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This institution reserves the right to refuse to accept a copy order if, in its judgement, fulfillment of the order would involve violation of the copyright law. AUTHOR: CLARK, RUFUS W. TITLE: HEAVEN AND ITS SCRIPTURAL EMBLEMS PLACE: BOSTON DATE: 1853 COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES PRESERVATION DEPARTMENT Master Negative # BIBLIOGRAPHIC MTCROFORM TARGET Restrictions on Use: Original Material as Filmed - Existing Bibliographic Record Haaven and its scrirari/ira C54. emblerns. Boslo-n 1853. 0. SG9 p ?■ p TECHNICAL MICROFORM DATA ir_ REDUCTION RATIO: FILM SIZE: IMAGE PLACEMENT ^A (IL^ IB IIB DATE FILMED:_>_:lL-^_ INITIALS . J-i^^ FILMED BY: RESEARCH PUBLICATIONS. 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I • • •," • • • ,.• • « • • • • • • « t * •• • • • • • • it « « ••• ••• . • ••• • « • • • • < I • •• • ••,«• • • I ' • • • • • • • • .• • • • • • • •• • • I I « • • • • < • • • • • • • • • • • t • « ? / 1 \ 1 I • '• • • • • • • • • •• ••• '• • .• •• • I t • • • •t • .•, , • ••-•• • { I \ 1 HEAVEN AN I) 1 TS SCllIPTURAL EMBLEMS. BY llEV. IIUFUS W. CLARK BOSTON: JOHN P. JEWETT AND C03IPANY CLEVELAND, OHIO: JEWETT, PROCTOR & WORTHINGTON. 1853. Ffltered according to Act of Congresa, in the year 1852, by K L F U S W . CLARK, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of Massachusetts. STr.KEOTYPKn BT IIOBART k BOBBINS, NKW KN TYPE AND STEKKuTYPK KUCNDKBT, BOSTON. PRINTED BT CEO. C. RAND. CORMIILL- TO MY BELOVED MOTHER, TO WHOM I AM IM>KnTEI) FOR MY EARLIEST IMPRESSIONS OF HEAVENLY SCENES, Cfjig Volume 19 MOST AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED 284124 ContentH. I'AfJK INTRODUCTION, ^ I. EVIDENCES OF A FUTURE LIFE, 13 n. A RAINBOW AROUND THE THRONE, 34 m. A REST FOR THE PEOPLE OF GOD, 50 IV. NO NIGHT IN HEAVEN, C9 V. THE LIKENESS OF THE REDEEMED TO CHRIST, . . 89 VI. RECOGNITION OF FRIENDS, 101 Vn. NO MORE SEA, l^"^ Vm. NO TEMPLE IN HEAVEN, 1G4 IX. THE ANGELIC INHABITANTS OF HEAVEN, .... 188 X. THE GLORY OF CHRIST IN HEAVEN, 218 XI. THE THRONE IN HEAVEN 245 SUiistnitiDiiB. I DESIGNED BT HAMMATT BILLINGS. ENGllAVED BY . C. E. WAGSTAFF AND J. ANDREWS. PACK CHRIST RAISING LAZARUS, (Frontispiece,) RAINBOW AROUND THE THRONE, 34 NO NIGHT IN HEAVEN, 69 NO MORE SEA, 147 THE NEW JERUSALEM, 188 INTRODUCTION. m It is not our purpose, in the following work, to enter upon the discussion of the metaphysical ques- tions which relate to the spiritual w^orld. We pro- pose to view heaven through some of the scriptural emblems of its beauties, and examine a few of the prominent sources of its enjoyments. We would, in company with the Christian reader, ascend the moun- tains that are round about the New Jerusalem, and from their summits obtain glimpses of its splendors, cfitch some faint strains of its melody, and indulge the imagination in visions of its joys. We would add a ray to the bright hopes of the departing spirit, add a drop to the cup of consolation which Christianity proffers to the afllicted, and stimulate all believers to press forward towards the mark for the prize of their high calling. Were wxs indeed, disposed or able to penetrate into the mysteries of spiritual existences, we should encounter, at tlie outset, an insurmountable difficulty, in the inadequacy of human language to express spiritual ideas. All our conceptions being derived from experience and ol)servation, except, perhaps, tliose of intuitive truths, we can contemplate spiritual i 10 INTRODUCTION. INTRODUCTION. 11 objects only through the medium of images, symbols, or analogies. Even the nicest definitions in theology, and the most abstract terminology, must be presented in figurative language ; and it is more than probable that there is not a single term in our language that had originally a spiritual meaning. It is true that the Deity has power, independently of the agency of human language, to communicate adequate views of spiritual realities. He can cause to pass before the intellectual virion the bright scones of the celestial w^orld, — the splcn<1ors and joys of glorified saints. But our faculties, in their present state, are as little prepared for the full elTulgence of heavenly scenes, as our organs of sight are to receive the light of the stars blazing upon us with tlie intensity of the sun's rays. In kindness, ilKTofore, God has placed these glories at an immense distance from us, revealing only enough to excite iaitli, and inspire the heart with hope. Should, however, a mind be enriched with adc- ([uate conceptions of heaven, it would have no power to imptirt its impressions to others. It is a deeply interestinir fact in the history of our race, that one mind has been thus favored, — has been admitted to the third heaven, and there filled with the most glowing and enrapturing \iews of celestial felicity. But what the apostle saw and heard it was impossible for him to utter. The scenes he could not describe, though he felt intensely their power. The bright visions floated in his imagination through life, keeping ever alive in his heart *' a desire to depart.'' To what extent the material world represents the spiritual, we cannot accurately determine, though it is the opinion of some eminent writers that the anal- ogy between the two is very striking. " Holy Scrip- ture," says one, " in fiict, is only a gradual unrolling, or spiritualizing to us, of figures and forms that envelop and represent the deeper truths of the spiritual life." This idea filled the soul of Milton, when he wrote, "What if earth Be but the shadow of heaven and things therein, Kach to other like, more than on earth is thought ? " Another has l)eautifully said, '' I have often thoughi that fiowers were the alphabet of angels, whereby they write, on hills and fields, mysterious truths, wdiich it is not given our fallen nature to under- stand." Why may we not extend this idea, and regard all the objects around and above us, — all that is beauti- ful in the sky, clouds, verdure and landscape, — as constituting a language which teaches us, though imperfectly, spiritual truths, and reveals, though fidntly, the glories of the heavenly w^orld ? It cer- tainly must aid the devotions of the Christian, and solace him in his pilgrimage, to look up, and see hung around the visible universe pictures of the invisible, — to listen to the stars, as they softly yet eloquently declare the glory of God. It must increase his faith to view the decorations of this great temple, as the types and shadows of a new dispensation, and of a loftier and more spiritual worship. 12 INTRODUCTION. The duty of studying the intimations of Heaven, that have come to us through nature or revelation, rests upon every Christian. Amid the practical schemes and intense activity of the present day, there is but little calm meditation. The spirit is not at rest long enough to reflect with accuracy the mansions and palaces of the celestial city. It is more like a turbu- lent stream than a smooth lake. If we are heirs to a vast and splendid inheritance, if we are cherishing the hope of spending an eternity amid the felicities and glories of a spiritual kingdom, it is but reasonable that we meditate upon them ere our departure thither. Not content with being in the outer court, we should seek, under the Spirit's guidance, to enter the Holy of holies, and there sweetly commune Avith our Father, in whose presence " there is fulness of joy,*' — at whose " right hand there are pleasures forever- more.** n EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. I. EHDENCES OF A FUTURE LIFE. •' If a man die shall he live again ? " — Job xiv. 14. Tins question lies at the basis of all our \iews of the heavenly world, and is one of infinite moment to every thinking being. It enters into our ethical investigations, theological opinions, and religious hopes. Let us prove that there is no existence beyond the grave, and we convert all earthly realities into shadows, destroy the highest stimulus to virtue, throw into inexplicable confusion the plans of the Creator, shroud death in impenetrable darkness, and the grave in indescribable gloom. We abandon the long chain of events and achievements in the world's history to the control of chance, or the caprice of a mysterious Deity ; and leave, at last, the WTCck of a world to swing in its silent orbit, with no traces remaining of the severe conflicts and splendid victories, of which it had been the theatre. 2 f < t 14 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. On the other hand, prove that if a man die he shall live again, and we give precision and certainty to our religious views, and clothe with vast importance the actions, speech and thoughts, of every moment of tliis passing life. We connect time with utumily as by a thousand electric cords, through which influences arc passing and repassing, that aflect both worlds, and reach even the throne of the Deity. Such, indeed, is the vital connection between all truths, natural and revealed, scientific and ethical, that arguments in favor of one, strengthen the whole. Evidences that substantiate the doctrine of the future life, give additional force to the divine government, majesty to the divine character, authority to the claims of Christianity. They clothe with increased solemnity the sanctions of God's law, and give to the soul a value, that the riches and kingdoms of a universe cannot express. A discovery in science, even, sheds its influence over the whole system of moral truth, and is a chapter in that new, or third book of revelation, that a progressive civilization is opening to the world. The light of one truth is reflected by others, and the brightness of th(' whole constellation is increased by every new star that appears in the firmament. The mere possibility of a future life, with which the present is connected, should awaken the Jinxieties and arouse the powers of every sentient being. The EVIDENCES OF A FUTURE LIFE. 15 possibility that this is the seed time of a future measureless harvest, — that our mission here is to give coloring and character to an immortal state, — should secure for the themes before us the most serious attention. The doctrine of a future state may be argued from the natural phenomena of the physical luorld, the con- stitution of the human mind, and from the character a7id designs of the Deity, as revealed in his providence and luord. It will not be necessary, in order to show that the soul will survive the body, to prove its imma- teriality. The same omnipotent power that created mind can preserve it in being, whatever may be the constituent elements of which it is composed. Besides, we have no more evidence of the destruc- tion of matter, than of the destruction of mind. All the phenomena in the natural world show that mat- ter, in undergoing its various transfonnations and changes, loses none of its particles. It may be decomposed, may enter into a variety of chemical aflinities, may be changed from a solid to a liquid, and from a liquid to invisible gases, and yet not an atom be annihilated. Its power thus to sundve all changes, and enter into new combinations, under laws that are fixed and unalterable ; its capability of resisting all tlie forces that can be brought against it, shows that its properties are subtile agents, or 16 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. elements distinct from mere exteiibiou, .solidity, &c., — elements that, for aught we know, cling iil tenaciously U, life, as those of an immaterial sub- stance. To pa.ss by more common illustrations, wo would refer to the changes wliich so solid a substance as silver undergoes on being inunei-seil in ililutod nitric acid.* Tlir trong affinity of the acid for the silver acts u|)oi. it so powerfully jis very .soon to entii-ely dissolve it. The lluid remains as clear and limpid iui before. Now, what has l)ecomo of the silver ? Is it .lestroyod ? Its fonu, solidity, lustre, and all it^ metallic characteristics, are gone. Its existence is not appreciable by any of the senses ; and were we ignorant of the method cf restoring it to its metallic state, or r.f dis. .Bering by certtdn tests its presence in the fluid, wo .sho.d.l suppose that it was annihilate.!. And were a chiss of objectors dis- posed to maintain this position, and ad.luce the evidences of their senses that the 2net«l w,us .-d.s„- lutely destroyed, ur Miould have no means ,.f refuting them. l!ut our knowledge of chemistry enables u> i,, introduce a sub.st:mce into the mix- ture that will compel the acid to surrender up the silver, and the small particles may be gathered ui), • Sec Bakewoll- ■ N.t>,.al Evidence, of a Future Life. UeriveJ fron. ,he Propo,„e,, &c. .., M:u,e,-,- a work in .I.ich tl.is branch of our subject i, 'liscussed with si-eat abilirv. 'fy- EVIDENCES OF A FUTURE LIFE. and restored even to the same form, that the sub- stance presented before its dissolution. So we may take water, and resolve it into two substances that bear no resemblance to the original, — hydrogen and oxygen gases. We may bring the two, thus separated, into contact with fire, that is extinguished by water, and the one is found to be a supporter of combustion, and the other })unis with an intense and steady flame. Reunited, they again form water. A piece of coal, in undergoing the process of combustion, is simply resolved into its primitive ele- ments, — caloric, gas, smoke, and ashes; and could these be collected together again and weighed, they would be found to correspond exactly in weight with the original piece of coal. Vegetation, too, when decomposed, has simply assumed new forms, and entered into new combinations. None of its particles are lost, but they have simply been appointed to other offices, and are at work in other departments of the great laboratory of nature. Examples of a similar character might be multi plied indefinitely ; and from these various and con stant changes in the natural world we would draw, if not a conclusive argument, at least a sti'ong probability, that the immaterial and more valuable part of man will survive the changes that the body undergoes at death. 