Biography of Rev. Hosea Ballou

by Maturin M. Ballou

See ye his scythe, his dart, his spear?
Who placed them in his hand?
Know this, and give the winds your fear;
Dauntless before him stand.

Death is a messenger of God,
And God is love, we know;
Nothing can come from him but good,—
No enmity can flow.

Death only comes when he is sent,
Commissioned from on high;
And all his weapons, too, are lent,—
Why fear we, then, to die?

Death comes, a friend to mortal man,
To set his spirit free;
Nor he, nor any creature, can
Reverse the blest decree.

Had death on us an evil eye,
Would he our pains remove,
And set our spirits free to fly
To peaceful realms above?

Teach not your children, parents dear,
To dread what God may send;
Nor fill their tender hearts with fear
Of Him who is their friend."

There is a lesson here that it would be well for us to remember, a principle that should be planted and nurtured in our breasts. Death has been too long looked upon as "the great enemy of our race," while it is in truth but the calling home of the spirit by the Great Shepherd. 'Tis but the wedding of the soul with Paradise, the starting post for heaven. These were the sentiments entertained by Mr. Ballou, and which governed his mind even to the last.

He says, relative to this deeply interesting and important subject to us all:—"We are as pilgrims and strangers on earth, as were all our fathers. The places which now know us will shortly know us no more. How reasonable, then, is it, that we should often bring this great truth under serious consideration! If duly considered, it will exert a favorable influence in relation to the estimates we may make of all temporal things, and give a favorable direction to our purposes and determinations. Our fleshly bodies, like the grass of the earth, are composed of the elements of nature; these elements support both the grass and our fleshly bodies; and as the grass finally withers and returns back from whence it came, is decomposed and joined with the elements of which it was composed, so do our bodies return to the earth from whence they came. Dust we are, and unto dust we must return. The certainty of our mortality is as apparent to us all as it can possibly be made. However seldom we may think on the subject, however we may endeavor to put it out of our minds and thoughts, however we may endeavor to drown the subject by devoting our attention to worldly objects and worldly pursuits, we know that in a short time we must be called to leave all this bustle of life, close our eyes on all earthly things, and return to the bosom of our common mother, the earth, from whence we came.

"As the question whether man should exist or not was not submitted to him, no more is it left to him to say whether he will continue in this state forever, or depart out of it. 'All flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass; the grass withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away.' So hath the Creator appointed and ordained; and it is not in the power of man to prevent this withering of the grass, and this falling of the flower of grass. However endearing are the ties of consanguinity, however tender and affectionate are kindred hearts towards each other, with whatever longings and fond desires fathers and mothers may look on their sons and daughters, and with whatever devotion they may nourish these flowers and watch over them, they are altogether like the grass and the flower of grass. They are perishable. It is not in the power of children, however affectionately they may love their fathers and mothers, and however they may desire the continuance of such kind friends, to prevent that waste of constitution and strength which time and disease are sure to bring. The whitened locks, the wrinkled face, the tottering frame, the palsied limbs and faltering voice, are sure indications that the time of departure is at hand.

"How wonderfully beautiful is the full-grown grass, with its blushing and fragrant flowers! We cast our eyes over the luxuriant meadow; with pleasure we behold its beautiful flowers, seeming to vie with each other in glory; and though we may fancy a preference for this or for that, no person ever beheld a blossom that was not beautiful to the eye. So we behold the society of man in health and in the prime of strength; and how pleasing is the sight! Look at these sweet babes! we may fancy a preference for the beauty of this or that, but no one can help admiring every such endearing object. Look around and behold the sparkling eye and blushing cheek of youth and beauty; but remember these are flowers gathered for the tomb! Whether we see them or not, Time has wings; whether we realize it or not, his flight is rapid. What is time when it is past? Nothing!"