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perished, or are perishable; that the real being of whatever was, and whatever is, and whatever will be, is even now and forever.

Can the earth, which is but dead, and a vision, resist Spirits, which have reality, and are alive? On the hardest adamant some footprint of us is stamped in. The last rear of the host will read traces of the earliest van. But whence? O Heaven, whither? Sense knows not; faith knows not; only that it is through mystery into mystery, from God to God. - Thomas Carlyle.

Of what import this vacant sky, these puffing elements, these insignificant lives, full of selfish loves, and quarrels, and ennui? Every thing is prospective, and man is That the world is for his education is

to live hereafter.

the only sane solution of the enigma. All the comfort I have found, teaches me to confide that I shall not have less in times and places that I do not yet know. All I have seen teaches me to trust the Creator for all I have not seen. Whatever it be which the great Providence prepares for us, it must be something large and generous, and in the great style of his works.

The love that will be annihilated sooner than be treacherous has already made death impossible, and affirms itself no mortal, but a native of the deeps of absolute and inextinguishable being.-R. W. Emer

son.

'Tis only when they spring to heaven that angels
Reveal themselves to you; they sit all day
Beside you; and lie down at night by you,
Who care not for their presence muse or sleep—
And all at once they leave you and you know them!

Dear Festus, lay me,
When I shall die, within some narrow grave,
Not by itself for that would be too proud —
But where such graves are thickest: let it look
Nowise distinguished from the hillocks round,
So that the peasant at his brother's bed
May tread upon my own and know it not;
And we shall all be equal at the last,
Or classed according to life's natural ranks,
Fathers, sons, brothers, friends
Nor gifted.

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not rich, nor wise,

In man's self arise

August anticipations, symbols, types

Of a dim splendor ever on before,

In that eternal circle run by life:

For men begin to pass their nature's bound,
And find new hopes and cares which fast supplant
Their proper joys and griefs; and outgrow all

The narrow creeds of right and wrong, which fade
Before the unmeasured thirst for good; while peace
Rises within them ever more and more.

If I stoop

Into a dark, tremendous sea of cloud,

It is but for a time; I press God's lamp

Close to my breast- its splendor, soon or late,
Will pierce the gloom: I shall emerge one day!

Robert Browning.

The life of the Spirit is the evidence [of immortality]. Heaven begun is the living proof that makes the heaven to come credible. "Christ in you is the hope of glory." It is the eagle eye of faith which penetrates the grave, and sees far into the tranquil things of death. He alone can believe in immortality who feels the resurrection in him already. -F. W. Robertson.

We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breath;

In feelings, not in figures on a dial.

We should count time by heart-throbs.

He most lives

Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.
Life is but a means unto an end; that end,

Beginning, mean and end to all things, God! - Bailey.

We have all felt, when looking above us into the atmosphere, that there was an infinity of space which we could not explore. When I look into man's spirit, and see there the germs of an immortal life, I feel more deeply that an infinity lies hid beyond what I see. In the idea of duty, which springs up in every human heart, I discern a law more sacred and boundless than gravitation, which binds the soul to a more glorious universe than that to which attraction binds the body, and which is to endure though the laws of physical nature pass away. Every moral sentiment, every intellectual action, is to me a hint, a prophetic sign, of a spiritual power to be expanded forever, just as a faint ray from a distant star is significant of unimaginable splendor.

Dream not of a heaven into which you may enter, live as you may. To such as waste the present state, the future will not, cannot bring happiness. There is no concord between them and that world of purity. A human being who has lived without God, and without self-improvement, can no more enjoy heaven than a mouldering body, lifted from the tomb and placed amidst beautiful prospects, can enjoy the light through its decayed eyes, or feel the balmy air which blows away its dust.

Heaven is in truth revealed to us in every pure affection of the human heart, and in every wise and beneficent action that uplifts the soul in adoration and gratitude.

For heaven is only purity, wisdom, benevolence, joy, peace, in their perfected form. Thus the immortal life may be said to surround us perpetually. Some beams of its glory shine upon us in whatever is lovely, heroic, and virtuously happy in ourselves or in others. The pure mind carries heaven within itself, and manifests that heaven to all around.

Immortal happiness is nothing more than the unfolding of our own minds, the full, bright exercise of our best powers; and these powers are never to be unfolded here or hereafter, but through our own free exertion.

For

The truth is that all action on earth, even the intensest, ́ is but the sport of childhood compared with the energy and activity of that higher life. It must be so. what principles are so active as intellect, benevolence, the love of truth, the thirst for perfection, sympathy with the suffering, and devotion to God's purposes? and these are the ever-expanding principles of the future life. -W. E. Channing.

So live that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan, which moves

To that mysterious realm where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,

Thou go not like the quarry-slave at night,

Scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and soothed

By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,

Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch

About him and lies down to pleasant dreams.-W. C. Bryant.

I see the autumn prefigured in the spring. The flowers of May-day foretold the harvest, its rosy apples, and its yellow ears of corn. As the bud now lying cold and close upon the bark of every tree throughout our

northern clime is a silent prophecy of yet another spring and other summers, and harvests too, so this instinctive love of justice, scantily budding here and nipped by adverse fate, silently but clearly tells of the kingdom of heaven.

I cannot think the future world is to be feared, even by the worst of men. I had rather die a sinner than live one. Doubtless justice is there to be done; that may seem stern and severe. But remember, God's justice is not like a man's; it is not vengeance, but mercy; not poison, but medicine. To me it seems tuition more than chastisement. God is not the jailer of the universe, but the Shepherd of the people; not the hangman of mankind, but their Physician; yes, our Father. I cannot fear him as I fear man. I cannot fail to love. ** Does not even the hireling shepherd, when a single lamb has gone astray, leave the ninety and nine safe in their fold, go forth some stormy night and seek the wanderer, rejoicing to bring home the lost one on his shoulders? And shall God forget his child, his frailest or most stubborn child; leave him in endless misery, a prey to insatiate sin,—that grim, bloodthirsty wolf, prowling about the human fold? I tell you no; not God.

*

In

The more I live, the more I love this lovely world; feel more its Author in each little thing, in all that is great. But yet I feel my immortality the more. childhood the consciousness of immortal life buds forth feeble, though full of promise. In the man it unfolds its fragrant petals, his most celestial flower, to mature its seed throughout eternity. Theodore Parker.

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