and that, though we must all die, it rests with us to determine upon the feelings with which we shall die, by adopting that course of actions from which those feelings must proceed; and this appears to me to be the great use, and purpose, of thinking on death; not to think of that damp earth, and that dreary tomb, and those childish terrors, of which the dead feel, and know nothing; but to impress upon our hearts this truth, that, through Christ, we are become the lords of death, and masters over all the sorrow, and lamentation, which death carries in its train; that the mere separation of matter, and spirit, is a pang of so short a moment, that it is hardly a rational object of fear; that the real pang is the remembrance of a mispent life; of every act that has been cruel, unkind, and unjust; of time dissipated; talents misapplied; man injured; and God forgotten. If you think the accumulation of such thoughts, and such recollections as these, is awful, take care that they do not accumulate; if you dread such agonies of spirit and to their cause; look to their origin, remember the great apostle; draw near to God, while all the pleasures of the world are yet before you; give up to him some portion of youth, and health; wait not till disease enables you to offer up only the remnants, and leavings of life; but die daily, before half your career is run; anticipate the last day; imagine a Mighty God; adore his purity; supplicate his mercy; tremble at his power;—be not so rash, and so mad, as to let the salvation of your souls depend upon whether the air of this day is noxious, or pure; whether the blasts of Heaven shall be a little too damp, or a little too cold; but be always ready for death; think, like a man engaged in warfare, that you cannot call an hour your own; and be assured of this, that death, mere animal death, is nothing; it is often better than life, and thousands welcome its approach; but the sting of death is sin, and we know that victory which Christ has gained over sin, by dying daily; therefore, we may tear out that sting, and welcome a gentle death, as the end of every sorrow, and the harbinger of greater, and nobler joys. |