LIBRARY OF THE THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY PRINCETON. N. J. PRESENTED BY Dr. Henry E. Hale BV 4905 .A6 1854 Anspach, F. R. 1815-1867 The memory of the dead /J / t Mtnmi] tliljt Dtui). -WOGiCftL'v" OUR DEPARTED. / BY REV. F. E. "ANSPACH, A.M., HAOERSTOWX, MARYLAND. As flowers which uight, when day is o'er, perfume, Breathes the sweet memory from a good man's tomb. Sir E. B. Lytton. '^Ijirii ((^Mtinu. PHILADELPHIA: LINDSAY & BLAKISTON. 1854. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, by LINDSAY & BLAKISTON, in the ClerK s Office of the District Court of the United States for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. STEREOTYPED BT J. FAGAN. PRINTED BY C. SHERMAN. (ii) "We honor tbe memory of that virtue which shall never die; we honor those ashes, which the confession of faith has consecrated : we honor in them the seeds of eternity. "We honor then the body which Christ himself honored in the sword, and which with Him, will remain in Heaven." — Ambrose, Tom. ii, p. 467. (iii) ^ffcctfonatelj? Enscrfftelr BY TUB AUTHOR TO LILLY, HIS WIFE, WHO IS THE SUN OP HIS DOMESTIC CIRCLE, AND TDE DEWS OF WHOSE €ENTLE SPIRIT CLOTHE, WITH THE FRAGRAXCE OF FILIAL AFFECTION, THE FLOWERS THAT STILL REMAIN AND ADORN THE GARDEN OF HIS HOME. 1* Cv) PREFACE. In presenting this ofl'ering, it is proper that the author should accompany it with a brief statement of the reasons which were influential in its prepara- tion. It is certainly to he regretted, that the earthly resting places of the dead are so frequently found in a condi- tion of dilapidation and neglect. A grave in ruins is such a mournful spectacle that it saddens the heart, and throws additional terrors around death. It tills us with thoughts so gloomy and distressing, that we turn from it with pain, and lose the influence of those cheering and softening emotions, which should be evoked in our visits to the sepulchre. The tombs of our sainted ones should be ranked among our sacred things. They deserve to be cherished and guarded with religious concern. And so fully is the writer persuaded of the importance of cultivating a devout regard for the depositories of the dead, that he has prepared this work with a view to direct attention to the subject, and to contribute something to deepen and encourage a feeling which affection inspires and religion sanctifies. (vii) viii PREFACE. Anotlier object coutemplated in the preparation of this vohirne has been, to assist the bereaved to improve their afflictions for permanent spiritual good. It is designed to be a companion for the sorrowing. It is an attempt to administer the oil and balm of the Gospel to wounded hearts ; to diminish the w^eight of grief, and alleviate the pains of separation entailed upon us by the death of friends ; and to reconcile shrink- ing ISTature to its inevitable fate, by giving expression to those considerations of hope, of peace and glory, which Christianity throws around the ashes of our departed. But the author indulges the hope, that while it will subserve the purposes indicated, it may also be interest- ing and profitable to those who are free from the pressures and pains of affliction. For the topics dis- cussed are so vitally connected with the great interests of man here, and so intimately blended with his destiny hereafter, that clothed with the light of hope, they constitute pleasant themes for meditation with those who are looking forward to a happy immortalit}-. Hageksto-wn, Feb. 17, 1854. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PAGB Communion with the Past 13 CHAPTER II. The Sacredxess of the Sepulciiiie 35 CHAPTER III. Visits to the Sepulchres of our Departed 53 CHAPTER lY. Lessons which the Sepulchre imparts 72 CHAPTER V. The Glory of Man 87 CHAPTER VI. In the Sepulchre the Conflicts of Life end 106 CHAPTER VII. At the Sepulchres of our Departed we may learn the Value of Life 128 (ix) X CONTENTS. CHAPTER VIII. PAGE The Sepulchre peoclaijis the Evil of Sin 153 CHAPTER IX The Sepulchres of our Departed admonish us to be gentle and kind to the livinq 175 CHAPTER X. Posthumous Fame. — The Sepulchre instructs us how to LIVE, so as to be remembered tvhen dead 200 CHAPTER XI. The Repose of the holy Dead 227 CHAPTER XII. The Sepulchre reminds us of the Value and Immortality OF THE Soul 247 CHAPTER XIII. The Hope of Resurrection divests the Sepulchre of its Terrors, and brings Consolation to the Bereaved 272 CHAPTER XIV. The Indestructibility of the Family Bond a Source of Con- solation TO the Bereaved 294 CHAPTER XV. At the Sepulchres of our Departed we mat also learn the Right which God holds in us and our Families 312 CONTENTS. xi CHAriER XVI. PAGE Future Recognition 329 CFI AFTER XVII. The Sympathy of Jesus with afflicted and bereaved Souls.. 