Chapter XXXV: Part 35

_Thirdly_, If the death of hardened sinners turns to the advantage of the saint, the death of fellow-christians shall certainly work for his benefit too.

You will be ready to say, “What! Can the loss of good men from the earth ever be turned into a benefit? Can the death of saints bring any advantage to the survivors?” Yes, surely, if they die like christians indeed, in the lively exercises of faith and hope, and this will appear in these four particulars:

1. It confirms our faith in the gospel of Christ, and supports our holy profession. It gives us an assurance of the truth and power of our religion, above all other religions in the world, when it enables a poor feeble dying creature to face death with courage, to look beyond the limits of life and time, and venture into an unseen world with holy joy and triumph. It gives us a glorious evidence, that the principles of christianity are such, as will justify all the labours of a holy life, and will bear us out in the profession of it, in the midst of ridicule and mockery, of persecution and martyrdom. This surely must be a religion coming down from God, that can give the weak and unlearned such a courage, as to encounter death itself without fear: and that not from a stupid and senseless temper of spirit, not from a brutal hardiness, such as carries the horse and the hero into the battle, but with a clear and full discovery of God and his holiness, of our own sins and his forgiving grace, this religion can enable us to venture into his immediate presence. How glorious is our gospel, how divine a doctrine is this! It has wrought ten thousand such wonders by faith in the blood of Christ, as the great atonement for sin, and the only way to the Father.

A saint leaving this world, and putting off mortality, with the light of heaven breaking in upon his soul, and the beams of glory shining round about him, with divine joy and transport in his countenance, and the language of heaven upon his lips, brings the invisible world into present view: The pious spectators grow up to a sensible assurance of the glories and felicities of that invisible world; each of them sits on the borders of paradise, each of them gets a glimpse of the new Jerusalem, and all the heavenly country, and this adds new strength to his faith and hope.

2. The glorious death of our fellow-christians greatly encourages the imitation of their holy life. To see a child of God die from amongst men, leave this world with a holy contempt and sincere pleasure, and enter into the presence of his heavenly Father with a filial confidence; to see him finish his race with joy, and, as it were, lay hold on salvation, and put on his heavenly crown: This calls aloud upon us to tread in the same steps, to pursue the blessed prize, and to be _followers of them, who, through faith and patience, inherit the promises_; Heb. vi. 12. When we _mark the perfect man, and behold the upright, and see that his end is peace_; Ps. xxxvii. 37. we are animated to walk with God in the same uprightness, and to press after the same perfection. Having such _a cloud of witnesses_ that have gone before us, and Christ our Lord at the head of them, _we run with patience the race that is set before us_, till we arrive at the promised glory; Heb. xii. 1.

To stand near the bed of a dying saint, and observe the sweet serenity of his soul under the agonies of his flesh, would force Balaam himself to say, _Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his_; Numb. xxiii. 10. But the christian goes further, and with holy zeal, and humble dependance upon divine grace, establishes himself in the ways of holiness: He resolves that he will live the life of the righteous too, and tread in the paths of piety with utmost watchfulness and care that he may lay a foundation for the same peaceful reflections on his death-bed, and the same joyful prospect.

3. The death of fellow-saints is for our benefit, as it weans us from this world, as it makes earth and this life less pleasant to us, and heaven more desirable. Every holy soul that leaves the world, carries away so much grace and goodness from it. What would this world be if all the saints had left it, but a cage of unclean birds, a nest of serpents, a wilderness of savage beasts, a habitation of Satan, and his sons and daughters; a dwelling of devils, and a region of darkness a-kin to hell? Did not converting grace turn sinners into saints, and make a constant succession of christians, this would be the dismal character of this world in the space of one generation. But, blessed be God, as bad as this world is, divine grace is still at work, and makes it a sort of nursery for heaven by new conversions.

Yet still the death of the saints is the loss of so much of heaven out of our sinful world; and the fewer friends God has here, there will be the fewer communications between heaven and earth. The absence of Christ and his saints, spreads a sort of dim shadow over all the fairest colours of this lower creation; the beauties of it fade, and the flowers of it, in our esteem, languish and hang their head, because Jesus, and so many of his holy ones, are departed. When we see one pious friend after another, taking their leave of us, and ascending to the upper world, we are ready to say, “What should we stay here for? Our God is on high, our Saviour is on high, multitudes of our friends are departed from us, and dwell on high. Farewell earth, and time, and sensible things: We long to be with our best friends, and with our God; we are ready, O Jesus, for thy first summons; take us when thou pleasest into heaven and eternity.”

