I am using no
metaphor now, but speaking of that which is actual and tangible. There
is such a fount, but not here: it gushes in the courts of that house not
made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For the soul, at the moment of
its separation from the body, enters upon a new life, whose course shall
be exactly the reverse of that of earth, for it shall constantly
increase in all the attributes of youth. There will be no dimming of the
faculties, but a continual brightening; no grieving over an
irrecoverable past, but a constant rejoicing over joys present and to
come. There will be no past there, but a present more tangible than
this, which is ever slipping from us, and a future far brighter and more
certain than any that earth can afford. Strange that men should fail to
look at heaven in this light! For thoughtless youth, to whom the world
is new and bright, and pleasure sparkles with a luring gleam, there is
some little palliation for neglect of the things of heaven; but what
shall we say of him who has passed the golden bound, for whom all giddy
pleasures have lost their glow, and nought remains but the cares and
anxieties of life? Of what worth is earthly pleasure to him who has
already drained its cup to the dregs? Of what worth is wealth and honor
to the frame that has already begun to descend the slope of time? All
these baubles would be gladly sacrificed for the return of that youth
which has passed away; and shall they not be given up for that eternal
youth which shall not pass away? We mourn for departed loved ones, but
what would be our grief and despair if death were annihilation--if we
knew that we should never meet them again in all eternity? But we feel
that in heaven the olden love shall be renewed; that the forms that now
are mouldering in the dust shall be recognized and greeted there, and
that the friendships created here shall ripen there in close
companionship through never-ending cycles; and thus is death robbed of
half its terrors.
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