02.07B. PREPARATION FOR DEATH.

PREPARATION FOR DEATH.

"Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might. For in the grave, where you are going, there is neither working nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom." Ecclesiastes 9:10 The Preacher, taking a large view of human life, and considering man as a being destined at no very distant period, to change his present state for another, exhorts his readers, in these words, to the diligent doing of whatever remains to be done before their change arrives. He enforces his admonition by two considerations or motives:
first, that they are going to the grave;
secondly, that once in the grave, all their opportunities will cease.

I propose to direct your thoughts to these two considerations separately, and then to explain and apply the exhortation which the Preacher has founded on them — in the hope, that such as are still frittering away their time and their talents on the vanities of the world, unmindful of the coming eternity — may, under the divine blessing, be induced to think seriously of their eternal prospects. And that such of us as have already turned our faces towards Zion, may be animated and stirred up to greater diligence, in making our calling and election sure.

1. Let me remind each of you, and let every one apply it to himself, as if his own name were now audibly pronounced: "You are going to the grave!" Which of us all can deny or even doubt the certainty of this? You may sometimes hear in Church certain doctrines which you are at a loss to understand, or the grounds of whose certainty you cannot clearly perceive. But here there is no room for doubt, for dispute, or for denial, "You are going to the grave!" With unerring certainty, such as he can feel in regard to no other event, the preacher can warn every man of this: "You are going to the grave!" And looking abroad over the largest assembly of human beings, he can tell, without the possibility of being mistaken, that, within a given number of years — every one of them shall be in the dust; and the place which now knows them, shall know them no more forever. As many human beings as are at any time on the earth’s surface, are conveyed to its bosom in the course of little more than thirty years. And if one life be prolonged to three score years and ten — two or three others for every such life come to a premature termination. But all, of whatever age or strength, are going in the same direction, and will meet at last!

If we look on the whole race as moving onwards to the tomb, what a melancholy procession is human life, with all its gaiety and grandeur — a procession to the chambers of death! Were we habitually mindful of this; did we look on life, with a calm and steady eye, as a progress to the tomb; did we think of every man that passes by, whether in the gaudy attire of fashion, or in the pride of triumphant ambition, or in the mirthful pursuit of pleasure, or even in the rags of poverty, and the agony of want, "You are going to the grave!" — how would this reflection serve to diminish in our eye the distinctions of the world, to rebuke its idle fashions, and to direct our reflections to what alone is valuable — that which alone will endure.

And, above all, did the thought occur to us as frequently as it ought, and were it reflected on as its certainty and importance deserve — did I often say to myself, "I am going to the grave" — Oh! what gravity of thought, what composure of manner, what deep seriousness of spirit would such a thought produce! With how much less power would either the wealth, or the honors, or the pleasures of the world seduce me from what alone is worthy of a dying man’s regard — that which alone can fit him for the grave.

"Am I going to the grave?" — might one say. Then, why be so anxious, so busy, so engrossed with the world? Could I amass riches — can I keep them? Could I procure fame — what would it avail me there, where great and small meet together, in one common oblivion? No, I am going to the grave. I am every day drawing nearer to that scene where all earthly distinctions are forgotten — and I will pursue my journey heedless of the seductions of the world, and intent only on being prepared, in due time, to lay down without alarm and without regret, a life which I cannot long retain! And with a serious spirit, befitting the solemn termination of my journey, I shall set myself diligently to the work for which life was bestowed. It may be that in my case life will be protracted; but, along the whole line of my earthly pilgrimage, I must expect trials and difficulties sufficient to warrant a holy seriousness of spirit. Yet at length my life must terminate, no matter whether sooner or later, whether suddenly or by slow advances — terminate it must, in death. And it befits me, as a thinking being, not destitute of forethought, so to feel, and so to act, at all seasons, as one to whom God himself has said, "You are going to the grave!"

Such might be the influence of this simple but solemn lesson, were it habitually remembered in the course of life. But the impression would be greatly increased by reflecting with the same seriousness on the second consideration which is here presented, namely, "For in the grave, where you are going, there is neither working nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom."