4. The comfortable death of a saint instructs us how to die, and makes death easy. When we see and hear a fellow-christian examining his heart, searching his soul to the bottom, turning all his secret thoughts outward, and looking over the past conduct of his life; when we behold him reviewing his own follies and iniquities, and recalling to mind also all his sacred transactions with God; when we see him surveying all these most important concerns in the light of the last judgment, and, as it were, under the piercing rays of the great tribunal; when we hear him abasing himself to the dust in the most vilifying expressions, because of his sins, and yet rejoice in the evidences of his graces, and repeating the promises of the gospel with a pleasant hope; this teaches us to converse with our own souls in a more lively manner, about sin and forgiveness, about death and eternity; for it brings these awful themes into open view, and sets them before us in their infinite importance. This reads us a glorious lecture upon the gospel of Christ, and pardoning grace, and the sanctifying Spirit, and the hope of glory, beyond what we ever found before in the best of sermons, and under the warmest preachers.

Come, my friends, come into the chamber of a dying christian, come, approach his pillow, and hear his holy language: “I am going up to heaven, and I long to be gone, to be where my Saviour is. _Why are his chariot-wheels so long a coming?_ Then with both arms stretched up to heaven, I desire to be with God. I hope I am a sincere christian, but the meanest, and the most unworthy: I know I am a great sinner; but did not Christ come to save the chief of sinners; I hope I shall find acceptance in Christ Jesus. I have trusted in him, and I have strong consolation. I have been looking into my own heart, what are my evidences for heaven? Has not the scripture said, _He that believeth shall not perish, but shall have everlasting life_; John iii. 16. Now, according to the best knowledge I have of what faith is, I do believe in Christ, and I shall have life everlasting. Does not the scripture say, _He that hungereth and thirsteth after righteousness shall be satisfied_; Mat. v. 6. Surely I hunger and thirst after it, I desire to be holy, I long to be conformable to God, and to be made more like him; shall I not then be satisfied! I love God, I love Christ, I desire to love him more, to be more like him, and to serve him in heaven without sin. I have faith, I have love, I have repentance, yet I boast not, for I have nothing of myself, I speak it all to the honour of the grace of God, it is all grace; I say then, I have faith, and repentance, and love; but faith and repentance are all nothing without Christ; it is he makes all acceptable to the Father, and I trust in him. My friends, I have built on this foundation Jesus Christ, he is indeed the only foundation: Have you not built on the same foundation too? This is my hope. Is it not your hope also? Dear brother, I shall see you at the right-hand of Christ: There I shall see our friends that are gone a little before: I shall be with them first before you. I thank you, my friends, for all your offices of love; you have prayed with me, you have refreshed me. I love and honour you now, but I shall meet you in heaven, I go to my God and your God, to my Saviour and your Saviour[42].”

Would one think there could be so much pleasure in the dying chamber of a beloved friend? Surely this makes good the words of my text; if we are christians, death is ours. O this is a divine entertainment that refreshes our spirits! And while sorrow trickles from our eyes for the loss of a departing christian-friend; there is a sympathy of joy that works powerfully at the heart, and the heaven within us breaks out and shines through our tears. Then, with a wondrous mixture of the painful and the pleasant, with a sweet confusion of pious passions, we bid our dying brother, “Farewell.”

At such a season as this, our thoughts are led upward to heaven, and forward to the great resurrection. We open the eye of faith, and see the holy soul ascending to God; we behold the weak and languishing body rising glorious out of the grave, shaking off the dust, and putting on its immortality: While our faith attends the spirit of our departing friend to heaven, we grow willing and desirous to be gone too; and being brought so near to the gates of glory, we would fain take our leave of mortal things, and accompany the expiring saint to the joyful world of spirits. The memory of such a scene, and such a hour, will dwell upon our thoughts long, and support our own hope of victory, when we shall be called to conflict with the same enemy. Having such a witness gone before us, we shall not only _run our race with patience_, through all the stages of it, but _finish our course with joy_.

There is a sacred courage derived many times to a weak believer, by attending the last moments of a dying saint ascending to the upper world. I was afraid of death, says a feeble christian, till I saw my neighbour die: He was once a sinner as well as I, and he had his imperfections and failings in this life, as I have mine; I humbly hope I have practised the same repentance as he has done, I have trusted in the same Saviour, I have ventured my all upon the same gospel, and travelled on in the same path: surely there is forgiveness for me too; surely the sting of my death shall be taken away also; and, through grace, I shall join in his triumph; _O death where is thy sting? O grave where is thy victory_; 1 Cor. xv. 55.

This observation has been most gloriously exemplified in the death of martyrs: When the spectators that have been heathens, or but almost christians, have been strangely animated to profess the gospel boldly, while they have seen the most amazing courage of these glorious sufferers for Christ. And those that have been doubtful and trembling believers, whose faith was wavering, and who were ready to let go their profession, have ventured through blood and torments, and death, with a divine resolution, when they have beheld the martyrs meet the same death and torments with a sacred bravery of soul.