18 EMBLEMS OF IIEAVEX. It is true that we are incapable of conceivinn^, with our present faculties, how the sentient ])rinci- ple witliin us can exist, detached from a bodily organization; and we allow, that the evidences of the external senses, in viewing the i^honomeua of death, flivor the idea that all that was vital in tlio prostrate form is forever extiniiuished. But when we witness changes in material substances more marked and surprising than those wrought by death upon a human being, without destroying a single particle of matter, — when we see the most won- derful transformations taking place, as, fcn^ instance, gases converted into solids, and solids into gases, without the loss of a single ingredient, — we may reasonably believe that a di<>Jolution may take place between the body and the mind, without the des- truction of either. And if we are unable to trace out the processes in the natural world, by means of which these changes are elTected, — if we can- not see and explain how tlie two gases that com- pose water separate from each other, and become combustible, invisible, and noxious, while in com- bination they were \isible and salubrious, — our ignorance does not militate against the iact tliat such changes do take place. Neither should our ignorance of the manner in which mind is preserved when separated from the body, destroy our faith in the fact that it is preserved. Our inability to EVIDENCES OF A FUTURE LIFE. 19 explain the mamier in wliich the separation takes place, and each pait exists as a distinct entity, is certainly no proof that it cannot be explained. The Being who created the human soul, and united it to a material body, has power to sustain it Avhen detached from that body ; and if all experience teaches us that matter is imperishable, a higher experience may teach us that mind is imperishable. But the natural world furnishes another analogy that is worthy of attention. We find that there are properties inherent in matter, such as chemical attraction and gravitation, which, though so subtile as to defeat every effort to ascertain their nature, yet are not destroyed nor affected by the changes that take place in the bodies in which they are found. Let these bodies be decom- posed, or resolved into their primitive elements, and still these properties will not be amiihilated ; thus fur- nishing, at least, a striking analogy to the continued existence of the spiritual nature of man, after his physical organization has been reduced to its native dust. That most subtile and mysterious element, heat, that so generally pen^ades matter, and may, perhaps, be regarded lus a distinct essence, can be proved to be indestmctible. A large class of experi- ments might be brought forward to show that it cannot be annihilated, and that in being brought from a latent into an active state, it diffuses itself 20 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. abroad, and passes to other bodies. The same is true of other elements. No satisfactory evidence can be adduced that the least portion of them is ever destroyed. We now ascend to a higher class of evidences in favor of the future life, drawn from the constitution, desires, and moral qualities of the human intellect. A simple glance at the powers of the mind, — its capacities, store-honsjo?; of memory, range of thought, taste, refmement, capabilities of happiness, and exquisite organization, — aifords strong pre- sumptive evidence that it was not made to perish with the body. So wonderful a structure, animating this living material organization, connected with all external structures,— with the earth, sun, and stars; —so godlike a substance, — united to the great God, soaring for companionship with angels, capable of loving and adoring the Supreme Being, — could not have been made to sport here for a while, amid an ocean of mysteries and uncertainties, to be at last flung, as a worthless wreck, upon the shores of eternity. The very contrast exhibited between the human intellect and its comparatively limited sphere here, — between its capabilities and their actual develop- ment, between its desires and their gratification, indicates that it is designed for a higher life, and nobler theatre. In looking around us, we find that EVIDENCES OF A FUTURE LIFE. 21 all other objects and classes of lacings are fitted to the ends for which they were created. The flowers that bloom, the animals that roam in the fields, and the insects that sport in the sunlight, are all fulfill- ing their destiny. But man stands alone upon this jdanet, — an anomaly, a mystery. He is a stranger here. He bums with desires after knowledge and truth, which must be restrained. lie is conscious of struggling powers, earnest aspirations ; but they are clogged, fettered. lie looks upward, and sees signal stars hung out over the canopy, indicating that there are vast domains beyond his naiTOW habitation, — domains that he would rejoice to explore, — worlds that he thirsts to know about. As he gazes, a thousand conjectures throng his mind : Are these false lights designed to deceive, or only to light up the wastes of an infinite expanse, or do they illumine millions of attendant worlds ? He asks, are they inhabited ? Does the same divine government that we are under, extend over them? Are the subjects loyal, or rebels, like us ? Do they know what death is? Do they need a Saviour? Have they ever heard the thunder of divine wrath, or watched the flash of their Creator's indignant eye ? What is their organization ? — what their suscepti- bilities, intellectual endowments, moral character- istics, hopes, fears, joys, or sorrows ? The stranger asks, but no response is heard. He goes to the 99 ExMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. EVIDENCES OF A FUTURE LIFE. 99 ^ most profound philosophers, but they can tell him nothing satisluciury. Wii goes to the most success- ful astronomers, but they can give him only conjec- tures. He consults the Book of books, but he finds that tliat treats of but one ^science. The intensity of this desire after knowledge, — this longing to study the map and traverse the empire of the universe, — is indicated in the excite- ment and warm enthusiasm with wliieh important astronomical discoveries are recei\-ed. Let it be announced that by means of vastly incronsed teles copic power, cities and inha])itants had l)een dis- covered on the nearest planet ; that the glitter of its palaces, and the magnificence of its architecture, and the movements of its busy throng, had been seen, — with what rapidity would the tidings fly over the civilized world! With what greeiliness would the news be received! But those distant suns, planets, and moons are all silent. They declare only "the glory of God.^' They teach but one lesson, and that is, tlmt from far nobler heights than this earth can furnish we shall view their splendors and read their destiny. Else this language Jibove us is a forgery. And can the finger of God Avrite, in such bright charactei^, forgery ? I tremble in uttering even the suspicion. I believe in a God who cannot lie,— in a Father who Avill not deceive. I ask from yonder stains no other voices. They tell I me enough. Faith can build beyond the boundaries of sight. But distinct from this thii-sting after knowledge is the inherent love of existence, and desire for inmiortality, that is in every breast. Notwithstand- ing all our disappointments and calamities here, we still cling tenaciously to life. We love to be. We lo\e to feel the glow of health, and the vigorous workings of our intellectual nature. We love to look out upon the broad earth, breathe the fresh air, drink in the sunlight, listen to the music of l>irds and forests, and float quietly on this green l)all tln'ouirh the skies. We love, for from the noise and strife of men, to comumne with our own spirits and with the Great Spirit. ** Deep solitude I sought. Tliere was a dell Where woven shades shut out the eye of day. While, towering near, the rugged mountains made Dark back-ground 'gainst the sky. Thither I went, And bade my spirit drink that lovely draught For which it long had languished, 'mid the strife And fever of the world. I thought to be There without witness, but the violet's eye Looked up upon me, the fresh wild rose smiled, And the young pendent vine-flower kissed my cheek. And there were voices, too. The garrulous brook. Untiring, to the patient pebbles told Its history. Up came the singing breeze. And the broad leaves of the cool poplar spoke, Responsive, every one." ♦ * ♦ The thought of losing this conscious life, of having 24 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. EVIDENCES OF A FUTURE LIFE. 9f; this bright flame go out, and existence buried down deep in the grave of endless night, is appalling. The mere possibility of annihilation, to a sensitive spirit, to a heart gushing with affection, to a mind fdled with pure desires and n()l)le aspirations, is honible. Even with the revealed promise of a life to come, we shrink from the hazards of the grave. We fear to close our eyes in death, lest they may never open again. We fear to cast off the last rope that holds us to the shore of time, lest some unknown storm may engulf us in tlie ocean of annihilation. And when the dread certainty is fastened upon us that we must die, our desires and hopes leap the dark valley, and land amid the imagined felici- ties of an immortal state. The evidences of the future life, in such an hour, throng the mind, and strive to buoy it up, as it is sinking into the dark waters of death. This longing after immortality, — tliis stretching away after the infinite, — is inlierent in every mind that is not shattered or debased by sin. It appears in the want of satisfaction, that one feels, when in the possession of the highest earthly good. The greatest degree of power, knowledge, wealth, or pleasure, cannot aflbrd to the mind lasthig and solid enjoyment. The king upon his throne strives for new teiTitories, larger revenues, and more exclusive I I prerogatives. The most gifted and profound phi- losopher uses his acquisitions and mental discipline, to effect new conquests in the kingdom of science. The man of wealth thirsts for greater riches, and, too often, his gains are only fuel to feed the flame of his avarice. These restless, burning desires pervade all nations, and all ranks in society. They constitute a part of man's being, and can only be extinguished by destroying the principle of life ; and as one increases in intellectual attainment and moral excellence, his desire for immortality increases in the same propor tion. Among the heathen, the earliest and most zealous advocates of this doctrine were illustrious poets, philosophers, and statesmen. Xcnocrates, Plato, Demosthenes, and others, strongly advocated it ; and as they advanced in intelligence and virtue the fear of death was removed. The early martyrs, as they rose in religious feiTor, rose in contempt of death. Persecutions, prisons, bodily tortures, they heeded not, for they desired "a better country,'* — a more splendid the- atre for the development of their powers, and the display of their loyalty and devotion. Now, how shall we account for the universality and intensity of this desire for a future life ? Why is it that the mind of man, upon whicli the Deity lavishes such rich blessmgs, — before which he opens 3 2f) EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. such a variety of moral, intellectual, and social enjoyments, — yet remains unsatisfied, yet cherishes " this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality ? " Can we doubt the source of this desire ? And if planted in the breast by the Creator, can we sup- pose that it was placed there without design, or Avith the intention of exciting in us hopes which will never be realized ? Does it comport with our ideas of the divine benevolence, wisdom, and rectitude, to imagine for a moment that minds freighted with such hopes are destined to be annihilated, — destined to plunge over the precipice, into the deep, bottom- less gulf, from which we instinctively recoil with horror ? The moral qualities of the soul also indicate its immortality. Man is constituted to feel and act, as well as to think. He is endowed with certain instincts, affections, and principles, that prompt him to seek his own moral culture, and the improve- ment of his fellow-men. Amid the evidences of a sad degeneracy, and wide-spread moral debasement, with which the world is fdled, we find numerous instances of heroism, benevolence, and philantlu'opy, that excite our admiration and reflect honor upon human nature. Men have lived who were noble specimens of the race, — men of exalted virtues, EVIDENCES OF A FUTURE LIFE. 27 strong fortitude, invincible courage, boundless use- fulness. They have appeared upon the stage to redeem human nature, to show that principle can triumph over self-interest, that the good of society can be toiled for, without the hope of earthly reward, and that a life can be regulated by the law of kind- ness, and devoted to acts of generosity and charity. We might point, for example, to the heroes of the Christian church, who have furnished the world with most illustrious examples of patient endurance under suffering ; of boldness and zeal in maintaining the truth, in the face of the bitterest opposition ; of a resolute detennination to break up those giant systems of evil that had so long crushed the nations. In the early efforts of apostles and martyrs to estab- lish Christianity upon an imperishable basis, we have a scene of moral sublimity upon which the good and virtuous of all ages delight to gaze. We have an exhibition of qualities of heart and soul, calculated to quicken the energies and fire the zeal of every beholder. And the effects of those labors and sacri- fices have been felt down to the present hour; nay, more ; their influence has been deepening and widening, flowing through the ramifications of society, touching the springs of action in thousands of hearts, aiding millions in sustaining the shock of life's battle, giving birth to institutions that are blessing the civilized world. 