The most beautiful adventure in life




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The Most Beautiful
Adventure in Life!

By

Rev. Wilfred G. Hurley, C.S.P.

The Paulist Press
New York 19

,
N. Y.



Nihil Obstat:

Imprimatur

:

John M. A. Fearns, S.T.D.,
Censor Librorum.

© Francis Cardinal Spellman,
Archbishop of New York.

New York
,
February 8, 1949.

Copyright, 1949
,
by

The Missionary Society of St. Paul the Apostle
in the State of New York.

PRINTED AND PUBLISHED IN THE U. S. A. BY
THE PAULIST PRESS, NEW YORK 19

,
N. Y.

DtseWSfed



The Most Beautiful Adventure
In Life!

To put it mildly, it always irritates
me.

People always asking me: "What was
his name?”

For what does it matter?

When a man does something, or says
something, out of the ordinary, why not
let the deed or the word stand by itself?

Why must it be filed away labeled with
the man’s name? Names, today, mean
nothing anyway.

And furthermore, in this case I have
a pretty strong conviction that this man
would much rather his name would not
be used. If anyone could be helped by

anything he said or did, so be it. For

he never considered himself the heroic

type. Moreover this was a personal

affair, between his God and himself.
And in these matters he was definitely
reserved, shy, and very humble. Hence
I am sure he would not wish his name

Page 3



even mentioned. So why not have it
his way.

Because, from all accounts, he was

really a splendid chap. He was "a man
of the world” in the better sense of the

word. Cultured. Quiet-speaking. Re-

fined. Honest. Upright without being

blatant about it. A true cosmopolitan.
Talented beyond belief. A charming
sincerity.

In the natural course of events, there

were a few who did not like him. These
few seemed to have really nothing

against him, except that they were

blindly jealous of his abilities and his

phenomenal success. But even they ad-

mitted that he would never lend his

talents to anything that was not ob-

viously clean and decent. And with
him it was not a matter of expediency;
it was a matter of principle. His private

life seemed above reproach. As far as

I know he never did anyone a bad turn,
though to avoid doing so, oftentimes

he had to go far out of his way.

He had been born of poor parents
and was proud of it, and of them. His

road in life had not been easy, for he

Page 4



had come up the hard way. But come

up he did, by the sheer force of his

genius, and, do not forget, genius is

nine-tenths hard work. He had amassed
a fortune, though he was still young.

But with fame, fortune, and with the

world, so to speak, at his feet, he had

to go forth to his death.

He was in show-business. A writer,
producer and director. A man truly
outstanding and famous in his chosen

field. Ironically, the night he was

drowned in the darkness and cold of the

North Atlantic, his name was flashing
all up and down the length of that
warm, vibrant street of a million lights,

—Broadway. The Broadway which in
those days really was something. Not
the cheap, tawdry, tinselly street it is

today.

But he had to die. He who was so
much in love with life. Happy. Gay.
Full of the joy of living. And with
fame, fortune, and youth all his. It

seemed such a pity and a shame to all

who knew him, or knew of him.

But what did he think about it? After

all, he was the one who died.

Page 5



He went down in the sinking of the
Titanic. A tragedy of the sea which
is now maritime history. The maiden
voyage of this magnificent ship.

Strangely enough it was the first ship

to be advertised with the word "un-

sinkable.” It was also the last. I do

not think the phrase has been used since.

It was the first of the luxury liners.

In the building of the Titanic, Eng-

lish shipworkers had outdone them-

selves. As I recall, on the day it sailed,
all England was merry in the celebra-

tion of a holiday for the occasion. Flags

flying in the breeze in every city and

hamlet. There was the inevitable speech-

making. That gloriously martial air,

"Britannia Rules the Waves,” was the

mighty theme-song of the day for the

nation. A nation proud and happy in
its achievement.

And well it might be. It certainly
was an unforgettable and a magnificent

sight as the great ship majestically

sailed through the gathering dusk out

into a sunset sea.

It was beautiful and it was thrilling.

A giant streamer of flags and banners
Page 6



was strung from the curving bow to the
top of the towering mainmast, and

from there down to the fantail of the
stern. The decks were a mass of bril-

liant illumination, and lights were

flashing from every porthole. In the

luxurious ballroom the ship’s orchestra

was playing, and out over the waters

there floated the music of the dance.

The elite of the world were aboard. The
celebrated, the famous, the leaders in

society, government, culture and wealth

were on the passenger list for this first

sailing. Laughing, talking, calling to

one another in that orderly confusion

of a ship’s departure. All was gaiety,

happiness, joy and excitement. Surely

here was life at its very best.