A multitude of fearful christians may be animated and encouraged to travel through the dark valley, and to cross the cold flood of death, by the example of a single saint, who has passed that important hour with success and honour. So you have seen a flock of sheep stand doubtful and delaying on the bank of some little brook; but when the first and second have made their way through it, the rest venture over in multitudes, and leap the ditch with the greatest ease, the difficulty and the danger vanish at once, when they have seen a forerunner leading the way.

Thus it hath been made evident in several instances, that the death of fellow-christians is ours. It shall turn to our great advantage, through the influences of the gospel, and the Spirit of grace, where christians die like themselves, in the exercise of a joyful hope. It confirms our faith in the gospel of Christ, it encourages our imitation of their holy life, it makes earth and this life less pleasant to us, and heaven more desirable, and it instructs us how to die.

But if a saint go out of this world under much darkness and terror, this is commonly to be supposed a divine chastisement for the criminal indulgence of some temptations, or some unwatchful steps he has taken in the course of his life; for God will make his own people know, many times by painful experience, that it is an evil and bitter thing to backslide and depart from him. A wise and pious spectator upon this occasion, will take warning by the terrors of the Lord, and by the punishment of his fellow-christian, to avoid that guilt, and those criminal indulgences, which have provoked God to leave his brother to darkness, even in the hour of death: And this may be a means to awaken him to a most watchful course of holiness, lest he fall under the same strokes of anger from his heavenly Father, and suffer his displeasure in that awful moment, when he would most earnestly wish for the sweetest sense of his love. Thus I have finished the third general head, and shewed that the death of the saints may be richly improved to the advantage of the living.

The Recollection.—“Come, my soul, who art daily conversing with the affairs and concerns of life, come now, and meditate on the name of death: It is a name that carries much terror in it to nature; come, and see whether thou canst not derive a blessing from it, by the instructions of the gospel, and the aids of grace. Thou hast heard the lessons that the death of mankind in general should teach thee: Enquire now what thou hast learned of them: Hast thou seen the vanity of man as a mortal dying creature? It is an easy matter to say, Alas, we must all die: But hast thou felt the penetrating force of this truth? And does it influence thy whole conduct? Art thou not still, at every turn, putting thy confidence in one creature or another, whose breath is in his nostrils, and whose death disappoints thy hope? Or hast thou removed thy dependance from all creatures to God, and fixed thy hope in him that lives for ever? O blessed effect of the meditation on death?”

“Again, Hast thou seen the heinous evil of sin in the spreading desolation that death has made over this lower world? Remember that it received its commission from the justice of God, almost six thousand years ago, and from his law which sin had broken: The dreadful execution proceeds to this day, and it will proceed till there be no sinner upon earth. Sin is the spring of all this havoc of the lives of men. It is sin that has deserved all these tremendous executions of wrath: And yet, O my soul, how often hast thou indulged this mischief, to play about thy bosom, like a harmless thing! Come, view the dismal effects of it, in the death of millions, and learn to hate and renounce it for ever. It is no small evil that could awaken the indignation of God at this rate, and diffuse it so widely, over so large and so glorious a part of his creation, as the whole nature and race of man.

“Again, I would enquire, has the death of mankind taught me effectually, that I must shortly die? And have I been excited, to make a suitable provision for this awful and important hour, since I must not, I cannot escape it? Not only the death of mankind in general, but the death of wicked men may instruct me in some useful lessons too. Here I learn how God rescues his children from the rage of oppressors, when he smites them down to death, and lays all their fury silent in the dust. Thus death itself becomes a deliverer to the saints, by destroying their cruel persecutors. I learn also, that when early or sudden death has seized a bold sinner, it is a loud warning-word to all his companions. When I see such terrible examples in the course of providence, let my soul stand in awe and fear.

“And if God has distinguished me by his mercy, if he has pardoned my guilt, and sanctified my corrupt nature, if he has made me one of his own children, and prepared me for dying, when he summons others away unpardoned, unsanctified, unprepared, let all my powers be excited to bless the name of the Lord for his saving love. I was also a child of sin and wrath, but divine grace has made the difference. It is grace that has snatched me from the very brink of the pit of hell, and is training me up for heaven. And while I adore thy distinguishing mercy, O my God, to me, I would pity and pray for poor heedless and regardless sinners, that are following one another in a dismal succession, down to the gates of death. O may their eyes and souls be awakened in their day of life and hope, lest death seize them, and send them farther down to everlasting darkness and despair! But if such lessons, as these, be derived from the death of sinners, how much more benefit may be drawn from the dying hours of a sincere christian, especially if his heart be strong, and his faith lively!