2. That once in the grave, all our opportunities will cease. This statement is not to be understood as intimating either that the soul shall pass into a state of unconsciousness and oblivion, or that, being conscious, it shall exist in a state of passiveness or inactivity — for this were contrary as well to the argument here urged by the Preacher, as to the uniform and strong testimony of Scripture in many other places, where the state of the soul after death is expressly described.

We there read of two conscious states of existence, in one or other of which every human soul will hereafter be found:
1. A state of active improvement and exalted happiness in Heaven.
2. A state of rapid degeneracy and conscious wretchedness in Hell. In both these states, all the faculties of the mind, all the affections of the heart, all the powers of human nature will be in a state of active exercise. Nor will the acquisition here made of knowledge, whether good or evil, be forgotten. Memory will still do its busy work — awakening gratitude in one, and remorse in another class of characters forever. And there, as here, will their faculties be employed in devising schemes of good or of evil, and active exertion will follow to carry these schemes into effect. That the inhabitants of Heaven will be actively engaged in God’s service, is one of the most delightful revelations of Scripture! They will serve him day and night in his temple. They will advance in the attainment of knowledge, as their faculties expand, and their opportunities of observation are multiplied. Instead of being doomed to endless sloth and inactivity, they will find their chief happiness there, as here, in the diligent discharge of duty, as God’s ministering servants. This doctrine, as it corresponds with the view which is given of the present occupations of the angels as ministering spirits, sent forth to execute God’s purposes, and to minister to them who shall be heirs of salvation — so is it in accordance with all that we know of the constitution of the human mind; which has been so framed as to be incapable of any real or lasting happiness apart from the exercise of its own faculties on objects, or in works suitable to its nature and capacity. When we are told, therefore, that in the grave there is neither work, nor device, nor wisdom, nor knowledge — we are not to understand that the active powers of the soul will be suspended by death, far less that death is destructive of human consciousness and thought; for this idea is in direct opposition to numerous express testimonies of Sacred Scripture in other places. More especially, the supposed annihilation of human consciousness or activity, so far from being an argument for greater diligence now, would, on the contrary, run counter to the very design for which the Preacher here urges it, by creating in our minds an utter recklessness as to the course of our life, seeing that in its consummation no difference would be made between the active and the slothful, the righteous and the wicked.

If at the hour of death, all were alike consigned to unconscious and inactive repose; if all knowledge and all wisdom were lost, then, on that supposition — then how could the approach of death be urged, as here it is urged, as a reason for increasing diligence in the accomplishment of our several works on earth. Might not rather the suggestion be rationally entertained by us all, which occurred even to the mind of an apostle in contemplating this supposed result, "What advantage it me," (that I have thought and labored, and suffered in the service of Christ,) "If the dead are not raised, "Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die!" 1 Corinthians 15:32 This epicurean maxim of life would unquestionably be the most rational, were it so, that thought, and consciousness, and activity, terminate with our present existence. Instead of being an argument for "doing now what our hands find to do with our might" — such a supposition would deprive us of every reason and of every motive for exertion, except in so far as such exertion might conduce to our temporal comfort and pleasure. The real meaning of the last clause will be understood if we consider it in connection with the first: it is that work which our hands find to do on earth, in reference to which the Preacher declares that there is "no work, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, nor device in the grave." We are not to take the latter clause absolutely and by itself — but we are to view it in connection with the subject of the Preacher’s exhortation, by which it is at once limited and explained. Speaking of the work which our hands find to do, the Preacher declares that if it is not accomplished now — then it cannot be accomplished hereafter; that in reference to that work, there is no knowledge, nor wisdom, nor device, no opportunity, no means, no possibility of attending to it hereafter, if it is neglected now. This is the season appointed for a certain work; if that season is lost, there remains no opportunity of fulfilling our task. We shall continue to exist, to think, to feel, and to act — but that work which our hands find to do now, cannot be done hereafter — it must be done now or never. This is the plain import of the motive which is here urged: not that any of us shall ever be consigned to a state of unconsciousness — but that the work which is appointed to us now cannot be accomplished after death; it is the proper work of time, whose unchangeable results will be manifested in eternity.

Now if we take the most ordinary view of death, as that which separates us from every earthly privilege or pursuit — we shall be at no loss to discover the reasons on which the Preacher founds the exhortation in the text. For conceive of death simply as the separation of our souls from the present state of being; as that which dissevers all our connections with the world; as that which withdraws us at once, and forever, from the family circle — from the friends whom we love — from the society in which we mingle — from everything that is known or done under the sun.

