MEDITATION XXI.
MEDITATION XXI.
THINKING ON A DEAD FRIEND.
Spithead, May 10, 1758.
A melancholy gloom had well near spread its midnight shadows over my brooding mind, when thinking on a dead friend. But, all on a sudden, a sacred sentence beamed refreshful on my soul, that he has departed—to be with Christ!
Let me then borrow a similitude, and suppose that my friends and I live under the government of a great king, who has vast dominions, and who has chosen for his royal residence, a pleasant—but remote province, where his palace stands, and where he keeps court, showing himself in kingly glory, and excellent majesty; while we live, compared to the royal country, in a howling wilderness, a dry and thirsty land—but still under the scepter and protection of the king. And further, let me suppose, that this great king (which would be stupendous condescension in him) had conceived such a regard for my friends, that he had given his royal word, that he would send a noble guard, so soon as he thought fit, and fetch them home to himself, that he might bestow on every one of them, not a dukedom—but a kingdom, a crown, and excellent majesty! Now, would I fight against the guard, or murmur at their errand? Yes, would not I rather give the messengers an hearty welcome, and bless their majestic sovereign; and the more so, if I had the royal promise also of being myself transported there?
Then, is there any promise like his, whose counsel stands fast, and whose faithfulness cannot fail? Is there any guard like that of heavenly angels? Or any happiness like the celestial felicity? And, if these things be so, is not the state of the godly dead, happy beyond conception? Now, the glory of my departed friend, infinitely transcends the blaze of created grandeur. Mortality is put off, and immortality put on. For we know that when this tent we live in—-our body here on earth—-is torn down, God will have a house in heaven for us to live in, a home he himself has made, which will last forever!
Upon the above supposition, my friend, and his kingly patron, might have a falling out—as nothing is more fickle than royal favor. But here, there is no fear of his falling from the favor of the Prince of life, because he rests in his love forever, which kindles gratitude and love in the saints through endless day. In such a place, and in such a condition, would I not wish all my friends? Here we live to die—but there they live to reign! Though a little sorrow may be allowed to us who remain; yet, that boundless glory, and eternal bliss, which, to the highest degree, my departed friend enjoys, forbids me to bewail him to any great degree, or lament him as dead, who never could be said until now to live. Why should my sad reflections terminate on his crumbling clay, and not rather rise to meditate how his active soul is incessantly employed in the hosannahs of the higher house, and unweariedly exercised in beholding and blessing Jehovah and the Lamb? and thus convert my pensive thoughts into a Christian preparation for the same blessed passage to the same blessed place!