“Here, I see the gospel of Christ in some of its power and glory, when I see a christian under all the weaknesses and languishings of nature, meeting death without terror, and _overcoming his last enemy by the blood of the Lamb_. I see the saint all serene and peaceful, even in the agonies of dying nature, and amidst the sorrows of lamenting friends. He has heaven in view, and he bids farewell to earth with holy joy: Shall I not imitate the faith and holiness of his life, which laid a foundation for so peaceful and glorious a death? Do I not feel my soul a little more weaned from the world, since such a pious friend has left it? Has not death lost some of its frightful appearances, since I have actually seen it conquered? Do I not feel my heart panting and breathing toward the society above, since I have another friend gone thither? Does it not seem a more easy thing to me to lay down this tabernacle, to part with flesh and blood, and to venture into those unseen regions, since I have beheld my fellow-christian go before me? He has made the great and solemn experiment, and surely I should have courage to follow: He has given evident proof, that there is a sacred power in the gospel, the promises and the grace of Christ, to convey the soul safe through the dark shadow of death, without surprise and consternation: And has not my soul the same rich encouragements, the same promises of grace, and the same gospel of hope?

“O my Redeemer, and my Lord, hear a humble suppliant, influence my soul by thy rich grace, to keep my faith awake, my conscience undefiled, and my evidences for heaven ever bright and clear; And when my appointed hour comes, that solemn and final hour, _let me die the death of the righteous_, and my departure be like his; Num. xxiii. 10. Is death an enemy to nature, and does it carry terror in the name? Yet since thou hast subdued this enemy, and taken it captive, to serve the purposes of thy love, since thou hast numbered it, and written it down among the possessions of thy people: since thou hast taught so many of thy followers to triumph over it; let me also, blessed Jesus, let me be enabled to meet it with holy fortitude, and a lively hope. O let me follow _the footsteps of the flock_, into the world of spirits, with a sacred pleasure, though it be through a dark passage. And as those, who went before me, have taught me to dare to die, so let my dying moments encourage those who come after me, to venture into death, at thy call, without terror and without reluctance.” _Amen._

HYMN FOR SERMON XLI.
_Death of Mankind, Saints and Sinners, Improved._

Has death such vast destruction made?
Does every hour increase the dead?
Here I behold the guilt of sin,
That brought this spreading mischief in.

Great God! How awful and how just!
Thy law, that turns our flesh to dust!
O let me learn how frail am I,
And all my life prepare to die.

When impious wretches yield their breath,
And go unpardon’d down to death,
Awake my soul, adore the grace;
That gave thee a repenting space.

But when a saint with chearful air
Meets his last foe, and feels no fear,
Our faith, our hope, and courage grow;
We learn to face the tyrant too.

We could renounce our all things here,
And wish that moment would appear,
When we shall leave this world and rise
To meet the joys above the skies.

Footnote 42:

These are some of the dying words of the Reverend Mr. Samuel Rosewell,
when, with some other friends, I went to visit him two days before his
death, and which I transcribed as soon as I came home, by their
assistance.

SERMON XLII.
_The Death of Kindred improved._
1 COR. iii. 22.——Whether life or death,——all are yours.

Happy and immortal had Adam been, and all his children, if he had not ventured to break the command of his Creator: Life had been theirs in the most glorious sense of it; and death had not been known. But when sin entered into the world, death followed close behind it, according to that just and solemn threatening, _In the day thou eatest, thou shalt surely die_; Gen. ii. 17. And what a dismal havoc has this enemy made amongst the inhabitants of our world! It has strewed the earth with carcases, and turned millions of human bodies into dust and corruption. The very name of death spreads a terror through all nature: But as dreadful and formidable as it is in itself, the grace of Christ makes a blessing of it, and sanctifies it to the advantage of his own people.

In the former discourse on this subject, we have learned some divine lessons from death, in its widest extent of dominion. The death of all mankind yields some special advantage to a saint: He is taught to reap some benefit from the death of impenitent sinners, though it carry along with it, such a fearful train of attendants, and draw after it a long eternity of torments. He knows how to derive some advantage from the death of his fellow-christians; and whether they die in the joy of faith, and serenity of spirit, or whether their sun sets in a cloud, and fears and doubts attend them, in that important hour, still he is taught to profit by it. In these three instances, it appears that death is ours: Death is in this respect made the treasure and property of a christian, as he is instructed to improve it, to his own sacred interest, and to the welfare of his soul. We proceed now to the

Fourth general head, and shall endeavour to shew how the death of our relations and kindred in the flesh shall turn to our benefit.

I. It shews us the emptiness and insufficiency of our dearest created comforts, of all blessings that are not immortal.

We have lost, perhaps, an inferior relation, a son, a daughter, a nephew, a pleasing entertainment and comfort of life: But death tells us, it was a poor dying comfort, a pretty piece of brittle clay, broken and dissolved, and mouldering to the dust. Our love and our grief, it may be, join together, to recal the past days of fondness and delight, short-lived delight, and empty vain fondness, that ends in tears and long mourning? We have lost a superior relation, or perhaps, an equal, a father, a wife, a husband, or a brother: We have lost a guide, a support, a helper, a dear affectionate friend, entirely loving and entirely beloved.

