee, then how wilt thou do in the swelling ofJordan?" God describes to his ancient people one of the great sorrowswhich will happen to them, if they forsake him, in their separations, bycaptivity, from their children: "Thy sons and thy daughters shall begiven unto another people, and thine eyes shall look, and fail withlonging, for them all the day long; and there shall be no might in thyhand. " Pains of absence, sudden convulsions of feeling at the rememberedlooks, form, words, and motions of a loved one, sometimes are as whenmen feel the earth quaking under them; and then, again, they entirelyprostrate us, for the moment, like a tornado. Homesickness in a foreignland, --an ocean stretching between us and the objects of our love--isan admonition to us with respect to future, endless separations. Thehopeless death of a child has sometimes had the effect to change thelong-established faith of a parent with regard to future retribution;all the acknowledged principles of interpretation, all the results ofmeditation and prayer, the theory of the divine government which hasbeen built up in the soul, till it became identified with personalconsciousness, the whole analogy of faith, --all, have been swept away bythe overmastering power of parental love for one who, when he died, lefthis friends to sorrow as they that have no hope. Now, supposing a parentto fail of heaven, and to retain his instinctive parental feelings, theendless separation between him and his family will be a source of sorrowwhich needs only to be kept up, by an ever-living memory, to constituteall which is pictured in the boldest metaphors of inspired tongues andpens. A father in disgrace, or under ignominy, suffers intensely whenhe sees or thinks of his children, provided his natural sensibilitiesare not destroyed. A father punished, hereafter, by his Redeemer andJudge, a father banished from the company of heaven, knowing that hisfamily are there, and that if his influence had had its full effect, they would all have perished with him, --or a father with a part of hischildren with him in perdition, the wife and mother with one or more ofthe children in heaven, --is a picture of woe which nothing but timelyrepentance and faith in Christ may prevent from being a reality in theexperience of some who read these lines. Can it be true, as Bishop Hallsays, that "to be happy is not so sweet a state as it is miserable tohave been happy"? O man, if you have a child in heaven, think that, among the sweet influences of divine love, there probably is no morepowerful motive to draw your affections towards God, than that glimpsewhich you sometimes seem to have of this child's face, on which heavenhas traced its lineaments of peace and bliss; or that sudden whisper ofa gentle, child-like voice, now and then heard by the ear of fancy, persuading you to be a Christian. Do not let the world, or shame, orprocrastination, lead you to resist such efforts of almighty love tosave you. He who has had a child saved by Christ, and will not behimself a Christian, --what more can God do to save him?

The breaking up of our homes is one of the mysteries of God'sprovidence. The last thing, perhaps, which we might suppose would beallowed, is, the removal of a mother from a family of young children. This being so frequent, we cease to wonder at any other dispensations;we conclude that separations are to be made, regardless of any and everyseeming necessity and endearment. "Sirs, I perceive that this voyagewill be with hurt and much damage, not only of the lading and ship, butalso of our lives. " The conviction is forced upon us that there isanother world, for which we must make all our calculations. "There is abetter world, " said the distinguished William Wirt, after the death ofhis daughter, in 1831, --"there is a better world, of which I havethought too little. To that world she has gone, and thither myaffections have followed her. This was Heaven's design. I see and feelit as distinctly as if an angel had revealed it. I often imagine that Ican see her beckoning me to the happy world to which she has gone. Shewas my companion, my office companion, my librarian, my clerk. My papersnow bear her indorsement. She pursued her studies in my office, by myside, sat with me, walked with me, was my inexpressibly sweet andinseparable companion, --never left me but to go and sit with her mother. We knew all her intelligence, all her pure and delicate sensibility, thequickness and power of her perceptions, her seraphic love. She was alllove, and loved all God's creation, even the animals, trees, and plants. She loved her God and Saviour with an angel's love, and died like asaint. "[A]

[Footnote A: Kennedy's Life of William Wirt--letter to Judge Carr. ]

About the same time, he writes to his wife, --

"I want only my blessed Saviour's assurance of pardon and acceptance tobe at peace. I wish to find no rest short of rest in him, --Let us bothlook up to that heaven--where our Saviour dwells, and from which he isshowing us the attractive face of our blessed and happy child, andbidding us prepare to come to her, since she can no more visibly come tous. I have no taste now for worldly business. I go to it reluctantly. Iwould keep company only with my Saviour and his holy book. I dread theworld, the strife, and contention, and emulation of the bar; yet I willdo my duty--this is part of my religion. "

In December, 1833, another daughter died; but he writes, --

"I look upon life as a drama, bearing the same sort, though not thesame degree, of relation to eternity, as an hour spent at the theatre, and the fictions there exhibited . . . Do to the whole of real life. Noris there any thing in this passing pageant worth the sorrow that welavish on it. Now, when my children or friends leave me, or when I shallbe called to leave them, I consider it as merely parting for the presentvisit, to meet under happier circumstances, when we shall part nomore. "[B]

[Footnote B: Kennedy's Life of William Wirt--letter to Judge Cabell. ]

 * * * * *

"All my children, " said the venerable John Eliot, of Roxbury, "areeither with Christ or in Christ. " Happy, happy man! The little ones, blighted soon by the touch of death, surely are with Christ; "for ofsuch is the kingdom of God. " The cherub boy, and the blooming, brokenflower, the young daughter, --the young man in his strength, the youngmaiden in her beauty, --are there. As we commune together, in the pageswhich follow, on themes touching this subject, God grant that every onewho has not yet gladdened the heart of parent, and pastor, nay, of thatinfinite Friend, our Saviour, by the surrender of the heart to God, andevery father and mother who is yet unprepared to join the growing circleof the family in heaven, --('how grows in Paradise their store!')--may, as we reach the last page, find that with cords of a man, with bands oflove, He who made Pleiades, and Arcturus and his sons, has united themin eternal fellowship with their departed loved ones, through faith inChrist. This, while it hallows the remainder of life with the rich, mellowed beauty of the changing leaf, and ripening grain, and shorteningdays, lays the foundation of that perfect happiness for which our homesare intended to prepare us; their joys alluring, their separationspointing, us to heaven. 

II. 

THE FEAR OF DEATH ALLEVIATED. 

 Yea, and moreover this full well know I: He that's at any time afraid to die Is in weak case, and (whatsoe'er he saith) Hath but a wavering and a feeble faith. 

GEORGE WITHER. 

Unless we know the customs of the wandering shepherds with their flocks, one verse in the twenty-third Psalm, so often quoted in view of death, appears abrupt, but otherwise appropriate and very beautiful. One of aflock is expressing his confidence in God, his Shepherd: "When I havesatisfied my hunger from the green pastures, he makes me to lie down inthem; and the still, clear streams are my drink. " Then a thought occurswhich appears as though a dying man were speaking, and not a sheep: butit is still the language of a sheep. Keeping this in mind, let it beremembered that the shepherds wandered from place to place to findpasture. In doing so, they were sometimes obliged to pass through dark, lonely valleys. Wild beasts, and creatures less formidable, but ofhateful sight, and with doleful voices, made it difficult for the flocksto be led through such passages. There was frequently no other way fromone pasturage to another but through these places of death-shade, orvalleys of the shadow of death, --which was a term to express any darkand dismal place. 

Now, let us imagine a flock reposing in a green pasture, and by the sideof still waters, conversing about their shepherd, their pastures, andstreams. One of them says, "In the midst of all this peace andcontentment, there is a thought which spoils my comfort. We cannot stayhere forever; we are to go, presently, beyond the mountains; they saythat there are valleys, in those regions, full of dangers. Myexpectation is, that we shall be torn to pieces. My enjoyment of thesepastures and waters is nearly destroyed by my forebodings about thosevalleys. "

Another of the flock replies, "Have we not an able, faithful, experienced shepherd? Have we not seen his ability to defend us in pastdangers? Is he not as much concerned for our defence and safety asourselves? While he is my shepherd, I shall not want. --Yea, though Iwalk through those valleys of death-shade, I will fear no evil; for heis with me; his rod and his staff they comfort me. "

The shepherd carried with him two instruments--the staff, for his ownsupport, and to attack a beast or robber; and the crook, or rod. By thiscrook, the shepherd guided a sheep in a dangerous pass, placing thecrook under the sheep's neck, to hold him up and assist his steps. Whena sheep was disposed to stray, the shepherd could hold him back with hiscrook. When the sheep had fallen into the power of a beast, the crookassisted in drawing him away. A good sheep loved the crook as much asthe staff, --to be guided, as well as to be defended. Both of theshepherd's instruments were a great comfort to the sheep, while passingthrough a frightful and dangerous valley. 

The interpretation usually given to the words, "thy rod and thystaff"--as though they meant "thy gentle reproofs and thy severerebukes"--is erroneous. A sheep would hardly tell his shepherd that hischastising rod, and the heavy blows of his staff, comforted him. Themeaning is, It is a comfort to me to feel the crook of thy rod helpingme in trouble, and to know that thy staff is my defence against wildbeasts. 

 * * * * *

Through fear of death, many who are truly the followers of Christ, are, nevertheless, all their lifetime subject to bondage. On whatevermountains, into whatever pastures, and by whatever streams, theirShepherd leads them, they know that there is a valley into which theymust go down, and the imagined darkness and horrors of the place makethem continually afraid. 

A fear of death, without doubt, is frequently permitted, as a means ofreligious restraint. Some, who have wondered at this trial all theirlife long, find that its influence is great in keeping them near to theShepherd and Bishop of their souls. If a flock could reason, no doubtthe shepherd would make use of the fears of the sheep, in manyinstances, to keep them from going astray. If one of them were inclinedto wander, it would be natural for the shepherd to caution that sheepagainst the dark valley, warning him of its terrors, and making him feelhow necessary it would be to have a shepherd there, with his crook andstaff. It may be that apprehensions with regard to death are the mostpowerful means, with some, of keeping them from going astray, and ofholding their minds to the contemplation of spiritual things. 

It has often been observed that those Christians whose fears of deathwere very great for a large part of their life, frequently die withtriumph. The reality is not such as they feared; they found support andconsolation which they did not anticipate. 

One of the most trying anticipations with regard to death, in the mindsof many, long before the event arrives, is, separation from those whomwe love. And yet, there is probably nothing in human experience moreremarkable, than the singular resignation, and even cheerfulness, withwhich some, who have had every thing to make life desirable, have leftall and followed Christ when he came to lead them through the valley. The young wife and mother, in her dying hours, becomes the comforter ofher husband; she turns and looks at the infant who is held up to receiveher farewell, and the mother alone is calm, sheds no tear, gives thefarewell kiss with composure. "Thy rod" is supporting her; "thy staff"is keeping at bay the passions and fears of the natural heart. So awidowed mother leaves a large family of young children, with a peacewhich passes all understanding. And the father of a dependent family, which never could, in a greater measure, need a father's presence, looksupon them from his dying bed, and says to them, with the serenity of thepatriarch, "Behold, I die; but God shall be with you. " Nothing is moretrue than this, that dying grace is for a dying hour; that is, wecannot, in health and strength, have the feelings which belong to thehour of parting; but as any and every scene and condition, into whichGod brings his children, has its peculiar frames of mind fitted to thenecessity of each case, we need not make the useless effort to practiseall the resignation, and experience all the comforts, which come onlywhen they are actually needed. We do not often hear the first part ofthe following passage quoted; but in such rocky and thorny paths as weare often made to pass through, how good it is to read: "Thy shoes shallbe iron and brass; and as thy days, so shall thy strength be. " If God isour Shepherd, he will cause us to pass, one by one, through the valleywhich is before us, leaving some most dear to us on the hither side. Suppose that when a shepherd is employed in removing his flock from onemountain to another, through a valley, one of the flock should mourn hisseparation from companions, or from its young. The shepherd would say, "You cannot all pass together; leave your companions and the young tome; I will restore them to you on the other side. " He might alsoremonstrate and say, "Am I not, as their shepherd, interested inprotecting and removing them? You can add nothing to my strength andwisdom; let me take you safety through the valley, and trust me to dothe same for them. "

The ancient shepherd was specially careful of the lambs; he carried themin his arms, and sometimes folded them beneath his shepherd's coat. Wecan imagine the feelings of some of a flock when, leaving them at ashort distance, but within sight, the shepherd would take a lamb, carryit down into the valley, and disappear with it for a little while. Withall their confidence in their shepherd, some of the flock would manifestuneasiness at the separation, especially if the valley looked dark anddangerous. If it were the only lamb of its mother, it was natural forthat mother to be distressed, and to lament. Though the young creaturehad gone safely to the other side, and was at play in the new pasture, and the mother believed it, this could not always quiet her. The goodShepherd has taken some of our lambs through the valley. They are safeupon the other side. They have joined the flock of Christ. Let us giveour lambs to the Shepherd's care, to bear them through the valley, whenever he sees fit that they should be removed. We must all passthrough that valley. If, from special love to our young, he will seethem safely on the other side before he calls for us, we will intrustthem to Him who claims our confidence by saying to us, I am the GoodShepherd. One of the prophecies concerning Christ reveals that tenderlove and care, on his part, for children, which characterized him whileon earth: "He shall gather the lambs with his arm, and carry them in hisbosom. "

The fear of death is owing, in many cases, to the dread of dissolution. 

The previous sickness prepares the soul and the body for theirseparation, so that, in very many cases, it is the greatest relief todie. We are, perhaps, mistaken if we suppose that those Christians whoare in great bodily pain in their last hours, suffer in mind. Theeffects of death on the frame do not necessarily disturb thetranquillity of the soul. The body may be in spasms while the soul is atpeace; and the reverse is true;--as in nightmare, when the mind isdistressed while the body sleeps. A Christian has nothing to fear inthis respect. To die will not be--as in full health we suppose it is--aviolent rending asunder of the soul from the unyielding grasp of thebody; but the preparation of the mortal frame for dissolution, by thesickness, however rapid, also fits the mind for the event. Even incases of death by accidents, this appears to be true. 

