1882 



GLEANINGS IN J3EE CULTURE. 



307 



in your affliction, and we would gladly do 

 any thing in our power, if we knew how'' V 



You pause here, feeling liow very weak 

 and feeble is humanity, when it comes to 

 the point of grappling with grim death. 

 Something more must be said. You ven- 

 ture,— 



" Do not be cast down, brother Moon." 



Until the words had passed your lips, you 

 did not dream how hollow and empty they 

 would sound. You ask him not to be cast 

 down ; but you might as well tell one who is 

 struggling in the midst of the Atlantic 

 Ocean, to get out without help. You ven- 

 ture again, — 



" Friend Moon, we must all die some time. 

 Bear up under your pain as well as you can, 

 and it " 



You came very near saying it would soon 

 be over, leading indirectly to the thought that 

 he might hope for death, and that the great- 

 est blessing his friends can hope for under 

 the circumstances, is that lie may die soon. 

 What sort of comfort is that to a dying man? 

 If a horse were suffering greatly, it would be 

 perfectly right to say you hoped death might 

 soon end its sufferings. 



Please bear with me a little now, dear 

 friends, in what I am going to say, for I do 

 it solely to show you where skepticism and 

 intidelity leave a man.* When a horse is 

 suffering with an incurable disease, the so- 

 ciety for the prevention of cruelty to animals 

 demand that his sufferings be put to an end 

 by taking away his life, and it is a Christian 

 act to do so. 



The horse is a dumb brute ; but man is a 

 part of God, and endowed with a living soul 

 — a soul that enables him to look up and 

 comprehend God, and know and love him as 

 a father ; and, friend Moon, in the name of 

 that Son whom God gave as a token of his 

 love to a poor, lost, and sinful world, I bid 

 you look up. 



Let not your heart be troubled; ye believe in God, 

 believe also in me.- John 14:1. 



Verily, verily, I say unto you, If a man keep my 

 Baying, he shall never see death.— John 8:51. 



Verily, verily, I say unto j-ou, He that hcareth my 

 word, and believeth on him that sent mo, hath ever- 

 lasting life, and shall not come into condemnation; 

 but Is passed from death unto life.— John 5:34:. 



Disease may torture, and pains may rack 

 your poor suffering frame ; but that wonder- 

 ful love can bear you up through it all. A 

 little common-place illustration may help to 

 make this seeming paradox plainer. My 

 wife says that, when she was a child, if she 

 could sit in her father's lap, and lay her head 

 on his shoulder, all pains and aches were 

 gone at once; yet when he put her down, 

 they at once came back again. We may 

 smile at this ; yet how many of us are there 

 who can not remember something of the 

 same kind? The touch of a loved one, and 

 the consciousness that we are loved, and 

 that some one cares for us, often makes pain 



* The following statistics show the comparative 

 numberof suicides in different nations: InChristian 

 Sweden, 1 suicide to every '.i2,000 inhabitants; T'nited 

 States, 1 suicide to 15.000 inhabitants; in England. 1 

 suicide to 13,000 inhabitants; in London, 1 suicide to 

 21,000 inhabitants; in intidel Parig, 1 suicide to 2T00 in- 

 Iwbitants! Is there any thing- startling in the last 

 Item? 



easy to bear. Physicians can tell how much 

 there is in a hopeful spirit to help one to 

 bear up, and not give way and break down 

 in despair under pain and affliction; and, 

 friend Moon, although we can not promise 

 you, positively, restored health and freedom 

 from pain, we can point you to the Lamb of 

 God who taketh away the sin of the world. 

 Peter said, — 



Silver and gold have I none; but such as I have 

 give I thee: In the name of Jesus Christ of Nj'.za- 

 reth, rise up and walk.— Acts 3:6. 



And we say, unitedly, that you shall have 

 our prayers, that God may give you strength 

 and grace to bear your trials, and that, if it 

 be his will you should go down into the dark 

 valley, it may be with that consciousness 

 and assurance that will give you peace and 

 rest and resignation. In closing, I will give 

 an extract from a sermon by my beloved 

 pastor, who first turned me from this world 

 to thoughts of the world to come. 



I must die. You, my hearer, must die. You may 

 seek to waive aside this tragic event as of little mo- 

 ment; you may absorb the stoic's philosophy, or 

 drink of lethean waters; you may shout peace, 

 peace, to that last great enemy; that one moment- 

 ous event, the concentration of the evil and good of 

 a lifetime, in a few agonizing throes of mingled 

 phj'sical and mental pain, will soon come to me and 

 to you. You may say, " Let not the preacher fright- 

 en us. We do not enjoy dwelling upon this theme." 

 But if to speak of it is a pain, what must it be, O un- 

 willing hearer! to experience it? If you flee from 

 the bedside of the dying, averse to the presence of 

 the king of terrors, what will you do when you your- 

 self lie upon that bed, and feel for yourself the ice- 

 cold fingers, and the chilling deeps of the dark cold 

 river? If you can not now look with steady nerve 

 into the open grave, how can you slowly descend 

 into it? It might at first seem desirable that this 

 great crisis should be ignored, or that we should 

 soothe and flatter ourselves that there is no real en- 

 mity between us and death, or so deceive ourselves 

 with some flxed-up compromise as to suppose we 

 have avoided the issue. No, no, my friends, there is 

 positively but one way to meet this issue, and that 

 is to face this last great foe with a realization of his 

 implacable nature, exclaiming, "O Death, I know 

 thy dread terror. Thou delightest to blight the fair- 

 est and the best; I know ihy heartless purpose; I 

 have seen thy devastating work; the groans and ago- 

 nies of thine insidious cruelty have reached my 

 ears. My own loved ones have withered under thy 

 foul and loathsome breath; and after persecuting 

 me all thou canst, thou wilt make of this form I love 

 so well, a loathsome carcass and a nest for worms. 

 Ah, I know thy nature, thou subtile enemy of man- 

 kind. But I know of one force greater than thine,— 

 a still, quiet, c'cep power that thou canst not greatly 

 disturb nor undermine. I believe, I trust, I hope in, 

 I wait upon. One greater than thou. I know thine 

 enmity, and I know his friendship. I look thee calm- 

 ly in the face, O thou my cruel and relentless ene- 

 my, and I say to thee, do thy worst; come when thou 

 wilt, in the exuberance of youth, the fullness of 

 manhood, or the weakness of old age; come as thou 

 wilt, in storm or tempest, by fire or sword, in wreck 

 or disaster, in peril of waters or peril of robbers; by 

 plague or famine or fever; by slow, lingering, tor- 

 turing pain, or quick dissolution; by the terror of 

 night or the arrow that flieth by day; in the pesti- 