Yet, though no eye beheld him, at

the prow of the proud Titanic, there
silently stood with folded wings, the

angel of death. Attentive, watchful,

calmly waiting.

For already out of the frozen fast-

ness of the North, to challenge the

pride and ingenuity of men, stealthily

floats an iceberg. Beautiful and shining

in the reflected rays of the sun, but in

the darkness of this night, a sullen,

Page 7



treacherous, vicious agent of destruc-

tion. And the next morning a stunned
and dazed world could scarcely believe

what it read as it scanned the black

headlines of horror and death: "The

Titanic Sunk,” and then: "1600 People

Drowned.”

He was one of them. He could have
saved himself, so they said, but he had

manfully stepped back to give his place

in one of the too-few lifeboats to some-

one else. Probably a woman or a child.
The age-old law of the sea: "Women
and children first!”

It was a scene which for sheer drama

chills the heart in the stark terror of

its tragedy. The ship fatally wounded
begins to die the death of ships at sea.

Slowly the bow sinks beneath the im-
placable waters now greedy and im-
patient for the kill. Slowly the stern

rears up and up into the quiet air of

the midnight hour. Then for a few
minutes the Titanic stands still. Motion-

less. Hopelessly condemned. Poised for

the inevitable end. A few moments
away, its complete destruction. A tired,
exhausted ship, dying ignominiously,

Page 8



when it had scarcely known what it was

to live.

On its great decks, now steeply slop-
ing, the human souls condemned to die
with it, were gathered in heart-rending

expectancy. As the ship would go down,

they must go with it. There could be

no reprieve. Some were kneeling in

anguished prayer. Some were standing
at the railings gazing transfixed into

the dark waters angrily waiting. Here

an aged couple standing close to each

other in unselfish love and tenderness.

There a mother holding tightly to her

a scared, whimpering child. Some sob-
bing audibly. Others screaming hys-

terically. A vast panorama of sixteen
hundred souls, each with its thoughts,

conscience, fears, and courage. But all

face to face with the inescapable truth

that inexorable, imminent death is wait-

ing for all.

In the darkness above, on the bridge,

the Captain and some officers with

bowed heads stand staring helplessly at
the useless controls. For already the

mighty machinery below has been

flooded by the conquering sea.

Page 9



It is the end! The ship’s band in a
supreme moment of self-sacrifice, in the
best traditions of British sea-faring men,

has gathered together and in the star-

lit gloom softly plays: "Nearer My God
to Thee.” And as the solemn strain of
the hymn steals out into the night, it
mingles and intermingles with the

pleading prayers and the despairing

cries of this doomed humanity.

Suddenly the great ship shudders.

Then in a slow movement, higher and
higher the stern rises into the air until

the ship is almost straight up and down.

And then, slowly at first, then faster
and faster, as a thing accursed, it glides

forward down and down into the icy
depths, carrying its human cargo to
where death awaits.

It is only a matter of a few minutes.

In a gigantic frenzy of triumph, the

waters, fiercely frothing and foaming,

whirl above the sunken ship. Then,

their work of destruction complete, the
waves slowly quiet down to roll on as
before.

On the vast empty expanse of the
ocean, gently tossing up and down, the

Page 10



few, tiny, pitiful lifeboats. The sur-

vivors, waiting for rescue still many
miles away, sit silently with bowed

heads. Too horror-stricken and numbed
by the relentless fury of the sudden

death and destruction they have wit-

nessed, for either prayers or tears. While

far above in the heavens, silently look-

ing down, the distant, unperturbed and

impersonal stars.

Many are the tales told of those last
few moments of the Titanic. Tales of
inspiring heroism, and tales of incredible

cowardice. For in times of stress and

brutal fear, man’s soul must reveal it-

self in its true light.

But we are concerned with only one
man who went to his death that night.
A man who had everything that makes
a man want to live. A man who was
famous and wealthy. A man who loved
life. Remember? Yet he had to die.
What did he think about it, as he stood
on the brink of eternity?

A friend of his, a close friend, who
had known him for years, spoke to him
in those last few moments of his life.
He was standing at the rail of the ship

Page 11



as her crowded lifeboat was lowered

down only a few feet away. She saw
him standing there, his lips moving.
Thinking perhaps he might be giving

her some last message for his loved ones,

she called to him: "I can’t hear what

you are saying.”