 * * * * *

But many feel that to die is to be transferred suddenly, and withviolence, into strange scenes, which must overwhelm and distract thesenses. It seems to them that it must be like being whirled instantlyinto a distant, unknown city, and waking up amidst the confusion andstrangeness of that place. We cannot believe that such is the experienceof dying Christians. It would rather seem that there is, at first, aperception of spiritual forms, of ministering spirits, whispering peaceto the soul, and assuring it of safety, and bidding it fear not. It issaid of angels, "Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth tominister for them who shall be heirs of salvation?" When can we needtheir ministry more, than in the passage from this world to the world ofspirits? Perhaps the disclosure is made of some departed friends; andthe fancy of those who thought that they saw beloved ones beckoning themaway, may have had its foundation in truth. There is much ofprobability in that well-known piece, "The dying Christian's address tohis soul;"--and no part of it is more probable than this:--

 "Hark! they whisper; angels say, Sister spirit, come away. "

It is not improbable--it seems accordant with divine goodness--that suchmethods should be employed to relieve the anxiety of the departingspirit. Sometimes the dying Christian has declared that he heardenrapturing music. It is possible that voices were employed to soothehim to sleep, and to soften the transition, from the full consciousnessof life, to the revelations of the heavenly world. Perhaps the effect ofdisease upon the organs of hearing was such as to produce something likesounds, which, in a joyous state of mind, were pleasurable. During thesiege of Jerusalem in 1836, the wife of an American missionary sungwhile dissolution was actually taking place. The tones of her voice, they said, seemingly more than mortal, were far different from anything which they had ever heard, even from her. God is often pleased touse these natural effects of dissolution on the body, to comfort thepassing spirit of his child. Whether visions or real voices are actuallyseen or heard, is of no consequence, so long as the soul has a rationaland assured hope. Some means are unquestionably used in every case tomake the dying believer feel that he is safe. He is not compelled towait in uncertainty and fear for a moment. His fears are anticipated; heis among other friends, the moment that he grows insensible to those whowatch his departing breath. Neither are we to suppose that heaven breaksupon the senses of the spirit with such an overpowering brightness, asto excite confusion and pain. No doubt the revelation is gradual andmost pleasant. Perhaps the celestial city appears at first in thedistance, having the glory of God most precious; the approach to it isgradual; voices are heard afar off, and from the convoy of ministeringspirits, such information and instructions are received as prepare itfor the full vision of heaven. Every thing is calm and serene; the lightis attempered to its new and feeble vision. He who makes the sun to riseby slow degrees, and does not pour straight, fierce rays upon the wakingeyes even of sinful men, certainly will not torment the soul of hischild with any such revelations of unseen things as will give pain. Thesame care which has redeemed and saved him, will order all these thingsin covenanted love. 

Some of the preceding thoughts are well expressed in the followinganonymous lines, written on seeing Mr. Greenough's group of the Angeland Child ascending to Heaven:--

 "CHILD. Whither now wilt thou proceed? ANGEL. Come up hither; I will show thee. Follow me with joyful speed; Leave thy native earth below thee. CHILD. Stop! mine eyes cannot contain Such a wondrous flood of light. ANGEL. Come up hither. Thou shall gain, As thou risest, stronger sight. CHILD. Lost in wonder without end, Joyful, fearful, longing, shrinking, Lead me, O thou heavenly friend; Keep a trembling child from sinking. O, I cannot bear this glory! Angel brother! how canst thou? ANGEL. I will tell thee all my story; I was once as thou art now. CHILD. When some sorrow did befall me, Or I felt some strange alarms, Then my mother's voice would call me, To the shelter of her arms. Now what bids my heart rejoice, Clasped in arms I cannot see? Hark, I hear a soothing voice Sweetly whispering, Come to me. ANGEL. Yes, it calls thee from on high; Come to God's most holy mountain; Thou hast drunk the stream of life;-- I will lead thee to the fountain. "

Some dread the thought of being out of the body and finding themselvesspirits. This is wholly without reason. The soul will not suffer fromlosing this body of sin and death; it will have as perfect aconsciousness, it will know where it is, and what is passing before it, as seems to be the case in a vivid dream when the bodily senses arelocked in slumber. 

As to the natural repugnance which we have to the thoughts of burial andthe grave, it is probable that the soul of a redeemed spirit thinks andcares as little concerning these things, so far as painful sensationsare concerned, as we do about our garments when we are falling asleep. The vesture which we formerly wore gives us no solicitude. It iswonderful to hear the sick, long before they die, give directions, orexpress desires, respecting their burial. So far from thinking of thegrave as a melancholy place, no doubt the departed spirit will oftenthink of it in the separate state with pleasure, as the place where itis hereafter to receive a form like Christ's; and the thought ofresurrection adds greatly to the joys of heaven. 

 * * * * *

There is something still which affects the minds of many Christians withfear as they think of dying; and that is, their appearing before God. They cannot imagine the possibility of seeing him without distraction;his infinite majesty, and their own sense of unworthiness, make themafraid. 

But who is God? Is he the Christian's enemy? Will he sit like a king onhis throne, and see his subject come trembling into his presence? Isthis the God who loved him? Is this the Saviour that died for him? Isthis the Holy Spirit who awakened, converted, sanctified, comforted him, and promised to present him faultless before the presence of his glorywith exceeding joy? God will not have done so much to bring him toheaven, and, when he comes there, make his appearance before his thronea matter of fear and uncertainty. He who fell on the neck of thereturning prodigal and kissed him, will not keep him at a distance when, with the best robe, and the ring, and the shoes, he comes into hisfather's house. Our first apprehensions of God will be happy beyond ourpresent comprehension. What an image have we, in these words, of a manhelping a child, by the hand, through a dangerous or dark way: "For Ithe Lord thy God will hold thy right hand, saying unto thee, Fear not;I will help thee. " If "I will be with thee, " is the reason, which hehimself assigns why we should not be afraid, why should we fear to comeinto his presence?

As to a consciousness of guilt, there is no doubt that he who fallsasleep in Jesus, with reliance on his blood and righteousness, willimmediately, at death, receive such a consciousness of being purifiedfrom all taint of sin, as now is beyond our conception. In the languageof Scripture, we shall be presented faultless before the presence of hisglory with exceeding joy. For the sake of Christ, in whom we trust, weshall be received and treated as though we had never sinned; we shallsay, in the full assurance of pardon, righteousness, and peace with God, without waiting for the question to be asked in our behalf, "Who is hethat condemneth?" "It is Christ that died. "

And if this be so, as it surely is, why may not Christians in this worldbefore they die, nay, from the first hour of justification by faith inChrist, triumph thus in him? Why should their remaining sinfulness, their poor, frail, erring nature, which they must carry with them to thegrave, prevent them from having the same joy in God through our LordJesus Christ, by whom also we have received the atonement? Every truebeliever in Jesus Christ is warranted in having the same consciousnessof pardon and peace with God, now, as after death; the justifyingrighteousness of Christ is as powerful now as it will be then. Some tellus, "Live a sinless life, and you may have this perfect peace. " That isself-righteousness. It will not be a sinless life which, in the momentafter death, will make us to be openly acknowledged and acquitted; itwill be the righteousness of Jesus Christ which is by faith; and he whohas faith in that righteousness may, living as well as dying, here aswell as in heaven, say, 'There is, therefore, _now_ no condemnation tothem which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but afterthe spirit. '

There are several things which may reconcile us to the thought of dying:

 * * * * *

All the people of God since the creation, with two exceptions, havedied. Of the two who were excepted, neither of them was his onlybegotten Son. Those whom God has loved peculiarly have not been exemptedfrom the stroke of death. Shall we ask exemption from that which, allthe good and great have suffered? Let me die the death of the righteous. If he must find the grave, there will I be buried. We would not go toheaven but in the way which prophets, apostles, martyrs trod. Thefootsteps of the flock lead through the valley; we will seek no other, no easier, way. 

 * * * * *

Surely we should be willing to follow our great Forerunner. He tasteddeath for every man; and he could enter into his triumph only by dying. We should be more than resigned to follow our blessed Lord into thetomb. Christ conquered death by dying; we shall be more than conquerorsin the same way. If we suffer great pain, we cannot suffer more thanChrist suffered on our account. Sufferings borne in the spirit of Christare counted as sufferings borne for Christ. "If we suffer, we shall alsoreign with him. " "If so be that we suffer with him, that we may be alsoglorified together. "

 * * * * *

Death is a part of the penalty of sin. We should, therefore, submit toit, giving up our bodies to be destroyed, in fulfilment of that sentencewhich we have so justly incurred--"and unto dust shalt thou return. " Hewho hates sin, and condemns himself for it, and is willing to havefellowship with Christ in his sufferings for it, as it is mostgraciously represented that we may, will bear the execution of God'srighteous sentence with a willing mind. 

 * * * * *

Death is the perfecting of our redemption. It is the last act ofredeeming grace. When the Saviour, who says, "I have the keysof--death, " (i. E. , no one can die but at the time and manner prescribedby me, ) takes us out of the world, it is to finish the work of ourpersonal salvation. All the circumstances attending it will be asdeliberately appointed, and as carefully watched and directed, as thefirst great act of grace towards us in our regeneration. He, too, whohas provided such pastures and streams for us here, in removing us toliving pastures and to living streams, will, of course, see that we gosafely through the valley which must be passed to reach them. It willnot be a new thing to Christ to see us die. He has watched the dyingbeds of millions of his friends, he has had great experience as aShepherd in bringing them through the valley. 

 * * * * *

See that chamber in yonder mansion, where all the comforts, and some ofthe luxuries, of life, have contributed to prepare for some mysteriousevent. The garden of Eden failed to possess such joys as are there inanticipation, and are soon to be made perfect. Every thing seemswaiting, with silent but thrilling interest, for the arrival of anunknown occupant. And there is raiment of needle-work, and of finetwined linen, and gifts of cunning device, from the looms of the oldworld, and from graceful fingers and loving hearts here, every wantbeing anticipated, and some wants imagined, to gratify the love ofsatisfying them. And now God breathes the breath of life, and a livingsoul begins its deathless career, amidst joys and thanksgivings, whichswell through the wide circles of kindred and acquaintanceship. The HolySpirit, in the process of time, renews and sanctifies the soul throughthe blood of the everlasting covenant; and having, through life, walkedwith God, the day arrives when the spirit must return to God who gaveit. You saw how it was received here, at its entrance into the world. You have seen what the atonement, and regeneration, and sanctification, and providence, and grace, have done for it, and with what accumulatedlove the Father of Spirits, and Redeemer, and Sanctifier, must regardit. And now do we suppose that the shroud, and coffin, and the funeral, and the narrow house, and the darkness, and the solitude and corruption, and the whole dreary and terrible train of death and the grave, aresymbols of its reception into heaven, the proper pageantry of itsarrival and resting place within the veil? Believe it not! If Godprepared in our hearts such a welcome for the infant stranger, that evenits helpless feet were thought of and cared for, surely when those feet, wearied in the pilgrimage of the strait and narrow way, arrive atheaven's gate, it must be, it is, amidst rejoicings and ministrations oflove to which earth has no parallel. Let kings and queens prepare aroyal room for the new-born prince: "In my Father's house are manymansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare aplace for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will comeagain, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may bealso. "

Could we look into that place, as it stands waiting for its occupantfrom earth, we should behold sights which would instantly clothe evendeath with beauty, and make it seem now, as it will seem then, a blessedthing to die. 

 * * * * *

To miss of dying would no doubt be a calamity. Dying will be anexperience to the believer which will be fraught with inestimably goodthings; that is, the act of dying, and not merely the being dead. It isno doubt as necessary to the nature of the soul, to its psychology, itssoul-life, as the changes of the worm, chrysalis, and butterfly, are tothe insect. And thus, as in all other things, where sin abounded, gracemuch more abounds, and even death, like a cross, is turned into aministration of infinite blessing. 

It is not unsuitable for a dying Christian to consider, that he iscompassed about with a great cloud of witnesses, who themselves havedied, and who are watching his departure. We ought to die with suchfaith in Jesus, such confidence in God, such confident expectation andhope, that they will rejoice to see us conquer death. Our last conflictshould be fought in a manner worthy of the company and scenes into whichwe are immediately to pass. 

We should not anxiously seek to remove entirely from any one, in thecourse of his life, his fears with regard to death, except as we maysubstitute faith for those fears. God probably intends them now for theincrease of faith. Moreover, when the event of death happens, it will bemingled with so much mercy as to make the Christian smile at his fears. The exhortation of the apostle in view of his great discourse of deathand resurrection is noticeable: "Therefore, my beloved brethren, be yesteadfast, unmovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord;forasmuch as ye know that your labor is not in vain in the Lord. "

There are cases in which the clouded faculties, or delirium, preventthe full enjoyment of a peaceful, happy death. Such cases seem painfulto friends, but the Shepherd knows when it is best to hide the face of asheep which he carries through the valley, and that it is sometimesbetter for the sheep to pass the valley in the black and dark night, than when daylight, by revealing the horrors of the place, would excitefear. All this may safely be left to those hands which spoiled death ofhis sting, and to that love which is stronger than death. Wherever, andwhenever, and in whatever manner we may die, it will be under the careand direction of Him who will no more see us in the power of the enemy, than a strong and faithful shepherd would suffer a beloved member of hisflock to fall into the power of the lion. 