348 CHAPTER XVIII. Our Present and our Future Home 368 CHAPTER XIX. Darkness turned to Light, or the Uses we should make of Afflictions and Bereavements 396 CHAPTER XX. Grave-yards and Cemeteries, or the Claims of the Dead upon the Living, and the Care -which should be bestowed upon the Places of their Repose 421 THE SEPULCHRES OF OUR DEPARTED. CHAPTER FIRST. COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. " Voice after voice hath died away, Once in my dwelling heard ; Sweet household name, by name hath chang'd To grief's forbidden word ! From dreams of night on each I call, Each of the far remov'd ; And waken to my own wild cry — AVhere are ye, my belov'd?" It is the dictate of philosophy and religion to cherish the memories which bind us to the past. To turn occasion- ally from the stirring scenes around us, to hold communion with the persons and events of that silent world which follows on the march of time, is alike profitable and pleasant. For if judiciously controlled, this intercourse of the thoughts with that which has been, assists us in esti- mating and appreciating that which is, while it qualifies us •2 (13) 14 com:.iuxiox with the past. for that \\hich is to come. The past is an immense depository, where bygone ages have stored their treasures. Thither should tlie living repair, to gather the gold of ex- perience and the gems of wisdom. Lessons of rare value may be gleaned from the written scroll of time. For it is on]}' after we have surveyed the ample page of history, and wandered along that great highway which begins in Eden, and upon which the world's population has journeyed for six thousand years, and carefully studied the monuments of their intellectual and moral triumphs, that we learn the capa- bilities of the human mind. And it is in lihe manner from attentively contemplating the trials and misfortunes which those v.ho have gone before us encountered and overcame, that we may gather fortitude to arm ourselves for life's conflicts, and wisdom to derive lasting good from the adver- sities incident to our earthly pilgrimage. The traveller who has crossed the Alps, or traversed the desert, may, by his recorded experience, greatly benefit others, who, from choice or necessity, undertake a similar journey. But it is not so much upon distant ages that we would fix our meditations, nor yet hold communion with the distin- guished of remote periods, as to call up those with whom we once held sweet counsel, and whose forms are still enshrined in the sanctuary of our souls. And that it is in accordance with the Divine will that we should sometimes be occupied in such exercises, seems manifest from the nature of our mental and moral constitutions. Our benevolent Creator has bestowed upon us an organization which neither limits COMMUXION WITH THE PAST. 15 US to the present, nor makes us exclusively dependent upon surrounding objects, for all our enjoyments. He has en- dowed us with memories of such retentive energies, that all the events, painful or pleasant, which make up the record of our experience, and all the persons with whom these are associated, are summoned at our pleasure before the mind. Upon the ample jjages of that faculty which keeps us apprized of what we have known and felt, are painted with great ac- curacy all the joyous scenes of youth. And in that group of pictures which impressed themselves there, in all the vivid colorings of the spring-time of life, there is not one that we would willingly efface. Those rural scenes, amid which we spent the morning of our existence, have left such delightful impressions, that they are contemplated with satisfaction up to the evening of our life. Those noble mountains in whose deep shadows we have wandered, and those blooming vales where flowed the crystal stream on whose moss-covered banks we innocently gamboled, and those fountains from which we drank refreshing draughts, can never be forgotten. And to remember the companions who shared in the enjoy- ment of those scenes, and participated in the amusements of our childhood, not as men and women, but as children clothed in their innocence and beauty, is a pleasure of which we w^ould be reluctantly deprived. But above all, would we deplore the loss of those images of dear departed ones, which are so distinctly engraved upon the tablets of memory, and with whom the most interesting reminiscences of our life are associated. Although days, 16 COMMUNION WITH THE TAST. and months, and years may have elapsed since inexorable dealh bade us surrender the bodies of cherished ones to the grave, and their spirits to God, yet are they still present to our minds, beautiful and life-like. And who does not realize a iiielancholy pleasure in recalling departed ones, be their images clothed with the innocence and loveliness of youth, or marked by the cares and sorrows of age? And are not those hours of solitude, which the bereaved people with the recollections and endearments of other days, refreshing to them, as pilgrims, who are hastening onward to that blissful inheritance, where those move and shine who were once fellow-travellers on earth ? So sacred are the memories which come thronging from departed joys, and so fragrant with the odors of crushed hopes, that the mother from whose crown of rejoicing has been plucked her brightest jewel, often withdraws