He moved his head slightly with a
start, then recognizing who she was, he
gently smiled as he replied: "I was not

speaking, I was just saying a few

prayers.”

Her heart went out to him, as he
stood there so close to inevitable death.

Life was so sweet. Life was so good. He
had so much for which to live. It
seemed such a shame that he should

have to die. Her lips framed the words,
and before she realized what she was

saying, she had haltingly said: "It is

horrible that you have to die.”

But then . . . even in that dim light,

she could see in his face, in his eyes,

and in his smile, his unmistakable pity

for her. Pity that she should even have

such thoughts. An amazed pity. Then
he smiled again.

"Horrible to die,” he repeated her

Page 12



words slowly, almost as though he could

not comprehend their meaning. Almost

imperceptibly he shook his head, and

then with that sincerity in his voice,

and that joyful happiness which was so

characteristic of his captivating per-

sonality, he quietly replied: "No! No!

No!”

There was a moment’s hushed pause

as he gazed up into the starlit night.

Then he softly continued, more as

though he were speaking to himself

—

or to his God: "Death ... is the most

beautiful adventure in life.”

And so he went to his rendezvous
with death. A song in his heart. A
smile on his lips. Going forth on a

beautiful adventure, out into the vast

unknown.

Now here was no inspired hero
throwing his life away in an uplifting
surge of an overwhelming sense of duty.

A soul aflame with love of flag and
country? But just an ordinary man.

Face to face with the uncertainty of

death in a few short minutes. The

relentless forces of nature held him in
an inexorable grasp. His life was over.

Page 13



and well he knew it. He did not have
a chance. It was useless to even think

of doing anything about it. Nothing

could be done.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, all that re-

mained of life for him were a few short

minutes, and he must pass through the

portals of death into eternity.

Whether we like it or not, it does
make us stop and think.

We go through life pretty careless,
carefree, and indifferent. Not that we
do not think, at least now and then, of
the inevitable end of our lives. Unless

we are outright morons we do think of
it, and think of it time and time again.

Perhaps we are speeding along in a
machine, and we just escape a terrible
accident by a few inches. Or perhaos
we attend the funeral of some friend
and see the remains laid away forever.

Or we are inquiring concerning the
whereabouts of some childhood com-

panions and learn that they have been

dead for many months or years. Or
perhaps we are reading of some celebrity
who has passed on, perhaps cut off in
the prime of life. But the thought does

Page 14



come to our minds, and come again

and again, and the words form un-

bidden on our lips: "Some day ... I
too . . . must die.”

But immediately we try to put the

thought aside. We tell ourselves such
a thought is morbid and unhealthy. We
deliberately try to forget, and maybe

angrily seek to justify our attitude as

we demand of ourselves: "Why should
we distress ourselves by thinking of this
hateful, ugly, disagreeable end of our

life which we call death?”

And why should we?

Perhaps because we are wrong in our
conception of death.

Perhaps death is not so hateful, so

disagreeable, so ugly, as we think it is.
Perhaps that famous, wealthy, young
man on the deck of the sinking Titanic
was exactly right when he said: "Death
. . . is the most beautiful adventure in

life.” It may be even more than that.
It may be a wonderful, glorious, thrill-
ing adventure with a beauty beyond

all human conception.

Certainly the Saints of God, men and
women who have lived holy lives here

Page 15



in this world, thought of it in this

manner. And they were pretty much
right on * everything else. They could
have been right about this. They lived

as close as possible to God, Who is the
Source of all Truth. And when the
hour of their death drew near, there

was certainly no fear, no dread, no

horror of dying. Rather it was that

they were joyful, filled with happiness,

looking forward to it with ecstasy.

Their hearts thrilled with the glory

and the wonder of their entrance into

eternity.

The things of this life for which we
work and slave, and spend our lives in
striving to gain, they counted as well

lost in their gaining of the eternal

things in the life to come. They saw
the world and all it contained in its true

light. In the light of eternity. To them,
life was too short for anything to really

matter.

In their minds, enlightened by God’s

holy wisdom, two facts were always

remembered.

Two facts as plain, honest, and ob-
vious to these Saints, as they should be

to us.
Page 16



And what are these facts?

The first fact is that death is

absolutely certain for each and every

one of us. None shall escape. Death is
only a question of time. Death is not

a possibility. It is not something that

we may or may not have to face. It is
a certainty. Definite. Undeniable. In-

disputable.