The last lines of a hymn by Doddridge--

 "Then speechless clasp thee in my arms, The antidote of death"--

are altered, by some compilers, who substitute the word _conqueror_ for_antidote_. But the author saw the truthfulness of his own chosenlanguage, though the word in question be not convenient for musicalexpression. When we are already stung by a poisonous creature, we takesomething which proves an antidote to the effect of the sting. Thismedicine is not so much a conqueror, as an antidote; for the poison isnot developed. But the sting is inflicted, and before the poisonousinjury is felt, the antidote prevents it. These words of Christcorrespond to this: "Verily, verily I say unto you, If a man keep mysaying, he shall never see death. " How often we behold this verified!The spectators "see death, " in his approach, in his effects; they weepand tremble, while the dear patient does not "see" it; for somethingelse absorbs his thoughts, fixes his attention; he is stung, indeed, bythe monster; but Christ is an antidote to death, causes it to pass bywithout inflicting pain upon the mind, or in any way hurting its victim. Dr. Watts illustrates and confirms all this:--

 "Jesus, the vision of thy face Hath overpowering charms; Scarce shall I feel death's cold embrace, If Christ be in my arms. "

 * * * * *

The piece of paper which would suffice to write the twenty-third Psalmupon it, would not be large enough for a common title deed; and yet thatPsalm, if it expresses our experience, is worth infinitely more than isconveyed, or secured, by all the registries of deeds under the sun. Weare each of us to see a time when we shall feel the truth of this. Ifbut these first few words of the Psalm are true in my case, if "the Lordis my Shepherd, " all the rest of the Psalm is a record, a promise, apledge, of past, present, and future good. 

There are six things declared by Christ to be characteristic of therelation which he and his people sustain to each other, as Shepherd andthe sheep:

1. "My sheep hear my voice;

2. And I know them;

3. And they follow me;

4. And I give unto them eternal life;

5. And they shall never perish;

6. Neither shall any pluck them out of my hand. "

Here we find directions to duty, as well as promises of future good. 

Since it is more important how we live than how we die, and since deathis merely the arrival at the end of a journey, the beginning, progress, and history of the journey determining what the arrival is to be, weshall do well to dismiss our borrowed trouble with regard to the mannerof our departure out of the world, and be solicitous only with regard tothe right discharge of present duty. We read, "Precious in the sight ofthe Lord is the death of his saints. " The death of every child of hisis, with God, an object of unspeakable interest; his own honor isconcerned in it; its influence on survivors is of great importance; itwill be among the means by which God accomplishes several, it may bemany, purposes of providence, but especially of his grace. "No mandieth to himself. " Great interests are involved in his death, beyondhis own personal welfare. Now, if we have lived for God, he will makeour death the object of his especial care, and will honor it by itsbeing the means of promoting his glory. Instead, therefore, of gloomyapprehensions as to dying, we should cherish the noble wish and aim thatChrist may be magnified in our body, whether it be by life or by death. If our life has been a walking with God, "THOU ART WITH ME" will be aperfect warrant, now, and in death, to "FEAR NO EVIL. "

III. 

THE SEARCH FOR THE DEPARTED. 

 No bliss mid worldly crowds is bred, Like musing on the sainted dead. 

BISHOP MANT. 

We seek in vain, on earth, for one who has gone to heaven. Though betterinformed as to the objects of our love than they who lingered about thedeserted tomb of the Saviour, and were asked, "Why seek ye the livingamong the dead, " we nevertheless find ourselves, in our thoughts, searching for them; so difficult is it at once to feel that they arewholly and forever departed. There is an affecting and beautifullysimple illustration of our thoughts and feelings, in this respect, inthe search which was made for Elijah after his translation. Fifty men ofthe sons of the prophets went and stood to view afar off, when Elijahand Elisha stood by the Jordan. Elisha returned alone, and these mencould not feel reconciled to the loss of their great master. They werenot persuaded that he had gone to heaven, no more to return; they soughtleave to seek him, and to recover him: "Peradventure, " they said, "theSpirit of the Lord hath taken him up and cast him upon some mountain, orinto some valley. " Elisha peremptorily refused to grant them leave. Theywere importunate; and when, at last, it would, perhaps, seem likeobstinacy in him, or like jealousy of their superior love for Elijah, toforbid the search, which at the worst would only be fruitless, heyielded. Three days they explored the valleys, ransacked the thickets, groped in the caves, traversed hills, followed imaginary trails andfootprints, but found him not. When they came again to Elisha, "he saidunto them, Did I not say unto you, Go not?"

We cannot become accustomed at once, nor for a long time, to the absenceof our friend. If his death was sudden, or if it took place away fromhome, or during our absence, we expect to see him again; if a vehiclestops at the door, the heart beats with an instantaneous hope which dieswith its first breath, bringing over us a deeper and stronger refluenceof sorrow. We catch a sight of articles familiarly used by a departedfriend; they are identified with little passages in his history, or withhis daily life: is it possible that he is altogether and foreverdisconnected from them? They are the same; those perishable things, those comparatively worthless things, having no value at all except ashis use of them made them precious, retain their shapes and places; butwhere is he? and must not he return and abide, like them?

No, he is gone to heaven. The places which knew him shall know him nomore forever. Those things, which have an imperishable value in beingassociated with his memory, are, to him, like the leaves of a pastautumn to a tree now filled with blossoms. The mention of every valuedpossession once indescribably dear to him, would awaken but slightemotions; even the recent history of the dwelling which he built andfurnished, would be no more to him than the rehearsal to a grown personof that which had happened to a block house, or card figure, whichamused his childhood. We walk and sit in the places identified with ourlast remembrances of the departed; but he is not there; we hallow theanniversaries of his birth and death; but he gives us no recognition; weread his letters; they make him seem alive; his voice, his smile, hislove are there; and when we have finished, nature, exhausted with itsweeping, sighs, "And where is he?"

He is gone to heaven. Even the earthly house of his tabernacle isdissolved; that part of him which was all of which we were cognizant byour senses, is no more. We could not recognize it; to the earth, out ofwhich it was taken, it has, by slow degrees, returned, --as though everything earthly, belonging to him, 'must needs die, and be as water spilton the ground, which cannot be gathered up again. ' We travel to hisbirthplace; there is the house where he was born; we meet those who grewwith him side by side; we are among the scenes which were most familiarto him; he planted those trees; he collected those pictures; there ishis portrait, he rested here, he studied, he worked, he rejoiced, hewept, in these consecrated places; but did we go thinking to find himthere? "Did I not say unto you, Go not?"

We shall surely make him real to our thoughts, if not to our senses, where he lies buried. But we may as well stand upon the sea shore, wherewe had the last look of a sea-faring friend, and think that thosewaters, and those sands, and that horizon, will restore him. They onlyserve to open farther the path of his departure; they lead our thoughtsaway to dwell upon him where we imagine him to be. Nowhere does heavenseem more real than at the grave of a friend; for we know that he hasnot perished, and as we stand on that verge of all our fruitless searchand expectation, we are compelled to fix him somewhere in our thoughts;but as he is nowhere behind us, we look onward and upward. 

Our desire for departed friends, however natural and innocent, if itresulted as we sometimes would have it, would prove to be unwise. 

Suppose that those "fifty strong men" had found Elijah, or in any waycould have prevented his translation to heaven. With exultation, theywould have led him back across the Jordan to the company of theirfriends, amidst the thanksgivings of the people. But, alas! for theprophet himself, this would have been his loss, even had it proved to betheir gain. The opening Jordan, cleft in twain by his rapt spirit, pressing its way to the skies, had returned to its course; and now thefords of the river, with its rocky bed, would have required his laboringfeet to grope their way back to his toil; or the arms of men, instead ofthe chariots of fire and horses of fire, would have borne him again tothe dull realities of life; and there, rebuking Ahab, and fleeing fromJezebel, punishing the prophets of Baal, and upbraiding the people ofGod in their idolatries, fasting and faint under junipers, or coveringhis face with his mantle at the still small voice of the Lord his God, he would again have prayed, "O Lord God, take away my life, for I am nobetter than my fathers. " 'Let me not wait longer for my promisedtranslation; let me die as my fathers did; for wherein am I better thanthey?' So weary had he grown of life. Blind and weak do these fiftystrong men seem to us, in searching for this ascended prophet, thistraveller over the King's road in royal state, one of the only two whomight not taste of death; the companion, in heaven, of Enoch, with abody which fills all the ransomed spirits there with joyful expectation, because it is a pledge and earnest of "the adoption, to wit, theredemption of their bodies. " If, amid the new wonders and raptures ofthe heavenly world, he had had one moment to look down upon those"fifty strong men, " as they searched for him, he might well have used, in cheerful irony, something like his old upbraidings of the priestsnear Baal's altar: "Search deeper, ye 'strong men, ' in the thickets andcaves; peradventure I sleep in the brakes, and must be awaked; call, with your fifty voices together, that I may be startled from my trance;will ye give over till ye bring me back to Jericho? Will ye search butthree days? Shall I lose the remnant of my life on earth?"

And while they grew weary and discouraged, and concluded that, if heshould be found, it might be in the far distant hills of Moab, or thewilds of Philistia, or they knew not where, and went back with heartsunsatisfied, and debating whether he were yet a wanderer upon earth, orwhether so impossible a thing as they deemed his translation to heaven, without dying, had taken place, the glorified Elijah was with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, with Moses, Joshua, Samuel, and David. But evenSolomon, in all his glory, was not arrayed like him. There, with a bodylike unto Christ's own future glorious body, he sat, with but onecompeer--Enoch, and he, transcending all the hosts of the redeemed inthe foretasted glories of the resurrection. Adam, by whom came death, sees in him that which he himself is to share, when by one Man, also, shall come the resurrection from the dead. Abel, whose feet first trodthe dark, cold stream, leaving his murdered body behind him, beholdswith love and wonder him who passed the river of death ("that ancientriver!") without dying. Even the Word beholds in him an earnest of hisown incarnation, resurrection, and ascension from Olivet. To-day, ourloved ones in heaven look upon him, and say, as Peter did at thisprophet's visit on Tabor, (when he spoke of tabernacles there--"one forElias, ") "Master, it is good for us to be here. " But we, like the "fiftystrong men, " would find them and bring them back; and, like Peter, would build tabernacles to retain them. The family circle is gatheredtogether at some birthday or festival, and, perhaps, we long for thedeparted, and think that they long for us; and we would bring them back, and place them in their deserted chairs. We are "strong men" in thepower of grief, and in our wishes; but the search for Elijah is thecounterpart of our vain desires and most unreasonable sorrow. 

When our friends have gone to heaven, it is not apt to be heaven, somuch as earthly sorrow, which fills our minds. Happily, we have beentaught to believe, and we do generally believe, that the souls of therighteous enter immediately into glory; that their happiness is perfect, though not completed; they are as happy as disembodied spirits can be;unspeakably happier than they were here, but still not in fullpossession of those sources of pleasure which they will receive whentheir bodies are raised, and their whole natures are made complete. But"to die is gain;" it is "to depart and to be with Christ, which is farbetter;" it is entering "into the joy of their Lord. " That drearythought of sleeping after death till the day of judgment; the idea thatAbraham, Isaac, and Jacob, became insensible at death, and that the lastthing which Jacob, for example, knew, was Joseph's kiss, and the nextthing which he will know will be the archangel's trump, the interval ofmany thousands of years being a perfect blank in his existence, is sounlike the benevolent order of God's providence in nature and grace, that it cannot gain much credence with believers in the simplerepresentations of the Bible. What a mockery Elijah's translation seems, upon that theory! Whither was he translated? Did the chariots of fire, and the horses of fire, convey him to a dreamless sleep of thousands ofyears? Was that pomp, that emblazonry, all that fiery pageant, adeception signifying nothing but that the greatest of prophets was tobegin a stupid slumber, which, this day, under a heaven with not oneredeemed soul in it, and in a world where there is every thing to bedone for God and men, holds him, and every other dead saint, in auseless suspension of his consciousness, and, indeed, for so many ages, annihilation? Poor economy in the dispensation of overflowing love tointelligent beings, --we say it with submission, --does this seem to be;nor can we think that, in the case of Elijah, it was this which washeralded by horses and chariots of fire. Chariots and horses are emblemsof flight; but if sleep were descending upon the hero of the propheticage, twilight would more appropriately have drawn her soft veil overnature, birds would have begun their vespers, clouds would have put ontheir changing, pensive colors, while cadences of music, breathed by thewinds, would have shed lethargic influences into the scene. Inspirationdoes not trifle with us by really meaning such a preparation for a sleepof ages, and yet informing us, in so many words, that "the Lord wouldtake up Elijah into heaven by a whirlwind. " No; going to heaven is notgoing to sleep, and going to sleep is not going to heaven. Sleep anddeath are used figuratively for each other, according to the laws oflanguage, which describes appearances without regard to scientifictruth, as in speaking of the sun's rising, for example, and the goingdown of the sun; but to fall asleep in Jesus is to awake in heaven; tobe absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. This we allbelieve; and may we never be moved away from this cheering, animatinghope. Yet how little power has this belief and hope upon our feelingsand conduct! for our Christian graces partake of the same imperfectionwhich characterizes our whole nature; the soil is poor in which theygrow; the seasons are short, the climate cold; they do not reachmaturity. It is instructive to notice how men who have had the very bestadvantages, and the greatest knowledge, are, nevertheless, prone tounbelief. Christ appeared to his disciples, and upbraided them becausethey believed not them which said he was risen. Their incredulitystrikes us as marvellous. They were not the first, nor the last, whosewant of faith is a marvel. These sons of the prophets in Elisha's daywere equally slow to believe. They themselves had said to him, "Knowestthou that the Lord will take away thy master from thy head to-day?"Elisha came back to them from the scene of the translation. Of course hetold them what had happened, describing minutely the whole of thatpreternatural scene; he probably related the conversation which Elijahhad with him as they walked; and this inspired companion of the departedprophet, having himself no doubt that Elijah had gone to heaven, soinstructed these sons of the prophets. But how hard it is for the thingswhich are unseen and eternal to seize and hold our minds! how readily weyield to surmises, rather than admit the clear disclosures of spiritualthings! Straightway these sons of the prophets, who should have retiredeach to his secret place, for contemplation and prayer, and, in thesolemn assembly, should have directed the thoughts of each other and ofthe people to the instructive lessons suggested by the departure ofElijah to heaven, were making up an exploring party, to prove that theirillustrious chief had met with some disaster in being left forlorn uponsome mountain, or in a valley; that the spirit of God had entranced him, and that his weary feet, instead of treading the pavement of heaven, were ensnared in some dark place; and so, in pity for him, and withfilial love, they would seek him, and bring him back to Jericho!

