She had not to regret that her best days were spent in riot and dissipation, in opposition or indifference to religion, by which so many debase their nature, offend their Maker, and ruin their souls: but while she contemplated the future without alarm, and perhaps with joy, she could review the past with satisfaction.
As memory predominates over the other faculties of the mind in declining life, and as so much of our happiness or misery at that period must necessarily result from its exercise, it is of the utmost importance to lay up in store a good provision in the "sacred treasure of the past." Nothing can be more desirable than to leave the mind filled with pleasing recollections; and this can arise only from a life of holiness and purity. How awful is it to think that the last hours should be disturbed by images of crime unrepented of, the intrusion of which into the dying chamber no force can prevent! How lamentable to see the terrors of death aggravated by the remorse and horrors of retrospection! "Life," says a profound writer, [[25]] "in which nothing has been done or suffered to distinguish one day from another, is to him that has passed it as if it had never been, except that he is conscious how ill he has husbanded the great deposit of his Creator. Life, made memorable by crimes, and diversified through its several periods by wickedness, is indeed easily reviewed, but reviewed only with horror and remorse.
"The great consideration which ought to influence us in the use of the present moment, is to arise from the effect which, as well or ill applied, it must have upon the time to come; for, though its actual existence be inconceivably short, yet its effects are unlimited, and there is not the smallest point of time but may extend its consequences, either to our hurt or our advantage, through all eternity, and give us reason to remember it forever with anguish or exultation." We may take occasion from the account of Anna to remark, that true religion is the most substantial support amidst the INFIRMITIES of age. This is emphatically the period of "evil days," when diseases prey upon the constitution, and the faculties both of body and mind decay. Then "the sun and the light, the moon and the stars are darkened;" the greatest change takes place in the outward circumstances of gladness and prosperity, the countenance of the man is altered, his complexion faded, and his intellectual faculties, as the understanding and the fancy, weakened. It is at this time "the keepers of the house tremble, and the strong men how themselves; the grinders cease, because they are few, and those that look out of the windows are darkened;" the strongest members of the body fail, the limbs bend beneath the weight of decrepitude and the effects of paralytic distempers, the teeth drop away, while the eyes grow dim and languid; "the doors are shut in the streets when the sound of the grinding is low," the mouth becoming sunken and closed; they "rise up at the voice of the bird," awakened from imperfect slumber when the cock crows or the birds begin their early songs; and "all the daughters of music," the tongue that expresses and the ears that are charmed with it, are "brought low;" they are "afraid of that which is high, and fears are in the way," alarmed at every step they take, lest they should stumble at the slightest obstacle, and especially apprehensive of the difficulties of any ascent. At that age their gray hairs thicken like the white flowers of the "almond tree" when it "flourishes," and even the very "grasshopper is a burden," for they cannot bear the slightest inconvenience, not even the weight of an insect, and "desire fails:" then is the "silver cord loosed, the golden bowl broken; the pitcher is broken at the fountain, and the wheel is broken at the cistern;" all the animal and vital functions at length cease, and every essential organ of life decays; "then shall the dust return to the earth as it was, and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it."
Reduced to the state of feebleness and incapacity, which the sacred penman so beautifully describes, man becomes an object of compassion; and it is affecting to see him struggling amidst the ruins of his former self. The sight becomes increasingly painful from the consideration that this is one day to be our own condition; that we too are destined to grow old, to quit the busy scene and the social circle for the solitude of age, and in our turn to be pitied--perhaps forsaken! But there is one thing capable not only of preserving the old from contempt, but of raising them to grandeur and diffusing lustre over their years of decrepitude. In contemplating Anna we do not think of her infirmities when we observe her piety: the meanness of the woman--tottering, crippled, dying--is lost amidst the majesty of the saint, incessantly serving God in his temple, and advancing to the grave "in a full age, like as a shock of corn cometh in his season." The dawning of a heavenly day seems to arise upon her "hoary head:" which, "being found in the way of righteousness," is a "crown of glory."
Anna's history further suggests, that religion is the most effectual guard against the VICES of advanced age. One of these is a spirit of querulousness. It is the common practice of those who believe themselves entitled to veneration on account of their years, to complain of the arrogant disregard of their counsels, which they impute to the rising generation. Cherishing the highest opinion of their own sentiments, to which they attribute a kind of infallibility, as being founded upon experience, they naturally expect implicit submission to their dictates and an exact conformity to their views: they require not only to be heard, but obeyed, and are impatient at the folly of those who rebel against their wisdom. Hence originate the often repeated tales of the degeneracy of the present times, and the growing insolence of the young. It may, indeed, be admitted, that, other things being equal, the aged have a just claim upon the attention of the young, whom they are sometimes qualified to instruct; but surely they are not always entitled to the same reverence, and age does not necessarily confer wisdom. Genuine humility, however, tends to correct the spirit of dictation, while it combines with an affectionate concern for the interests of those who are newly come into life; and genuine humility is the product of religion, which supplies motives to give advice with kindness, and to endure the rejection of it without anger.
