Meditations on Death and Eternity Translated From the German by Frederica Rowan

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1863. Excerpt: ... FEAR OF DEATH. PART I. It is fulfilled! once--to the Cross fast bound, His bitterest hour past--the Saviour cried, His flesh transpierced with wounds, His head thorn-crowned, Cried He to Him in whom He could confide; Nor vainly cried He, for the hour drew nigh That ended all His mortal agony. It is fulfilled! Though yet a short delay, I also once must cry, and that ere long; Then shall I go where tears are wiped away, Where sickness cometh never more, nor wrong--The heart that's filled with love and trusting faith Knows what it still may hope for, e'en in death. (i Cor. v. I--5.) If we mortals could foresee from our cradle all the events and sufferings that await us, many would tremble more at life than at the closing act of it which we call death. Life has often been metaphorically represented as a journey begun without our willing it, and ended without our willing it. On we speed with restless haste. We set out in the dim dawn of morning, emerging from the unknown depths of night, and hurrying towards another night. From beginning to end it is the work of God. Minutes vanish, hours fly past us: fain would we linger among the first flowers that smile to us in the rosy morn of youth! But a hidden power urges us on, the flowers fall withered from our hand, the hot mid-day sun of life is already glowing above our heads. We discover shady spots, whose refreshing shelter invites us to repose; and gladly would we rest. But, no! we must speed on. We endeavour in vain to hold fast the joys we find by the wayside. They escape. Already the sunset reddens the sky, and behind the lurid glare night is stealthily approaching. Willingly would we pause to enjoy, in longer draughts, the coolness of the lovely evening. But onwards! onwards! cries an unknown voice. We clin...