If we had clear and strong faith, our joy at the thought of a glorifiedspirit, however necessary its presence to us here, would transcend allour sorrows; the streaming beams of sunshine would irradiate ourweeping; we should think more of his happiness than of our discomfort. Instead of departed spirits falling asleep, it is we who have a spiritof slumber. O that we might walk by faith with glorified spirits beforethe throne, instead of remanding them, --as it seems we sometimes woulddo, if we could, --to the ignorance and infirmity of our condition. 

Our feelings towards the departed are the same as towards otherprohibited things. Many are continually seeking for pleasures which Godhas taken away, or is purposely withholding from them. Let any one lookat the history of his feelings, and see if his state of mind be not oneof perpetual expectation of some form of happiness yet to arrive; anideal of bliss, some prefigured condition, in which contentment andpeace are to abide; while the discovery that he is not to have it, wouldmake him inconsolably miserable. Our search for lost joys, or for thosewhich God is not prepared, or not disposed, to give us, and thehappiness which he desires rather to give us, and to have us seek, areseverally represented to us by this search for Elijah, and by Elijahhimself, who is, meanwhile, at God's right hand. At his right hand arepleasures forever-more; but some, in the ardor and strength of theiraffections, are seeking for that which they will never obtain, and thatis, happiness independent of God. Some tell us that they mean to makethe most of life, and to be happy while they live; therefore, begone, reflection! religion is not for the spring-tide of youth; mirth andmerry days are for the young; soberness and the russet garb of autumnbelong to the decline of life, which certainly to them, they think, isfar off;--as though every material necessary for their last, long sleep, may not at this moment be in the warerooms and shops; as though theycould boast themselves even of one to-morrow, and knew what theto-morrows of many years would bring forth. The Bible is against theirway of thinking and manner of life; and to push aside the Bible in oursearch after any thing, is a certain sign of being in the wrong. And allthis with the mistaken belief that to love God, and to be loved of him, is not the greatest, the only satisfying good, --the God that framed thevoice for that music which charms a circle of friends, and made thosecurious fingers, and gave them all that cunning skill which shedsdelight on others, and empowered that heart to swell with suchconceptions of earthly pleasure;--and that to love him, and be loved byhim, is the direst necessity of our being, to be postponed as long aspossible, and then to be accepted as a last resort and the less of twoevils. Where is the Lord God of Elijah, the God of all power and might, the God of all grace and consolation, the God of our life, and thelength of our days? Banished from the world which these friends havemade for themselves; an intruder into the charmed circle in which thewand of fancy has enclosed them; a dreaded power standing over them, tosnatch away the only bliss which they ever expect to enjoy. O gildedbutterflies, made for a few days of sunshine, and doomed to perish atthe first touch of frost! had they no souls; were there no hereafter, noheaven, no hell; if it would not be as desirable to be happy millions ofyears from to-day, as now; if they were not including all their hopesand efforts to be happy within a handbreadth of time, and liable to loseeven that, --the wise man might stop with saying, "Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth; and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, andwalk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes;" butthe infinite future compels him to add, "but know thou, that for allthese things God will bring thee into judgment. " Such are the motives bywhich, in their present condition, and with their present views, theyare most likely to be affected; yet some of them, we are glad to say, intheir best moods, are also affected and influenced aright when we tellthem that, even if our existence terminated at death, the joys which arenow to be found in loving and serving God, are better than the pleasuresof sin for a season. 

There is not one of us who has not lost a friend, a schoolmate, acompanion of early life, one who has disappeared from our side, afrequent associate in the business of life, or one whom we have beenaccustomed to see in the places of business; and perhaps a member of ourfamily circle. 

Now, it is profitable to consider that the same thoughts which we haveof them, others will ere long have concerning us. What would make ussatisfied and happy to know respecting them? What are we glad to say oftheir preparation for an eternal state? What would we have had thatpreparation be? In what respects better or different? Where do we loveto assign them their places? And what is it pleasant to believe aretheir thoughts of us, of earth, of eternity, of the gospel, of this lifeas a season of preparation for heaven? We shall soon be the subjects ofthe same contemplations in the minds of others. The hosts of that longprocession, of which we are the part now passing over the stage, areurging and pressing us from behind, and we must go down, as others havebefore us, --our love, our envy, our hatred perish, --and we no more haveany portion in all that is done under the sun. 

We must give up happiness as the great aim and end of existence, and, instead of it, take this for our supreme endeavor and chief end--theconscientious performance of our duty to God, and to others. We arenever really happy till we cease to expect happiness from the things ofthis world. As soon as we begin to be satisfied with God, and find thatto think of God, to love him, to trust in him, to serve him, ishappiness enough, we attain to solid peace; and then, turning andfollowing the sun, all desirable pleasure pursues us and solicits us, like our shadows, the more eagerly and steadily the more that we fleefrom them, and the less that we turn ourselves to them. We never can behappy by searching for happiness; but when we give up this search, andduty becomes the motto of life, we are inevitably happy. God mustsatisfy us--his personal love to us, communion with him, thecontemplation of his character, ways, and works; in short, theconsciousness of having him for a personal friend, disclosing all ourthoughts to him, looking to him and waiting for him in all things, and, as the Bible expresses it, "walking" with him. Then he makes our wantshis care; and while he leads us through strange paths which we shouldnot have chosen, it is to bring us, at the last, into a condition whichwill make us happy chiefly from the reflection that God himselfappointed it. Disappointments, of which we were forewarned, and which wehad every reason to expect, embitter that life whose only sources ofhappiness are confined to this world, and do not relate to God. Makinghim the supreme source of our happiness, we give up undue sorrow fordeparted friends, feeling that they are removed from all need of ourcommiseration, and all power to afford us comfort and help, any furtherthan their example and remembered words instruct us. We shall then bechiefly concerned to know and to do the will of God, to watch over theinterests of our souls, preparing for life, with its important duties, and storing up those recollections which are to occupy our thoughts inthe review of life beyond the grave. We shall bear in mind that we, too, are to have survivors, to whom it will be the greatest favor if we leavea good assurance, based upon their remembrance of our piety, that we arehappy, thus constraining them to follow us to heaven. We shall do wellif we habitually say, as Elijah said to Elisha, "The Lord hath sent meto Jordan;" and that we are one day to be taken up and conveyed to thatsame heaven whither Elijah went, and from which he came to meet Christ, and to speak with him of his decease, which he should accomplish atJerusalem. What if we knew that some day, not far distant, flamingchariots and horses, over our dwelling, would wait to bring us home toGod? The ministering spirits are already designated who are to performthis office for those who are heirs of salvation. What, then, are wesearching for among the dark, gloomy valleys of sorrow, or on the hillsof earthly vision? If our friends are with Christ, we must be preparedto be with him, or lose their society; and that loss will be worse thanthe first. 

Sometimes we feel as though we were sailing away from our departedfriends, leaving them behind us. Not so; we are sailing towards them;they went forward, and we are nearer to them now than yesterday; and thenight is far spent; the day is at hand. If life, or any undue portion, be spent in grief which unfits us for duty, we shall see, in heaven, howmuch better it would have been had we had more faith, and had lived moreas then we should desire our surviving friends to live, quickened andstrengthened by the assured hope of our being in heaven, and by theexpectation of meeting us there. 

But there is one kind of sorrow and desire for departed friends which, in its consequences, is greatly to be deplored. Some refuse to becomedecided Christians, because their friends, they think, were notbelievers in the faith which these surviving friends are now persuadedis the truth. To embrace this truth, as essential to salvation, it isfelt, will be to condemn these departed friends; and some have, in somany words, declared that they preferred to share the fate of theircompanions, or children, who gave no evidence of having accepted thegospel, as it is now viewed by these survivors. 

How sad would be such a catastrophe as this: The departed friend, in thesecret exercises of his mind, and by the good Spirit of God, may havebeen, at the last hour, prevailed upon to accept the offers of salvationby a crucified Redeemer. He gave no intimation of this, owing, perhaps, to bodily weakness, or to fear and distrust; but, through infinitemercy, he was saved by faith in the Lamb of God. The surviving friend, persuaded of the truth, refuses to comply with it, and loves thedeparted friend more than Christ, or truth and duty; and then, dying, finds that the departed friend is saved, through that very faith, whichthe other refused from idolatrous attachment to the departed; and nowthey are separated; whereas, had the survivor forsaken all for Christand the truth, he would have had a hundred fold in this world, and, inthe world to come, would have found that friend whom he would, as itwere, have forsaken for Christ's sake and the gospel's. It is safe, itis best, for each of us to do his duty, to walk by the light affordedus, and not to make a creature our standard, nor our chief good. 

If we meet certain of our friends at the end of their search afterpleasure, having forgotten their God and Saviour, and see themdisappointed, and utterly destitute of any thing to make them happyforever, and all because they would not forego their chase afterunsatisfying pleasure, --there is many a faithful Christian friend, whoseexample and advice they disregarded, who could then reply, "Did I notsay unto you, Go not?"

In the name of some unspeakably dear to you, we say, "We are journeyingunto the place of which the Lord said, I will give it you; come thouwith us, and we will do thee good; for the Lord hath spoken goodconcerning Israel. "

Our friends, who have gone to heaven, ought not to be invested, in ourthoughts, with such melancholy associations as we are prone to connectwith them. To die is gain. Trouble, and sorrow, and the dark river, interpose between us and heaven; but in the prospect which has openedbefore the eye of the redeemed spirit, there is nothing but widening andbrightening glory. We must not seek for consolation at their departureby bringing them back, in our thoughts, to our dwellings, but by goingforward, in faith, ourselves, to their dwelling. There is much toencourage and help us in doing so, in the following lines, which may beread with profit upon each anniversary of a friend's departure toheaven, until surviving friends read them at the returning anniversariesof our own entrance into the joy of our Lord:--

 "A YEAR IN HEAVEN. 

 A YEAR UNCALENDARED; for what Hast thou to do with mortal time? Its dole of moments entereth not That circle, mystic and sublime, Whose unreached centre is the throne Of Him, before whose awful brow, Meeting eternities are known As but an everlasting now. The thought removes thee far away, -- Too far, --beyond my love and tears; Ah, let me hold thee, as I may; And count thy time by earthly years. 

 A YEAR OF BLESSEDNESS; wherein Not one dim cloud hath crossed thy soul; No sigh of grief, no touch of sin, No frail mortality's control; Nor once hath disappointment stung, Nor care, world-weary, made thee pine; But rapture, such as human tongue Hath found no language for, is thine. Made perfect at thy passing, who Can sum thy added glory now? As on, and onward, upward, through The angel ranks that lowly bow, Ascending still from height to height Unfaltering, where rapt spirits trod, Nor pausing 'mid their circles bright, Thou tendest inward unto God. 

 A YEAR OF PROGRESS, in the love That's only learned in heaven; thy mind Unclogged of clay, and free to soar, Hath left the realms of doubt behind, And wondrous things which finite thought In vain essayed to solve, appear To thy untasked inquiries, fraught With explanation strangely clear. Thy reason owns no forced control, As held it here in needful thrall; God's mysteries court thy questioning soul, And thou may'st search and know them all. 

 A YEAR OF LOVE; thy yearning heart Was always tender, e'en to tears, With sympathies, whose sacred art Made holy all thy cherished years; But love, whose speechless ecstasy Had overborne the finite, now Throbs through thy being, pure and free, And burns upon thy radiant brow. For thou those hands' dear clasp hast felt, Where still the nail-prints are displayed; And thou before that face hast knelt, Which wears the scars the thorns have made. 

 A YEAR WITHOUT THEE; I had thought My orphaned heart would break and die, Ere time had meek quiescence brought, Or soothed the tears it could not dry; And yet I live, to faint and quail Before the human grief I bear; To miss thee so, then drown the wail That trembles on my lips in prayer. Thou praising, while I vainly thrill; Thou glorying, while I weakly pine; And thus between thy heart and mine The distance ever widening still. 

 A YEAR OF TEARS TO ME; to thee The end of thy probation's strife, The archway to eternity, The portal of immortal life; To me the pall, the bier, the sod; To thee the palm of victory given. Enough, my heart; thank God! thank God! That thou hast been a year in heaven. 

IV. 

THE SILENCE OF THE DEAD. 

 Dear, beauteous Death, the jewel of the just. Shining nowhere but in the dark, What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust, Could men outlook that mark! He that hath found some fledged bird's nest, may know, At first sight, if the bird be flown; But what fair field, or grove, he sings in now, That is to him unknown. 

HENRY VAUGHAN. 

The silence of the dead is one of the most impressive and affectingthings connected with the separate state of the soul. We hear the voiceof a dying friend, in some last wish, or charge, or prayer, or farewell, or in some exclamation of joy or hope; and though years are multipliedover the dead, that voice returns no more in any moment of day or night, of joy or sorrow, of labor or rest, in life or in death. 

The voices of creation return to us at periodical seasons. The earlyspring bird startles us with her unexpected note; the winter is over andgone. But no periodical change brings back the voices of departedfriends. A member of the family embarks on a long voyage; but, be itever so long, if life is spared, the letter is received, in which thewritten words, so characteristic of him, recall his looks and the tonesof his voice. Years pass away, and the sound of his footsteps is at thedoor again, and his voice is heard in the dwelling. But of the deadthere comes no news; from the grave no voice, from the separate state nomessage. With our desire to speak once more to the departed, and to hearthem speak, we feel that they must have an intense desire to speak tous. We wonder why they do not break the silence. There is so much ofwhich they could inform us; it would be such a relief, we think, to haveone word from them, assuring us that they arrived safely, and are happy, and, above all things, granting us their forgiveness for the sins whichnow have awakened sorrow. But we wait, and look, and wonder, in vain. 

