Earth is our birth-place and our nursery;
death is the gate-way to infinity, and there is our glorious and eternal
home. Our work for ever is the joyous work of doing good. Our future
life is an eternal unfolding, and a delightful exercise, of our highest
powers. The mysteries of universal nature open to our view, and in the
confluence of the delights of knowledge and the transports of
benevolence, our joy is full; our bliss complete.
This doctrine, in the form in which Jesus presents it, has hold of the
hearts of nearly the whole population of Christendom. It has the
strongest hold on the best. Even those who doubt it, doubt it with a
sigh; and those who give it up, surrender it with regret. And as they
make the sacrifice the earth grows dark. And life grows sad. And nature
wears the air of desolation. The music of the woods becomes less sweet.
The beauty of the flowers becomes less charming. There creeps a dreary
silence over land and sea. Existence loses more than half its charms.
The light of life burns dim. The past, the present, and the future all
are cheerless. The world is one vast orphan-house. Mankind are
fatherless. Our dearest ones are desolate. And language has no word to
comfort them. The lover sighs. The husband and the father weeps.
Pages:
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671