And whether we like it or not, we
have got to go through with it. The

only question is, when will it be? And
that is in the hands of God. It may be
today. At the most it will be in a few
short years. And as it is with all man-
kind, so it will be with you. The

moment will come and you will be
standing on the threshold of eternal life*

Alone you must "launch out into the

deep.” Through the portals of death
your soul must go on its way, in its

loneliness, far out beyond the limits

of the vast universe. On and on to its
eternal destiny. And death is the portal
through which it must pass.

To you, as to all human beings, God
has given the priceless treasure of life.

But some day that life must end.

Page 17



Certainly no one questions this most

obvious of truths. Every hour, every

minute, every second in its passing is

just so much less time for you to live.
Whether awake or asleep, whether
happy or unhappy, whether in sickness

or in health, whether living a good life,

or spending your time in the dives of

vice and sin, it matters not. Steadily,

relentlessly, time is passing by, and with

it are passing the days of your life. Even
the few minutes you are spending in
reading these words mean just so much
time gone forever. Even as you think

of their meaning, death is drawing

nearer and nearer. So also this day. No
matter how, or where, this day has been

passed, it will never return. Another

day may come, but this day, whether
for good or evil, is entering forever now
in the eternity of the past. When this
day is ended it is gone forever more.

You may strive as frantically as you
will to bring it back, but even in your

striving you realize the folly of it all.

Down in your heart you know you
are simply wasting more time in even

wishing to bring it back. You may
curse and swear and rave against it. You

Page 18



may hate the very thought. But across
the face of every clock might well be

written these words: "I never turn

back.” And with every click of its
mechanism, it is ticking your life away.

For with the passing of every hour

you are steadily acquiring those little

characteristics which cause people to

refer to you, to speak of you as "old.”

Those little tell-tale marks and signs

which time stamps upon all in its

passing. That physical development and

then that decay which age inevitably

brings in its train. Your friends may
not tell you this, but you know it only
too well.

Thus, even in the longest life, which

in its final analysis is, after all, so short

and brief, age and time can mean only
one thing. That death is constantly

drawing closer and closer. You may try
to play the part of a fool, as an ostrich

which covers its head in the sand when
it sees danger approaching, but like the

ostrich you are fooling no one except

yourself. For every beat of your heart

means simply one less beat before it

stops forever. For every beat, in its

Page 19



very rhythm, is crying out to you in

the tumult of the day, and the silence

of the night, the solemn summons of
death: "Come. Come. Come.”

It should not be too hard to re-

member this fact. Surely everything in
life reminds you of it. The coming and

the going of the seasons. Spring with

its newness of life, and then Summer
with its fullness. And how true a
symbol of the declining years of your

life is the coming of Autumn as Nature
prepares for Winter. The russet and

gold colors everywhere. The barren

fields. The landscape becoming sombre,

bleak and bare. The harvest gathered.

The leaves falling, one by one, until

none are left, leaving only the memory
of their beauty. The air is chill and

cold. The sun distant, dim and cheer-

less. Truly the melancholy days.

And then lovely Winter comes with
its soft covering of snow, as all things

are laid to rest in quiet and silence

beneath the beautiful white mantle. All

nature is hushed, and sleeps in patience

waiting the coming of its resurrection.

Page 20



Thus each year is mankind taught

anew by the symbolic teaching of

Nature. Life comes, life develops, and

life departs.

But surely on all sides you find this

teaching of life and death. All around

you is life beginning. You see it com-
ing to its fullness. And then you see
the inevitable decay and decline until

death finally extinguishes the spark of

life. In all plant life, as in the beauty

of the flowers; in the life of the animal

kingdom with some beloved little pet;
it is always the same. It is a truth that

even a little child soon grasps. Perhaps

a lesson you yourself learned early in

life, and learned it in heart-break and

tears. And as the years have brought
you wisdom, it is a truth which has

become so deeply implanted in your

consciousness as to become almost in-

stinctive. Death is certain!

With the certainty of life itself.

That is the first fact.

The second fact the saints remem-
bered is closely allied to this first.

Death always comes unexpectedly!

Page 21



A fact also definite, obvious, and in-
disputable. Did not Christ Himself

emphasize this, when He sternly
warned: "Watch ye, therefore, because
you know not what hour your Lord will
come.”

It is only a question of time when

you must come to the end of your days

on earth. In the passing of time that

day must come, the dawn of which shall
mark your last day in time. But why
do people never suspect that this last

day may be much nearer than they
think? It is the common failing of all
mankind. All know that at the end of
their span of life, death is waiting. But

why must all imagine that their span
of life has many more years to go? The
common fallacy has brought forth that
saying so much in vogue today, "It is
later than you think!”