He was a kind and skilful guide, but death teaches us the insufficiency of his guidance, who left us in the mid-way, and lets us travel through all the remaining part of this dark wilderness alone. He has given us sweet counsel and direction in days past, but he can now direct us no more, we can consult him no more: Those lips of advice, on which we hung, are closed and silent in death: That voice will be heard no more: We must walk without this counsellor all the rest of our way, be it never so long, and never so dangerous.

He was our helper, and our support under daily difficulties; but it was a weak support, that could not stand itself, when death shook him: A poor helper, and a sorry defence, that could not resist the powers of disease and mortality, nor defend himself from the assaults of death.

He was a friend, and a faithful one too; but it was a feeble, a failing friend, even in the midst of his love and faithfulness; for he was called away, and constrained to depart from us in a dark and sorrowful minute, and hath left us to mourn alone.—He could not abide with us a moment beyond his summons; he forsook us while we were drowned in grief, and could give us no more consolation. _Our fathers where are they?_ _Our prophets_, our instructors, our guides, and helpers are gone down to the land of silence, they lie asleep in the dust and darkness; Zech. i. 5.

Thus death is made of advantage to us, even when it strikes us in so tender a part: For it teaches us this sacred lesson, how vain and empty are all our hopes in creatures! The dart of death is like a pen of iron in his hand, and he writes emptiness and vanity on every friend, on every relative that he takes from our family, from our side, from our bosom: He writes it in deep and painful characters, and holds our souls to the solemn lesson. The same truth stands written in many a part of the book of God, in divine and golden letters; but perhaps, we would never have learned it, had not death copied it out for us in letters of blood.

II. The death of our kindred drives us to a more immediate and constant dependance on God. When the stream is cut off, what should we do but run to the fountain? If the stars vanish, we seek the sun-beams. And O may the sun arise, and shine upon our souls with growing light and comfort as the stars disappear!

While our friends or kindred were alive, we made them our refuge in every distress; we have trusted in them perhaps too much; we have lived too much upon them, with the neglect of God. A parent, a brother, or perhaps a dearer relative; these were our high tower, our defence, our sun, and our shield: These assumed that station in our hearts, and that high place in our esteem, which is due to God only. But, when this tower is battered down to dust, when the shield of clay is broken to pieces, and this dim and feeble sun turned into darkness, then we make God alone our sun, our shield, and our high tower of defence. Then we search out earnestly, what kind and condescending characters, and relations God has assumed in his word; and we read and survey the gracious titles of our Lord Jesus Christ, with new and unknown delight.

Have any of you lost your earthly parents? Then you read with pleasure those words of the Psalmist, _If my father or my mother forsake me_, as they must do at the hour of death, then the Lord will take me up; Ps. xxvii. 10. And you rejoice in that glorious promise, _Be ye separate from idols_, saith the Lord; that is, separate yourselves from the sinful practices of the world, _and I will receive you, and I will be a Father to you, and ye shall be my sons and my daughters, saith the Lord Almighty_; 2 Cor. vi. 17, 18. Has death entered into a family, and taken the head, the husband away? The words of Isaiah grow sweeter than ever; Is. liv. 5. _Thy Maker is thy Husband, the Lord of Hosts is his name, even the God of the whole earth._ Are the widows and the fatherless children in danger of oppression, because they have lost their defender? They run to the lxviii. Ps. and live upon the 5th verse of it; _A Father of the fatherless, and a Judge of the widows, is God in his holy habitation_. Is a brother summoned away by the stroke of death? But the Lord Jesus is alive still: He that took flesh and blood upon him, that he might be made like the rest of the children of God, _He is not ashamed to call them brethren_; Heb. ii. 11. This is a _brother_ that was _born for_ the day of _our adversity_; this is the _friend that sticks closer than a brother_, and abides with us when a brother departs, according to the expression of the wise man; Prov. xvii. 17. and xviii. 24. Thus the names, and characters, and relations of God the Father, and of our Lord Jesus Christ, acquire a new sweetness, and appear with greater love and glory in them, at the death of our earthly relatives.

There is many a christian can speak feelingly, and say, “Never did I live so much upon my God, I never knew nor loved my Saviour so well, never conversed so much with his word, never did I find such sweetness in his names, nor his promises, nor such pleasure in secret converse with him, as I have done since the day I lost such a friend, or such a dear relation by the stroke of death: I have learned now to put no trust in creatures; _for their breath goeth forth, and that very day their thoughts of kindness perish_; Ps. cxlvi. 3-8. _Now refuge fails me, no man_ seems to be _concerned for me_, since the death of such a friend; _I say_, therefore, _to my God, thou art my refuge_; Ps. cxlii. 4, 5.”

