TO THE REVEREND DAVID RUSSELL, PASTOR OF THE CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH ASSEMBLING IN NICHOLSON-STREET CHAPEL, GLASGOW. MY DEAR FRIEND, This Discourse, devoted principally to an attempt to delineate the character and merits of your late revered father, I dedicate to you, partly in token of sympathy with you under so heavy a bereavement, partly as a memorial of our ancient friendship. Many years have elapsed since you and I dwelt under the same roof while prosecuting our academical studies; and many are the changes which have since then transpired. Of the professors at whose feet we sate only two survive; of our companions and rivals in study how many have preceded us into the eternal world! and in our respective domestic circles sad are the ravages death has made. Be it ours, since it has pleased God still to spare us, to cherish more cordially those affections that still bind us to earth, to rivet more closely the links of friendship that still remain, to labour with what strength we may for all good and useful ends; and, remembering what hallowed examples have been before our eyes from our infancy upwards, let us "be followers of them who through faith and patience are now inheriting the promises." At the time to which I have referred, we were both full of vivacity and hope; our glance was ever forward, and imagination delighted to project her visions on the curtain of the Future. I am beginning to find it otherwise with me now. In seasons of meditation my mind reverts instinctively to the Past. Some of my most cherished affections are with the dead, and draw my thoughts insensibly to wander around their tombs. A pensive influence is growing upon me from the frequent gathering up of the memories of bygone scenes, associations, and pursuits. I doubt not you feel something of the same. Let us not, however, forget that there is still for us a Future on which our most ardent longings may be suffered to rest,-not that which is bounded by earth, but that which lies beyond the cloudland -a Future which shall immeasurably more than compensate for all the sorrows of the Past, and where our dead shall be given to us again. If there be a melancholy joy in dwelling upon the memory of those who are gone, how unspeakably richer and higher the joy of anticipating a reunion with them in that state where there is no more death, and where no tears are shed! Even a heathen could counsel moderation in grief in the view of such a prospect. Have you chanced in your reading on these exquisite lines; Πενθειν δέ μετρίως τοὺς προσήκοντας φίλους. ἐν γὰρ τεθνάσιν, ἀλλὰ τὴν ἀυτὴν ὁδὸν, εις ταυτὸ καταγωγειον αὐτοῖς ἥξομεν, κοινῇ τὸν ἄλλον συνδιάτριψοντες χρόνον.* Inheritor of your father's name, may you share his excellence and emulate his success! May his mantle descend upon you! May the blessing which enriched him enrich you! And when your course on earth is finished, may you like him leave behind you a fragrant memory, and fill as he fills an honoured grave! Affectionately yours, W. LINDSAY ALEXANDER. EDINBURGH, 18th October, 1848. * Antiphanis, ap. Stob. cxxiv. 27. A DISCOURSE. JOB V. 26. "Thou shalt come to thy grave in a full age, like as a shock of corn cometh in in bis season." THERE is an obvious analogy between the ordinary phenomena of animal and vegetable life. In both, we perceive the production, the growth, and the decay of existence, regulated by the influence of apparently similar laws. We have, in both cases, the germ of life gradually developing itself, putting forth the indications of its existence and vigour, expanding into full maturity, and then by quicker or tardier processes, tending towards decay and dissolution, and final extinction. In the vegetable world, we have "first the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear;" and in exact correspondence with this we have in the animal world, first the state of infancy, then that of youth, then that of manhood, and then that of old age. In both cases, the closing scene is that of death, when the principle of life is entirely withdrawn, and the material vehicle to which it was attached, becomes the prey of corruption, and moulders into dust. This analogy has attracted the observation of men in all ages, and has led to the continual transference of language more peculiarly appropriate to the one class of phenomena, to those of the other class; and also to comparisons and similitudes by which the peculiarities of the one are employed to illustrate or enforce those of the other. Of this we have an instance in the verse before us, where the death and burial of a good man is likened to the gathering in of a shock or sheaf of corn that is fully ripe. Addressing himself to such an one, the speaker says, "Thou shalt come to thy grave in a full age, like as a shock of corn cometh in in his season.' If this passage be taken in its restricted application to the mere animal existence of man on earth, the promise it contains will be found to be fulfilled in only a few comparatively of the people of God. But in the case of such, life means something more than mere duration, or the mere succession of outward events. Indeed, in every case, the amount of a man's life is to be measured by something else than the number of days or years during which he may have existed here below; and this is supremely true of the good man, whose life consists chiefly in the extent to which he realizes the fruits of his godliness, and the fulness of whose age is reached in the maturity of those graces which are implanted within him by the Spirit of God. Viewed in this light the passage before us may be regarded as verified in the case of every really pious man, whatever be the term of his continuance here on earth; and besides reminding us that that which constitutes man's real life is the spirituality and goodness he may have attained, the passage may be regarded as suggesting to us the following subjects of thought: First, The spiritual life in man is always progressive; it is marked throughout by growth; its proper emblem being, not the mineral, which is suddenly crystallised, or compressed, or aggregated into a fixed and unchanging form, but the vegetable, which springs from a nascent germ, and advances by slower or more rapid stages to maturity. Secondly, Where real spiritual vitality exists, this maturity is always reached before the individual who is the subject of it is removed by death; the corresponding analogy to the death of the good man being the reaping of the corn when it is fully ripe. Thirdly, The whole process is under the watchful eye of the Great Proprietor of all, who, like a skilful husbandman, observes the growth of the plant, and in obedience to whose unerring order it is cut down when its time of harvest is fully come. And, Finally, We are reminded here of the true nature and real purposes of death to the child of God. It is not to him a penal infliction; it is not a calamitous or afflictive event of any kind; it is simply the agency by which he is transferred from a scene where his longer continuance would be injurious, to a higher and a nobler sphere, where all that is most precious in him shall be secured, and the only true and lasting purposes of his being attained. Under ordinary circumstances, I should have endeavoured to illustrate at length each of these truths with a view to your instruction |