herself from the circle of the living, to hold communion with him whosp voice is no more heard, and whose seat around the hearth is no longer filled. Ay, those are holy moments, when at least in thought she presses her loved one to her throbbing bosom. And far dearer and richer in enjoyment than all the excitements of worldly pleasure, are such seasons of retirement and meditation to her, who was scarcely appareled in her bridal robes, before a mysterious, but wise providence bade her assume the weeds of mourning. And infinitely more precious than the golden offerings of earth are those moments to her, when alone she recalls the manly form of the noble husband, to whom she had fondly and securely clung, as the frail COMJIUNION WITH THE PAST. 17 forest vine clings to the sturdy oak. And in like mannei does the hoary-headed sire, who is ascending the last heights of the " delectable mountains," where strains of celestial melody come hastening on the air, and the sky is tinged with the brilliant hues of that glory into which he hopes soon to enter, find pleasure in communing with those who have long since quitted the turmoils of earth, and gone to that abode of peace, "where the weary are at rest." And such is the tendency in all whose faculties are not paralyzed and whose sensibilities are not blunted, that it may be truly affirmed that nature and religion admonish us not to forget or neglect the departed. There are also many to whom there is little left but departed joys. And it is a distinguished favor and a merci- ful provision of our heavenly Father, that human hearts can re-live and re-enjoy forever all that was beautiful and good in the annals of personal experience. It is upon that w^hich memory supplies from scenes fled forever, in connection with that which hope furnishes from the future, that some hearts live. For there are not a few to whom the present, with all its activities and excitement, is void of pleasure. Persons whose known and felt duties are discharged in a manner which indicates very clearly that the springs of action have received a stunning blow, and that the affections are some- where else. (Jo with me to that mansion externally embel- lished wih all the marks of affluence, and within gorgeously furnished with all the comforts and decorations which a re- fined taste could suggest and wealth command, and what do 18 COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. we see ? An air of silence and of gloom pervades those halls once filled wilh light and joyous hearts. Behold the mistress of that palace, formerly so brilliant and happy, now so sad and pale. All her movements are mechanically per- formed ; and her conversation is destitute of spirit. Why is that brow, where once played the light of hope, shrouded with care ? Why are those eyes from which gleamed a con- stant sunshine, so dim with much weeping? And why is that countenance, once wreathed in winning smiles, now covered with a fixed and oppressive sadness? O ! it is the blight of death which has fallen upon that home, and its shadow still lingers upon its inmates. That mother is often missed by the members of the household ; and when sought, is found by that little bed in which the loved one last slept, or seated by that drawer in v.'hich she had deposited the memorials of her departed ; and one by one she looks over the toys which had amused her child, and the garments which it wore, and the golden locks which adorned his brow whik^ living. These are links of communication between the living and the dead ; they are silent messengers recalling many kind words, affectionate smiles, and pleasant endear- ments, in which this bereaved one once delighted. Wearily pass the hours, and heavily does the day wear away, for a weighty sorrow clogs the wheels of time. And as the light of day withdraws, and the quiet evening brings the husband from the scenes of his toil, it is not the cheerfulness of other days which irradiates his countenance as he enters his home. For he hears no little footsteps pat- COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. 19 tering over the hall to greet him with their childish welcome. He is solemn and thoughtful. A shade of sadness steals over his features, while involuntary sighs rise from out the holiest depths of his being. Those merry voices of inno- cents which were wont to thrill his soul are all hushed ; and those sounds which were to him the sweetest earthly melo- dies that could greet his ear, have died away, and he only hears their faint echoes reverberating through the chambers of memory. Distant and indistinct, yet charming his thoughts away to the period when his circle was unbroken, and no lamb was missing from the flock. And not only does the deserted place of the hearth remind them that their home has lost some of its attractions, but their desolateness of heart, and the suggestions of the things around them, bid those bereaved parents to seek comfort in communion \Yith the past. Nature, in her varying aspects, wakens remem- brances of other