Death

The death of him who, having served his master, sinks like a shock of corn fully ripe, or like a sun that hath run its race, is something to be noted and remembered with delight. But the death of the sinner — oh, how terrible! It is not in the power of mortal language to depict the horrors of the death-bed of a man who has lived without God and without Christ.

I challenge all the orators that have ever lived to draw forth from their vocabulary words full enough of horror and of terror to depict the departing scene of the man who has lived at enmity with God, and who dies with his conscience quickened then.

The best moment of a Christian’s life is his last one, because it is the one that is nearest heaven: and then it is that he begins to strike the key-note of the song which he shall sing to all eternity.

Christ did so conquer death that he not only delivers the lawful captive out of the prison, but he saves a band from the jaws of the monster, and leads them by his den unharmed! He not only resuscitates the dead and puts new life into those that are slain by the fell scythe, but some he actually takes to heaven by a bye-road. He says to Death, “A vaunt, thou monster! On these thou shalt never put thy hand I”

A Christian has nothing to lose by death. You say he has to lose his friends. I am not so sure of that. Many of you may have more friends in heaven than on earth; some Christians have more dearly beloved ones above than below.

Death to the Christian is always honourable, for the promise declareth to him, “Thou shalt go to thy grave in full age, like as a shock of corn cometh in his season.”

Death is not an independent being, who comes at his own will. In fact, it is not true that death does take away the Christian at all. God alone can remove his children from this world. Whether the humble peasant or the reigning monarch, one hand lifts them to the sky.

When death comes to the Christian, he finds him winding up the anchor, and he says, “When thou hast done thy work and shipped the anchor, I will take thee home.” With sweet breath he blows on him, and the ship is wafted gently to heaven, with no regrets for life, but with angels at the prow, spirits guiding the rudder, sweet songs coming through the cordage, and canvas silvered o’er with light.

Christ is the reaper who cuts his own corn. He will not trust an angel to do it. God alone has the issues of life in his hand.

All fruits do not get ripe and mellow at the same season. So with Christians. They are at a “full age” when God chooses to take them home. They are at “full age” if they die at twenty-one: they are not more if they live to be ninety.

While death should not be flaunted out with gaudy plumes, there is such a thing as an honourable funeral; which every one of us may desire to have. We do not wish to be carried away just as a bundle of tares; we would prefer that devout men should carry us to the grave and make much lamentation over us.

Death! That is a sweet and blessed mode of taking us out of the world, which will happen to ns all by-and-bye. Li a few more years the chariot of fire and the horses of fire will take away the Lord’s soldiers.