nature, it is of indispensable necessity to the perfection and happiness of the Christian. As, under the Jewish economy, the house infected with leprosy could not be cleansed, but must be taken down and cast into an unclean place, so our earthly tenement, defiled by sin, of which it is both the occasion and instrument, must be demolished and re-built, before it can become the abode of a holy and beatified spirit. Nor can the soul be perfectly fitted for the service and enjoyment of God, nor receive its full award of blessedness, until it is freed from the bondage of corruption, and walks in light and liberty. Death is the gate of immortality; and although it may grate on its brazen hinges, it opens on scenes of unfading beauty, and endless joy. Like the tribe of Manasseh, half of which remained on this side Jordan, while the other half had their lot assigned them in the land of Canaan, our meaner nature has a lonely dwelling in the ground from whence it was taken; while the soul, released from its fetters, wings its way to a fairer world, and waits the arrival of its long-lost companion, refined and glorious, at the resurrection morn.

DARK RIVER OF DEATH, that is flowing
Between the BRIGHT CITY and me,

Thou boundest the path I am going,
Oh, how shall I pass over thee?

When the cold stormy waters rise o'er me,
And earth disappears from my sight,—

76

DEATH-TERRIFIC IN HIS ASPECT.

When a cloud rises thickly before me,
And veils all my spirit in night:

When the hands I love dearly are wringing,
The eyes all for me wet with tears,
The hearts that surround me still clinging,
And I all misgivings and fears:

Ere the warmth of that love be departed
That binds us so closely below,

Could I bear to see them broken-hearted,
Nor feel all the sting of their woe?

O DEATH! thou last portion of sorrow,
The prospect of heav'n is bright;
And fair is the dawn of its morrow,

But stormy and dreadful thy night!

O THOU who hast broken the pow'r
Of this, the last victor of men,
Be with me in that solemn hour,
O grant me deliverance then!

The glory from Calvary streaming,

May shine o'er the cold sable wave;
And the faith that is oftentimes beaming,
May burst through the gloom of the grave.

And peace may shine cloudless above me,
When I think what my Saviour has said,
THE FATHER HIMSELF deigns to love me,
And JESUS has died in my stead!

With the prospect of meeting for ever,

With the bright gates of heaven in view, From the dearest on earth I could sever,

And smile a delightful adieu !"

CHAPTER V.

Death-unsparing and invincible in his attacks.

Each moment has its sickle, emulous
Of Time's enormous scythe, whose ample sweep
Strikes empires from the root; each moment plays
His little weapon in the narrower sphere

Of sweet domestic comfort, and cuts down
The fairest bloom of sublunary bliss.

YOUNG.

DEATH is a cruel and relentless adversary, he spares neither the delicacy of sex, nor the tenderness of age; neither does he listen to the plea of usefulness, nor of growing prosperity. Every human being may adopt the language which David addressed to his son Solomon on his deathbed, "I go the way of all the earth." There never were but two exceptions to this general rule. Enoch walked with God, and he was not, for God took him and Elijah, dropping his mantle on the gazing prophet, mounted the

glowing chariot of fire, and was quickly conducted to heaven. If we trace back the stream of time, and review the millions that have floated on its surface, we soon lose them in the boundless abyss of eternity. "Our fathers, where are they? and the prophets, do they live for ever?" Where are the men whose memories have been preserved in the page of sacred history, and whose examples of virtue have been recorded for our imitation? Where those prodigies of literature, science, and the arts, by whose labours we are reaping, in the present day, the most essential benefits? Where the founders of mighty empires, the conquerors of nations, and the terror of the world? Where the far-famed orators who declaimed in the senate, or who thundered in the forum, and whose elocution governed the opinions of states, and decided their destinies? Where?— alas! they only live in the poet's song, or in the historian's page. The darkling shadows of a long evening have fallen upon them, and the grave hides them till the morning of the resurrection. What has become of those whose deeds of valour have been chronicled by fame,-of a Philip, an Alexander, and a Cæsar, the pride of Greece, and the glory of Rome? After stretching their conquests over vast provinces, and weeping because there were no more worlds to conquer, all the dominion they possess is a shroud, a coffin, and a grave. How often has the laurel been

exchanged for the cypress, and the triumphal chariot for a hearse, and the bridal-bed for a darksome tomb! "There is no discharge in this war." The infant, before its tender mind begins to unfold and expand, is removed, from a world of care and grief, to a paradise of perfect joy: and “if a man live many years, and rejoice in them all; yet let him remember the days of darkness, for they shall be many." Of the beggar who, pressed by the necessities of nature, sought relief from door to door; and of the rich man who, clothed in purple and fine linen, fared sumptuously every day, we are simply told that they died. "The wise men die." "The righteous perisheth, and no man layeth it to heart; and merciful men are taken away, none considering that the righteous is taken away from the evil to come." Neither our internal piety, nor our outward circumstances; neither the qualities of the mind, nor the beauty and strength of the body; can preserve us from the attacks of him who rideth upon the white horse. Death knocks, with equal step, at the palaces of the great, and the cottages of the poor: he levels all distinctions; and the monarch, as well as his subject, is obliged to claim an unnatural alliance; to say "to corruption, Thou art my father: to the worm, Thou art my mother, and my sister."

The commission which the Lord of hosts gave