timorous. As it is, how eager we are to pry into
the future, or into things purposely hidden from us!
If it were certainly known that one had communication
with the dead, or if we had good reason to expect
such communications, labor would be neglected, faith,
prayer, hope, confidence in God would decrease, the
Bible would be undervalued through a superior regard
to a different mode of revelation, and we should live,
as it were, among the tombs. A morbid state of
feeling would pervade our minds, and the world would
be full of enchantments, necromancy, and cunning craftiness.
Blessed be God for the silence of the dead! We
are glad that our weak and foolish hearts, so prone
to love the creature more than the Creator, are broken
off, by the impenetrable veil of death, from all connection
with the departed. The salutary influences of
death on survivors would be greatly lessened, if our
connection and communication with them were continued.
God is our chief good, not our friends, nor our children;
he shuts them up in silence from us, to see if we
can say, “Whom have I in heaven but thee?
And there is none upon earth that I desire besides
thee.” The painful effect upon our feelings,
and upon our nervous system, of separations from departed
friends, is involuntary and natural; but to cherish
our griefs, to spend much time in melancholy moods,
or in poring over the memorials of the departed, so
as to excite and indulge morbid feelings, is not Christian
nor wise.
While this is true, and there is much immoderate and
irrational grief, the disposition, with many, is to
forget the dead as soon as possible, and forever.
Some need to think far more of the deceased. They
should remember that the dead are alive; that no doubt
they think of them; and that, instead of being separated
farther and farther from the deceased, by the lapse
of time, they are every day coming nearer and nearer
to them, and they must meet again.
It is well for us frequently to remember that the
silence of the dead is no true exponent of their real
state. Incoherent and wild as the thoughts and
feelings sometimes are, under the distracting influence
of affliction and death, and all uncertain as we are
about the departure of the soul, we are not left without
sure and most satisfying information respecting the
separate state.
There is no annihilation. The life of the soul
is not extinguished like the flame of a lamp.
Existence is not that lingering, twinkling spark which
it seems to be in the moments preceding death.
To be absent from the body, for a Christian, is to
be present with the Lord; to die is gain; to depart,
and be with Christ, is far better. When the dust
returns to the earth as it was, the spirit ascends
to God, who gave it. The soul is more vigorous
and active than when shut up in the body, because
a higher form of life is required in being with God
and angels. We are told that the pious dead are
“the spirits of just men made perfect.”