When we think of the number of the dead, this silence appearsimpressive. Their number far exceeds that of the living. Could they beassembled together, and could those now alive be set over against them, upon an immense plain, to a spectator from above we should be a smallcompany in comparison with them. Should they lift up their voicestogether, ours could not be heard. Yet from that vast multitude we neverhear a voice, --not even a whisper, --nor see a sign. Standing in acemetery a few miles distant from the great city, you hear the low, muffled roar from the streets and bridges, reminding you of the livingtide which is coursing along those highways. But with eight thousand ofthe dead around you in that cemetery, and a world of spirits, which noman can number, just within the veil, you hear nothing from them. No onecomes back to tell us of his experience; no warning, nor comfort, norcounsel, ever reaches our ears. Whatever our trouble, or our joy may be, our need or prosperity; however long and painful the absence of thedeparted may have been; however lonely we may feel, wishing for someword of remembrance and love; and though we visit the grave day by day, and call on the name of the departed, and use every art of endearment topierce the veil between us, --there is the same determined, cold, lastingsilence. "To go down into silence" is a scriptural phrase for the stateof the dead. 

Our feelings seek relief from those vague, uncertain thoughts respectingthe dead which we find occasioned by the gentle manner in which deathmost frequently occurs. The breath is shorter and shorter, and finallyceases, yet so imperceptibly, that, for a moment, it is uncertainwhether the last breath has expired. There is no visible trace of theoutgoing of the soul. Could we see the spirit leave the body, we shouldfeel that one of the mysteries of death is solved. Could we trace itsflight into the air, could we watch its form as it disappeared amongthe clouds, or melted away in a distance greater than the eye cancomprehend, we should not, perhaps, ask for a word to assure usrespecting the state of the soul. But there is no more perfectdelineation of the appearances which death presents to us, than in thefollowing inspired description: "As the waters fail from the sea, andthe flood decayeth and drieth up, so man lieth down and riseth not; tillthe heavens be no more, they shall not awake, nor be raised out of theirsleep. " We see the lying down, the fixedness of the posture, the utterdisregard, in the cold remains, of every thing which passes before them;and these remains are like the channels of a river, or the flats of thesea, when the tide has utterly forsaken them. The soul is like thosevanished waters, as to any manifestation that it continues to exist. 

We miss the departed from his accustomed places; we expect to meet himat certain hours of the day; those hours return, and he is not there;we start as we look upon his vacant place at the table, or around theevening lamp, or in the circle at prayers. No tongue can describe thatblank, that chasm, which is made by death in the family circle, or thevariations in the tones of sorrow and desire with which those words aresecretly repeated, day after day, and night after night: "And where ishe?"

 * * * * *

Is there any assignable cause for the silence of the dead?

We cannot, with certainty, assign the reason for it, and we do not knowwhy the dead are not suffered to reappear to us. We can, nevertheless, see great wisdom and use in this silence, and in our perfect ignorancerespecting their state. 

_It is the arrangement of divine Providence that faith, and not sight, shall influence our characters and conduct. _--It would be inconsistentwith this great law if we should see or hear from the dead. 

The object of God, in his dealings with us, is to exalt the Bible as ourinstructor. If men were left to visions and voices, in which there is somuch room for mistake and delusion, the confusion of human affairs wouldbe indescribably dreadful. Every man would have his vision, or hismessage, the proof, or the correctness, of which would necessarily beconcealed from others, who might have contrary directions, orimpressions; and human affairs would then be like a sea, in which manyrivers ran across each other. 

It would not be safe for departed spirits to be intrusted with the powerof communicating with the living. Though they know far more than we, yettheir information is limited; and, especially, if they should undertaketo counsel us about the future, as they would do in their earnestness tohelp us, we can easily see that, being finite as they are, and unable tolook into the future, they might involve us in serious mistakes, eitherby their ignorance, or by the contrariety of their information. Farbetter is it for man to look only to God, who sees the end from thebeginning, with whom is no variableness, and who is able, as our anxiousfriends would not be, to conceal from us the future, or any informationrespecting it, which it would be an injury for us to know. Should we beinformed of certain things which will happen to us years hence, eitherthe expectation of them would engross our attention, and hinder ourusefulness, or the fear of them would paralyze effort, and destroyhealth, if not life. Borrowed trouble, even now, constitutes a largepart of our unhappiness; but the certain knowledge of a sorrowapproaching us with unrelenting steps, would spread a pall over everything; while prosperity, far in the prospect, would tempt us to forgetour dependence upon God, and would weaken the motives to patientcontinuance in well doing for its own sake. 

Then, with regard to any assurance which the dead would give us abouttruth and duty, we need not their help. For the dead can tell ussubstantially no more than we find recorded in the Bible. They woulddescribe heaven to us, and speak of future punishment. But suppose thatthey did. What language would they use more graphic, or moreintelligible to us, than the language of the Bible? Whatever they said, we should feel obliged to compare it with the Scriptures; if it shouldbe according to them, we do not need it. Besides, the appearance to usof departed friends, would, in many cases, only operate on our fears. But the Bible pleads with us by many gentle motives, as well as bywarnings and terrific descriptions, and sets before us numberlessinducements to repent, which the whole world of the dead, uninspired, could not so well furnish. The appearance and words of a spirit wouldexcite us, and make us afraid; we could not feel and act as well, undersuch influences, as we can under the calm, dispassionate, convincing, and persuasive influences of the Bible. One of the most intelligent andcultivated of women, the wife of a missionary in Turkey, in her lastsickness, having heard her husband read to her several times, from thePilgrim's Progress, respecting the River of Death and the CelestialCity, at last said to him, as he was opening the book, "Read to me outof the Bible; that soothes me; I can hear it for a long time; but evenBunyan agitates me. "

As much as we suppose it would comfort us to have intercourse with thedead, it is easy to see that the great law of the divine government, bywhich faith, and not sight, is the appointed means of our spiritualgood, would be violated, could the dead speak with us. We are to trustin the mercy and the justice of God. This we could not so well do, if weknew things about which, now, we are obliged to exercise faith. Theinspired Word, the only and the all-sufficient rule of faith and duty, is a better guide than the voices of the dead. 

An interesting illustration of this is given by one who witnessed theappearance of departed spirits on a certain most interesting occasion. Two illustrious men, of the Jewish line, appeared and spake withChrist. The person of the Saviour experienced a remarkabletransfiguration, assuring his human soul of the joy set before him; thepresence of the celestial spirits, also, confirming his assurancerespecting the separate existence of souls, and the whole transactionbeing designed to strengthen the faith of the disciples, and of theworld, in the Saviour. 

But what comparative value does one of the inspired witnesses of thisscene give to this heavenly communication, these voices of the dead, andthis visit from the heavenly world? Does he build his faith upon it, asupon a corner stone? No; but after telling us, in glowing language, respecting this most wonderful and impressive scene, he says, "We havealso a more sure word of prophecy; whereunto ye do well that ye takeheed as unto a light that shineth in a dark place, until the day dawn, and the day star arise in your hearts. " That sure word, --"more sure"than the testimony of departed spirits, or than voices from the otherworld, --is the Bible; for he immediately adds, "For the prophecy camenot in old time by the will of man, but holy men of God spake as theywere moved by the Holy Ghost. " The testimony of departed spirits, evenof Moses and Elijah, might be, after all, only "the will of man;" but inthe Bible men have spoken as they were moved by the Holy Ghost. 

As to its being a comfort, in any case, that departed friends shouldspeak to us, it is doubtful whether it would prove to be so. Supposethem to utter words of endearment; this would open the fountains ofgrief in our souls afresh. Suppose them to tell us that they are safeand happy; it would be far better for us, in many cases, to hoperespecting this, than to know it; the knowledge of it might make uscareless and too confident about ourselves; we should be less inclinedto shun the errors of these friends, to guard against theirimperfections, and to fear lest a promise being left us of entering intothat rest, any of us should seem to come short of it. One of the mostinconvenient and uneasy states of mind, is that of insatiablecuriosity--longing to know that which is concealed, dispirited at thedelay of information, refusing effort except under the spur of absoluteassurance. Far better and more healthful is that state of mind whichperforms present duty, and leaves the rest to the unfolding hand oftime; which disdains that prying, inquisitive disposition which is alleye and ear, which lives on excitement, which has no self-respect, norregard for any thing but to know something yet unknown. If God sufferedthe dead to speak to us, we should always be on the watch for some sign;we should be unfitted for the common, practical duties of life; weshould be superstitious, visionary, fanatical, timorous. As it is, howeager we are to pry into the future, or into things purposely hiddenfrom us! If it were certainly known that one had communication with thedead, or if we had good reason to expect such communications, laborwould be neglected, faith, prayer, hope, confidence in God woulddecrease, the Bible would be undervalued through a superior regard to adifferent mode of revelation, and we should live, as it were, among thetombs. A morbid state of feeling would pervade our minds, and the worldwould be full of enchantments, necromancy, and cunning craftiness. Blessed be God for the silence of the dead! We are glad that our weakand foolish hearts, so prone to love the creature more than the Creator, are broken off, by the impenetrable veil of death, from all connectionwith the departed. The salutary influences of death on survivors wouldbe greatly lessened, if our connection and communication with them werecontinued. God is our chief good, not our friends, nor our children; heshuts them up in silence from us, to see if we can say, "Whom have I inheaven but thee? And there is none upon earth that I desire besidesthee. " The painful effect upon our feelings, and upon our nervoussystem, of separations from departed friends, is involuntary andnatural; but to cherish our griefs, to spend much time in melancholymoods, or in poring over the memorials of the departed, so as to exciteand indulge morbid feelings, is not Christian nor wise. 

While this is true, and there is much immoderate and irrational grief, the disposition, with many, is to forget the dead as soon as possible, and forever. Some need to think far more of the deceased. They shouldremember that the dead are alive; that no doubt they think of them; andthat, instead of being separated farther and farther from the deceased, by the lapse of time, they are every day coming nearer and nearer tothem, and they must meet again. 

It is well for us frequently to remember that the silence of the dead isno true exponent of their real state. Incoherent and wild as thethoughts and feelings sometimes are, under the distracting influence ofaffliction and death, and all uncertain as we are about the departure ofthe soul, we are not left without sure and most satisfying informationrespecting the separate state. 

There is no annihilation. The life of the soul is not extinguished likethe flame of a lamp. Existence is not that lingering, twinkling sparkwhich it seems to be in the moments preceding death. To be absent fromthe body, for a Christian, is to be present with the Lord; to die isgain; to depart, and be with Christ, is far better. When the dustreturns to the earth as it was, the spirit ascends to God, who gave it. The soul is more vigorous and active than when shut up in the body, because a higher form of life is required in being with God and angels. We are told that the pious dead are "the spirits of just men madeperfect. " All imperfection arising from bodily organization, as well asfrom our fallen state here, has ceased, and the soul has become a purespirit, in a spiritual world, engaged in spiritual pursuits. Memory isawake; every perceptive faculty is in perfection; the soul that sees fardistant places, in a moment, in sleep, --that holds converse with other, but absent, minds, while the body is sealed in slumber, --not only doesnot need the present body to make it capable of perception, but whenescaped from this material condition, and from dependence upon thesebodily senses, which now are like colored glass to the eyes, it will befar more capable than before; though the spiritual body, at the last, will advance it to a still higher condition. Its judgment is sound, itssensibilities are quick, its thoughts are full of unmixed joy. But weprobably could not understand the nature of its employments, nor itsdiscoveries, nor its sensations, any further than we now do from theword of God. We have no record, nor tradition, of any disclosures madeby Lazarus, or the widow of Nain's son, or the dead who came out oftheir graves at the crucifixion, and went into the Holy City, andappeared unto many. The only way to account for this seems to be, tosuppose that they told nothing of what they had seen or heard. Had theymade any disclosures of the unseen world, those disclosures would neverhave been forgotten. They would have been preserved in the memories ofmen, to be handed down from age to age. Paul himself had no verydistinct recollection of what he had heard and seen in Paradise; for hesays that he could not tell whether he was in the body or out of thebody. We think in words, which at the time are intelligible, but weoften fail when we try to produce them; so that Paul's expression, verysingular in each part of it, --"heard unspeakable words, "--may refer tothe impressions made on his own mind in his revelations, as not possibleto be clothed in speech. It may have been with him, upon his return tothe body, and with the risen dead, as it was with Nebuchadnezzar, whoknew that he had dreamed, and the dream had made powerful impressions onhis mind, but the dream itself had departed from him. Now, if the bodilysenses, or the soul while in the body, cannot comprehend so as toexpress what has been seen in heaven, it is doubtful if we couldunderstand it if it should be revealed by a spirit from heaven. TheBible has probably given us as definite information about heaven as wecould possibly understand--certainly as much as God judges best for ourusefulness and happiness. But we must probably learn an unearthlylanguage, and, in order to this, unearthly ideas, before we canunderstand the things which are within the veil. The modes ofcommunication in heaven between people of strange languages, whether bya common speech, or by the power given to the disciples at the day ofPentecost, or by intuition, are not made known to us; but this wonderfulfaculty of language, holding an intermediate place between spirit andmatter, has, of course, a corresponding faculty in the world of spirits. It is, no doubt, an inconceivably pleasurable source of enjoyment. Thisincreases the sublimity which there is in the silence of the dead, andits impressiveness. For what fancy can conceive of the communications, from heart to heart, in that multitude where every new acquaintance isthe occasion of some new joy, or wakes some thrilling recollection, orleads to some interesting discovery, and gives some fresh objects oflove and praise! The land of silence surely extends no farther than tothe gates of that heavenly city. All is life and activity within; butfrom that world, so populous with thoughts, and words, and songs, norevelation penetrates through the dark, silent land which lies betweenus and them. Our friends are there. Stars, so distant from us that theirlight, which began its travel ages since, has not reached us, are nonethe less worlds, performing their revolutions, and occupied by theirbusy population of intelligent spirits, whose history is full ofwonders. Yet the first ray denoting the existence of those worlds, hasnever met the eye of the astronomer in his incessant vigils. 