III. The death of our dearest friends calls us to a noble trial of our love to God, and our submission to his sovereignty. Human nature indeed is afraid of trials; but when the present aids of divine grace give us the victory, then _blessed is the man that endureth temptation; for when he is tried, he shall receive the crown of life, which the Lord hath promised to them that love him_; James i. 12. And upon this account, he exhorts christians in the second _verse_, to a very sublime and difficult practice, _My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations, knowing this, that the trial of your faith worketh patience_, and if it endures the trial, _it will be found unto praise, and honour, and glory, at the appearing of Jesus Christ_; 1 Pet. i. 7.

When God sends his messenger of death, and takes a dear and beloved creature from our arms, or our bosom, the divine question is like that of our Lord to Peter, _Simon, lovest thou me?_ John xxi. 15-17. Christian, _lovest thou me more than_ thou lovest this creature? Art thou willing to resign this comfort at my call? Hast thou not given thyself to me, and does thy heart refuse to give up thy son, thy brother, or thy dearest friend? Hast thou not called me thy sovereign? I am come now to enquire into thy sincerity. Dost thou resign thy most beloved objects to my disposal? I gave up my Son to death for you; and have you any thing so dear to you as my Son was to me? What says your heart in answer to these solemn questions? Do you love me above all things, or no? Is your will bowed down to my foot? Can you now repeat from your very souls the same language, in which you have often addressed me in your closets, and in my sanctuary, “I am thine, Lord, I am thine; all that I have is thine?” Or do you murmur and quarrel at my providence, when I send my servant death to your house, to try whether these professions of yours were sincere or no?

Happy the christian that comes off with honour in this hour of trial, and who can say heartily, Lord, I resign what thou demandest, and am angry with myself that I should find so much reluctance in my heart, to surrender any thing at the call of God! What a shining evidence of our sincerity is obtained at such a season? What a noble proof of our supreme love to God? And it shall be recorded in heaven for our honour, and produced in the day of the Lord Jesus?

There is nothing in all the history of Abraham, the father of the faithful, that gives him a more shining character on earth, or, perhaps, in heaven, than that he gave up his son Isaac, at the command of God, and _took the wood, and the fire, and the knife, in his hand_, and devoted his beloved, his only son to death; though it was in a way so terribly painful and so shocking to nature, that he himself must be the executioner. He had offered the precious sacrifice already in his heart, when the angel of the Lord came down and stopped his hand: Now I know that thou fearest God, and I know that thou lovest him too, seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thy only son from me; Gen xxii. 9-12.

Thus the death of the dearest relation turns greatly to our advantage, when it gives us so bright an evidence of our own graces, and assures us that we are hearty lovers of God.

IV. The death of a beloved relative, has often wrought for the good of a saint, when the long and painful sorrow which has attended it, has shewn us how dangerous a thing it was to love a creature too well.

“O! What a wound do I feel at my heart, says a christian, since the death of so near a relation: It pains me all the day: It fills my eyes with tears, and forbids my rest in the night: I am so troubled that I cannot sleep: It unfits me for the present duties of life, and hangs too heavy upon me, in the midst of the duties of religion. Surely, that creature dwelt too near my heart, and was joined in too close a union, since my heart bleeds and smarts so long after the parting stroke. Let me watch my affections for time to come, and set a guard upon my love, that it never, never tie my soul so fast to a creature again. Come down, blessed Saviour, and take faster hold of my heart; let thy own hand heal the wound that death has made, and let thy mercy pardon the guilt of my excessive creature-love: Dwell thou in my soul, my Lord and my God, and fill up all the unhappy and painful vacancy: Keep my affections for ever true to thee, and let my love to thee be supreme and unrivalled; nor let the softer passions of my nature wander and lose themselves amongst creatures again, lest they contract new guilt: lest they provoke thee to repeat the same smarting tragedy, and to renew these scenes of mourning.”

V. The death of our kindred is for our advantage, when it awakens us to review our own conduct toward them, whether we have behaved aright or no, and when it quickens our duty to surviving relatives.

While they are alive, and present with us, our neglect of duty towards them does not so soon strike our consciences; but when the stroke of death divides them from us in this world for ever, we are ready then to bethink ourselves, whether our carriage toward them has been just and kind: And if our enquiry finds out our guilt, our hearts are tender at that season, and we soon yield to the conviction. “Did I pay that duty to a father, which he well deserved, and which God required? Did I treat a mother with that filial affection, and submissive tenderness that became a child? Did I pay that just deference and honour to the counsels and advice of my parents as I should have done? Did I treat my sisters with that decent affection and respect that became me? And did I exercise brotherly love toward all my equal relatives? Or has my conduct been undutiful, unkind, and unbecoming?”

And especially if we have this to charge ourselves with, that we took no care for the welfare of the souls of those that are dead. Such thoughts as these will hang heavy about the heart, and press hard upon the conscience in that day. “Did I not see my child or my brother walk in the ways of sin: and yet did I ever give him a hint of his dreadful danger? Did I fear that he was a stranger to the grace of God, and yet did I not neglect to invite him to receive the gospel? Had I not reason to question whether he was a sincere convert or no? But how little have I done toward his conversion?