28 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. xsow, can we entertain the thought that these minds, that had attained to such an eminence in moral excellence, religious devotion, and godlike usefulness, have perished ? Were they, through long disciplinary processes, through fire, dungeons, and torture, carried to such a noble height that tliey might fall thence into annihilation ? Is there, in this wide universe, no other field for the exercise of their benevolence, courage, heroism ? Is the Creator so limited in his power and resources that he can carry a human being no further than to tlie door of the tomb ? Is death so mighty an agent as to dispute dominion with the Infinite One ? Is there given to a single mind, a single earnest apostle, the power of illuminating, by the briglit- ness of his example, the civilized world, causing its light to be reflected from a thousand pulpits and thousands of presses, furnishing themes for the most persuasive eloquence, and stimulus for the most ele- vated piety, while that mind itself is left to perish ? Shall the influence be "clothed with immortality," while the source of the influence goes down into annihilation ? There is a still higher class of evidences of the future life. All men are impressed, to a greater or less degree, with the fact that they are the subjects of a divine moral government. Their reason, con- EVIDENCES OF A FUTURE LIFE. 29 science, and experience, teach them this truth. The itlea that we are under authority, — that we owe allegiance to a higher power, — is developed in the mind of a child, and grows Avith his growth, and sti-engthens witli his strength. The approbation that we feel in view of right conduct, and the disappro- bation that is produced by wrong conduct, — the rewards that accompany virtue, and the evils that follow vice, — all keep this idea of government before the mind. Not only is it taught through God's providential dealings, but there is placed in every soul a viceroy of heaven's King, — a princi- ple termed conscience, — that acts as a faithful sen- tinel over our moral interests. If a person follows a vicious course of life, it is not necessary for him to be summoned before ah external tribunal, in order to have his case examined, and sentence pronounced. There is inherent in his own soul, a power that brings him into the court of his own consciousness, impanels a jury from his own sense of justice and propriety, compels him to hear witnesses before con- science, which sits as judge, and requires him to listen to the sentence of condemnation, and experi- ence its execution in impaired health, waste of character, ruined prospects, and blasted hopes. He canies about with him this miniature moral govern- ment wherever he goes. He cannot shake it off. He cannot divest himself of its authority, nor flee 30 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. from its sanctions. And what is it but a reflection of that great moral government that the Supreme Being has instituted over all his sentient creatures ? What does it teach, but that we must one day render an account before a more august tribunal, and in the presence of a more terri])le Judge ? Connected with this idea of government, is the idea that this is a disciplinary state, — that we are placed here to form characters and acquire habits for a higher life. In passing through the severe ordeal of temptation, in being subject to heavy trials and aftUctions, we cannot suppose that the benefits accruing therefrom are confined to this short life. All the influences with which we are brought in contact here, seem to have an educational purpose. They bid us look upward, — bid us make preparation for the future. While we have abundant evidence of the perfec- tion of this divine government, we have also evi- dence that it is here imperfectly administered, and that the ends of strict justice are not always attained. The virtuous often sufler unjustly, — are oppressed, persecuted, and deeply injured, wdth no means of redress. On the other hand, tyrants often seem, for a series of years, to prosper in their tyranny. They are not always smitten down at once by the judgments of Heaven. They retain their power, amass wealth, revel in luxuries, while their virtu- ous, perhaps Christian victims, are pining in dun- EVIDENCES OF A FUTURE LIFE. 31 geons or burning at stakes. Now, without a future life, there are deep mysteries here that we cannot solve ; — there are perplexities here that we can- not reconcile with divine justice and benevolence. But convince me that there is a future life, where villanous persecutors and infamous tyrants will receive the punishment due to their crimes, and where the virtuous and holy will be rewarded, and these difllculties are at once removed. The question, however, of a future state of being, has been settled by Ilim wlio brought life and immor- tality to light. The Great Teacher sent from God has laid before us an array of evidences that removes every doubt, and inspires us with the strongest iliith and most brilliant hopes. Appearing upon the the- atre of human action, he unrolls his credentials for the inspection of mankind. By his accurate fulfil- ment of prophecy, his power to work miracles, his holy life, and his readiness to suffer and die for man, he has substantiated his claim to our unlimited confidence ; and when he declares, " I am the resur- rection and the life ; he that believeth in me shall never die,'* we recognize in the w^ords, the most sublime announcement ever made to man. We recognize the language of a messenger who speaks as "one having authority." Indeed, the Holy Scriptures abound with proofs of our immortality. Every page is luminous with EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. this gre«it doctrine. From the hopes of the patri- arch Abraham, who ''looked for a city that had foundation, whose buihler and maker is God," down to the splendid revelations made to St. John, we have a series of proofs that no scepticism can under- mine, nor opposition overthrow. Moses, in the full- ness of his fidth, " esteemed the reproach of Christ greater riches than the trea^-^ures of Egypt ; for he had respect unto the recompense of the reward." Job, in the midst of his adversity, could say, "I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth." The Psalmist David declared, "As for me, I shall behold thy face in righteousness ; I shall be satisfied when I awake with thy likeness." All these ancient saints " confessed that they w^re strangers and pil- grims on the earth," and that they " desired a bet- ter country, even an heavenly." The evangelists and apostles glowed with the rapture imparted by this great doctrine. Hear the dying words of the most earnest and noble of these lieroes: "I have fought a good fight, I have fin- islied my course, I have kept the faith ; henceforth there is laid up for me a crow^n of righteousness." We cannot sum up the scriptural presentation of this truth in words more appropriate and sublime than those used by St. Paul, in his Epistle to the Corinthians: "Behold, I show you a mystery. EVIDENCES OF A FUTURE LIFE. 33 We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed ; in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump : for i\\o trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall ho raised, and Ave shall be changed. For this corniptible must put on incormption, and this mortal must put on inmiortality ! " *' 0, listen, man ! A voice within us speaks that startling -vvord, • Man, thou shalt never die ! ' Celestial voices Hymn it unto our souls ; according harps. By angel fingers touched, when the mild stars Of morning sang together, sound forth still The song of our great immortality ; Thick clustering orbs, and this our fair domain, The tall, dark mountains, and the deep-toned seas, Join in this solemn, universal song. 0, listen, ye, our spirits ; drmk it in From all the air ! 'T is in the gentle moonlight ; 'T is floating 'midst day's setting glories ; night, Wrapped in her sable robe, with silent step Comes to our Ijod, and breathes it in our ears. Night, and the dawn, bright day, and tlioughtful eve All time, all bounds, the limitless expanse. As one vast mystic instrument, are touched By an unseen, living Hand, and conscious chords Quiver with joy iu this great jubilee. The dying hear it, and, as sounds of earth Grow dull and distant, wake their passing souls To mingle in this heavenly harmony." 11. THE RAINBOW AROUND THE THRONE. •* And there was a rainbow round about the throne.'* — Rfvelatiox iv. 3. No portion of the Bible is so fmitful in heavenly emblems as the book of Revelation. They duster and sparkle upon every page. They adorn every vision, and glisten from every tmth which is recorded by the beloved disciple. As though conscious tliat the inspired volume is about to close, they crowd around the setting sun to receive its last beauteous rays, and throw their splendors over the whole heavens. The isle of Patmos, where this panorama of gor- geous images passed before the mind of St. John, presented a striking contrast to the scenes of which it was the theatre. It was a lonely, barren spot in the iEgean Sea, so desolate that criminals were sent to it as a punishment. Domitian, the tyrant, ban- ished thither the Apostle John, thinking that the wildness and hardships of the place would induce him to renounce his religion. But his faith and devotion, instead of becoming weaker, kindled into a glow that pervaded his whole being. He felt that • • . • • I ' 11* 1 1 > t • I • • I • f »' • * • • • • • I ' * > . < • • • I ' t I 4 i I • • • i • • • • • • •• • • •: • • > • • • • • • • • •• • • • • ,• • • • , • • .• * * • •• • • • • • • • « • • • • • • • THE RAINBOW AROUND THE THRONE. 35 God was with him, that the Holy Spirit was hover- in*^ over him, that Jesus was liis companion, and that angelic messengers w^ere encamped round about him. Those rough cliffs and cragged rocks, were clothed with freshness and beauty to his eye. The ocean that begirt his isle spread out as the emblem of infinite love. Its roar was sweet music to his ear, as he recognized in it notes of that great anthem that is constantly ascending from nature to its God. The heavenly scenes, however, that he witnessed, shed over the island a bright halo of glory. As he looked upward, he beheld the whole canopy filled with images of surpassing beauty and splendor. In the distance, there appeared a throne, and one sat upon it ''like unto the Son of Man.*' His robes were of snowy whiteness. His countenance shone as the sun. Upon his brow rested a brilliant crown. Around the throne there was "a great multitude, that no man could number, of all nations, and kin- dreds, and people, and tongues, clothed with w^hite robes, and palms in their hands.*' Other scenes, of equal grandeur, open one after another, illustrating the power of the church, the progress of Christ's kingdom, and the signal ruin of its enemies. The New Jerusalem appears in the \ isiuu, with its streets of gold, its gates of pearl, its towers and palaces, and gorgeous decorations. 3G EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. But it is to n single object in this celestial pano- rama, that we would now direct our attention ; and that is, the rainbow that was round about the throne. There i^^ a significancy in this into whi(^h it may be well to inquire. Why did not the holy divine behold over such a throne, the radiance of brilliant stars, or the splendor of a noonday's sun ? Why does there appear a simple rainbow ? We answer. It is phiced there as the token, that a covenant- keeping God is seated upon that throne. After Noah and his family had witnessed the fearful ravages and escaped the perils of the deluge, God said to him, "I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for the token of a covenant between me and the earth ; and I will remember my covenant, and the waters shall no more become a flood to destroy all flesh.'' In this solemn pledge we have shadowed forth the spiritual covenant which God has entered into with his church, — a covenant that he will not flood the earth with divine wrath, but will receive to his fovor the penitent and believing. As the ancient dispensation, under Mo^os, with its rites and ceremonies, stood as the type of a new and spiritual system, so the bow that Noah saw in the cloud, was the type of that more resplendent arch that appeared in the vision of John ; and as God has been faithful in fulfdling his promise to spare the world from the disasters of another deluge, he THE RAINBOW AROUND THE THRONE. 