But is not this your own idea of
death ... as far as yourself is concerned?

That you have many more years to
live. And what is the basis for think-
ing you are immune from death for the
time being? Perhaps, it is later than

YOU think.
Page 22



For death always seems to strike when
least expected. You know how true that
is. Men and women cut down without
a moment’s warning. Just one instance.

The toll of death from automobile ac-

cidents today is appalling. Your turn
may easily be next. You may be the
most careful person in the world, but

every time you cross the street, you

are at the mercy of every careless,

thoughtless or reckless driver who hap-
pens to be coming along. And this is
only one of a myriad of dangers which

daily threaten.

The heart has only to stop its patient
beating and life for you is finished. And
a thousand and one causes may stop its
beat. Some hidden physical defect.
Some stealthy growth in some hidden

recess which may easily escape detection
of the most skilled observation of

medical men. But why comment on the
obvious?

Death is sudden, always unexpected.

Even men and women laid low by
slow wasting diseases will glibly talk

of some trip they are planning, or of

some future date and event for which

Page 23



they are waiting, when all around them
know they will be in their graves before
the week is ended. Whether these sick
are drugged by the disease, or by the

medicine they have taken, or whether

it is simply habitual self-delusion, it

seldom happens differently. Although

no one else is deluded, we insist so often
on deluding ourselves.

Two facts. Death is certain. Death
is sudden.

Then the only sane, common-sense
and reasonable thing to do is to be pre-

pared for death—always. And do not
tell yourself that you are different from

the ordinary run of mankind, in that

you are prepared and ready. For it is

not true. If the angel of death should

appear to you this hour and warn you

that this is your last day on earth, your

whitened face, the quick beating of

your heart, your nervous trembling,

would belie your self-assurance com-

pletely. The truth is, that you are not

prepared, and that you are not pre-

paring. And therein lies the danger.

For perhaps you are living in serious

sin. Perhaps your life has been such,

Page 24



or is such, that should death suddenly

strike, you would not have a fighting

chance to enter the Kingdom of God.

You may have the intention of return-
ing to God, some day. But stop and

think how this looks in God’s sight.
You are calmly telling God that you
will turn to Him in the future, but you
are going to take your own good time
about doing so. And you are telling this
to Him, Who is your eternal Creator,
Redeemer, and God. Surely a sin of

irreverence and presumption that almost

borders on blasphemy. Perhaps your

intentions are good, but has it not been

well said: "Hell is paved with good

intentions.” For "Tomorrow,” $ays the
sinner; and again "Tomorrow,” until
finally tomorrow never comes.

And this is the frightening folly of
a soul endangering its eternal life.

Expecting Almighty God to put up
with its drivel and conceit. The insane
folly of a sin-maddened fool in taking

chances with eternity.

For with the things of the world,

there is always an opportunity to right

things again. There is always the hope

Page 25



for a better day. Whether it be poverty,

sickness, or misfortune. And even
though the evil persist all through life,

it can be borne and sustained in the

hope of eternity, with its joys and hap-

piness. For life is only a matter of

time,—a few short years.
But with the loss of the eternal life

in the everlasting Kingdom of God,
there is no hope, no better day, but only

the endless eternal night of the lost.

With the bitter torment of the soul
that knows it is lost through its own
fault. A fault of sin persisted in,
despite God’s infinite patience, love and

mercy. A diabolical presumption that
God’s goodness could be indefinitely

abused and ridiculed, mocked and de-
rided, until later on, in his own good
time, the sinner would condescendingly

deign to accept it.

You cannot—you must not—take a
chance with eternity!

It Is Later Than You Think!

Or it may be that your transgressions
and sins have not been so evil as to have

cut off God’s friendship completely

from your soul. Yet you are living a

Page 26



careless, indifferent, stupid life, im-

mersed in a forgetfulness of trivial

venial sins. It is so easy for this to

happen in this day and these times.

Living only for the present. Grubbing

for money. Reading trashy literature.

Keeping up with the latest murder

mystery. Assiduously following the

latest movies and the daily comic strips.

Totally involved in the lower things

of life.

Meanwhile seldom thinking of God.

Any prayer or worship of God of the
most perfunctory sort, with heart and

mind far away. Nothing really evil,
perhaps, but on the other hand, nothing

worthwhile, either. Just an utterly

materialistic, earthly, thoughtless exist-

ence, absorbing all your mind and
energy. While quietly, relentlessly,

rapidly the hours, days, months and

even years slip past, never to return

again.

