Our scene opens upon two young men conversing together. One is of
very earnest and animated countenance, with a manly bearing and the
stamp of virtue upon his face; the other is of a manner more carefree
and inclined to enjoy the youthful pleasures of life without considering
the more sober, but necessary elements. We come upon Joseph, the
former, speaking sincerely upon the matter of death.
“The
voice of a dying man seems to be more readily hearkened to than that of
his lusty neighbours. Perhaps this is on account that death strips away
vanity from his thoughts, and he is given new eyes to shun that which
is of no account in the ever-approaching light of the world to come.
Death! How it banishes the thoughts of vain pleasures and the care for
esteem of men. For who so foolish as to seek the acclaim of masses when
his soul is quickly departing to the Presence of the One before whom
the opinions and esteem of men hold no weight?”
Joseph paused his elaborations. Charles rested a firm chin in his
hand and gazed across the fielded meadows and hills below. “But,” he
answered, “I have known men to die in very different states than such as
you have described. Why, John Cosper not a year ago, with the knowledge
of his impending death, spent his last days carousing and drinking
until he was laid so low that he was unable to rise from his bed, and
even then kept up his profane speech.”
“This,” said Joseph with a smile mingled with sadness, “is too often a
manifestation of the effects of death upon the unconverted soul. They
cannot bear the agony of their spirits which should surely attend them
should they allow themselves one moment’s solemn reflection. So, to
quench such uncomfortable thoughts from their minds, they throw
themselves into as much distraction and gratification as they can.
Indeed, I have known men who are not faced with death to behave so. It
is not uncommon— no, for it is the very nature of every man to have a
void in his soul which clamours to be filled. And only one thing can
fill it!”
Joseph rose to his feet and walked about excitedly. “Only
one thing can satisfy the deepest want that lies in the bosom of every
man since Adam. And that thing is the Lord Jesus.”
“I knew it would come back to that,” said Charley whimsically. “You
always manage to cram a great deal of religion into your lectures,
Joseph.”
Joseph was not swayed by the carelessness of his companion.
“Death is said to be man’s enemy, but I cannot help but think that the
Lord has also given him the touch of a friend. For, though many men
reject his calling, he bids them to take a close inspection of their
lives and see whether they will pass muster on the final day. Death
sometimes merely passes the door of a man, giving him a good shaking-up
before passing on, which gives a renewed view of life, its brevity, and
the importance of seeking those things which hold eternal value.”
“It’s all very well for you to speak so,” returned Charley, “but I
have no thoughts so morbid as those which you seem to find pleasant
companions. The way you talk, one would think that you derive pleasure
from an evening at the grave-yard, among the foreboding stones.”
“As well I do, after a fashion,” replied Joseph, smiling. “I have
often improved an idle hour by taking my books to the quiet solitude of
gravesides to reflect upon the brevity of life and to prepare my soul
for the life to come. It is not an unwholesome practice as it might
seem, Charley. Oh, it could be rendered so by such modern thinkers as
regard death with a sort of worship, considering those things that are
manifestations of the Fall and sin as worthy of much contemplation and
study. They are lacking the very element that makes such reflections
profitable- and that is looking always upward to the Cross of our Savior
and King. All studies must ultimately point there. If they do not, no
matter how highly regarded, they are worthless and destructive. The
light of the Cross alone gives wisdom, and no scholar or university can
profess to know anything apart from it.”
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