37 will be equally faithful in fulfdling all the precious promises, which he has made to his people. And this bow around the throne is to inspire confidence, as well as hope, — to give to the Christian pilgrim **a full assurance of faith;" to enable him to say, *' I know that my Redeemer iiveth." A special object of Christ's mission was to impress the world with the truthfulness and faithfulness of Jehovah. "In my Father's house are many man- sions. If it were not so, I would have told you." Indeed, Christ is presented to us as ''the medi- ator of a better covenant, which was established upon l)etter promises." Those which were made with Noah, Abraham, and their descendants, per- tained to temporal benefits. The Israelites, if obedi- ent to God, were to receive distinguished earthly favors. They were to be in a miraculous manner supplied with food, protected from their enemies, and conducted to a land overflowing with milk and honey. The manifestations which the Deity made of himself to them, were such as appealed to the external senses. They approached " ca mount that might be touched, and that burned with fire;" they heard "the sound of a tmmpet, and the voice of words." "But ye," Avho are under the new covenant, "are come unto Mount Zion, and unto the city of the living God, the heavenly Jemsalem, and to an innumerable company of angels." The 4 38 KMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. blessings now ollered are of a spiritual nature. Instead of manna to support the body, we have precious truths to nourish and invigorate the soul. Instead of waters flowing from a rock, we may drink of " the pure river of the water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb.'* Instead of following a cloud by day and a i)illar of fire l)y night, a divine, resplendent Being appears before us, saying, " I am the light of the world.'' Instead of a mountain that might be touched, — a mountain enveloped in clouds and darkness, shaken by peals of thunder, and rendered terrible by flashes of lightning, — we ''are come unto Mount Zion," wliose mild beauties attract every beholder, and around whose summit play the soft beams from the Sun of righteousness. Instead of a material city, we have pointed out to us, in the far distance, " the heavenly Jerusalem," with its sweet gardens, celestial palaces and thrones, — "a city that hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God." Instead of being confined to the society of imperfect men, we are admitted to com- panionship with angels, — to "the general assembly and church of the first bom." Indeed, all that the Christian can desire in this life, or hope for in the next, is pledged under this new and better covenant. No language can describe, no imagina- tion can portray, the rich blessings which it secures TIIK RAIXBOW AROUXI) THE THRONE. 39 to the believer. "Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things w^hich God hath prepared for them that love him." How appropriate, then, that the throne of the Eternal should l)e arched over with the bow of promise, that the Christian should have before him this perpetual token, that a covenant-keeping God holds the reins of universal dominion! How full of comfort to the saint, that the eye of faith may rest upon that bow ! No sun is there, to dazzle the vision ; no storm-cloud, with its rolling thun- der and lightning flashes, overhangs the throne, to terrify those who approach it ; but a rainbow, with its beautiful tints and soft rays, attracts them, inspiring in their hearts, confidence and hope. The oppressed pilgrim may look upon it, and from the throne he hears the words, "Fear not, for I am with thee; be not dismayed, for I am thy God." Penitent prodigals, weary with toil, having found the ways of transgressors hard, may turn towards it an anxious eye, and they hear the invitation, *'Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." The dying Chris- tian, as earthly scenes are fading from the view, may behold it, and exclaim, "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no 40 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. evil : for thou art with me ; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me/' This bow, however, does not stand alone, as a proof of the divine faithfuhiess. Our pathway through life is scattered with evidences of a Heav- enly Father's care. Ilis bounteous supply of our wants ; his regard for life, in providing food , for the intellect, in furnishing knoAvledge ; for the taste, in decorating so l)eautifully this globe, that is float- ing us through the heavens ; his providential care, in guarding us from injury, in keeping the delicate and complicated workmanship of the luunan system in tune so long, are all proofs that our future inter- ests will be protected. We reason justly, from this life to another ; from what we see around us, and experience here, to wdiat we may expect in a higher and nobler state of being. This is our school, to which we are sent to learn lessons of God's truth- fulness and love. AVe are here taught to have faith in our great Benefactor, and to trust him for tlie blessings of another life, because he has done so much for us in this. The bow around tlie throne is also a token that the storms of human life shall ere long pass away. After a severe tempest, during which the raging elements have threatened to destroy every object within their reach, and the heavy crashes of thun- der have appalled the stoutest heart, we have THE RAINBOW AROUND THE THRONE. 41 experienced the relief afforded by the subsiding of the storm, and seeing painted on the retiring clouds tlie bow of promise. As we looked abroad, instead of witnessing the marks of ruin, nature has appeared clothed in its loveliest hues, as though to mock the fury of tiie tempest. From the descending torrents it has gathered refreshment and viaor, and even the lightning has done it a service, by purifying the atmosphere. Thus the devout Christian sees in the bow around the throne the pledge tliat the trials and afflictions of life shall soon end, and perfect serenity be his portion. He reads inscribed upon it, in golden letters, the words, *' There remaineth a rest for the people of God.'* But the hour for this rest has not yet come. The benefits of trials must first be gathered into the soul. The heart must be disciplined; faith must be cultivated; the power of the souFs endurance must be tested. It is not the design of God that the Christian " should be carried to the skies On flowery beds of ease." He must *« strive to enter in at the strait gate.'' He must ''nin with patience the race set before him.'' lie must '* fight the good fight of faith." All the scriptural expressions upon this point imply the necessity of earnest effort. The battle must 4* 42 EMBLEMS 0-F HEAVEN. be fought before the triumph is celebrated. A great work must be accomplished in self-discipline, — in the development and growth of holy principles, — ere we are prepared for the rewards of heaven. In all the temptations and aflUctions of life, the design of the Creator is discernible, and he has arched his tlu^one with a ])eautiful rainbow, to assure his peo- ple that he will give peace to the trou])lcd soul. And this bow is over the ilu'one to iuilieate that it is only when the Christian is near this throne, that he can enjoy perfect serenity. He must, as it were, enter into God, dwell amid his holy attributes, experience the fulness of his love, if he would enjoy that peace "that passeth all understanding.'' That far-distant height storms never reach. Clouds that cast shadows upon the earth float beneath it. The passions and strifes of Avicked men do not ascend to it. " There foith lift.«« up the tearless eye. The heart with anguish riven ; It views the tempest passing by, Sees evening shadows quickly fly, And all serene in heaven." There is infinite wisdom displayed in thus making the throne the seat of perfect peace ; for, had wc satisfying enjoyment here, Ave should become too much attached to the Avorld. As it now is, we are loath to leave it. Amid all our trials and disap- THE RAINBOW AROUND THE THRONE. 43 poiiitments, its channs continue to fascinate us. Its cares absorb the attention. We seek its riches, covet its applause, and depend upon its pleasures. Though we term human life a vale of tears, we arc often reluctant to excliange it for Mount Zion,— for the city of the living God. Though friends here are sometimes lalse, many receive Avith alarm the summons to mingle Avith an innumerable com- pany of angels, and the general asseml^ly and church of the first ])orn. Though in this world the Christian has tribulation, he trembles at the thought of enter- ing into the presence of God, Avhere the Psahnist assures us ''there is fulness of joy/' It is therefore a Avise provision that so many attractions cluster around the throne. It is a great kindness in the Supreme Father to draAv aAvay his children from the vanities of time, and fasten their attention upon the joys and splendors of immor- tality. The rainboAv encircling the throne indicates, also, that there is ample power to confer and perpetuate this happiness. A throne is the emblem of strength and authority. Hence, it is not simply a Father, Avho promises to the Christian, peace; — it is a Sovereign, — one " avIio doeth according to his Avill, in the army of heaven, and among the inhabitants of the earth." The resources of God's boundless empire are to ))e employed in executing his pur- 44 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. poses of love. The vast revenues that flow into his treasury, are to be used in enriching and blessing his people. Those glorious, divine attributes, that built the universe, and peopled the niillioas of worlds that float in space, are to be exercised in promoting the happiness of the righteous. With what inexpressible joy will the redeemed saint approach the throne, and view his rich and everlasting inheritance ! With what rapture will he gaze upon the splenditl mani- festations which the Deity will make of himself, in his celestial kingdom ! "It is,'' says one, ''a glorious thing, even, when the golden beams of day flood the can«>i>y of heaven, and forest, mountain and river, are beautiful with light ; — glorious, indeed, wdien the whole creation wakes up at the summons of the morning, as though the tmmpet had sounded, and the vast grave of niirht were aivin^ back the ciiics and solitudes that had 2'(me tlowu into its recesses. But in place of a firmament lighted up with a material body, we shall have the infmitc vault converted into one bril- liant manifest OF HEAVEN. *• These glorious minds, — how bright they shine! Whence all their white array? How came they to the happy seata Of everlasting day ? From torturing pains to endless joys On fiery wheels they rode, And strangely washed their raiment white In Jesus' dying blood. Now they approach the eternal God, And bow before his throne ; Their warbling harps and sacred songs Adore the Holy One." The devoted Payson, on his dying bed, feeling the glow of this triumph, exclaimed, "The battle's fought ! the battle 's fought ! and the victory is tvon ! I am going to bathe in an ocean of purity, and benevolence, and happiness, to all eternity!'* At another time, he said, '« The celestial city is full in view. Its glories beam upon me, its breezes fan me, its odors are wafted to me, its music strikes upon my ear, and its spirit breathes into my heart. Nothing separates me from it but the river of death, which now appears as a naiTow rill, which may be crossed at a single step, whenever God shall give permission. '' The Sun of Eighteousness has been gradually drawing nearer and nearer, appearing larger and larger as he approached ; and now he fdls i\i(i whole hemisphere, i)ouring forth a flood of glory, in which I seem to float, like an insect in the beams of the A REST FOR THE PEOPLE OF GOD. 67 sun; exulting, yet almost trembling, while I gaze on this excessive brightness, and wondering, with unutterable wonder, why God should deign thus to shine upon a sinful worm." The pious Holland, while listening, in his dying hours, to the reading of the Scriptures, and giving his meditations upon each passage, suddenly ex- claimed to his friend, " 0, stay your reading ! Wliat brightness is this I see ? Have you lighted up any candles?" Mr. L. replied, ''No, it is the sun- shine ;" for it was about five o'clock, on a beautiful summer's evening. " Sunshine ! " said he. '' Nay, it is my Saviour's shine. Now, farewell world! Welcome, heaven ! The day-star from on high hath visited me. 0, speak it when I am gone, and preach it at my funeral ; — God dealeth familiarly with man ! I feel his mercy ; I see his majesty ; whether in the body or out of the body, I cannot tell, — God knoweth, — but I see things that are unutterable." Thus, full of rapture, he passed away to the spirit world, the sweet tones of his voice growing fainter and fainter, until they were merged in the melody of heaven Christian reader, " So Shalt thou rest ; and what if thou shalt fall Unnoticed by the living, and no friend Take note of thy departure ? All that breathe Will share thy destiny. ♦ * * » G8 EMBLEMS OF IIEAVKN. Ah the long train Of ages glide away, the sons of men, — The young, in life's green spring, and he who goes In the full strength of years ; matron and maid ; The bowed with age ; the infant, in the smiles And bc.iuty of its innocent age cut ofif, — Shall, one by one, be gathered to thy side, By those who, in their turn, shall follow them. So live, that, when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan that moves To the pale reuhns of shade, where each shall take His chamljer in the silent halls of death, Tliou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon ; but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and hes down to pleasant dreams ! ** • • • I » 1 1 i I • • • • • • I • ■ • • • • • > • • * • ■ t • > • ■ 1 1 t * I , • • ■ • • « I • t ■ • I • I I • • • t • • t I • • II • I It • « t I * I i I • (I (I « f f « 1 • » ■ • • • » . ♦ • » • • , f I • • I I t t • • I • • I "Vi- t^y^'h *■ ' IV. NO NIGHT IN HEAVEN. " And there shall be no night there." — Revelation xxii. 6. Tins is another of those strikmg and compre- hensive utterances, by which St. John endeavors to describe what is indescribable, and to aid us in con- ceiving what is inconceivable. All attempts to com- prehend the nature and blessedness of the heavenly state, are as ineffectual as an effort to measure with the eye the height of a mountain whose summit is enveloped and lost in the clouds, or to traverse, with our present organization, the distances that separate us from the fixed stars. Yet, as the astronomer, by careful study and the use of arti- ficial aids, is enabled to enlarge his conceptions of the physical universe, and to gaze upon suns and systems that are invisible to the naked eye, so the Christian, with the assistance of the telescopic power of the Bible, may extend his views of the heavenly world, and discover new beauties and glories in the moral firmament above him. The terms darkness and light are often used in the Scriptures as emblems of spiritual objects. As 70 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. NO NIGHT IN HEAVEN. 