The silence of the departed will, for each of us, soon, very soon, beinterrupted. Entering, among breaking shadows and softly unfoldinglight, the border land, we shall gradually awake to the opening visionof things unseen and eternal, all so kindly revealing themselves to ourunaccustomed senses as to make us say, "How beautiful!" and instead ofexciting fear, leading us almost to hasten the hand which is removingthe veil. Some well-known voice, so long silent, may be the first toutter our name; we are recognized, we are safe. A face, a dear, dearface, breaks forth amidst the crayoned lines of the dissolving night;a form--an embrace--assures us that faith has not deceived us, buthas delivered us up to the objects hoped for, the things not seen. O beatific moment! awaiting every follower of them who, by faith andpatience, inherit the promises--dwellers there "whither the Forerunneris for us entered. "

 * * * * *

As we are soon to be utterly silent towards surviving friends, and theworld in which we now live, we should use our speech as we shall wish wehad done when we are silent in death. Any counsels, instructions, records, explanations, communications of any kind, which we would make, we should be diligent to perform. All the loving words, and tokens ofaffection, which we may suppose we shall hereafter desire tocommunicate, we shall do well habitually to bear in mind, and let theminfluence our feelings and conduct, day by day. In times of sickness, ofseparation, of absence, at happy returns, our feelings towards familiarfriends and members of the family are such as might well be thestandard, and pattern, of our general intercourse, especially when wethink that the days will come when we shall highly prize and long forthat intercourse, which now we have such opportunity to enrich withsweet and fragrant recollections, occasioning no pang of regret, norsting. It is well to remember that, one day, we must part, and to letthat anticipation intensify our love, and add charms to this dailycompanionship, which may soon appear to be a privilege which we did notsufficiently prize. 

The time will come, when, to many a beloved survivor, a word or sign, breaking the silence of the departed spirit, and giving some assurancethat it is happy, would, perhaps, be the means of dispelling a life-longsorrow--would lift a crushing burden from the heart. The time to preparethat assurance, so that it shall come with most effectual power, is now, in days of health, when the evidences of our piety shall not beattainted by a suspicion of constraint and insincerity, arising fromlate repentance and an apparently forced submission to God. Ourrecollections of a departed Christian friend, of whose salvation hispious life makes us perfectly assured, come over us like the softpulsations of a west wind in summer, laden with the sweets of a new-mownfield; or like the clear, streaming moonlight in the brief intervalbetween the broken clouds; or like remembered music, which someaccidental word of a song has startled from its place and diffusedthrough the soul. Thus departed Christian friends are the means ofunspeakable happiness to survivors; thus "their works do follow them;"and we should make large account of this when we are weighing thequestion whether we will now, or in the closing hours of life, sofearfully uncertain, begin to love and serve God. 

The question which earth asks respecting one and another, "Where is he?"is no doubt repeated in heaven: Have you met him in any of thesestreets? Did you see him on yonder hills? Angels, returned from otherhappy worlds, have you heard of him? Where is he? He is conscious, intelligent, receiving sensations from objects around him as vividly asever. But, Where is he?

Of others, the question could be answered by ten thousand happy voices, "All is well. " With regard to many, the silence of the dead, forbiddingour inquiries, is the only thing which, in any measure, composes thegrief of friends. But as to our Christian friends, we have no morereason to inquire with solicitude respecting them, than concerning theSaviour himself. "I go to prepare a place for you, "--"that where I am, there ye may be also. " The dying Christian may truly say to his friends, as the Saviour did to his: "WHITHER I GO YE KNOW, AND THE WAY YE KNOW. "

V. 

THE REDEMPTION OF THE BODY. 

 What though my body run to dust? Faith cleaves unto it, counting every grain With an exact and most particular trust, Reserving all for flesh again. 

GEORGE HERBERT. 

It is good to think of Michael, the archangel, disputing with the devilabout the body of Moses. The dispute was over a grave. The Most High hadhimself performed the funeral rites of his servant; for, we read, "TheLord buried him. " We naturally think of the archangel as placed incharge of the precious dust. 

Some great commission, connected with the resurrection of the dead, appears to be held by the chief spirit of the angelic world. "For theLord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice ofthe archangel, and the trump of God. " The burial of each and every bodywhich is destined to the resurrection of the just, is, therefore, notimprobably an object of interest with him who, under the God-man, willhave the supervision of the last day. With a view to that harvest of theearth, he will now see the furrows made, the seed planted, the hillprepared. He will have a care that every thing lies down, whether byseeming accident, or by violence, or by design, in just the place fromwhich the arranging mind of Him who is Lord both of the dead and of theliving, has appointed it to come forth. Every circumstance attendingthat event, the great object of hope in heaven and on earth, --ourresurrection, --is of sufficient importance to be the subject of thoughtand preparation on the part of Christ, himself the first fruits of themthat slept. 

The care of the patriarchs concerning their burial places is like one ofthose premonitions in an antecedent stratum of geology, or species ofanimals, of a coming manifestation;--a prophesying germ, a yearning, created by Him who, with all-seeing wisdom, establishes anticipationsin the moral, as well as in the natural, world, concerning things withregard to which a thousand years are with him as one day. 

Not on earth alone, as it seems, is an interest felt in the death andburial of the righteous. 

For when the leader of Israel in the wilderness went up to the hill topto die, the two great angels, of heaven and hell, met and contended overhis grave. 

Denied the privilege of burial in the promised land, Moses may haveappeared to Satan so evidently under the frown of God, as to encouragehis meddlesome efforts to inflict some injury upon him, through dishonordone to his remains. Perhaps he would convey them back to Egypt, a giftto the brooding vengeance of the Pharaohs, who would gratify their angerby preserving that body in the house of their gods;--thus showing theirspiteful satisfaction at the disappointment of the prophet whom Jehovahwould not permit to enter that promised land, in hope of which thegreat spoiler had led away the bondmen of Egypt. 

Perhaps the devil would gratify the desire of some idolatrous nation, craving new objects of worship, by leading them to canonize this Hebrewchief; and thus make of the lawgiver and prophet of Israel a false god. 

Perhaps he could even prevail on some of the Israelites themselves, ifnot the whole of them, to worship this revered form; or might he buthave the designation and the custody of his grave, he would, perhaps, fix it where it would be most convenient for the nation to assemble, atstated times, for some idolatrous rites. 

But the great vicegerent of the resurrection was there. To him the bodyof a saint is suggestive of the last day; it is a special assignment byChrist, an official trust, to the archangel. Bodies of saints are, therefore, most precious to him. Particles of the precious metal are notmore precious to the miner, pearls to the diver, ivory to theCoast-merchant, and the shell-fish to the maker of Tyrian purple. Thebody of each saint is an unfinished history of redemption; a destiny ofindescribable interest and importance belongs to it. Any subaltern angelmay have charge of winds and seas, of day and night, of summer andwinter; but only the archangel is counted meet to have charge, and tokeep watch and ward, over the bodies of saints as they sleep in Jesus. 

"He disputed about the body of Moses. " It was a dispute characterized onthe part of the archangel more by act than word. Words are hushed ingreat encounters. Debate with a pirate, a body-snatcher, would be folly;no arguments, therefore, were wasted, on the top of Nebo, by Michael, over the grave of Moses. "The Lord rebuke thee, " was his retort; hisheavenly form stopping the way, his baffling right arm hindering theaccursed design, were the invincible logic of that dispute. 

O prince of angels, watchman, herald, master of the guard, at theresurrection of the just, --comptroller, now, of that treasury whichreceives and keeps their precious forms, --from whose lips that signalis to come which millions on millions are to hear, and live, --whatimages of glory and terror fill thy mind in the anticipation of thatmoment when thy dread commission is to be fulfilled! Is not that"trumpet" sometimes taken into thy hand? Dost thou not place it to thylips, but quickly lay it aside, and patiently and joyfully watch theswelling number of the graves of saints? Funerals of those who fallasleep in Jesus, to thee are pleasant scenes; they are spring-work, planting times, for thy harvest, O chief reaper! While, with burstinghearts, we turn from the new-made mound, one more glorified body, inanticipation, is added to thy charge. 

Smiling at our sorrow, in joyful thought of the change to be witnessedin and around that sepulchre when the family circle shall there put onincorruption, thou canst not pity us except as we pity the brief sorrowsof children. If the devil should approach that spot, to work someunknown, and, to us, inconceivable, harm to that body, --be it the bodyof the humblest saint, one of those little ones who believe in Jesus, orof those infants whose angels do always behold the face of God, --thou, mighty cherub, wouldst be there, and, if need be, with a band of angels, "every one with his sword upon his thigh, because of fear in the night;"and Nebo and its "dispute" would reappear. Poor, dying, mouldering body!hast thou the archangel himself for thy keeper? Not only so:

 "God, my Redeemer, lives, And often from the skies Looks down and watches all my dust, Till he shall bid it rise. "

Nor is it strange, since we read, "The body is for the Lord, and theLord for the body. " "Know ye not that your body is the temple of theHoly Ghost which is in you?"

To rise from the dead seems to have been something more to Paul thangoing to heaven, or than being in heaven. He knew that he was to spendthe interval between death and the resurrection in heaven; but beyondeven this, he had a joy which he felt was essential to the completenessof the heavenly state. 

See the proof of this in the following words: "If by any means I mightattain unto the resurrection of the dead. "

Since he was destined, like all of Adam's race, to come forth from hisgrave, he needed to make no effort whatever merely to rise from thedead; that was inevitable, and irrespective of character. Besides, herepresents this object for which he strove as something which requiredeffort, which cannot be said of merely rising from the grave. 

Paul had been permitted to know, by personal observation, what therising from the dead implies. Caught up into Paradise, we may supposethat he had seen the patriarch Enoch, and the prophet Elijah, with theirglorified bodies; the presence of which in heaven, we may imagine, hasever served to enhance the happiness of that world, by holding forth, before the eyes of the redeemed, the sign and pledge of their futureexperience when they shall receive their bodies. For it is notpresumptuous to suppose that the sight of Enoch and Elijah has been, andwill be, till the last trumpet sounds, a source of joyful expectation tothe inhabitants of heaven, leading them to anticipate the final day withintense interest, as the time when they will be invested, like thosehonored saints, with all the capacities of their completed nature, whichnature, while the body lies buried, is in a dissevered state. If Paul, when in heaven, saw and felt the power of this expectation in the mindsof glorified saints, no wonder that the resurrection of the body seemedto him, ever after, to be the crown of Christian expectation and hope. 

More than all, he had seen the man Christ Jesus, in his glorified body;who on earth had said, "I am the resurrection and the life"--himself anillustration of it, whom alone the grave has yielded up to die no more. He is, therefore, to saints in heaven, a far more interesting objectthan Enoch and Elijah, who never died. "For now is Christ risen from thedead, and is become the first fruits of them that slept. " This sight, ofChrist in heaven, must have had unutterable interest for Paul, from theassurance that Christ will "change our vile body, that it may befashioned like unto his glorious body;" for "we know that when he shallappear, " Paul himself tells us, "we shall be like him; for we shall seehim as he is. " This knowledge, obtained in the heavenly world, may haveled the apostle to think of the resurrection as the crown of all hisexpectations and hopes. 

It is noticeable that the writers of the New Testament, and Jesushimself, refer chiefly to the resurrection and the last day as sourcesof comfort, and also of warning. Now this is made a principal ground ofbelief, with many, that there is either no consciousness between deathand the resurrection; or, that none have gone to heaven, nor to hell, but to intermediate places, seeing that final rewards and punishmentsare, in so many instances, wholly predicated of the last day. 

But those who believe that the souls of the righteous are, at theirdeath, made perfect in holiness, and do immediately pass into glory, seeproof, in all this prominence which is given to the last day, and to theresurrection, that the sacred writers regarded the resurrection andfinal judgment as the great consummation, towards which souls, in heavenand in hell, would be looking forward with intense expectation andinterest; that neither will the joys of heaven nor the pains of hell becomplete, till the account of our whole influence upon the world, extending to the end of time, is made up, and the body is added to thesoul. When Paul comforts the mourners of Thessalonica, he bids them to"sorrow not as they that have no hope; for, " (and now he does not speakof heaven, and of souls being already there, as the source ofconsolation, but) "if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even sothem, also, that sleep in Jesus will God bring with him;" and heproceeds to speak of the resurrection, --not of the speedy reunion offriends after death, but of the departed as coming with Christ at thelast day. This, instead of being an argument against the immediatedeparture of souls to heaven, arises from the desire to employ thestrongest possible proof that the pious dead are not only safe, but aregreatly honored. "Resurrection" was an abounding subject of thought, argument, and illustration in those days; the state of the dead betweendeath and the last day, is comparatively disregarded by the apostles, while their minds were full of the great question of the age--theResurrection. This fullness of thought and constant occupation of mindabout the resurrection, as the cardinal doctrine of Christian hope, explains the apparent belief of the apostles, in some passages, that thefinal day was near. This the apostle Paul expressly denies, in thesecond chapter of the Second Epistle to the Thessalonians. But a greaterevent, looked at in the same line of vision with an intermediate andsmaller object, will, of course, have the prominent place in ourthoughts. The less will be held subordinate to the greater; perhaps weshall seem to underrate the less, in our exalted conceptions of thatwhich rises beyond and above. We shall see, as we proceed, why theexpectation of the last day seemed to occupy the thoughts of apostles asthe paramount object of expectation. 

It is perfectly obvious that, at the resurrection, the bodies of thejust will be endued with wonderful susceptibilities and powers. This isrendered certain by the great mystery of godliness, --God manifest in theflesh. The greatest honor which could be conferred upon our nature, andthe greatest testimony to its intrinsic dignity, and to its being, inits unfallen state, in the image of God, is bestowed upon it by theincarnation of the Word. True, there was a necessity that the Redeemershould be made like unto us, however inferior human nature might be inthe scale of creation; still, unless there had been such intrinsicdignity and excellence in our sinless nature, as to make it compatiblefor the second Person in the Godhead to be united with it, we cannotsuppose that this union would have been permanent; it would havefulfilled a temporary purpose, and then have ceased. 