days, and, therefore, inculcates the same lesson. Spring, bright, beautiful spring, comes with its soft winds, its singing birds, and blooming flowers. But fitted as this season is to inspire delightful feelings, and awaken pleasant emotions ; the year in its youth also brings with it, fresh recollections of the departed. It is suggestive of painful reminiscences, so that while it loosens the fetters of the ice- bound streams in nature, and sends them laughing on their way; it also opens afresh the fountains of grief in human hearts by the remembrances which it brings. For it tells us of those v.'ho were arrayed in the freshness and loveliness of 20 COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. the spring-time of life, but who faded before the blossom ha(\ been succeeded by the fruit. And while the melodies of sweet warblers are floating on the air, they remind us of accents, which shall no more be uttered on earth. The flowers which we had planted, spring up to reward our labor. We had their seeds brought from a foreign clime, we cherished and tended them, and now, as if with gratitude to the eyes that watched them, and the hands that cultivated them, they wake into life under the warm breath of the south- wind, and unfold their delicate leaves to the kissing sun- beams, while they bathe the atmosphere wnth their delicious fragrance. But these are also links which bind us to the past, because emblems of our faded glory. They seem endowed with speech ; for their unsullied purity, their delicate structure, their sweetness and their frailty, all vividly picture to our minds those flowers which the hand of heaven had planted in the garden of our home, but which had scarcely bloomed before they withered. Thus it happens, that this season, flushed with so many beauties, and radiant with so many joys, carries us back to the period, when hands now mouldering in the dust gathered with us the violet and the lily, and hearts, now still, beat warm to ours, as together we rested by the warbling brook, or rejoiced in rambles through field and forest. Blessed, joyous days were those! And blessed be God, that we can recall those scenes, and feel those joys which then flowed in untroubled streams through the channels of our beinjj! And as the flowery and joyous spring rolls into the golden COAIMUNIOX WITH THE PAST. 21 summer, we find new monitors to connect our meditations witli summers and friends loncc since o-one. The eoldeii harvests remind us of those, who were brought to the grave — "Like as a shock of corn cometh in his season," full of days and honors. The ripe grain and matured fruits of the earth, speak of venerable parents, "who having served their day and generation according to the will of God, fell asleep and were gathered to their fathers." And while this season revives recollections of the aged good, and those who were cut down in the midst of life loaded with such honors as a grateful people can bestow ; it also brings to our remembrance those buds of promise which were early transplanted to that clime where no withering winds blow, and no burning suns consume, but where eternal youth clothes the immortals. And as we are ushered into autumn whh its sered foliage, the countless deaths which we witness in expiring nature cause us to think of the beloved who have passed away as the grass of the field, and whose glory has faded as the flower of the grass. And while emotions of regret are kindling within us, the mournful sighings of autumnal winds through the stubble and naked shrubbery breathe notes of sadness which symphonize with the music of our bereaved hearts. The leaves quivering for a moment in the sharp blast, then rustling through the boughs in their descent to the earth, })roclaim the frailty of mani " For we do all fade as the leaf." And in the lofty oak stripped of its foliage and stretching its bare arms out towards heaven as if in suppli- cation that the few leaves which yet tremble on its branches 22 COMMUNION AVITII TUE PAST. might be spared by the gale, we have a fit emblem of many a parent who like Jacob of old utters his touching complaint, "Joseph is not, and Simeon is not, and now would ye also take Benjamin away? All these things are against me." And thus also when winter comes, it too calls up thoughts of the departed. As the mother composes her little ones to rest, and draws around them the curtains to shield them from the cold air, she thinks of those who sleep far away in the silent grave, over whom the night winds blow, and for whom the drifting snow forms the only covering. And when seated around the cheerful fire, we do not blame her for dropping those silent tears as she muses on the past. And how painfully do those festival occasions, the happy Christmas, and the merry New Year, remind us all of those who once participated in the innocent amusements of those seasons ! Those time-honored feslivals seem invested with a sort of enchantment which peoples the hour with all those with Yv'hom v>e ever enjoyed sweet fellowship. I know not why, but to my mind there is a