71 descriptive of the prevalence of sin, darkness is said to cover the earth, and gross darkness the people. It is synonymous with ignorance, sorrow, wretched- ness and the divine judgments. The day of the Lord coming in teiTor, is "a day of darkness and gloominess, — a day of clouds and of thick dark- ness.'' For the finally impenitent there " is reser^xd the blackness of darkness forever." On the other hand, light is emblematic of loveli- ness, beauty, truth and happiness. Pouring forth from its centre, it chases away the darkness, renders visible the material universe, decks a thousand objects with beauty, and clothes the works of the great Architect with a drapery of richest lustre and varie- gated splendor. Light is to the eye what truth is to the mind, the medium of communication with realities, — the source of the highest stimulus and the most exquisite delight. The apostle declares that ''God is light.'' He not only shines through his works, and pours his effulgence through suns and stars, but he is in him- self light. Christ is exhibited to us as rising upon the world as "the Sun of righteousness, Avith heal- ing in his wings." Christians are denominated *'the light of the world;" and they are commanded to let their light so shine before men, that others, seeing their good works, may glorify their Father who is in heaven. This image runs through the whole Christian economy, and furnishes, perhaps, the nearest approximation that we have to spiritual objects. Its purity, its ethereal nature, its reviving, cheering influence, its power to call the earth from the tomb of night, to the life and blessedness of day, its capability of resting upon the world with- out participating in its coiTuptions, of entering every abode without feeling the contagion from their sinful inhabitants, render it a fit emblem of the unseen and spiritual. Perhaps we may regard it as the connecting link between the material and the imma- terial, — as the element that will survive, in some form, the general wreck of all that is visible. It may not be altogether a suggestion of the fancy, that in the liour of the Christian's dissolution, wiiile the body descends into darkness, — the darkness of the grave, — the spirit rises into light, — the light of an eternal day. It may float away into higher regions, clothed in a robe of dazzling splendor, and radiant with all the colors of the rainbow. In our present sphere, God shines upon us through external mediums. He has suspended in the great temple of nature a bright orb, through w^hich he pours his effulgence upon the earth by day, and stars that relieve the darkness by night. He shines, too, through all his w^orks ; — through mountains, valleys and verdure ; through every tree, plant and flower; through the plumage of every bird, the I 72 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. mechanism of every insect, the organization of the human frame, and the workings of the inteUect of man. But in that higher, nobler, purer state, towards which every earnest Christian is making progress, there will be no need of this external apparatus. It will be all swept away, and the redeemed will be admitted into the presence-chamber of the Infi- nite One. The} will gaze, with an unclouded vision, upon the full eftulgence of the Deity, and experi- ence the blessedness of being where *' light is sown for the righteous, and gladness for the upright in heart.'' " There shall be no night there ; and they need no candle, neither light of the sun ; for the Lord God giveth them light.'' From this declaration, we learn, in the first place, that there will be, in that world, no need of rest. The absence of night, with our present constitu- tion, and under the present economy of things, would be far from a blessing. After the toils of the day, we need repose. The husbandman needs it, as he returns from his labors in the field. The tradesman, the artificer, the scholar, — all, as the shades of night fall upon the earth, crave rest. Without it, the physical, and even the mental sys- tem, soon becomes exhausted; — the muscles and sinews Jose theii' sti'ength; the max)hinery of mind NO NIGHT IN HEAVEN. 73 and body is broken up. The most profound studies, the most interesting investigations, the most satis- fying enjoyments, can be pursued only for a short period. A sense of w^eariness soon indicates our frailty, and the darkness of night comes to teU us of our weakness. The most intellectual philoso- phers, the proudest monarchs, the mightiest armies, must sleep. IIow great, then, the change, in our physical and mental constitution, that will fit us for a world in which there is no night, — where no fatigue will occasion the slightest suspension of our duties, or interruption of our joys ! To wdiat a height in the scale of existence does the conception lift us, to imagine ourselves possessed of bodies capable of an unceasing activity, and minds proof against the influ- ence of fatigue ! It camiot but deepen our impres- sions of the blessedness of the heavenly state, to know that there, the discipline of the mind may be carried to the highest perfection, — that the most profound, elaborate and important truths may be investigated without fatigue or inteiTuption, — that we may go from one height to another, in the scale of intel- lectual advancement, and yet, all the Avhile, feel the freshness of the morning, and the vigor of youth. It is difficult, nay, impossible, to conceive how rapidly the faculties will develop and powers expand in such a state. The ability of the mind to 74 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. know and to worship God, — to admire his charac- ter, to fathom the mysteries' of his being, to com- prehend his providence, to study his works, — will increase in a ratio that no present calculation can reach. The saint will become more intensely con- scious of his likeness to Ilim, who, it is affirmed, '' never slumbers or sleeps." Freed from the incum- brance of a material and perishable body, fired with the thought that even the rolling ages of eternity can bring with them no weariness or interruption, rejoicing in the evidence that every increase in knowledge is accession of strength, the glorified saint will be continually tracing out, with increasing distinctness, the lineaments of the divine image in which he was created. But, besides affording a season for rest, night is necessary, in the present world, as an instructor. Had we perpetual sunshine, our views of the power of the Deity, the extent of his authority, and the magnificence of the universe, would be compara- tively limited. We should suppose tliis earth to comprise by flir the greater portion of the Creator's dominions, and Ave should be inchned to assign to ourselves a position of high importance in the scale of intelligences. But, as the sun sinks below the horizon, the great map of the universe is unrolled to our view. The myriads of lights that every- where blaze over the canopy of heaven tell us of NO NIGHT IN HEAVEN. 75 other worlds, more vast and important, perhaps, than our own ; tell us of immensities that even the imagination of man cannot traverse ; tell us, — 0, wondrous discovery! — that we are surrounded with receptacles of life and happiness that in number defy all arithmetical calculation, — that, for aught we know, are as numerous as the sands upon the sea-shore. And how many interesting conjectures does this discovery start up in the mind, as to the mission of these myriads of w^orlds ; — as to their size, shape, accompanying rings and satellites ; the number, character and destiny, of their inhabitants ; as to the probability that the work of creation is constantly going on, and the boundaries of the material universe enlarging, as one age succeeds another ! Yet, the fact that we need the darkness of night to open to us the wonders of creation, is itself evidence of the imperfections of our present organs of vision. The veil of night must fall, before we can even know of the existence of other systems. The sun must withdraw its brightness, to enable us to discern these distant orbs. And still, what we behold of them, compared with what is invisible, is to us what the beacon-lights along an extensive coast are to the mariner. He sees these faint glim- merings dotting the horizon, while the vast conti- nent, with its peopled cities, its mountains, plains, rivers and forests, are totally invisible. 76 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. We are accustomed to speak of our wonderful powers of vision ; and properly so, when we consider how extensive a panorama the eye is capable of surveying, and with what delicacy and accuracy a thousand objects may, at the same instant, be painted upon the retina. Yet, a moment's reflection will show us, that it is only a narrow stratum, compara- tively, of even material olijects, that is visi])le to us, while above and below, there are vast tracts that are only discernible by the aid of artificial means. With the assistance of telescopic power we are able to go above, and view myriads of worlds, the exist- ence of which could never have been discovered by the naked eye. With the microscope we can go below, and become acquainted with orders of exist- ences, wliich display, equally with our o^vn physical organization, the s-klll, wisdom and power, of the Creator. And, even with these aids, we know not how limited our incursions are into these foreign regions. But, in another sphere, when this corruption shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal, immor- tality, we shall need no artificial aids to help us to discern sun^ounding objects. We shall need no veil of night to enable us to gaze upon the wonders and splendors of creation. With superior organs, with more refined senses, with enlarged faculties, we shall view the brilliant scenes around us, rejoicing in the NO NIGHT IN HEAVEN. 77 dawnings of an eternal day, — dawnings that will throw their lustre upon turrets, palaces, cities and kingdoms, over which the mantle of night shall never be thrown. There shall be no night of sorrow in heaven. Darkness is the fit emblem of wretchedness. The afflicted spirit is under a cloud, — is the victim of night-tempests, the gloom and fury of which can only be fully known by experience. The bereaved Avalk in a vale of tears, with crushed hearts, blighted hopes, agonizing thoughts. I need not tell the reader that this is a world of sorrows, of disappointments, of calamities, that rend asunder the very heart- strings. I need not tell you of your liability to lose, with the suddenness of the lightning's flash, the dearest objects of your affections, — need not point you to the wrecks that are strewed along the coast of human life. It is true that afflictions often come on a mission of benevolence. It is true that, with many of the children of soiTow, it is necessary that their sun of prosperity set, and a night of gloom shut down upon them, in order to render visible the stars of heavenly hopes. By no other means can they be induced to look upward, and cast their anchor of hope within the vail. By no other means can they be led to inquire, "Where is God, my ]\Iaker, ^vho giveth songs in the night ? '' We allow, with a beautiful writer, " that in the deepest moral '* 78 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. darkness there can be music, — music which sounds softer and sweeter than by day ; and that when the instruments of human melody are broken, there is a hand which can sweep the heart-strings, and wake the notes of praise." Yet upon all, the sorrows of earth come with a crushing weight. "No chastisement for the present seemeth to be joyous, l)ut grievous.'' Ask the mother who is sitting by the side of her pale, cold child, — a beloved form, silent, motionless, uncon- scious, the pulsations of life stopped, the spirit fled to return no more, — ask her, if there is not a keenness in affliction! Ask the youthful widow, whose bridal robes have been soon exchanged for the habiliments of mourning, — whose bright visions of earthly happiness have all faded, — whose beloved companion sleeps in the damp, silent, cruel grave, — if earth's trials do not pierce the heart! Enter the family w^here death has preceded you, and how suddenly has the voice of gayety, and the music of mirth, been hushed! How changed is every coun- tenance, every movement, every heart ! The spirit of melancholy broods over the scene! The very rooms and furniture seem to share in the gloom. The very air seems to whisper, "Tread softly, for a dread, mysterious messenger hath visited this family, and laid its hopes in ashes.'' Bleedin"- hearts are here, to which mere words of comfort NO NIGHT IN HEAVEN. 