Perhaps we slightly err if we think of Christ's assumption of humannature as, in any respect, an incongruous act of humiliation. For manwas made in the image of God; so that when Christ was made flesh, without sin, he took upon himself that which, in some sense, wascongruous with his divine nature. His humiliation consisted, in part, inhis doing this; but more especially in his doing this for such apurpose--for sinners; "in his being born, and that in a low condition, made under the law, undergoing the miseries of this life, the wrath ofGod, and the cursed death of the cross, in being buried and continuingunder the power of death for a time. " Had there been no inherentcongruity between our nature and the divine, the human nature ofChrist, having accomplished its purpose of suffering and death, wouldhave been left in the grave. "But now is Christ risen from the dead;"the body and the human soul, which were disunited when he hung upon thecross, now constitute the same man, Christ Jesus. "The only Redeemer ofGod's elect is the Lord Jesus Christ, who, being the eternal Son of God, became man, and so was, and continues to be, God and man, in twodistinct natures and one person, forever. " The latter part of thisanswer of the Assembly's Shorter Catechism is thus substantiated by theNew Testament: "When he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shallsee him as he is. " In other words, he will be, when he appears, thatwhich he now is--will remain the same until his second coming. Afterthat, he will remain as he was before: "Jesus Christ, the sameyesterday, to-day, and forever. " He is represented as holding an eternalrelation to the redeemed in his glorified nature: "The Lamb which is inthe midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them untoliving fountains of waters. " We might, indeed, suppose that the manChrist Jesus would have an eternal recompense for his sufferings anddeath in an everlasting union with the Godhead; nor can any one think, with satisfaction, of a severance between his two natures, and of aconsequent humiliation, or deposition, of that human nature, which, atthe great day, will, for so long a time, have sustained such aconnection with the divine nature. For our present purpose, however, which is to show the intrinsic dignity of the human nature, it would beenough that it has been in such connection with the Godhead, and haspassed through such scenes, and sustained such vast responsibilities. This is sufficient to prove that human nature is intrinsically capableand great; and, indeed, it reveals to us as nothing else does, the realdignity of our nature. Some, who have rejected the doctrine of Christ'stwo natures, have written much and eloquently with regard to man'sgreatness in creation. They, however, missed the very thing whichchiefly proves it; for all who believe in the Deity of Christ have aproof and illustration of this great theme which trancend all others. 

This idea, of future capability and exaltation for human nature, asproved by the Saviour's incarnation, is brought to view in the secondchapter of the Epistle to the Hebrews. The second Psalm is there quotedas speaking of man: "Thou hast put all things under his feet. " "Butnow, " the apostle says, "we see not yet all things put under him;" man, as a race, has not reached his full destiny of glory and honor; but, inthe person of Christ, human nature has taken possession of its futureinheritance. We see not yet all things put under man, as a race; but "wesee Jesus, who was made a little lower than the angels for the sufferingof death, crowned with glory and honor;"--a sign and pledge of ourdestiny. 

To the mind of Paul, the sight, in heaven, of what he was to become, setforth by the glorified person of the Son of God, his Saviour andinfinite Friend, no doubt made the resumption of the body, at the lastday, the most desirable experience of which it was possible for him toconceive. Paradise, with all its social pleasures, gates of pearl, streets of gold, every thing, in short, external to him, must haveseemed, to the apostle, not worthy to be compared with the glory whichwas to be revealed in him. An intelligent man is far more interested inhis own personal endowments, than in the accidental circumstances of hissituation. Every one, who is not degraded in his feelings, would preferto be enriched with natural, moral, and intellectual powers, rather thanbe the richest of men, or an hereditary monarch, with inferior talentsand worth. To such a man as Paul, the possession of his complete, glorified nature, at the resurrection, must, for this reason, haveseemed far better than all the pleasures or honors of the heavenlyworld. That completed nature would constitute him a being whollyperfected, invest him with a likeness to the Son of God, bring him intostill nearer union with that adorable Redeemer, who, Paul says, lovedhim and gave himself for him, and for whom, he says, he had suffered theloss of all things. The sight of the man Christ Jesus wearing Paul'snature in a glorified state, no doubt lived and glowed in his memoryafter his return to earth, and made him think of the resurrection as theevent, in his personal history, to which every thing else wassubordinate. He shows the interest which he felt in this event, when, writing to the Romans, he says, "And not only they, "--that is, "thecreatures, " or creation, --"but ourselves, also, which have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waitingfor the adoption, to wit, the redemption, of our body. " In his address, at Jerusalem, before his accusers and the people, he cried out, "Of thehope and resurrection of the dead I am called in question. " It wasuniformly a prominent topic of his thoughts. 

It is by no means impossible, nor improbable, judging from analogy, thatthere may be, in the human soul, faculties which are slumbering, untila glorified body assists in their development. Persons born blind havethe dormant faculty of seeing; the gift of the eye would bring it intoexercise. So of the other senses, and their related mental faculties. With a glorified body, then, truly it doth not yet appear what we shallbe; but the thought itself is rapture, that our souls at present may beas disproportioned to their future expansion, as the acorn is to the oakof a century's growth, which is infolded now, and dormant, in the seed. 

The addition of a body to the glorified spirit will, therefore, be ahelp, and not an encumbrance. For we are not to suppose that the soul, after having been for centuries in a state superior to its presentcondition, would retrograde, in returning to the body. A common idearespecting a body is, that it is necessarily a clog. True, by reason ofsin and its effects, it is now a "vile body;" and Paul speaks of it as"the body of this death. " But, even while we are in this world, a bodyis an indispensable help to the soul. The disembodied spirit, probably, is not capable of sustaining a full, active relation to a world ofmatter; a material form is necessary to make its powers serviceablehere. This being so, there is certainly reason, from analogy, to supposethat the addition of a spiritual body to the glorified soul will notnecessarily work any deterioration to the spirit. At all events, wecannot suppose that the bliss of heaven will be suffered to diminish, byremanding the emancipated spirit into connection with any thing whichwill subtract from the state to which it will have arrived. There is alaw of progress in the divine government, by which the intelligentuniverse will be forever advancing. We are to be changed "from glory toglory;" not from a greater glory to a less, but into the same image withChrist. 

It is the opinion of some that every created being has a corporeal part, and that God alone is perfectly a spirit. However this may be, it isevident that the souls of believers after death, though advanced farbeyond their present earthly condition, and though they are "withChrist, " and though to die is gain, and though they are in the heaven ofheavens with Christ, (which is where the penitent thief went, and wherePaul had his revelation, and where Christ went when he died;--for Pauluses the words "third heavens, " and "Paradise, " interchangeably, ) are, nevertheless, incomplete as to their natures, "waiting for the adoption, to wit, the redemption of our body. " Where in the Bible are we led tosuppose that they are detained in an inferior region, or that there are, at most, only two redeemed human beings now in "heaven, " viz. , Enoch andElijah, or probably not even they? But a corporeal part, we may suppose, is necessary to the fullest participation in the employments andenjoyments of the spiritual world. Light requires atmosphere to modifyit for the human eye, which otherwise could not endure its brightness. So it may be that a corporeal part is necessary to modify many of thethings which are unseen and eternal, that they may be apprehended by thesoul. Let no one say that matter must obstruct or dim the senses of thesoul; that a body must act as a veil to the spirit, and shut out muchknowledge. It is not so here. Matter helps us in the acquisition ofknowledge, as, for example, glass in optical instruments. The telescope, with its lenses, gives the eye vast compass; the microscope gives it apower, equally wonderful, of minute vision. True, in these cases it ismatter helping matter--glass assisting the eye; the analogy is notperfect between this and the aid which the spiritual body may afford thesoul. But, if we remember that there is to be progression in the powersand faculties of our nature, and that if a body is added to theglorified spirit, it must be to assist it, to put it forward in itsacquisitions and enjoyments, we cannot resist the belief that theaddition of the new body to the soul will be a vast accession of powerand capability. If the eye and the mind can receive such aid from thetelescope here, who knows that the eye of the glorified body may not beitself a telescope, increasing in its capability with the progress ofits being. 

We may have some view of what the glorified body must necessarily be, inthinking of it as a fit companion to the glorified spirit. The soulhaving been in heaven for ages, and having grown in all spiritualexcellence, the body, to be a help to such a spirit, to be an occasionof joy, and not of regret, must, of course, be in advance of our presentcorporeal nature. What must the body of Isaiah, and of David, be, at theresurrection, to correspond with the vast powers and attainments ofthose glorified spirits? We could not believe, certainly we could notsee, how these bodies of ours could be made capable of such union, wereit not that, in the man Christ Jesus, we see our corporeal naturecapable of such transformation as to make it compatible for his humanmind, and indwelling Deity, to receive it into their ineffable union. 

All this being so, we may, in some measure, conceive of the feelingswith which the souls in heaven anticipate the resurrection; and we ceaseto wonder why Paul speaks of his resurrection as the great object of hisdesire--not merely to be in heaven, but, being in heaven, with Christ, to be in possession of a completed nature, like Christ's. 

From the grave where it was sown in corruption, it will come forth inincorruption; sown in dishonor, it will be raised in glory; sown inweakness, it will be raised in power; sown a natural body, it will beraised a spiritual body. It was "bare grain" when it fell into theearth; but the corn, with its stalk, and leaves, and the curious ear, with its silk, and its wrappings, the multiplication of the "bare grain"into such a product, are an illustration of the apostle's words, --"Thousowest not that body that shall be;" hence, he argues, say not, incredulously, "How are the dead raised, and with what body do theycome?" God giveth the grain a body as it hath pleased him; he can dothe same with regard to that part of man's nature which is committed fora while to the earth. Let not the natural difficulties connected withthis subject make us sceptical. There are no more difficulties connectedwith a grave than with a grape vine. Those distant twigs, on that dryvine, begin to bud and blossom; grapes form upon them; it is filled withclusters. Is there any thing in the resurrection more strange than this?Twice, inspiration says to a man, "Thou fool!"--once, to a godless, richman, and, once, to him who is sceptical about the resurrection of thebody. 

When the glorified spirit and the glorified body meet, the moment whenthe investiture of the soul with its spiritual form takes place, and theforcible divorce of the soul and body is terminated by new, strangenuptials, there must be an experience which now defies all power ofimagination. We may have known, in this world, all the thrillingexperiences of which our natures here are capable; we shall also haveseen and felt what it is to awake in heaven, satisfied with Christ'slikeness; and all the new-born joys of heavenly sensations will haveseemed to leave us nothing to be experienced which can bring a newrapture to the heart; yet when the body is raised, and the triumphantspirit comes to put it on afresh, it will be an addition to all the pastjoys of the heavenly state. As we look on one another, and see, in eachother's beauty and glory, an image of our own; as we remember how wevisited the graves of loved ones, and what thoughts and feelings we hadthere, and then see those graves yielding forms like Christ's; as we seethe Saviour's person mirrored in ours on every side, and behold theliving changed in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, there will be anexceeding great joy, such, perhaps, as the universe had never beforeknown. But to each of us the most perfect joy will be his ownconsciousness, existence being then a rapture such as we neverexperienced. Then the bird is winged, the jewel is set in gold, theflower blooms, the harp receives all her strings, the heir is crowned. No wonder that Paul said, looking through and beyond heaven, "If by anymeans I might attain unto the resurrection of the dead. "

Perhaps we now think of the last day with dread, as a day ofconsternation. It is not always that we can think of the heavens onfire, the earth dissolved, the dead arising, and the judgmentproceeding, without some feeling of dismay. But in heaven, we shall longhave anticipated that day as the day of our complete triumph. The gravewill, till that time, have imprisoned one part of our nature. The curseof the law will not have passed away entirely, and in every respect, till all which belongs to us is redeemed from every natural, as well asmoral, consequence of sin. It will be an expectation of unmingled joy tosee this accomplished. The approach of the day will fill us with morepleasure than the arrival of any other wished-for moment. We shall comewith Christ to judgment. "Them that sleep in Jesus will God bring withhim. " We shall have a part in the glory of Christ, and be associatedwith him; for, "Do ye not know that the saints shall judge the world?""Know ye not that we shall judge angels?" What curious interest therewill be to receive back from the dust of the earth the dishonored, corrupted, mouldered, wasted, perished body. In the Saviour, even, weshall not have seen all the wonders of the resurrection from the dead;for, "He whom God raised saw no corruption;" but we shall be raised fromcorruption. To be clothed upon with that house which is from heaven, tobe a completed, perfected human being, will be, up to that time, thegreatest possible manifestation to us of divine wisdom and power. 

The new body will bring with it sources of enjoyment which will be avast addition to the previous happiness of heaven. There will be perfectsatisfaction in every one with his own body--no consciousness ofdefects, of deformity, of weakness. Comparisons of ourselves with otherswill not excite dissatisfaction and envy; every one will be perfect ofhis kind, and will differ in some things from every other, and will bean object of love and admiration with all. We are astonished here withthe intellectual, oratorical, vocal powers of others, with theirknowledge, their talent, their skill; but there we shall no doubt befilled also with astonishment at our own powers and acquisitions, andthus we shall be more capable of appreciating and enjoying theendowments of others. God is pleased to raise up one and another, fromtime to time, with great powers to charm their fellow-creatures; andthus he would lure us on to heaven, teaching us how much we can enjoy, and how much we shall lose if we are not saved. Those who are deprivedof very many intellectual and social pleasures here, which they couldappreciate as well as their more favored friends, will soon have it madeup to them. By the likeness of their glorified nature to the humannature of Christ, they are to be intimately associated with him forever. This, of itself, is an assurance and pledge, that their heavenlyhappiness will not be measured by their relative inferiority to theirbrethren in this world. To a benevolent mind it is a great joy to thinkof good people, who are deprived, in this world, of education andculture, entering upon a career of boundless knowledge, rising to thehighest pitch of mental development, and enjoying it all the more fortheir former disadvantages in their probationary state. "And, behold, there are last which shall be first. " Distinctions made here byknowledge will be transient, like gifts of prophecy, and tongues; for itis in this sense that it is said, "whether there be knowledge, it shallvanish away. " And when we look upon those dear children of God who havelong suffered under bodily deformity, and "have borne, and have hadpatience, and have not fainted, " we love to think of their glorifiedbodies, and of that rich zest in the possession of them which will beboth the natural consequence, and the gracious reward, of theirpatience; nay, we love to think that some special, personal beauty, somepeculiar grace and glory, may be given them by Him who so delights incompensatory acts in nature, in providence, and in grace. 

