"The sleep of death"—what is this sleep? We know that the surface idea connected with sleep is that of resting. The eyes of the sleeper ache no more with the glare of light or with the rush of tears; his ears are teased no more with the noise of strife or the murmur of suffering; his hand is no more weakened by long protracted effort and painful weariness; his feet are no more blistered with journeyings to and fro along a rugged road; there is ease for aching heads, and overtaxed nerves, and heavy hearts, in the sweet repose of sleep. On yonder couch, however hard, the laborer shakes off his toil, the merchant his care, the thinker his difficulties, and the sufferer his pains. Sleep makes each night a Sabbath for the day. Sleep shuts to the door of the soul, and bids all intruders tarry for a while. So is it with the body while it sleeps in the tomb. The weary are at rest: the servant is as much at ease as his lord. No more the worker leans on his spade, no more the thinker props his pensive head. The wheel stands still; the shuttle is not in motion; the hand which turned the one and the fingers which threw the other are quiet also. The grave shuts out all disturbance, labor, or effort. The toilworn believer quietly sleeps, as does the child weary with its play, when it shuts its eyes and slumbers on its mother's breast. O! happy they who die in the Lord; they rest from their labors, and their works do follow them. We would not shun toil, for though it be in itself a curse, it is, when sanctified, a blessing; yet toil for toil's sake we would not choose: and when God's work is done, we are too glad to think that our work is done too. The mighty Husbandman, when we have fulfilled our day, shall bid His servants rest upon the best of beds, for the clods of the valley shall be sweet to them. Their repose shall never be broken until He shall rouse them up to give them their full reward. Guarded by angel-watchers, curtained by eternal mysteries, resting on the lap of mother earth, ye shall sleep on, ye heritors of glory, till the fulness of time shall bring you the fulness of redemption.
Foretastes of Heaven.
Is it possible for us to know anything whatever of our heavenly home? Is there power in human intellect to fly into the land of the hereafter, where God's people rest eternally? Our inquiry is met at the outset by what seems a positive denial: "Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him." If we paused here, we might give up all idea of beholding from hence that "goodly land and Lebanon;" but we do not pause, for, like the apostle, we go on with the text, and we add, "But God hath revealed them unto us by His Spirit." It is possible to look within the veil; God's Spirit can turn it aside for a moment, and bid us take a glimpse, though it be a distant one, at that unutterable glory. There are "Pisgahs" even now on the earth, from the top of which the celestial Canaan can be beheld; there are hallowed hours in which the mists and clouds are swept away, and the sun shineth in his strength, and our eye, being freed from its natural dimness, beholds something of that land which is very far off, and sees a little of the joy and blessedness which is reserved for the people of God hereafter. By the Holy Spirit there is given to them, even now, in seasons of blissful communion, such experiences, joys, and feelings, as seem to bring heaven down to them, and make them able to realize, in some faint measure, what heaven itself must be.
The Work of the Spirit.
Let us ever remember that Christ on the cross is of no value to us apart from the Holy Spirit in us. In vain that blood is flowing, unless the finger of the Spirit applies the blood to our conscience; in vain is that garment of righteousness wrought out, unless the Holy Spirit wraps it around us, and arrays us in its costly folds. The river of the water of life cannot quench our thirst, till the Spirit presents the goblet and lifts it to our lips. All the things which are in the paradise of God could never be blissful to us, so long as we are dead souls—and dead we are, until that heavenly wind comes and breathes upon us, that we may live. We do not hesitate to say, that we owe as much to God the Holy Ghost, as we do to God the Son. Indeed, it were a high sin and misdemeanor to attempt to put one person of the divine Trinity before another. Thou, O Father, art the source of all grace, all love and mercy towards us. Thou, O Son, art the channel of Thy Father's mercy, and without Thee Thy Father's love could never flow to us. And Thou, O Spirit, art He who enables us to receive that divine virtue which flows from the fountain-head, the Father, through Christ the channel, and which, by Thy means, enters into our heart, and there abides, and brings forth its glorious fruit. Magnify, then, the Spirit. There never yet was a heavenly thought, a hallowed deed, or a consecrated act, acceptable to God by Jesus Christ, which was not worked in us by the Holy Spirit.