creature dies, so terrible would his fate seem, that we scarcely dare mention it, and accordingly henceforth we seldom allude to him; and when we do, we prefix that epithet of pity, poor, designating him always our "poor brother," as if God were no longer his Father, as if he were still, and would remain forever, in the cold, lonely grave, — and not as if he were a companion of angels, admitted to the highest of all privileges, and exulting in boundless love, knowledge, and freedom! When the late Dr. Follen was spoken to concerning death, his answer was, "I am not going to die, I am going to live life is before me, not death life, neverending life; what we call death is only one of the incidents of life. Death is the final revelation and confirmation of immortality." How truly Christian is this! and how Christian, too," the words of a gifted lady, upon reading the obituary of Henry Ware, -'I see Henry Ware has passed on.' Passed on-beautiful thought! He has not stopped; he has not ceased to be; he has passed on in faith and duty and love to higher labors, and undefiled reward!" No wonder disease and death are so repulsive to the generality of mankind, when we shroud in gloom the prospects of those whose health is declining, and the memories of those who are gone. If they are actually removed to a state quite as real, only more bright and beautiful than any earthly clime; if they have nothing to fear along - the dark valley of the shadow of death, because God lighteth and leadeth them; if Jesus and God, and the good of all ages, and all their own dearest friends, be with them now, what reason can there be for preserving such a profound and awful silence about them? When a friend travels to the other side of the globe to end his days, we converse respecting him with delight and freedom. Would, therefore, that we had more of Christianity in our behavior at the closing scenes of life! The fountain of tears of course must and will flow; but our grief should be moderated by our Christian principles, and, never disconnecting the inseparable clauses, "He has left the world; he is gone to the Father," we should banish the word "disconsoJais as nowhere appropriate beneath the Divine rule. Not even to outward emblems of bereavement have we any objection, providing always they have a Christian meaning: but we would rather call them memorials than "mourning," and they should express not that a sore calamity has befallen us, and we have sunk into despondency, but simply, "a loved one has been called home. his chair is vacant—his spirit has returned to the Creatorour meditations follow him the prevailing character of our minds is quiet and thoughtful—we think often of death and immortality." And, believing that "those who sleep in Jesus" are not objects of pity, but are still under the protecting wings of divine love, we would speak of them as we would speak of those who dwell prosperously and happily in foreign lands, only always remembering that there is in all God's universe no land so blooming and joyous as that into which they have entered. How much less lonely would our journey down the vale of years seem! What is more, what a wide and sacred field of profitable experience and instruction would become familiar to us! And when, from pain or infirmity, we ourselves are weary of this anxious, toilsome life, instead of fearing to yield it up, because we have not seen what lieth in store for us, we should joyfully exclaim, "Our course is ended, let us lay down our ashes with those of our fathers, that we may follow their spirits to life and glory everlasting!"* - To those who entertain these Christian views, what does it matter at what period we walk, "In no case of permanent illness can I conceive this idea (of our departure, and entrance upon another life) to be otherwise than familiar, under one aspect or another; so familiar, as that it is astonishing to us that we can obtain so little conversation upon it as a reality-a certainty in full view. To us this seems more extraordinary than it would be if the friends of Parry, and Franklin, or Back, were, as the season for a Polar expedition drew nigh, to talk to them about every thing else, but be constrained and shy on that. I say 'more extraordinary,' because it is not everybody that is bound, sooner or later, to the North Pole, but only a few crews; whereas all have an interest in the passage of that other, that 'narrow sea,' and in the 'better country' which is its further shore."-Life in the Sick Room. and when we quit the earth? "Those that three thousand years ago died unwillingly, and stopped death two days or a week, what is their gain? where is that week?" The act of existencethis, this is the all-important thing. "He has lived"— how much is implied in these few words! He was alive, he trod the earth, he filled up one vacancy in society; in the mind of the Christian, how many delightful anticipations are inseparably bound up with these simple statements! Such an one has lived, is to him as much as to say, he will live again, he will live forever. If he lived here, he will live also hereafter; if he were an inhabitant of the present world, he will be an inhabitant likewise of the eternal regions; if he filled up one vacancy in the society of earth, there is one vacancy for him in the society of heaven. Thus how immeasurably more important is the fact of life, than the age in which we were born, the generation to which we belong, the period in which we sink into our rest! Methinks I hear from some poor, sorrowing pilgrims, "What "What you have said is perfectly true, and very encouraging, but it is a most difficult thing for us to feel as we ought; we are so weak and so lowspirited." And we would be the last not to make allowance for such. Who is there, knowing any thing of life, who has not felt the difficulty, and will not sympathize with them from the heart? who that is acquainted with bodily infirmities, has not frequently, with trembling, exclaimed, "Lord, help thou mine unbelief?" Did not Christ himself experience a similar feeling, when, in the garden of Gethsemane, he struggled and prayed, and great drops as it were of blood fell from him, and when, in the agony of his apprehensions, he implored of his Father, that if it were possible, this cup of bitterness might pass from him? But, though there was the same feeling, it was never allowed to obtain the mastery; there was the "if it be possible," showing that the power within was not overcome; and there was the noble conclusion, "nevertheless, not my will, but Thine be done," evincing that he had won the victory; and then descended an angel from heaven with congratulations and comfort. Such conflicts are natural; they are the hardships. Sickness, affliction, were nothing without them, but it is rising up with our burden on our backs, that proves our strength. We cannot, however, suddenly become men in spirit; we must grow up to our full stature by exercise and deprivations and prayer. Our answer, therefore, to those whose hearts are sinking within them, is, "Be not discouraged, resolve yet to overcome every outward feeling, you have numberless aids within. your reach, you are sure to succeed, if you will only have patience and perseverance. Will you, * "If the sickness be but continued long enough, -if the struggle be not broken off before it is fairly exhausted, — victory |