79 sound formal and cold. Soitows are here, that earth cannot heal. Visit the dying man, and learn lessons of afflic- tion from his prostrate, emaciated form, his wasted countenance, his baffled plans, his pains and groans, his mysterious dread of that dark pathway into which he must soon go down ! Nor can we, while in this world, escape these nights of sadness. We are frail, and disease may arrest us ; we are mortal, and death may seize us. Our friends, children, companions, are lent to us, and the great Proprietor of all may take them back to himself. We are sinners, and at any moment the calamitous results of our Avickedness may be sprung upon us. The fruits of years of transgres- sion may be compressed within a few short, fatal days. We are surrounded with iniquity, in its vari- ous intense and destructive forms ; and this keeps the fountain of sorrow open, — the deep, wide, rushing tide, ever in motion. And night, especially, is the season of its triumphs. Then crime stalks abroad ; then villany, under its cloak of darkness, executes its base and wicked designs ; then the unwary are ensnared, the tempted fall, the inno- cent are sacrificed. 0, is it not a blessed announce- ment, that there is a world in which "there shall be no night ;" — no night of crime, deceit, treachery or temptation ; — no night of pain, sickness or death ? 80 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. 0, tell it to the penitent, who is struggling against the evil habits and depraved inclinations of a wicked heart, — who, on life's fierce battle-field, is strivino- to win an immortal crown! Tell it to the dying man, who, restless upon his couch, through long, wearisome nights, is trying to learn the lessons of submission, and foith, and moral discipline, which his suJl'erings are teaching, — who longs for light to break through the dark clouds that are iratherinir a))out him ! Hasten with the tidings to tlie bereaved family, and assure them that there is a world where these griefs shall be lifted from their oppressed spirits, and their present ailUctions, if rightly improved, shall work out for them " a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." For where God is, there can be no night. Where bright, holy angels throng, there can be no sorrow. Where celestial music rolls through the galleries and arches of temples filled with the effulgence of the Deity, there can be no sighing. Where Jesus reigns in liis majesty and glory, "all tears shall be wiped away." No night in heaven! Then no sad partings are experienced there ; — no funeral processions move, no death-knell is heard, no graves are opened. Then no mysterious providences will there perplex us, no dark calamities will shake our faith; but we shall walk the golden streets of the eternal city, surrounded with perpetual brightness, breathing an NO NIGHT IN HEAVEN. 81 atmosphere of heavenly purity, and free to enter the palaces of our King, or climb to heights over wdiich no shadow ever passes. If such, indeed, be the glory of heaven, w^hy should we desire to hold our friends and the objects of our affections to earth ? Wiy keep them in a world of darkness and sorrow, when God calls them to the light and blessedness of an eternal day? The fol- lowing sweet poetic dialogue cannot fail to awaken the tenderest emotions in a mother's heart. It is entitled THE MOTHER AND HER DYING BOY. BOY. My mother, my mother ! 0, let me depart ! Your tears and your pleadings are swords to my heart. I hear gentle voices, that chide my delay ; I see lovely visions, that woo me away. My prison is broken, my trials are o'er ! mother, my mother, detain me no more ! HOTIIEB. And will you, then, leave us, my brightest, my best ? And will you run nesthng no more to my breast ? The summer is coming to sky and to bower ; The tree that you planted will soon be in flower ; You loved the soft season of song and of bloom ; 0, shall it return, and find you in your tomb ? BOY. Yes, mother, I loved in the sunshine to play, And talk with the birds and the blossoms all day ; I 82 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. But sweeter the songs of the spirits on high. And brighter the glories round God in the sky ! I see them, I hear them, they pull at my heart ; My mother, my mother, 0, let me depart ! MOTHEE. O, do not desert us ! Our hearts will be drear, Our home will be lonely, when you are not here ; Your brother will sigh 'mid his playthings, and say, I wonder dear William so long can delay. That foot, like the wild wind, — that glance, like a star, 0, what will this world be when they are afar? BOY. This world, dearest mother ! — 0, live not for this ! No, press on with me to the fulness of bliss ! And trust me, whatever bright fields I may roam. My heart will not wander from you and from home. Believe me still near you, on pinions of love ; Expect me to hail you, when soaring above. MOTHER. Well, go, my beloved ! the conflict is o'er ; My pleas are all selfish, — I urge them no more. Why chain your bright spirit down here to the clod, So thirsting for freedom, so ripe for its God? Farewell, then, farewell, tiU we meet at the throne, Where love fears no parting, and tears are unknown ! BOY. 0, glory ! 0, glory ! what music ! what light ! What wonders break in on my heart, on my sight ' I come, blessed spirits ! I hear you from high. 0, frail, faithless nature ! can this be to die ? So near ! what, so near to my Saviour and King ? 0, help me, ye angeLs, His glories to smg ! NO NIGHT IN HEAVEN. 83 There will be no night of ignorance in heaven. Here, our highest attainnient in knowledge is comparative ignorance. Our clearest conceptions of truth are confused and indistinct. Even the little knowledge that we do possess costs us a vast amount of toil, protracted study and conflicts, with wandering thoughts and perplexing doubts. We can leam of God, the greatest and. best of beings, only through dim shadows, and faint types, and material representations. Our view^s of his moral government, obtained through his providential deal- ings here, are crude and unsatisfactoiy. When we are enjoying the bright sunlight, and aU nature is clothed with richness and beauty, — when we walk amid the mountains and majestic forests, God's earthly palaces, and breathe the fragrance of flowers, and tread beneath our feet the soft verdure, and see above us the crimsoned clouds and mild blue vault, and, amid all, drink of the cup of pleasure, — we are ready to exclaim, with the Psalmist, " The Lord is good, and his tender mercies are over all his works.'' But let the scene be changed. Let the midnight tempest arise, and our habitations quiver under the fury of the storm ; let the earth tremble under the successive peals and crashes of the thunder, and the lieavens seem on fire from the incessant flashes of lightning; let the shrieks of bereaved friends tell where the fatal fluid has stmck. 84 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. NO NIGHT IN HEAVEN. 85 and amid the wild terror of the scene, doubts will throng the mind as to the infinitude of the divine love, as to the purely l)enevolent design of God's moral administration. These checkered scenes will perplex us, and we are led to exclaim, with the apostle, " How unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out.'' Even with the aid of Christianity, how little we absolutely know of the Deity, — his designs, plans and works; how little of the mysteries of the future life, — of the won- ders of that state to which time is so rapidly bear- ing us! "Now we see through a glass darkly." "Now I know in part.'' In the departments of human learning, too, the same obscurity and uncertainty perplex us. Upon the most important principles in science, philosophy and ethics, we find that the wisest men are divided. Kival schools are contending for directly opposite systems. The principles of one age are supplanted by the fmits of the superior intelligence and more profound investigations of that which succeeds it. How different is the science of astronomy, for exam- ple, from what it was a century ago! A single modem discovery of a gifted astronomer has effected a complete revolution in the ideas, calculations and studies, of the world, upon this science ; and what new changes and discoveries await it, the future alone can reveal. In mental philosophy, how little satisfactory pro- gress has been made ! Nothing, in fact, has been accomplished here, worthy of the name of science. No principles are permanently settled. Human language, in its present state, at least, seems to be too gross a medium through which to communicate, with accuracy and precision, a knowledge of the elements and interior workings of the intellect of man. But in heaven there will be no night of ignorance. There, with unfettered powers, — with a clear, dis- criminating reason ; with a keen, spiritual vision, — we shall see and know all truth. We shall be liable to no mistakes, be exposed to no errors, be perplexed with no mysteries. We shall no longer need to pass through the tedious processes of study and investiga- tion. We shall no longer be baffled, in our attempts to ascend the heights of knowledge, by a shattered memory, a perverted judgment, and powers weakened by sin. We shall see as we are seen, and know as Ave are known. As the elements and essence of our own being lie exposed to the eye of the Infinite Intelligence, so the elements and essence of all other beings and objects will be clearly seen by us. We shall have a view of the power, majesty, excellence and splendor, of the Deity, of which we can now form no conception. God will, as it were, enter into the mind of the saint, take possession of it as 8 86 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. his own temple, and fill it with the lustre of his own being, with the purity of his own nature, mth the blessedness and perfection of his own character. And the very act of beholding God will strengthen the powers and enlarge the capacities of the mind. It will develop faculties that now lie slumbering in the intellect, the opening of which will afford the most exquisite delight, and be as the dawnings of a new creation upon the soul, — dawnings that will pour their effulgence through all the chambers of the memory, and all the faculties of the soul. And, as we extend our view to other beings and objects, we shall comprehend and realize the mean- ing of the language, "They shall need no candle, neither light of the sun ; for the Lord God giveth them light.'' The candle of human instrumentalities is no longer needed. The sun itself is quenched ; for God, the author of light, shines in its stead. That splendid orb that had lighted the pathways of so many generations, — that had poured its golden beams upon so many mountain- tops, and painted so many flowers with beauty, — whose rays had sparkled in a thousand gems, and sported upon numberless ocean waves, — is forever quenched. ** 0, thou art glorious, orb of day ! Exulting nations hail thy i-ay ; Creation swells a choral lay, To welcome thy return '. NO NIGHT IN HEAVEN. 87 From thee all nature draws her hues. Thy beams the insect's wing suffuse. And in the diamond burn. Yet must thou fade; — when earth and heaven By fire and tempest shall be riven, Thou, from thy sphere of radiance driven, sun ! must fall at last. Another heaven, another earth, — New power, new glory, — shall have birth. When all we see is past. But He who gave the word of might, — 'Let there be light,' — and there was light; Who bade thee chase the gloom of night. And beam the world to bless ; Forever bright, forever pure, Alone unchanging shall endure. The Sun of Righteousness ! " Under the intense effulgence of his glory, all clouds will be dissipated, all mysteries solved. The attributes of the Deity will shine in unclouded splen- dor, illuminating the whole heavens w^ith their rich and variegated coruscations, and revealing the fact that the universe is one vast temple, whose arches echo the music of the spheres, and the adoring accents of thronging worshippers. " There shall be no night there," for it is eternal day. Every object is brilliant with an effulgence more intense than the sun-light. The tree of life casts no shadows indicative of a setting sun. The sparkling of the crystal river is never dimmed by 88 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. the mantle of darkness. The white-robed multitude continually go in and out of the glittering city, their brows irradiated by that shining light, which sliineth more and more unto the perfect day. " Creature all grandeur, son of truth and liglit. Up from the dust ! the last great day is bright ; Bright on the holy mountain, round the throne, — Bright where, in borrowed light, the fur stars shone. Look down ! the depths are bright ! and hear them cry, « Light ! light ! ' Look up ! 't is rushing down from high ! Regions on regions, far away they shine : ^ 'Tis light ineffable, 'tis light divine ! * Immortal light, and life forevermore ! ' Off through the deeps is heard from shore to shore, Of rolling worlds, — * Man, wake thee from the sod, — Wake thee from death, — awake ! — and live with God !