Conceive of death in this the simplest and plainest view that can be taken of it, and may we not well say with the Preacher, that in reference to everything which here engages the interest, or concerns the welfare of man, "There is no work, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, nor device in the grave?" The die is cast — the world is no more — its business, its pleasures, its ordinances, its duties, its joys and sorrows, its opportunities, are all ended — they can neither be observed, nor improved, nor experienced by us more. And as this is in itself a solemn and a mournful thought, so is it one which every instance of death suggests. Look on a human body when life has left it, and what reflection more natural or more certain, than that its work on earth is over; that change as the world may, it can have no more experience of its vicissitudes; that no more will it appear in the place of human concourse, or mingle in the competition of earthly business, or partake in the joys or sorrows of the world; the ties which bind it to the earth are snapped asunder; it is to this world as if it had never been.

Affecting as such a separation from all earthly things must be in any view which we can take of it, it becomes the more solemn, when we consider it in connection with the views which Scripture teaches us to entertain of the present life — as a season of trial and probation for another life to come. For then this separation is not merely a disruption of those ties which bind man to man — but a withdrawment from the means of grace, and the opportunities of salvation. If it is true that, in reference to that work which our hands now find to do, there is neither knowledge, nor wisdom, nor device in the grave — then is it certain that salvation, unless it be gained now, must be lost forever. The means of grace will not be continued with us after death — we shall by that event be separated from Christian ordinances, withdrawn from the scene of trial, and introduced into a state of strict and unalterable retribution. As the tree falls, so it shall lie. Our characters, just such as they are at death, will be brought to judgment. Once separated from the earth, we have no longer the capacity either of deriving benefit from the means of grace which the living enjoy, or of bestowing any benefit on others. Our opportunities alike of improvement and of usefulness are past, and whatever in the way either of personal or public duty remains unfulfilled, must remain so forever.

Now it is from this consideration, of our entire separation at death both from the means of grace, and the opportunities of usefulness, that the Preacher draws the motive here urged for the instant and diligent doing of "whatever our hands find to do."

3. Let me solicit your attention to the duty here enjoined in some of its most important details, requesting each of you to apply it to yourselves, and to ask, with the seriousness and sincerity which so well befits us in the prospect of death, "What have I to do before I die?" Is there any one who, on seriously asking himself this question, can truly say, "I have nothing to do before I die." Many of us may be acting as if this were the case; allowing one day after another to pass away unimproved for the great ends for which our time is lengthened out; careless how life is spent, or solicitous only to secure as many of its fleeting pleasures and idle distinctions as we can. But in the midst of all this carelessness, I know that there is something in every man’s bosom which will respond to my statement, when I say, that he has in reality much to do before he can meet death with composure and peace! As much, indeed, as will afford sufficient scope for his utmost diligence, however long his term of life may be.

For, first, have you nothing to do, in the way of securing the everlasting salvation of your souls? This is the grand concern; and ought to be the chief business of every man on earth. If the soul is lost — all is lost. For making the strongest possible supposition, a supposition so strong that no worldling can ever hope to realize it, our Lord asks, "What is a man profited if he gains the whole world — and loses his soul?"

Now you know enough to awaken your serious thoughts on this matter, for you know that your souls are in danger — you know that many will finally perish. You must either be total strangers to your own hearts, or grievously deceiving yourselves as to their real condition — if you have not discovered many proofs of your own sinfulness and danger, such as should awaken you to immediate and anxious concern.

