Parting Words: A Discourse Delivered in the North Church, Hartford, July 3, 1859

Excerpt from Parting Words: A Discourse Delivered in the North Church, Hartford, July 3, 1859 He affirms it even of a bad man, though not that it will be, of course, his sentiment. He is such a man as may well enough be much afraid to die, and he may naturally hope that he will somehow be restored to his country and throne. It is only the prophet's own sen timent, knowing that he will not. Far more clear were the truth of it, if he were a good man, consciously ready to die. He could well enough go home to God; but to be separated from the acquaintances, and scenes, and works, in which he has lived, without going home, is a very different matter. He loses the mortal state, without gaining the immortal; goes away alive into exile from his own life itself, the associations it has constructed, the works it has done, the sympathies it has attracted, the very seeds it has planted and fondly hopes to see in their growth.
In tracing brie y the truth of this sentiment, far be it from us to speak lightly of death. To close one's eyes on all that is earthly, to sunder all the ties of mortal love, to wind up the grand affair of trial that we call life, and enter on the fixed result of it, makes the point of death a center where so many mountain like thoughts crowd heavily in, that we may not think of it as being otherwise than a most trying ordeal to pass. We are only to see that there may be a separa tion more trying even than this. He affirms it even of a bad man, though not that it will be, of course, his sentiment. He is such a man as may well enough be much afraid to die, and he may naturally hope that he will somehow be restored to his country and throne. It is only the prophet's own sen timent, knowing that he will not. Far more clear were the truth of it, if he were a good man, consciously ready to die. He could well enough go home to God; but to be separated from the acquaintances, and scenes, and works, in which he has lived, without going home, is a very different matter. He loses the mortal state, without gaining the immortal; goes away alive into exile from his own life itself, the associations it has constructed, the works it has done, the sympathies it has attracted, the very seeds it has planted and fondly hopes to see in their growth.
In tracing brie y the truth of this sentiment, far be it from us to speak lightly of death. To close one's eyes on all that is earthly, to sunder all the ties of mortal love, to wind up the grand affair of trial that we call life, and enter on the fixed result of it, makes the point of death a center where so many mountain like thoughts crowd heavily in, that we may not think of it as being otherwise than a most trying ordeal to pass. We are only to see that there may be a separa tion more trying even than this.