“Or if he was ever concerned about the affairs of his soul, and awakened and thoughtful about death and hell, did I direct him in the way of peace? Did I endeavour to lead him to Jesus the Saviour? Or did I let him go on without instruction, and without comfort, till death laid its cold hands upon him, and he plunged into the eternal world at a mournful uncertainty? O my heart! my heart! The anguish of it pains me beyond what I am able to bear. O that I could recal my brother, or my son from the grave! How would I follow him with counsels and intreaties? And neither give him nor myself any rest, till I had good hope, through grace, that he had fled for refuge to lay hold on Christ and his salvation. I would never be at ease, nor would I cease pleading for him at the throne of grace, till I had found some evidences of a new nature in him, and a change of heart from sin to repentance and holiness.

“Or suppose my departed relative was a true christian, what did I do toward the increase of his faith? Did I ever allure him to holy conversation? Did I take occasion now and then to introduce religious discourse? Did I converse with him ever about the matters of our common salvation, that as iron sharpens iron, so we might have quickened each others zeal and love, and helped each other onward in our way to heaven?

“Surely I have found myself too guilty, in some of these instances. Forgive my criminal negligence, O my God, and through thy grace, I will apply myself to double diligence, with regard to my relatives that yet survive: I will enquire, as far as it is proper, into the state of their souls: I will seek the most powerful and the kindest methods, to awaken the thoughtless sinners amongst them; and I will study, and pray, and ask God what I shall say to make a deep impression upon their hearts: And though I have no office in the church, yet what I have learned there, I will talk over at home: I will preach Christ crucified, and all his gospel to them, as God shall give me proper opportunity. I will converse more freely with my pious kindred about the things of God, and learn their inward sentiments of religion and experimental godliness. Thus will I bring holy discourse into the parlour and the chamber; and every soul in my house shall be a witness of my endeavours to promote the eternal welfare of those that are near me.”

Now when the death of a near relation attains such an end as this, and raises our repentance and holy zeal at this rate, we cannot doubt but that we receive sensible advantage by it.

VI. The death of our friends, who were truly religious, inclines us to review their instructions and their virtues, and sets them before our eyes, in a fresh and lively manner, to influence our own practice.

We are too ready to forget their advice, while they are living and daily present with us, and we take too little notice of those virtues, in which they were eminent. We beheld their humility toward God and men, their condescension to their inferiors, their love and hearty friendship toward their equals, and their sweetness of temper toward all around them. We beheld it, and perhaps we loved and honoured them for it; but we took but little pains to copy after them. We saw their pity to the poor and the miserable, their charity to persons of different sects and sentiments in religion; their readiness to forgive those that offended them, and their good-will and obliging carriage to all men. There was a beauty and loveliness in this conduct, that rendered them amiable indeed, but how little have we transcribed of their example, either into our hearts or our lives? We observed their constant tenderness of conscience, their devotion toward God, and their zeal for the honour of Christ, and his gospel in the world. O that we had made these graces the matter of our imitation! What can we do now more to honour their memory, than to speak, and live, and act like them?

It may be we have got their pictures drawn by some skilful hand, and their images hang round us in their best likeness, as tender memorials of what we once enjoyed, to give us now and then a melancholy delight, and awaken in us the pleasing sadness of love. These we call our most precious pieces of furniture, and our hearts rate them at an uncommon price. But it would be much richer furniture for our souls, to have the best likeness of our pious predecessors and kindred copied out there. Let us now and then reflect what were their peculiar virtues, and the remarkable graces that adorned them; and if we could imagine the spirit of each of them to look down upon us, through those eyes which the pencil has so well imitated, and to speak through those lips, each of them would say, in the language of the softest and most sacred affection; _Be ye followers of me as dear children_, so far _as I was a follower of Christ_.

And this thought I would more especially impress on those who were most unhappily negligent of the pious counsel of their ancestors, or ran counter to their holy advice and example in their life-time. “I was too regardless, may a young christian say, of the wise and weighty sayings of my father deceased, they return now upon my thoughts, with a fresh and living influence. I have been too ready to neglect what a kind mother taught me; but the instructions that I received from her dying lips, had such an air of solemnity and tenderness in them, that they have made a deep impression upon my heart; and I hope I shall never forget them. The prudent and pious rules that my elder relations have often set before me, recur to my thoughts with double efficacy since their death: I shall hear them speak no more, I shall see their holy examples no more: I will gather up the fragments of their religious counsels, and make them the rule of my conduct: I am w ell assured their souls are happy, and by the grace of God I will tread in their steps, till I arrive at those blessed regions, where I hope to meet them.”

This thought leads me on to the last instance of benefit which we derive from the death of our kindred in the flesh.

VII. The death of dear and near relations calls our thoughts in a more powerful and sensible manner, to converse with the grave and eternity.