Think for one instant of the condition in which you really stand, as dying creatures, destined to an eternal world, and in danger of being lost forever. And I ask, whether the salvation of your souls is not a matter with which no earthly consideration should be allowed to interfere — a matter of such grave and solemn importance, that until this is settled — all other pursuits, whether of business or of amusement, should be postponed? For is it not the height of madness for a being possessed of reason to acknowledge that the salvation of his soul is yet at stake, and yet to live day after day, and week after week, without making any serious efforts to secure what his conscience tells him to be so necessary and so valuable? This is the chief thing that our hands find to do on earth. The Gospel places salvation within our reach; it declares the purpose and the plan of God for that end; it reveals an all-sufficient and most merciful Savior; it invites you to accept salvation at his hands as a free gift — a gift offered to every sinner that will accept of it, without money and without price. That salvation consists chiefly of two parts, which are equally necessary, and inseparable from one another. The first is, pardon, justification, or acceptance with God — the sole ground of which is, the righteousness of Christ. You need pardon — and here pardon is proclaimed. "The blood of Jesus Christ cleanses from all sin!" "In him we have redemption through his blood, even the forgiveness of sin, according to the riches of his grace!" "Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thought, and let him return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him, and to our God for he will abundantly pardon!" But pardon is not the whole of this great salvation. It is a salvation from sin — as well as from suffering; from corruption — not less than from condemnation. It pacifies the conscience — but it also purifies the heart. "Except a man be born again, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God." We must "be washed, we must be justified, we must be sanctified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God." This is the comprehensive salvation of the Gospel, and it cannot be divided; it must be wholly embraced — or wholly rejected. It is offered freely, and offered to all.

And, although salvation is not of works, the Gospel points to certain means which are necessary to be used in order to its being enjoyed; it invites you to draw near to God, and to pray to him; it calls upon you to repent of your past sins, and to break off every evil and every wicked way; it commands you to believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and you shall be saved; and to seek the gracious assistance of the Holy Spirit, by whom alone you can be prepared for Heaven.

Here is enough to engage your utmost diligence; for although the terms of the Gospel are free, yet its privileges can only be enjoyed in the diligent use of the appointed means. They are not showered down on the listless, or slothful, or self-indulgent. On the contrary, the Savior requires his disciples to deny themselves, to take up the cross and follow him. They only will succeed in the Christian course, who lay aside every weight, and the sin that so easily besets them, and run with patience and perseverance the race that is set before them.

If, on inquiring, you find that as yet you have no reason to be satisfied that the salvation of your soul is secured — this is the work which your hands find to do. It is your interest as well as your duty to do it with your might, to do it in good earnest, to do it instantly, to do it diligently and perseveringly. You must strive to enter in — you must press toward the mark.

Let every one put the question to himself: Have I obtained the salvation of my soul? Were I to be summoned away, am I prepared to stand, just as I am, at the judgment-seat of Christ? Can I say, "I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed to him until the great day?" If not, let no time be lost! Set about this great work with all your might! Give to it your most serious attention! Flee from the wrath to come — lay hold on eternal life — fall down on your knees before the mercy-seat. And placing your hope in that Savior who died to redeem sinners, plead the merits of his atonement, and cast yourselves on the mercy of a covenant God. Give no sleep to your eyes, or slumber to your eyelids, until you have solemnly and in God’s presence, committed yourselves into his hands.

Secondly, Even the people of God have much to do — and the Preacher’s admonition should stir them up to greater diligence in doing it. They have the remains of a corrupt nature, which must be subdued. They have evil tempers, or dispositions, or habits which require to be watched against and corrected. They are defective in knowledge, in faith, in love, in humility, in meekness, in all the graces and virtues which, as Christ’s disciples, and as the heirs of a happy immortality, they are bound to exercise and to cultivate.

What Christian will not acknowledge with shame, how much he needs to be reminded of his duty in these respects . . .
how lamentably he has fallen short of his own resolutions in former times,
how frequently he has fallen into a state of backsliding,
how constantly he has lived below his privileges,
how little his actual experience accords with his profession and his hopes as an expectant of immortality, and
how much he needs to be frequently and earnestly stirred up to finish the work which is given him to do?

If he regards the state of is knowledge, he will find reason to confess that whereas by this time he might have been a teacher of others, he has need to be taught himself what be the first principles of the oracles of God.

If he regards the state of his affections, he finds that he is far from being what the apostle exhorts every Christian to become — spiritually-minded, which is life and peace.

If he regards his conduct, he sees much that requires amendment and calls for renewed repentance. He will acknowledge that after all that God has done for him, and all the professions and resolutions which he has himself made, he is down to this hour an "unprofitable servant."

Think then, professing Christians, on what your hands find to do. Ask yourselves in your closets, and pray that God may teach you to discover, what roots of bitterness are still springing up within you. Search out the plague of your own hearts. Bring forth every guilty passion from its concealment, and deliberately renounce it. Set yourselves vigorously to the work of subduing whatever is unholy or rebellious — and to nourish those graces of character which are most opposed to your natural dispositions.