*" .,- VI. THE LIKENESS OF THE REDEEMED TO CHRIST. ** We know that when he shall appear, we shall be like him ; for we shall see him as he is." — 1st of John, hi. 2. It is a blessed feature of the gospel, that it reveals the •Christian's likeness to his Saviour. It assures him that he is made a * ' partaker of the divine nature,'* — is "changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord." This is efTected at the moment regenera- tion takes place. The divine image is stamped anew upon the soul. The rudiments of a trans- formation appear, that will carry the subject forward through successive stages of improvement, until he attains "unto the measure of the stature of the ful- ness of Christ/' At the period of conversion, the real life of the soul begins. Previous to this, it is " dead in tres- passes and sins.'' Its action is like that of a gal- vanized corpse, spasmodic, fitful, and aimless. It has organs of vision, but no insight into spiritual truth. It has the power of speech, but its utterances are incoherent and false. But at the new birth its true 8* 90 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. life commences. It becomes then like him who is ''the way, the truth, and the life." We may regard the likeness refen-ed to as relat- ing to the external appearance^ the intellectual and moral nature^ and the state of felicity which the saints will enjoy in common, though not in degree, with the Redeemer. St. Paul says that Christ (Phil. iii. 21) "shall change our vile body, that it may be lashioned like unto his glorious body.'* Of the precise nature of "his glorious body'' " to) ouaaii, t^5 dChti nlioZ" — we have no adequate conception. Indeed, the meaning of the word glory, as applied to celestial objects, it is difficult to define. It primarily signi- fies to open, to expand with clearness. Hence, brightness, splendor. The celebrated John Howe defines the glory of Deity to be "nothing else but resplendent excellency, the lustre of excellency, or real worth made conspicuous." St. Paul, in writing to the Corinthians, attempts to describe the glorious bodies of the redeemed, and language seems to break down under the weight of his thoughts, or, rather, it is consumed by their glow and excessive effulgence. "There are also celestial bodies, and bodies terrestrial ; but the glory of the celestial is one, and the glory of the terrestrial is another. There is one glory of the sun, and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars. THE SAINTS LIKE CHRIST. 91 So, also, is the resurrection of the dead. It is sown in corruption, it is raised in incorruption ; it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory ; it is sown in weak- ness, it is raised in power." A few beams of this celestial glory have at different times reached the earth. They rested upon Mount Sinai, when God appeared to give his law through his servant Moses. They shone about the tabernacle, and in the temple, when special manifestations of the Deity were made. At the birth of the Saviour, the pious shepherds were dazzled and affrighted, as "the glory of the Lord shone round about them." At his baptism, the heavens were opened, — dreio/^rjauv ol ovquvoI^ — or, as some foreign commentators interpret the pas- sage, the heavens were cleft* asunder, as though by vivid lightning, and the glory burst through and rested upon the Saviour. On the mount of transfiguration, the three apostles beheld our Lord in his glorious body. St. Luke describes the scene thus (Luke ix. 29-31) : "As he prayed, the fashion of his countenance was altered, and his raiment was white and glistening. And * •* So," they add, ** we find scindere and findere coelum, in the Roman writers. Such language being adapted to the common opinion of the ancients, that the sky was a solid mass, and that fire from thence burst through the vast convex of the firmament." Bloomfield, however, remarks : *' We have good reason to suppose the light to have been preternatural., and to have accompanied the divine Spirit, — such a light as accompanied Jesus on being visibly revealed to St Paul at his conversion." i 92 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. behold, there talked Avith him two men, Hoses and Elias, Tvho appeared in glory/' We might cite other instances, but these suffice, as examples of the point under consideration. Those who enjoyed these beatific visions had views of a "glorious body" that we cannot obtain. Stephen at the time of his martyrdom, Paul when converted, tlie favored company wdio witnessed the ascension of Christ, and those just referred to, obtained as vivi • • «• > I I > I I - • • • • • t , » • « I • 1 1 • > , , • • • • 1 1 I • ••• • •••• • • > • '. ... v. • . . J," . . I , , ■ • i I • I i • I • III* I I > • • I I • . • VII. NO MORE SEA. ** And there was no more sea." — REVELAnoN xxi. 1. This remarkable declaration has excited the atten- tion and curiosity of many of the readers of the Apocalypse. The inquiry has been made, why a circumstance like this should appear in a heavenly vision, and be deemed of sufl&cient importance to be recorded by an inspired pen. In the hints and descriptions which are given of the future world, it is not always easy to determine what is to be taken literally, and what figuratively; and this difficulty has occasioned, in a great measure, the diversity of opinion which prevails respecting the meaning of various passages relating to this subject. But, whatever may be the precise import of these words, they suggest to the mind several features of " the new heavens and new earth,'' upon which we may meditate with pleasure and benefit. In the first place, we learn from this language, that there will be, in that blessed abode, no changes or vicissitudes in the condition of the saints. 148 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. The sea is the emblem of change. It is never perfectly at rest. The ebb and flow of the tides, the various currents passing thi-ough it, the changes in the temperature of the atmosphere, keep it con- stantly in motion. It fluctuates with every passing breeze, yields to every impression, and is disturbed by a thousand different causes. At one moment it lies perfectly calm and placid, with not a ripple upon its bosom ; — its silvery surface reflects every object along the shore. It is a mirror to tlie skies, to the pale moon, the stars, and the clouds. It seems, at such an hour, the emblem of peace ami security. It in\-ites the voyager to tmst to its waters, and to float quietly upon its placid bosom. But soon a change steals over the scene. The breeze springs up, and slightly agitates the waters. A dark cloud is seen rising in tlie distant horizon. The muttering of an approaching storm is heard. Dim shadows begin to fdl the air, and the howl of the tempest breaks the silence of the Iiour. How rapidly, now, does the beauty of tlie scene change to wild sublimity ! How sudden the trans- ition from security to the most imminent danger, — from feelings of delightful aihuiration to indescrib- able terror! As such, the sea affords a viAid picture of human life. Change, instabiUty and disappointment, are inscribed upon everything peri;aining to our earthly so MOKE SEA. 149 existence. The hopes and prospects of the individ- ual fluctuate. A thousand invisible influences are working upon hiui, aflccting his character, mould- ing his opinions, and strengthening or weakening go'^d principles. The Christian is at one time on the mount, in the enjoyment of perfect serenity. The pure atmosphere around liim diffuses tlirough liis system the glow of spiritual health. He gazes with delight upon the wide and beautiful prospect that opens before him. But the next hour he is in the valley, oppressed with cruel doubts and dis- tressing fears. His bright hopes have aU fled. The beautiful prospect is shut out from his view, and the niountaias, that had lifted him to the skies, become a dark rampart around him. FamUics, too, arc subject to constant changes. Not a day nor an hour passes in which some circle is not broken by death. The tonderest ties are severed ; the fondest anticipations of happiness are suddenly blasted. The father who but yesterday gazed with pride and affection upon his fair boy, participating in his sports, and rejoicmg in his progress and culture, to-day follows his cold remains to the silent grave. The wife, by one fatal stroke, is deprived of her companion and protector, and is left to battle life's stem reaUties alone. Communities and nations are constantly changing. From our churches, from the marts of business, and 13* 150 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. the halls of pleasure, multitudes are daily withdraw- ing, while others are stepping in to take their places. Upon the throngs that we encounter in the streets, upon the crowds that gathered to listen to the elo- quence of the orator or the sweet strains of music, upon the mightiest armies and most densely popu- lated cities, there is written, "passing away." The continents are covered with the monuments and burial-places of dead empires. As one wave follows another upon the sea, so generation follows generation, each in its turn breaking and dashing upon the shores of eternity. The moral condition of the world has been emphatically one of change. It has been like a restless, boisterous ocean, with its dangerous cur- rents, its quicksands, fatal rocks and fearful whirl- pools. Strong temptations, violent passions, and the influx of various forms of error and infidelity, have spread their disturbing influences over the entire moral world. But, in the vision that St. John had of the new heavens and the new earth, he tells us " there was no more sea." All there is permanent, and unalter- ably settled. Not a wave or ripple ever agitates the surface of celestial purity and felicity. The saints, having passed through their last great change, know no other change but progress in hoHness a'nd happiness. Their mansions are neither built upon NO MORE SEA. 151 the sand nor float upon treacherous billows, but rest upon the solid rock. No more doubts shake their faith ; no more currents of worldly influences impede their progress in the divine life ; no more weary watchings for the beacon-lights of hope are endured. The dim visions of future happiness have opened into glorious reaUties. The voyage of human life is passed, and the happy spirits have reached the haven of rest. They enjoy the protection and blessing of the " Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning." In the next place, the sea reminds us of priva- tions, trials and hardships, none of which are experi- enced in the heavenly world. What multitudes, upon the ocean, are cut off from the refined enjoy- ments of social life, the blessings of domestic inter- course, and the privileges of Christian worship. No sacred temples line the pathways upon the ocean ; no Sabbath church-bell summons the mariner to the holy sanctuary. The voice of the preacher, the stir- ring notes of praise, the swell of the organ, reach not" his ears. Arduous duties may claim his atten- tion, or great dangers may surround him, during the hallowed hours of public prayer and worship. Thus, deprived of the religious advantages and aids enjoyed by othei-s, he often has no God to worsliip, no altar before which he bows, no Saviour in whom he trusts, no Holy Spirit to enlighten, comfort and bless him. 152 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. Nor is he any more Hivorod in iiitelleetu«al advan- tages. Xo institution of learning offers its treasures of knowledge to those whose home is on the sea. There is, indeed, upon the ocean, an education that is in many respects peculiar, and in some sublime. The dark, rolling waves, as they rise from their unfathomed cavern homes, tell of Ilis power *'who hath measured the waters in the hollow of his hand.'' The wide expanse, stretching in every direction as far as the eye can reach, teaches the infinitude of the divine Being. The midnight tempest announces, in solemn and awful tones, that there is a Sovereign above, in whose estimation *'the nations are as a drop of a bucket, and are counted as the small dust of the balance.'' Everjrthing around the mariner teaches him of the power and majesty of Jehovah ; and would he but listen, he might hear voices that would instruct him in his duty and his destiny. But there are other educational influences that too often obtain the mastery over him. Confined to a com- panionship that is hostile not only to mental devel- opment, but to moral culture, — deprived of those healthful stimulants and religious restraints that sur- round others, — he has but little chance of escaping the debasement of his intellectual powers, and the destruction of his moral principles. These privations and dangers, inseparable from a life at sea, occasion the deepest anxieties, and often NO MORE SEA. 153 keenest sorrows, upon the land. Here is a mother whose son is far away upon the mighty deep. With what strong affection and intense solicitude does she follow her boy, in his pathless track upon the waves ! Perhaps he is an only child, and one in whom all the hopes of a fond mother centre. In the quiet hours of night, when past scenes crowd around the memory, and stand before the mind as present reali- ties, she thinks of him, prays for him, pleads with the God of the ocean to protect him. She reflects upon the care with which he was cherished in infancy, — the interest w^ith which she w^atched his opening faculties and powers, — the toil and patience expended in planting in him right principles, and qualifying him for usefulness and happiness. All the incidents of his departure rise up before her imagination. His preparation for the voyage, his enterprise, his noble bearing, liis last farew^ell, — the tear of affection, that, in spite of his efforts, started in his eye, as he grasped a mother's hand, — come thronging around her memory ; and in that hallowed hour she tries to picture to herself his situation. Perhaps he is exposed to powerful