II. Sickness is sorrow. Sorrow because of lost time and business, fear that the end of life is near, the leaving behind not only all pleasant earthly things and persons, but especially those dependent on the patient’s life, to whom his loss may be ruin. Not to the patient only is it a time of sorrow. Enter the house. All is gloom. Rooms darkened. The family tread softly and speak under their breath, as if every sound would not only disturb the sufferer, but be out of harmony with their own feelings. It is the little one that has come home sick from school (2 Kings iv. 19). His mother takes him on her knee. Soon she perceives the signs of one of the sicknesses that are the terror of childhood. Medical aid is procured. The sickness deepens. Every one watches with aching heart, for the child is a universal favourite. And if he is taken, oh, what distress! Or it is the young man who has grown to maturity. He is active in business. His father, under the burden of advancing years, is gradually devolving responsibility on him, that he may himself enjoy a few years’ rest after a life of hard and anxious work. But sickness comes. It passes by those you would expect it to strike. It singles out the young and strong. Gradually that fine young man wastes away. Day and night the mother, whose advancing years and infirmities demand the attention, watches over him with a breaking heart. All is done that strong affection can inspire. It is vain. Oh! what sorrow through these months! And when the end comes, what tongue can describe the agony?

We wonder if it will ever cease to be true that “man was made to mourn.” Thank God we can entertain the prospect of the complete cessation of sorrow. “Neither sorrow.” “Sorrow and sighing shall flee away.” “God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.” For “the inhabitant shall not say, I am sick.”

III. Sickness is the prelude to death. It usually precedes. Any sickness may end in it. Death changes everything; the body different; the soul different. But there shall be no more death. There will be the perpetuated life of paradise regained; for there will be the tree of life; there will be the resurrection body (1 Cor. xv. 53, 54).

IV. Sickness, sorrow, and death are the fruit of sin. Does not Scripture thus trace them? There was no sickness before sin. Sin was the seed. The heavenly city is free from sin. There is perfect holiness. It is the completion of the redeeming work of Christ from sin, sorrow, death. The seed which bears sickness is taken out of the soil.

Shall we dwell in that city of immortal health? Are we travelling towards it? If not, we cannot reach it. Jesus is the way. Come to Him (Rev. xxi. 27). It is a prepared place for a prepared people.—J. Rawlinson.

Recovery from Sickness.

(Sermon to the Young.)

xxxiii. 24. And the inhabitant shall not say, I am sick.

Our sun-dial is not that of Hezekiah: its shadow has no backward movement; the last enemy must soon challenge the traveller to pay the tax imposed on his pilgrimage. When all the pains and illnesses of the flesh are over, there remaineth a place purchased, prepared, and furnished for the children of God, and in which “the inhabitant shall not say, I am sick.” Where is this healthy spot? Not in any place in this country; not in the world of which our land is so favoured a portion. To be able always to say, “I am not sick,” is one of the privileges of heaven alone.

I. The evils and disagreeables of sickness.