Death of Mrs. Sherman

A SERMON TO THE MEMBERS OF THE CHURCH AT SURREY CHAPEL, ON OCCASION OF THE DEATH OF MRS. SHERMAN

Preached on Sunday Morning, May 28, 1848, by John Angell James.

With what utterance shall I break the silence of this solemn moment, and meet the necessities and the expectations of this vast and more than attentive audience? With what sentiment shall I tranquilize their minds, calm the perturbations of their hearts, and prepare them for those services which, by the mysterious providence of God, I am called to conduct?

"Even so, Father; for so it seemed good in your sight."

Yes, there is enough in that one consideration, not only to repress every murmur and to produce the most entire acquiescence—but to dispose and enable to listen to the teaching, which is to be founded on one of the most afflicting events that could happen to this congregation.

It is at the request of the saint, whose decease has filled us all with grief, that I occupy the pulpit of her bereaved husband on this melancholy occasion. Such a request, backed as it was by the solicitation of your deeply afflicted pastor, my much-loved friend, could not be refused; although the occasion and the place cannot but harrow up my own feelings, and tell me, that having, like him, been called twice to drink of the bitter cup, I am fitted, at least by experience, to feel and to express the tenderest sympathy with him.

It was a proof and a manifestation of the exalted religion of our dear friend, that she felt anxious that her decease might be rendered effectual for the spiritual benefit of the church and congregation, of which she was so bright an ornament; thus evincing a desire even to the last, that her usefulness might extend beyond the period of her natural life. I have been requested to address the Church; and I shall, by God's help, endeavor to carry out her design, and render this discourse the means of benefit to those for whose welfare she cherished so benevolent an anxiety.

For this purpose, I could think of no passage of Holy Writ more appropriate than the apostle's admonition, "That you be not slothful—but followers of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises." Hebrews 6:12

I might have selected a text, containing more of pathos, more of what may be called the sentimental, and more of what excites the imagination—and lying a little more outside of the ordinary track of our reading and our preaching. But where could I have selected one which entered more deeply into the design of our deceased friend, in wishing this discourse to be delivered; a text which more powerfully appealed to the conscience; which, in one view, more aptly suited the condition of the great bulk of Christian professors, or which, in another and an opposite manner, more exactly described the example, which is this day to be held up for imitation? Blessed spirit! I would feel I had betrayed the trust so generously and confidently reposed in me by you, if I did not seek that every syllable of my sermon should be employed to promote the eternal welfare of the church, whose interests occupied your thoughts in the hour of separation, and in the dark valley of the shadow of death!

Can I, my dear hearers, members of this church, more effectually promote your spiritual well-being, than by endeavoring to rouse you from slothfulness, if that be the state of your hearts, and excite you to give all diligence by a renewed exercise of faith and patience "to make your calling and election sure?"

Is it not surprising, that with the promise and the prospect of glory, honor, immortality, and eternal life, with heaven expanding above us, hell yawning beneath us, and eternity opening before us, and, at the same time, with a professed belief of the truth and reality of all these stupendous objects of faith and contemplation, we should need such an admonition as that contained in the text? It might have been supposed, (did we not know what human nature is,) that with such scenes present to our minds, it would be difficult to keep our thoughts sufficiently separated from them, to pursue the ordinary callings of the present world. How astounding is it sometimes to ourselves, that, favored with a certain, though distant, view of the celestial city, living almost within the sight of its glories and the sound of its music, the base cares and the petty enjoyments of the present world should have so much power over us, as to retard us in our heavenward course, and make us negligent and indolent, heedless and forgetful; and especially that the departure of our friends to the regions of immortality should not of itself be sufficient to render it unnecessary to admonish us to set our affections on things above, "where Christ sits on the right hand of God!" My dear brethren, "these things ought not so to be." Time is short, life uncertain, death at hand, and immortality about to swallow up our existence in eternal life or eternal death; listen then, this morning, to the united voice of Providence and Scripture, which now says, "Be not slothful—but followers of them who through faith and patience inherit the promises."