Another fault of age, is the indulgence of useless regrets for the past. In reviewing life, it is easy to discover instances of our own incaution or negligence, which have possibly influenced our affairs and been connected with many subsequent disappointments. We have not availed ourselves of fortunate conjunctures, or we have rejected profitable offers; one scheme has failed by our precipitancy, another by our procrastination--some persons, perhaps, have been foolishly trusted, and others as foolishly suspected--we have occasionally listened to advice which should not have been taken, or rejected what would have proved advantageous; and the consequence has been some diminution of fortune, some disappointment of our expectations, some failure in the crop of earthly enjoyment which we had anticipated. If it were possible to recall the years which have for ever rolled away, or if the felicity of a rational and immortal being consisted in the possession of temporal abundance, worldly honour, or corporeal gratification, these regrets would have some show of propriety, and might at least secure a patient hearing; hut it is certain, they only betray a weak or a wicked mind; it is perhaps equally certain, they will generally continue to occupy the thoughts of the aged. There is, in fact, but one remedy, "pure and undefiled religion." It is this alone which can fix in the mind a full persuasion of the nothingness of terrestrial pleasures and possessions. This only can console us after our ineffectual efforts to "gain the whole world," or amidst the loss of riches which have "taken to themselves wings," and long since "fled away," by the assurance, that nothing we ever possessed was adequate to render us happy, without other and better enjoyments--that upon a fair estimate, it is questionable whether the perplexities it occasioned did not counterbalance the advantages it either bestowed or promised--and that could we now call our own whatever we have most valued or desired of worldly good, it would prove incapable of making us substantially happy. He need not wish to renew life, who has the hope of a better existence--nor regret the loss of temporal advantages, if he have immortal good. He who "lays up for himself treasures in heaven," may defy the storms of time, and adopt the triumphant language of the apostle, amidst the wreck of earthly good, "having nothing, yet possessing all things."
Similar views and principles alone can correct a third error of age, namely, the aim to prolong juvenility to an unnatural period. "To secure to the old that influence which they are willing to claim, and which might so much contribute to the improvement of the arts of life, it is absolutely necessary that they give themselves up to the duties of declining years; and contentedly resign to youth its levity, its pleasures, its frolics, and its fopperies. It is a hopeless endeavour to unite the contrarieties of spring and winter; it is unjust to claim the privileges of age, and retain the playthings of childhood. The young always form magnificent ideas of the wisdom and gravity of men whom they consider as placed at a distance from them in the ranks of existence, and naturally look on those whom they find trifling with long beards, with contempt and indignation, like that which women feel at the effeminacy of men. If dotards will contend with boys in those performances in which boys must always excel them, if they will dress crippled limbs in embroidery, endeavour at gayety with faltering voices, and darken assemblies of pleasure with the ghastliness of disease, they may well expect those who find their diversions obstructed will hoot them away; and that if they descend to competition with youth, they must bear the insolence of successful rivals." [[26]]
Religion also must be regarded as the best preparation for that END of life, with which old age is so closely connected. However proper it may be to realize this eventful time, at every period from our earliest to our latest day, it cannot but be regarded as more certainly and evident near at an advanced age. Anna, after the lapse of a century, had greater reason, surely, to apprehend her dissolution, than in the bloom of youth, or at the commencement of her widowhood; and how appaling the prospect!
It would diminish the impression we have of the terror of death, if his dominion were limited to a part of the world, or to any ascertainable extent of years; but, while his authority continues unimpaired and his stroke irresistible, the power he is permitted to exercise over humankind is universal. In visiting the repositories of the dead, it is calculated to awaken our liveliest sensibilities to trace the reign of the "king of terrors" upon the sepulchral stone, or the marble monument. In characters which time has almost erased, we read the records of the past, and by a more than probable analogy penetrate some of the mysteries of the future. Here and there occur the names of those who were venerable for age, remarkable for their exploits, conspicuous by their station, rank, or talent--GREAT by the consent of their cotemporaries--who once figured upon a stage which is now decayed, or where illustrious in an empire which is now passed away. Some have been smitten by death's withering hand at an earlier, some at a later period of life. Adjoining the grave of age is the tomb of youth. There you see the stone half buried in accumulating heaps of earth, and the inscriptions of love and tenderness obscured by collecting moss; while the hand that wrote them has long since become motionless, and the heart that dictated them ceased to beat.
It is affecting to visit places of public resort, under the full influence of the consideration, that this busy and anxious crowd will soon disappear--their race will be run, and the immortal prize gained--or--lost! These possessors of the soil will, in a little time, be disinherited--these tenants of a day exchanged--the funeral pall will cover the most ambitious and the most active of them all, and the motley multitude be succeeded by others equally busy, equally anxious, equally thoughtless of another state of being--and equally mortal!