temptations, and all her care and labor to fortify him, in early life, against such assaults, are to be sacrificed in one fatal hour. Perhaps he is lying in his narrow, gloomy apartment, prostrated by severe sickness, with no kind friend to cool his fevered brow, no mild voice 154 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. NO MORE SEA. 155 to whisper words of encouragement and hope. Per- haps he is encountering his first storm at sea, and his young heart throbs as its fierce howl sweeps by him. Perhaps he is aloft, striving with one hand to lash to the yard the fluttering sail, while with the other he clings for his life to the treacherous rope. He is, at least, far away ; and, whatever dangers may surround him, she cannot go to him, — cannot help him, except by her prayers. How many have fathers upon the sea, whom they revere and love, — whose toils they would gladly lighten, whose dangers they would gladly share ! When bowing around the family altar, they remem- ber him. Wliile engaged in their daily duties, they tliink of his kindness, and of the tokens of his love that he has brought from distant climes. In every disaster or ship^vreck of which they read, their thoughts revert to him, with the hope that he is safe. The possibility tliat he is exposed to dangers, — that they may never see liim again, — may no more experience his warm greetings, — comes like an arrow to the heart. How many have beloved companions upon the ocean, concerning whom the deepest anxiety is felt ! For a long time, no tidings of the absent have been received. Days, weeks and months, drag heavily on, leaving behind them only hope. A heart full of affection is kept in cruel suspense. A wreck has I been seen. Perhaps it is all that remains of the missing ship and its gallant crew. The e\idences for and against this opinion are weighed with scru- pulous exactness. Every circumstance is examined with the most intense and painful interest. And not unfrequently the mind for years is kept in a state more agonizing, and more wasting to the spirits, than would be produced by a knowledge of the certain death of the departed. How little, after hearing of a wTCck, and of the sad fate of all on board the ship, do w^e realize that there were sons, fathers and husbands, in that strug- gling, gasping group, — that those lifeless forms were bound to friends by ties as strong and tender as those that unite us to the dearest objects of our affection ! How little do we think of the families, in different towns and villages, to whom the an- nouncement of the wreck comes as a thunderbolt, — whose sighs, and tears, and habiliments of mourn- ing, tell where the lightning of affliction has struck ! Is there not a depth and intensity of meaning, to such, in the declaration of St. John, that in the lieavenly world there is no more sea, — no more separation from dear friends, — no more nights of weary watchings and deep agony, — no more start- ling intelligence of the loss of those we love? The sea is the emblem of all life's trials. Its ceaselessly rolling billows shadow forth the agitations 156 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. of many hearts. Its roar is the echo of the groans of an afflicted world. Its perils are emblematic of the moral dangers that sun^ound the soul of man. We are all upon the ocean. EA'ery human being has his voyage to make, his dangers to encounter. Many a dark wave lies between us and the haven of rest. We have barks freighted with more precious substances than silver or gold. The merchant may lose his ships. The sea may engulf his property, and leave him a bankrupt. This is a calamity. But greater calamities threaten many voyagers now sail- ing upon the ocean of life. They are attempting to make the pjissage without noticing the compass, whose needle points to the throne of God, and with no pilot at the helm. They seldom consult their chart, that marks out the only course by which they can reach the celestial city, — that indicates the rocks and dangers of the way. They heed not the beacon-lights held forth by patriarchs, prophets and apostles. Though the forms of these holy messen- gers may be seen moving along the shore, with torches in their hands, — though their voices may be heard amid the roar of the waters, warning the care- less mariner of the dangers that surround him, plead- ing with him to escape the wild breakers that have swallowed up thousands of hiunan beings, — yet he heeds them not. Bent upon his pleasures, absorbed by his schemes for transient good, he thinks that it NO MORE SEA. 157 -will be time enough to arouse himself when the peril is more apparent. He sees that his ship is strong. Every timber is sound ; every plank is bolted with iron. He looks above, and every mast, spar, sail and rope, is in its place. What need of alarm, when everything appears so secure ? Thus reasons the man in health and prosperity. But suddenly the alarming tidings ring through the cabin, that the ship has struck, and is fast upon the rocks. Now, in the panic of the hour, the voyager runs to liis chart ; but tliis cannot help liim. He looks at his compass ; but it points whither he can- not go. He seizes the helm ; but its power is gone. He pleads for deliverance ; but there comes from the shore a voice, "Too late." He lifts his agonizing cry to God for mercy ; but he hears the dreadful response, " Ye have set at naught all my counsel, and would none of my reproof: I also will laugh at your calamity ; I will mock when your fear cometh." ! is it not a blessed announcement, that there is a world where no such moral danger will sur- round the soul, — where no waves of temptation will roll over us, and no sea of sorrow endanger our hopes or our happiness? In the next place, we are assured, by the declar- ation before us, that no storms will arise in the home of the blessed. 14 158 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. NO MORE SEA. 159 The sea is emphatically the theatre of storms. Here they rage with their greatest fiiry, and pro- duce the most marked and terrific results. How frail an object is the stoutest ship, when in the fatal grasp of an ocean tempest ! With what speed it is driven before the resistless force of the wind ! How easily the billows sport with it, tossing it from wave to wave, as though it were but a feather! The stroke of a single surge makes every timber tremble, and causes the vessel to quiver like an aspen-leaf. I need not describe a storm at sea. Its violence, its awful grandeur and disastrous effects, have oft been told. The piercing, maddened winds ; the Avild, foaming surges ; the lurid lightning, the crash- ing thunder, the reeling of the ship like a dnmken man, the strained and cracking ropes, the bending masts, falling spars, rent and torn sails, the cold mist that fdls and darkens the air, the consternation of rapidly-beating hearts, the dread, horrible sus- pense of the hour, — all these are familiar to the reader. I have read of Christian voyagers who have said that they never knew the full meaning of the apostle's declaration until they had experi- enced a storm at sea. And not a few, going down into the dark waters, have derived great comfort from the assurance that in the heavenly world there is no more sea. There, serene skies, an unclouded atmosphere and perfect peace, forever reign. The I saint, instead of gazing upon a wild waste of waters, is surrounded with the splendors of celestial cities. Instead of the roar of midnight tempests, the music from angelic choirs, and from the worshipping mul- titude around the throne, thrills his soul. Yet these storms have their mission. Kightly viewed, they are the messengers of Jehovah, sent to proclaim his indignation towards our sinful race. They indicate that this panting, groaning earth, lies under the curse of its Creator. They are designed to restrain man in his wickedness, — to remind him of the laws of the supreme Sovereign, which he is so ready to break, and to warn him of more terrible disasters that await the impenitent in another life. Were it consistent with the principles of God's moral administration, he would not inflict upon one of his creatures the slightest pain or sorroAV. Not a storm would arise ; not a wreck would be found upon the sea ; no calamity would be experienced. But his authority has been resisted ; his laws have been broken and trampled under foot ; and by storms, earthquakes, pestilence and death, he is teaching the world that he is still a sovereign, — that he has not abdicated his throne, and has no intention of abdicating. He is endeavoring to convince man that it is not for his interest to provoke his wrath ; but that it is the part of wisdom to yield to his author- 1 i 160 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. ity, and seek his favor. He also assure*? n«! that it is his ardent desire to receive his children to the happiness and glory of heaven, as soon as it can he done consistently with the claims of justice, and tlio interests of his moral kingdom. He infinitely prt*- fers to treat us as a kind Father, than to do;d witli us as an arbitrary Sovereign ; and, in the fulness of his love, he makes proclamation that there is a world where there is no more pain or son-ow, — where "all tears shall be wiped away." The last point that we would notice is, that in heaven there is no sea to furnish a burial-place for the dead. Since the beginning of the world, what vast multitudes have been deposited in the scamnn's church-yard! Though no tolling bell has called together sympathizing friends, though no green sod has opened to receive them, and no quiet grove im-ited them to rest beneath its shadows, yet they have had their funeral services. The winds have sung their requiem, the waves have furnished a winding-sheet, and coral monuments mark their rest- ing-places. Generation after generation have sunk in the dark waters, and now wait the summons of the last trumpet-peal. Multitudes more will follow them, and go down to sleep beside them. Mrs. Ilemans has beautifully described a wreck and death at sea, in the following toucliing words : NO MOKE SEA. All niglit the booming minute-gun Had pealed along the deep, And mournfully the rising sun Looked o'er the tide-worn steep. A bark, from India's coral strand. Before the raging blast, Uad veiled her topsails to the sand, And bowed her noble mast. The queenly ship ! brave hearts had striven And true ones dieil with her ! — We saw her mighty cable riven. Like floating gossamer. We saw her proud flag struck that morn, A star once o'er the seas, — Her anchor gone, her deck uptorn, And sadder things than these. We saw the strong man still and low, A crushed recti thrown aside ; Yet, by that rigid lip and brow. Not without strife he died. And near him on the sea-weed lay, — Till then we had not wept, — But well our gushing hearts might say. That there a mother slept ! For her pale arms a babe had pressed. With such a wreathing grasp. Billows had dashed o'er that fond breast. Yet not undone tlic clasp. Her very tresses had been flung To wrap the fair child's form, Where still then wet, long streamers hung. All tangled by the storm. And, beautiful 'midst that wild scene. Gleamed up tlic boy's dead face, 14* 161 i 162 EMBLEMS OF HEAVEN. Like slumbers trustingly serene. In melancholy grace. Deep in her bosom lay his head. With half-shut \iolet eye ; — He had known little of her dread. Naught of her agony ! O, human love, whose yeaminf:^ heart. Through all things vainly true, 60 stamps upon thy mortal part Its passionate adieu. Surely thou hast another lot, — There is some home for thee, "Where thou shalt rest, remembering not The moaning of the sea ! Yes, there is a home, far above all ocean tempests, — a home where the death-chill from cold waters will never be experienced ! At the appointed hour, the sea shall give up its dead. Coral tombs, and "the giant caverns of the unfathomed ocean,*' will resign their charge ; and this corruption shall put on incorruption, and this mortal be clothed with immortality. Then may the glorified saints, having reached the haven of peace, cast their anchors within the vail, and feel secure from all danger. "0, for a breeze of heavenly love. To waft my soul away To the celestial world above, Where pleasures ne'er decay ! From rocks of pride on either hand, From quicksands of despair, NO MORK SEA. O, guide me safe to Canaan's land. Through every fatal snare ! Anchor me in that port above. On that celestial shore. Where dashing billows never move, Where tempests never roar !" 163 VIII. NO TEMPLE IN HEAVEN. *'And I saw no temple therein; for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the temple of it." — Revelation xxi. 22. A TEMPLE on the earth is the sjnibol of \vorshi[). It indicates that God is not forgotten, and that the apostasy of mankind is not universal. Though tlie dark clouds of sin have long overshadowed many nations; though the multitude have said in their hearts " There is no God ;'' though crime, treachery, cruelty and oppression, have fdled the earth, — yet, in all ages, some have retained the spirit of worship, and adhered to the principles of a true and liviri"- faith. They have had their altars, upon which they have- offered the sacrifice of broken and contrite hearts; their sanctuaries, where they have often knelt in prayer, and poured forth the song of praise ; their temples, with whose services the sweetest hours and tenderest associations of life are con- nected, f " Speak low ! the place is holy to the breath Of awful hannonief^, of whispered prayer ; Tread lightly ! for the sanctity of death lirooda with a voiceless influence on the air ; NO TEMPLE IN HEAVEN. 165 Stem, yet serene ; a reconciling spell. Each trouble