Now, then, in all honesty, suppose
you knew that this year, or this month
would be your last here on earth.

Would you be content to go along as
you have been going? Would you be
content in living this life of careless-

Page 27



ness, in neglect of God and of the
things of God?

And yet, can you say that this is not
your last year, or month, on earth? In

common-sense, reason, and intelligence,

would it not be the wisest way to act
as though it were? Certainly you can-

not lose. For any treasure laid up in

Heaven is secure against all loss. And
a life lived with God, and for God,

can only bring the happiest of results

now, and more so as the days pass by.

And in your heart you know this is so.

Certainly, as you look back down the
years for the most joyful and carefree

days in your life, do you not inevitably

end up with recalling the happiness and

joy of your youth? Days passed in

innocence with the sense of God’s love

and care all about you.

If it is different now, whose fault is

it? It is your fault alone! God never
left you! Remember that always! It
is you who left God. It is you who lost
Him, through your stupid carelessness,
pride, and sin. And if you would find
God again, then all you have to do is
simply to go back to where you left

Page 28



Him. And may it be pointed out, that
with the years passing by, it becomes

more and more imperative that you do

this. And do it promptly, without
delay.

From now on, make every day, every
hour, count. Live a life worthy of your

priceless birthright as a living child of

the Living God. Live in holiness, good-

ness, decency and righteousness. No
more of this carelessness, pride, sloth

and indifference. But rather a life spent

in prayer, Holy Communion, spiritual
reading, and all those other things of

God which tend to prepare you for
death, and for the eternal life to which

death brings you.

Remember, you are no longer as

young as you used to be!

It is later than you think!

Or it may be that you who read these
lines are not of the Catholic Faith.

Then in all honesty and fairness, why
let those far-fetched and silly objections

keep you from the true Church of God.
Deprive you of those divine Sacraments

of Christ. Those divinely instituted aids

and helps which Christ Himself gave

Page 29



mankind to enable us to live lives
worthy of our eternal destiny. You
seek the happiness of Christ’s own?
Then put aside those inane prejudices
and foolish fears and return to the

Faith of your Fathers. Would you not
rather follow God’s Will in this regard?

Going forth into eternity with the Sign
of the Cross upon your brow. With
the love of God in your heart. With
the peace of God in your soul.

Remember! It is later than you think!

Men and women of today pride them-
selves on their ability to take things as

they are. With a hatred of sham, pre-
tence, and evasion.

You want a presentation of the truth
given straight - forwardly, honestly,

plainly and bluntly. And right to the
point! No wasted words!

Then here it is, your own way.

You asked for it! Let’s see if you
can take it!

You are going to die! You can be
pretty certain that death will hit you

suddenly and unexpectedly. Time is

relentlessly passing by.

Page 30



So, . . . what kind of a death is yours

going to be?

Will death find you stupefied with

terror? Find you hopelessly unpre-

pared? Your soul alone with its sins,
facing the wrath of the Infinitely Pure

and Holy God. Smashing all your plans,
all your hopes, all your schemes. Blind-

ing. Baffling. Flinging your corrupting

body back into the dust from which it

came, and flinging your soul into an

eternity that you know nothing about,
and care nothing about, except to fear

and dread it. For to you it is, and

always must be, an eternity of endless

night. A night without God, without
hope, without end. Rejected by God
forever more.

But why go on?

There is no adventure in a death like

that.

But to live with Christ, that you may
die with Christ!

Then, to you, the message of death

comes, not thundered in wrath, but

whispered in welcome. A death calm
with no fear. A death glorious and
sweet. A death solemn but not be-

Page 31



S I TO
wildering. A death which brings to
you only peace and happiness.

With joy and love you go forth to
meet your beloved God face to face.
Yout; Almighty, Infinite Father, Whose
own you are. Your Eternal Father Who
loves you with a love which has the

length, and breadth, and depth of

eternity itself.

And as you go forth, there is only
a song and gladness in your heart. For

to you death comes only as the dawning

of a glorious day. An endless day of
joy and peace. An eternal day of love,
contentment, and infinite happiness, for

with such a death you have not come

to the end of life. Rather it is, with

such a death, you have come to the

beginning of life.

The fullness of Life! The greatness
of Life! The glory of Life!

The ordained fulfillment of Life’s

immortal destiny!

And, in all truth and certainty, with

such a death, you too can say, as it was

said that star-lit night in the North

Atlantic, on the decks of the sinking

Titanic: "Death ... is the most beauti-

ful adventure in Life.”

Page 32





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