When our neighbours, or our common acquaintance die, we attend the funeral, and cast an eye into the grave; we spend a thought or two on the pit of corruption, and the mouldering dust: We awaken a meditation or two on things heavenly and the world to come; and we return quickly, and busily to this world again: But when God sends death into our chambers, and it makes a slaughter there, it awakens us more effectually from a drowsy frame, and it nails our thoughts down to our most important and everlasting concerns. “Part of me is gone to the dust already, it is not long ere the surviving part shall go also. Death has smitten the desire of my eyes, and the partner of my joys, it will strike me ere long, and am I ready?” This thought dwells upon the heart of a true christian at such a season, and while the Spirit of God assists the work, it is not in the power of all the trifles in this earth to banish the holy thought, and carnalize the mind again. As when a man is seized with the dead palsy, or has a limb cut off, and buried in the dust, how sensibly does this awaken in him the thought of death and futurity? “The sentence of death is begun to be executed on me already, and the whole execution will be quickly fulfilled; it is time now to be ready, for death is in good earnest, and has begun his work.”

And if our departed relative were a christian indeed, and gave us comfortable hope in his death, then it leads our thoughts naturally to heaven, and most powerfully touches the springs of our heavenly hopes. It raises our pious wishes to the upper world and we say, as Thomas did at the death of Lazarus, _Let us go, that we may die with him_; John xi. 16. Let us go to our God and our holy kindred, and enjoy their better presence there. Let us not _sorrow for the dead, as those that mourn without hope_; 1 Thess. iv. 13. but look upward to things unseen, and forward to the great rising-day, and rejoice in the promised and future glories that are beyond life and time.

Every dear relative that dies and leaves us, gives us one motive more to be willing to die: Their death furnishes us with one new allurement toward heaven, and breaks off one of the fetters and bonds that tied us down to this earth. Alas! we are tied too fast to these earthly tabernacles, these prisons of flesh and blood. We are attached too much to flesh and blood still, though we find them such painful and such sinful companions. We love to tarry in this world too well, though we meet with so many weaning strokes to divide our hearts from it. O it is good to live more at a loose from earth, that we may be ready for the parting hour: Let us not be angry with the sovereign hand of God that breaks one bond after another; though the strokes be painful, yet they loosen our spirits from this cottage of clay, they teach us to practise a flight heaven-ward in holy meditations and devout breathings; and we learn to say, _How long, O Lord, how long?_

The Recollection.—“Have any of us lately felt such parting strokes as these? Have we lost any of our beloved kindred? God calls upon us now, and enquires, What have you learned of these divine lessons? I would ask myself this day, Have I seen the emptiness and the insufficiency of creatures, and recalled my hope and confidence from every thing beneath and beside God? Have I past through this solemn hour of trial well, and shewn my supreme love to God, and my most entire submission to his sovereignty, by resigning so dear a comfort at his demand? Have I been taught by the inward pain which I felt at parting, and by the smart which still remains, how dangerous a thing it is to love a creature too well? Have I duly considered my past conduct toward my relations deceased, and does it improve itself to my conscience at the review? Or have I found matter for self-condemnation and repentance? Have I treasured up the memory of their virtues in my heart, and set them before me as the copy of my life? Have my thoughts followed the soul of my dear departed friend, and traced it with pleasure to the world of blessed spirits; and does my own soul seem to fix its hope and joy there, and to dwell there above? Are my thoughts become more spiritual and heavenly? Do I live more as a borderer on the other world, since a piece of me is gone thither? And am I ready for the summons, if it should come before to-morrow?”

“Happy christian, who has been taught by the Spirit of grace to improve the death even of the dearest relative to so divine an advantage! The words of my text are then fulfilled experimentally in you: _Death is yours_: Death itself is made a part of your treasures. The parting stroke is painful indeed, but it carries a blessing in it too; for it has promoted your heavenly and eternal interest.” _Amen._

HYMN FOR SERMON XLII.
_Death of Kindred improved._

Must friends and kindred drop and die?
Must helpers be withdrawn?
While sorrow, with a weeping eye,
Counts up our comforts gone.

Be thou our comfort, mighty God,
Our helper and our friend:
Nor leave us, in this dang’rous road,
Till all our trials end.

O may our feet pursue the way,
Our pious fathers led?
While love and holy zeal obey
The counsels of the dead.

Let us be wean’d from all below;
Let hope our grief dispel;
Death will invite our souls to go,
Where our best kindred dwell.

SERMON XLIII.
_Death a Blessing to the Saints._
1 COR. iii. 22.—Whether life or death,—all are yours.

We have already seen many divine comforts, and a rich variety of blessings derived from the formidable name of DEATH: One would scarce have thought that a word of so much terror should have ever been capable of yielding so much sweetness; but the gospel of Christ is a spring of wonders: It has consecrated all the terrible things in nature, even death itself, and every thing beside sin, to the benefit of the saint.