Post by Admin on Jul 22, 2023 10:57:35 GMT -5
The good things of the world cannot comfort a man when he draws near death.
All the gold of California and Australia will not provide light for the dark valley of death.
Money can buy the best medical advice and attendance for a man’s body; but money cannot buy peace for his conscience, heart, and soul.
Relatives, lovers, friends and coworkers cannot comfort a man when he draws near death. They may minister affectionately to his bodily wants. They may watch by his bedside tenderly, and anticipate his every wish.
They may smooth down his dying pillow, and support his sinking frame in their arms. But they cannot "minister to a mind diseased."
They cannot stop the achings of a troubled heart.
They cannot screen an uneasy conscience from the eye of God.
The pleasures of the world cannot comfort a man when he draws near death.
The brilliant ballroom
—the merry dance
—the midnight frolic-the party at the races
—the card table
—the box at the opera
— the voices of singing men and singing women
—all these are finally distasteful things.
To hear of hunting and shooting engagements gives him no pleasure.
To be invited to feasts, and regattas, and fancy fairs, gives him no ease. He cannot hide from himself that these are hollow, empty, powerless things.
They are noise to the ear of his conscience. They are out of harmony with his condition.
They cannot stop one gap in his heart, when the last enemy is coming in like a flood.
They cannot make him calm in the prospect of meeting a holy God.
Books and newspapers cannot comfort a man when he draws near death.
The most brilliant writings of Dickens will be gloom to his ear.
The most able article in the Times will fail to interest him.
The Edinburgh and Quarterly Reviews will give him no pleasure. The Illustrated News, and the latest new novel, will lie unopened and unheeded. Their time will be past. Their calling will be gone. Whatever they may be in health, they are useless in the hour of death.
There is but one fountain of comfort for a man drawing near to his end, and that is the Bible.
Chapters out of the Bible
—texts out of the Bible
—statements of truth taken out of the Bible
—books containing matter drawn from the Bible
—these are a man’s only chance of comfort when he comes to die. I do not say that the Bible will do good, as a matter of course, to a dying man, if he has not valued it before. I know, unhappily, too much of death-beds to say that. I do not say whether it is probable that he who has been unbelieving and neglectful of the Bible in life, will at once believe and get comfort from it in death. But I do say positively, that no dying man will ever get real comfort, except from the contents of the Word of God.
All comfort from any other source is a house built upon sand. I lay this down as a rule of universal application. I make no exception in favor of any class on earth. Kings and poor men, learned and unlearned—all are equal in this matter. There is not a bit of real consolation for any dying man, unless he gets it from the Bible. Chapters, passages, texts, promises, and doctrines of Scripture heard, received, believed, and rested on—these are the only comforters I dare promise to any one, when he leaves the world.
All the gold of California and Australia will not provide light for the dark valley of death.
Money can buy the best medical advice and attendance for a man’s body; but money cannot buy peace for his conscience, heart, and soul.
Relatives, lovers, friends and coworkers cannot comfort a man when he draws near death. They may minister affectionately to his bodily wants. They may watch by his bedside tenderly, and anticipate his every wish.
They may smooth down his dying pillow, and support his sinking frame in their arms. But they cannot "minister to a mind diseased."
They cannot stop the achings of a troubled heart.
They cannot screen an uneasy conscience from the eye of God.
The pleasures of the world cannot comfort a man when he draws near death.
The brilliant ballroom
—the merry dance
—the midnight frolic-the party at the races
—the card table
—the box at the opera
— the voices of singing men and singing women
—all these are finally distasteful things.
To hear of hunting and shooting engagements gives him no pleasure.
To be invited to feasts, and regattas, and fancy fairs, gives him no ease. He cannot hide from himself that these are hollow, empty, powerless things.
They are noise to the ear of his conscience. They are out of harmony with his condition.
They cannot stop one gap in his heart, when the last enemy is coming in like a flood.
They cannot make him calm in the prospect of meeting a holy God.
Books and newspapers cannot comfort a man when he draws near death.
The most brilliant writings of Dickens will be gloom to his ear.
The most able article in the Times will fail to interest him.
The Edinburgh and Quarterly Reviews will give him no pleasure. The Illustrated News, and the latest new novel, will lie unopened and unheeded. Their time will be past. Their calling will be gone. Whatever they may be in health, they are useless in the hour of death.
There is but one fountain of comfort for a man drawing near to his end, and that is the Bible.
Chapters out of the Bible
—texts out of the Bible
—statements of truth taken out of the Bible
—books containing matter drawn from the Bible
—these are a man’s only chance of comfort when he comes to die. I do not say that the Bible will do good, as a matter of course, to a dying man, if he has not valued it before. I know, unhappily, too much of death-beds to say that. I do not say whether it is probable that he who has been unbelieving and neglectful of the Bible in life, will at once believe and get comfort from it in death. But I do say positively, that no dying man will ever get real comfort, except from the contents of the Word of God.
All comfort from any other source is a house built upon sand. I lay this down as a rule of universal application. I make no exception in favor of any class on earth. Kings and poor men, learned and unlearned—all are equal in this matter. There is not a bit of real consolation for any dying man, unless he gets it from the Bible. Chapters, passages, texts, promises, and doctrines of Scripture heard, received, believed, and rested on—these are the only comforters I dare promise to any one, when he leaves the world.