1832-37. THOUGHTS ON THE EESUKRECTIOX. 63 



the dread of pain, and disease, and death ; and the fond, loving, 

 hoping, and fearing heart will find relief only in the overflowing 

 of the ' well of a mother's love/ which has so often dropped its 

 scalding tears on the face of the fair young babe that reposed in 

 quiet rest on its parent's knee." 



" July 1 Qth, Sabbath Evening. I have opened the Bible this 

 evening to read one of its most beautiful and striking passages, 

 the 15th chapter of First Corinthians, containing the full de- 

 scription of the resurrection of the dead, one of the most solemn 

 and seriously interesting subjects that can occupy the mind. 

 Solemn it is and must be to all, the idea that the period of our 

 existence in this world is but a minute fraction of the period 

 during which we are to exist as immortal souls. I have often 

 thought with sadness on the dim, dark vista, down which the 

 Ancients must have looked when they contemplated death. 

 How must the mind have recoiled from the idea of annihilation ! 

 A Catiline might deem such an ending no undesirable - thing ; 

 but would not the thought of it throw a cloud over the musings 

 of Cicero or Plato ? How must the man of the world, the Epi- 

 curean, have seen the locks clustering over his forehead becom- 

 ing grey and lustreless, his eye becoming dimmer and duller, 

 the smooth cheek becoming invaded by wrinkles, and care 

 stamping his image on the furrowed brow ! Mournful must 

 have been the spectacle, each new wrinkle, each additional grey- 

 hair adding to the despondency that already was invading the 

 mind : the wine- cup and the evening libation might bring hope 

 and joy to the soul, but the morrow would bring the aching 

 head and the desponding heart, and bid all the woes stand forth 

 in a more sorrowful array. This is no vain conjecture of mine : 

 doth not Horace abound in multiplied reflections on the ' Inex- 

 orabile Fatum ?' and in vain for him were woman's blandish- 

 ments, and ' the spiced Falernian wine.' He tells in sorrowful 

 strains of the inevitable end, and the visit that all must make 

 to the black Cocytus. Sorrowful picture of this world's joys 

 ceasing to delight the heart of one who knew no more enduring 

 pleasures, whose most joyous prospect beyond this planet was 

 extinction and annihilation. 