"But the Day of the Lord will come like a thief; on that day the heavens will pass away with a loud noise, the elements will burn and be dissolved, and the earth and the works on it will be burned up. Since all these things are to be destroyed in this way, it is clear what sort of people you should be in holy conduct and godliness as you wait for and earnestly desire the coming of the day of God, because of which the heavens will be on fire and be dissolved, and the elements will melt with the heat. But based on His promise, we wait for new heavens and a new earth, where righteousness will dwell. Therefore, dear friends, while you wait for these things, make every effort to be found in peace without spot or blemish before Him." (2 Peter 3:10-14)

I. First, the text informs and assures us of the state and happiness of departed saints. They "inherit the promises."

The apostle Peter beautifully spoke of the "exceeding great and precious promises," which are given unto us in the gospel of the grace of God. Another of the apostles has summed them all up in one—"this is the promise that he has promised us—even eternal life." In the infinite comprehensiveness of this one assurance are included all that the omniscient mind of the Father in the exercise of his love has contrived in eternity, all that the incarnate Son has obtained by his sacrifice upon the cross, and all that the Divine Spirit has revealed upon the page of Scripture, and all which is contained in that one majestic, inconceivable, and expressive word—heaven! I do not need flamboyant descriptions and eloquent representations of the celestial state, to raise my desires and hopes; it is enough to know that it is GLORY, first prepared, then promised, and ultimately bestowed by Jehovah—as the concentration of his infinite beneficence and the full manifestation of his boundless benevolence!

Heaven is the absence of all evil, natural and moral; the possession of all possible good; a glorified body united with a perfect soul, and all this in the immediate presence of God, and in the elevating society of the spirits of just men made perfect and the innumerable company of the angels. There we shall see God; not only see him—but love him; not only love him—but serve him; not only serve him—but enjoy him; not only enjoy him—but hold such communion with him as will assimilate us to the all-perfect source of our felicity. The objects of our contemplation, our situation, our companions, our personal constitution, our constant exercises of holy intellect, heart, and volition, will be so many distinct sources of bliss. Perfect knowledge, perfect holiness, and perfect love must of necessity open the fountain of perfect joy. No secondary concern will call off our unwearied attention from the service of God; no sin or pain will interrupt us in it; nor will death ever dismiss us from it. The business and the blessedness of that happy state are the same; our supreme delight will be our constant employ. Every sense will be an inlet, every faculty a capacity, and every energy a pulsation, of the purest bliss. It will be "Life," life in perfection, the life of the soul, the life of God, the life of heaven, the life of eternity!

But to describe it, how vain and arrogant the attempt, when even to conceive of it is impossible! "In your presence is fullness of joy; at your right hand there are pleasures for evermore," neither language nor thought can go beyond this. Mind cannot conceive more. God himself can tell us no more, than that heaven consists in his presence, and the enjoyment of his favor, forever and ever! "No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined the things that God has prepared for those who love him." (1 Corinthians 2:9) Such is the state on which the saints who have left our world have entered; such the happiness which they possess, or which, indeed, rather possesses them. They "inherit the promises." The apostle speaks of it as their actual condition, their present position. So much of it as they can receive before the resurrection of the body, they already have received, even now while their bodies are slumbering in the grave. A representation utterly inconsistent with the idea of the insensibility of the soul—a dogma no less unscriptural and unphilosophical than it is unwelcome. For them "to depart" is "to be with Christ;" and to be "absent from the body" is to be "present with the Lord."

Therefore comfort yourselves, you mourners in Zion, with this blessed thought. Could you see the dear objects of your affection now, and contrast the pale and wan and wasting bodies, to which it was your painful privilege to minister through "wearisome days and months of vanity"—with the angelic forms that now they wear; could you contrast with the agony in which by sympathy you had such sad fellowship—with the seraphic rapture which they now enjoy; would you not, in beholding their happiness, forget your own sorrows? It was your study and your delight to make them happy while they were on earth; yet even with all your love, you could, through the ills of life—but imperfectly succeed; the Lord has finished your labors of love, and has himself undertaken to make them perfectly blessed. He saw that he could do this in no other way than by removing them into his own presence; will you complain, and wish them back again amidst the sins and the sorrows of this imperfect world? Would you, if you could, for your own comfort, draw them down from their elevated seats of glory—to this low sphere of earth-born care and daily trouble? Rest, you happy spirits! and let it be our wish, our effort, and our prayer, not to have you with us again, which is impossible—but to join you in that realm of unclouded glory and perfect bliss!

Next Part Death of Mrs. Sherman 2

Back to John Angell James