Was it not the object of the transfiguration, in part, to give the humansoul of Christ such an idea of his future glory in heaven, as tostrengthen him for his agony and death? Yes; for the heavenly visitants"spake of his decease which he should accomplish at Jerusalem. " Thatanticipation of his glorified nature was a part of "the joy set beforehim. " Let Christ on Tabor, and faith, do for us, with regard to presentbodily sorrows and sufferings, that which the transfiguration did forJesus in the days of his humiliation. "Who shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto his glorious body, according to theworking whereby he is able even to subdue all things unto himself. "

Through the long interval of death and the separate state, theanticipation of the last day and of the resurrection will, no doubt, be to the wicked a predominant source of terror. While the joyfulanticipations of it, in heaven, will be like the advancing steps ofmorning, when there begin to be signs, in the tabernacle for the sun, of that bridegroom coming out of his chamber, and of that strong manrejoicing to run a race, and every thing will be astir with the notesof preparation for that day, for which all other days were made, theapproach of it will be, to the lost, a deepening gloom, its arrival thesettling down of interminable night. Instead of entering into theirbodies with transport, as the righteous do, they will each be like aprisoner removed from one jail to another with new bars and bolts. Ifit be not unreasonable to suppose that the appearance of the body willconform to the character, and if the bodies of Isaiah, and Paul, andJohn must be seraphic, to correspond with their experience andattainments, what must the bodies of the wicked be! They will have spentcenturies in sinning, and suffering, debased in every part, the image ofGod supplanted by the image of him whose service they preferred to thatof a holy God and Saviour. What a moment will that be, when the sinner'sgrave is opened by the last trumpet, and a hideous form rises to receivea frantic spirit! "The harvest is the end of the world, and the reapersare the angels. " "As, therefore, the tares are gathered and burned inthe fire, so shall it be in the end of this world. The Son of man shallsend forth his angels, and they shall gather out of his kingdom allthings that offend, and them which do iniquity, and shall cast them intoa furnace of fire; there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth. " "Andmany of them that sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some toeverlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt. " Therewill be separations at the graves of those who lay side by side indeath; many a tomb will yield up subjects both for heaven and for hell;the differences in character, between the regenerate and unregenerate, will there be made conspicuous in the correspondence of the risen bodyto the soul, according as the soul shall have arrived at the grave froma state of joy or of woe. Arrests will be made, there will be forcibledetentions, overpowering strength, disregard of entreaties, remorselessrendings asunder of families, unclasping of embraces, and anindiscriminate mixture of all classes among the wicked, indicated by thecommand, "Bind ye the tares together, in bundles, to be burned. " Norwill this be worse for holy angels to witness, than it was to see thosesinners turn their backs on the Lord's supper, year after year. Theycould treat their Saviour's dying agonies, and his blood, with perfectneglect and contempt, through their love of the world and sin; now theyeat the fruit of their own way, and are filled with their own devices. Our treatment of the Saviour will return upon our own heads. What achange will be made in the ideas which many sentimentalists had of holyangels, when they see them executing the terrible orders of their King!and what an illustration it will give of the severity of justice, --therigors of its execution being compatible with the pure benevolence ofholy angels, because of God. We are constantly admonished that thepunishment of the wicked will be a great part of the proceedings on thatday. It is called "the day of judgment and perdition of ungodly men. ""Behold, the Lord cometh, with ten thousands of his saints, to executejudgment. "

 * * * * *

All this serves to invest the death of a dear Christian friend, in ourthoughts, with inexpressible peace and comfort. He, with his Redeemer, can say, "My flesh, also, shall rest in hope. " If we are confident thata friend is gone to be with Christ, death is, even now, swallowed up oflife; and now the thought of what the soul is to inherit, both beforeand after the resurrection, and its contrast with the experience of thelost, should make us joyful in tribulation. True, we cannot, by anyartifice or illusion, make death itself cease to be a curse. Full ofbeauty and consolation as it may be, --nay, we will call ittriumphant, --yet nothing saddens the mind, for the time, more than thesight of true beauty. In heaven things beautiful will not make us sad;nor will the remembrance of a past joy, which so inevitably has thateffect upon us here. We are beholding a sunset. Day is flinging up allits treasures, as though it were breaking to pieces its pavilion foreverand scattering the fragments; and now, when all seemed past, one moreflood of glory streams over the scene, but only for a moment; then comesa last touch of pathos, here and there, like a more distant farewell, awhispered good night. Have tears never come unbidden, do we never feelsad, at such a time? Is not the whole of life, past, present, and tocome, then tinged with sombre hues? and all because the dying dayexpires with such beauty and peace. Not so when a storm suddenly bringsin night upon us. Then we are nerved and braced; we hear no minor key inthe voice of the departing day. It is perfectly natural, therefore, toweep over our dead, even when every thing in their departure isconsolatory and beautiful. It is interesting to observe that it was evenwhen he was on his way to raise the dead body of his friend, and thus tocomfort the weeping sisters, that "Jesus wept. "

Let us more and more love the Christian's grave. Angels love it. Two ofthem sat in the tomb where the body of Jesus had lain--they loosed thenapkin that was about his head, and "wrapped" it "together in a place byitself;" and when Jesus had left the place, instead of following him, they lingered, to comfort the weeping friends on their arrival at thesepulchre. Can it be Michael, guardian of the dead Moses and his grave, on "the great stone" which has been rolled "from the door of thesepulchre"? Is he thinking how he will one day hear the command, "Takeye away the stone" which covers all who sleep in Jesus? As the cross ishallowed by the death of the Son of God upon it, the grave is hallowedfor the believer through the Saviour's burial. There are three placeswhich must possess intense interest for a glorified friend. One is hishome; another is his seat in the house of God; and another is his grave. Let us cherish it. We do well to visit such a spot. Sometimesapproaching it with sadness and fear, we go away with surprising peace;looking back for a last view of the stone, and feeling towards the spotas we do when we are leaving little children in the dark for the night, unutterable love, we find, has cast out fear. Those graves are treasureswhich heaven has made sure, "sealing the stone, and setting a watch. " Ofthose who still live, we are not certain that, in the providence of God, they will henceforth be an unmingled source of comfort; but they who arein those graves are garnered fruits, are finished works, are each likethe rod of Aaron laid up in the ark, which "bloomed blossoms and yieldedalmonds. " All else which is dear to us on earth may seem changeful, orchanged; the property may have disappeared, the home may have beenbroken tip, the plighted faith and love may have been recalled; thewhole condition of life may have been altered: but we visit that burialspot, and there is permanence; that fast-anchored isle has defied thesurges and roaring currents; the grave seems beautifully constant; ithas not betrayed our confidence; it is not weary of its precious charge;it has kindly staid behind to permit and encourage our griefs when allelse may have fled. The winter's snows have fallen, the tempests havebeaten, there; and now, this April or May morning, it is as steadfastand quiet as when the slumber there began. 

Great honor is paid to the dead in giving them precedence to the livingat the last day. "The dead in Christ shall rise first, " that is, beforethe living are changed;--they shall rise, and after that, in a moment, in a twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet, the living will betransformed; for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raisedincorruptible, and we shall be changed. This is said in order to comfortthose who mourn the death of Christian friends, --intimating such care onthe part of their Redeemer, that the apostle is directed to tell us "bythe word of the Lord, that we which are alive, and remain to the comingof the Lord, shall not" have precedence of "them that are asleep. " It isdeclared that the change of the living will be effected "in a moment, inthe twinkling of an eye. " This must be a matter of pure revelation; forit could not have been foretold, from any apparent probabilities, whether it would happen instantaneously or by degrees. It is suited toimpress the mind with the power and majesty of Christ, inasmuch as thisis to be one of the great acts connected with his second coming, and asreally an exercise of his omnipotence as the raising of the dead. For heis "Lord both of the dead and of the living. "

"And the sea shall give up the dead that are in it. " Many a form of abeliever is waiting there for the redemption of the body. Nor has itescaped the eye of the great archangel. Wrapped in its rude shroud, ordecomposed and scattered, or in whatever way seemingly annihilated, personal identity still attaches to it, and the all-seeing eye watchesevery thing which is essential to that identity, as easily as though thebody were in the grave with kindred dust. That the power of God in theresurrection may be fully illustrated, and that some may be preeminentwitnesses in their own persons of that mighty power, perhaps it willappear that they were permitted, for that purpose, to be devoured, or todissolve and to waste away in the sea. If they who came out of greattribulation are arrayed in white robes among the righteous, we may lookfor some special sign of glory and joy in those who receive theirbodies, not from the sheltering grave, but from the sea, and from thevery frame of nature, into which their bodily organization will, in oneway and another, have been incorporated. O the unspeakable wonders andraptures connected with the resurrection, both as it relates to our ownexperience, and to the illustrations which the resurrection will afford, of the divine wisdom and power. No wonder, we say, that Paul esteemedit the height of Christian privilege, that he, as a redeemed humanbeing, "might attain unto the resurrection of the dead. "

It is an innocent fancy, if it be not worthy of a better name, that thegreat attention which has been given of late years to new cemeteries, now in such contrast to the old graveyards, whose reckless disorder soperfectly expressed abandonment to sorrow and unresisting surrender tothe last enemy, is a symptomatic token of growing faith in the great, general heart of the Christianized part of the race, with regard to thatconsummation of all things, the resurrection of the dead. 

As at sea there is, within certain degrees of latitude and longitude, anuphill and a downhill, made by the convexity of the globe, we, perhaps, may have reached the meridian of the great voyage, and may have begun tofeel the inclination which will set us forward more swiftly to the end. The power of the great consummation will be waxing stronger andstronger. Men are looking to the cemeteries as places where greattreasures went down, or were abandoned, and they begin to think thatsome great restoration awaits them. These costly and beautifulcemeteries, which men are preparing, are like Hiram's contributions tothe building of the temple; they foretell some great thing; they have alook not only of expectation, but of design, not merely of faith, but ofhope. With a truly liberal regard to the decoration of those burialplaces with costly works of general interest, in the department of art, we shall do well to make provision, by statute, for the perpetual repairand preservation of every enclosure, and every grave, the whole bodycorporate thus pledging itself, as far as possible, to each incumbent, that his last resting place shall be the care of the perpetuatedfraternity to the end of time. 

And when the prophecies are accomplished, and the stone cut out of themountain without hands has filled the earth, and the apostasy which isto follow the general prevalence of religion, has deluged the worldwith blood, and Satan, loosed a little season, is triumphing in hismaddened career, and the graves are full, and the souls under the altar, with their importunate cry, can no longer wait for the avengingarm, --then shall be seen the sign of the Son of man coming in the cloudsof heaven, with power and great glory. 

As we commit a Christian friend to the earth, and as we visit hisresting place, let us think that now, the anticipation of the risingfrom the dead is, to him, the great object of personal expectation andhope. The time is not far distant, when, in heaven, we, in like manner, shall be filled with that expectation, as we look down upon the placeswhere our bodies await the signal of the resurrection. 

Let not the image of our friends, as sick and in pain, occupy ourthoughts. "For the former things are passed away. " Their language, asthey call back to us, is, "As dying, and behold, we live. "

We who have children and friends that sleep in Jesus, and who expectourselves to be, with them, and with one another, children of theresurrection, will soon know each other in the presence of Christ. Weshall have become reunited in the presence of each other to our lovedand lost ones. The great question then will be, How did we fulfil God'sspecial and benevolent designs in our trials? If we revisit scenes ofdeep affliction where death and the grave usurped their dread power overus for a season, we shall remember our misery as waters that pass away. In hope of this, we will patiently and joyfully labor and suffer. "Thenight is far spent; the day is at hand. "

 * * * * *

On a pleasant morning in April, three months from the time of herdecease, the mortal part of the dear child whose name gives this bookits title, was removed from its temporary resting place in the city, toher grave in the family cemetery. As the hands of her father, whichbaptized her, laid her to rest in her sweet and peaceful bed, and thesimple stone, with her chosen "lilies of the valley and rose buds"carved on it, was set up, --the gift of one whose consanguinity was madeby him the delicate ground of claim to do this touching and abiding actof love, --it seemed as though, in some sense, there had already beenbrought to pass the saying which is written, "Death is swallowed up invictory. "

But in the night, a gentle April shower fell; and as the thoughts werecarried by it, spellbound, from the chamber where she was born, to hernewly-made grave, --that night being the first of her sleeping there, --itseemed very plain that, though Death had been conquered, the Grave stillkept possession of the field. --Christ "will be thy destruction, " OGrave, as he has been "thy plagues, " O Death! The early rain seemed tohave made good haste in visiting the fresh mound and the flower seedsalready placed there, conspiring with them to cover the grave speedilywith emblems of the resurrection, as though, with confident boast andexultation, they would, beforehand, say, "Where is thy victory?" Simplethoughts and fancies, which we hardly dare utter, have wonderful power, in great sorrows, to change the whole current of the feelings; for whilethat soft shower was heard, falling on the grave, it seemed as if aheavenly watcher was in care of the place; and so, leaving themtogether, it was easy and pleasant to fall asleep. 

 * * * * *

And now, seeing that there is not one experience in this volume which isnot, or may not be, enjoyed, and surpassed, by every dying saint, and bysurviving friends, and as the narrative is thus saved from all justthought either of ostentation, or of setting forth a discouragingstandard of experience, may the book find protection from those who, knowing the innocent weaknesses, and, at the same time, the blessedness, of those who mourn, will kindly appreciate the motives with which it iswritten. For more than a year the narrative has been laid by, fromindefinable reluctance at the thought of publication. But thisaffliction, which was, at first, like the bulb of the hyacinth with itswhite, pendulous roots in water, --those symbols of hope and pledges ofgrowth, --has now bloomed and become fragrant with such comforts andconsolations, that we venture to set the plant in our window, perchanceit may meet the eye of one and another as they walk and are sad. Perhapsit may, here and there, win love and praise for Jesus. "He hath done allthings well. "