If you are naturally proud — seek to mortify pride, and humble yourselves both before God and man. If you are naturally morose, or selfish — seek to become loving and kind. This is the work which your hands find to do, and the further you advance in it, the riper will you be for the glory that is to follow.

If we would meet death, not only in safety, but with comfort — we must live in the habitual expectation of it. This expectation is abundantly reasonable, for the event is certain, and we know not how soon or how suddenly it may overtake us.

We know not when it may occur — this year, this week, this night.

We know not where or in what situation it may find us — at home, on our own pillow, in the midst of our weeping family and friends, or in the highway, or the solitary desert, or in a foreign land.

We know not by what means it may be accomplished, whether by the silent undermining of slow disease, or by the violent attack of some malignant malady, or by the hand of our fellow-men, or by the convulsions of the earth, or by the perils of the deep.

We know nothing but the naked truth — we must die. The certainty of death is one motive and a strong one — but the uncertainty in which we are left as to the time and situation and means of death, gives it still greater urgency. Our Lord refers to both when he says, "Be ready, for in such an hour as you think not, the Son of Man will come."

If we would meet death with comfort — we must have our treasure in Heaven, and our hearts there also. We must be much conversant with the invisible world, and well assured of eternal life, and habituated to the contemplation of glory. If our treasure is on earth — our heart will be there also. If our hearts cling to the world — no wonder that they revolt from that final separation. Hence the regret and alarm, the tumult of grief and fear, by which many are agitated, when they are first impressed with the conviction that they are dying.

Some even of God’s people, who are really safe, as being united to Christ and renewed in the spirit of their minds, have, nevertheless, no comfort — but on the contrary, much distress and uneasiness in the prospect of death. The reason is, that they are so little conversant with Heaven. This is the grand consideration. There are other circumstances that may serve to allay the fear of death — but the hope of Heaven alone can overcome it. We must be spiritually-minded, if we would have peace in that trying hour. Our hearts must be very much in Heaven, before we can be reconciled to leave this green earth, and to enter the dark valley. And the means of raising our thoughts and affections heavenward, are frequent meditation, and fervent prayer.

Lastly, Let each of us, while we are attentive to the salvation of our souls and the moral improvement of our characters, remember the apostolic injunction, "Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others." We have important duties to discharge towards our fellow-men, so long as we continue in the midst of them. The time is fast approaching which will put an end to our opportunities of doing them good. There is no work of this kind in the grave — our season for benefitting our families, and friends, and country, is now or never.

"Set your house in order," said the prophet, "for you shall die and not live!" This may refer, in the first instance, to the regulation of our worldly affairs — a duty which ought not to be negligently postponed, so as to leave the mind harassed with secular anxiety at a time when its whole energy should be reserved for spiritual employment. And one, which includes in it, not only the settlement of our domestic concerns at the close of life — but a due regulation of our business during the whole course of it, so as that we may not involve ourselves, by speculation and adventure, in such a labyrinth of engagements and cares as may make us anxious and uneasy in the prospect of death. But still more does it refer to those moral and spiritual duties which we owe to our children and friends. Let us not delay doing any good work which we have it in our present power to accomplish. Have we children to instruct? Have we friends to counsel, or comfort, or rebuke? Have we the means of relieving the needs of our poorer brethren? Have we an opportunity of promoting the great cause of religion at home or abroad? Have we heard or read of any scheme which commends itself to our judgment, as likely to promote the welfare of our fellow-men?

Then let us cheerfully put our hand to the work! Let us give our time, our substance, our active exertions to these objects — acting in the spirit, and imitating the example of our Lord himself, who, as a reason for the unwearied diligence with which he prosecuted his labors, said, "I must work the work of Him that sent me while it is day. The night comes in which no man can work."

Thus prepared . . .
united to Christ the Savior by a simple faith,
reconciled to God by his cross,
renewed and animated by his Holy Spirit,
having our treasure in Heaven, and our heart there also
— we may, with humble hope, meet the king of terrors, and enter into the rest which remains for the people of God. And then, all dangers past, all temptations overcome, all enemies subdued, "we shall forever be with the Lord! Therefore, comfort one another with these words."