mysterious influence connected with the recurrence of Christmas which irresistibly attracts me to kindred souls. As the shades of the evening gather around me, I seem to hear the fond inquiries and kind greet- ings of absent friends as they were wont to break upon my ears, and thoughts of other days come thronging back upon my mind like spirits from a distant tomb ; — thoughts, some bright and beautiful as the images of angels, and others robt'd in gloomy apparel, and breathing soft notes of melancholy llirough my soul. And in that hour the veil of oblivion is COMMUNION AVITII THE PAST. 28 lif ed and I see all my past life opened to my view, and each recurrence of this festival stands radiant with those joys with which my happy childhood crowned it. And prompted hy those yearnings of my spirit for kindred souls, I exclaim, " 0, that I had the wings of a dove," then woakl I fly to my distant loved ones. I woidd hasten to greet my aged father at his fireside, and breathe a prayer at his knees. I would pass from home to home, until I had mingled in the joys or sorrows of all whom my soul loveth. I would leave tliose earthly abodes and ascend into heaven, and seek among the armies of the skies my dear sainted ones, and commission one of those sons of light to wing his flight to all my beloved, and shake upon their happy circles odors borne fresh from the paradise of God. But as it is only in thought that I can obey these impulses of my being, I never fail on those occasions to breathe the prayer, that He who was born in Bethlehem, may be born in every heart, and find a home in every family ; and that the myrrh and incense of grateful souls may be poured upon the altar of Him, who assumed our nature, that we might share his glory. And while such feelings and yearnings are not peculiar to an individual, but shared in common by all whose sensibilities are alive to the force with which the law of association operates, it is not marvellous that on such occasions our sainted friends should be more vividly presented to us, than at any other time. And it is therefore not singular that, while we make our little gifts to those whom a kind Providence still continues with us, the images of those who have gone to heaven should be fre- 24 COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. qiiently recalled. And then, and then only, can we realize the extent of that void which the removal of one little cherub produces. It has been beautifully said, " that nothing on earth casts so long a shadow as the little coffin." And small as are those graves which hold their infant remains, they are sufficiently capacious, to gather within their embrace the dearest joys and fondest hopes of parental hearts. Ye blest little slumberers, ye know not how you fill our thoughts, and blend with all our feelings — how our affections now linger around your precious dust, and now rise to your bliss- ful abode on high. That very interesting associations are kept alive with the departed, that kind feelings are fostered, and that the most tender recollections of them linger in the memories of the living, is abundantly manifest from the many testimonials of undying affection which adorn the places of their repose. Laurel Hill Cemetery, that charming city of many dead, will furnish us with illustrations of this truth. Often have I regarded with admiration the efforts of survivors, as exhibited within that sacred enclosure, to perpetuate the remembrance of those who were dear to them. There we meet with many tokens which eloquently express the language of wounded, but loving hearts. There is one little grave there, on which the figure of a lamb, in a state of repose, speaks to us the thoughts which are cherished of the innocence, gentleness, and rest of the slumberer. There is another, where stands the guardian angel with his eye fixed upon the slumbering dust ; thus imaging the security and happiness of the departed, COMMUNION AVITH THE PAST. 25 and reminding the survivors that their sainted are under the guardianship of angels, and the companions of those blessed spirits who minister to the heirs of salvation. And there, too, has the sculptor's chisel fashioned out of marble the rose-bud, and the half-blown flower, broken from the parent stem and fallen to the earth. And there, also, lies separated from the stock, the lily, as fresh and white as though it had just dropped. Again, we behold the well-formed urn, the broken shaft, the anchor and the cross, all appropriate and .significant symbols, speaking the language of afTection, of regret, and of hope, from living and loving hearts. And still more delicate and touching ofi'erings of friendship are seen, in the many vases and wreaths of choice flowers which are daily laid upon the tombs. These tokens of affection assure us that warm hearts fondly throb around those places where beloved ones repose. Even that stranger who sought and obtained a resting-place on the verge of that bank laved by the gentle Schuylkill, is not forgotten, for his grave is often fragrant from the tributes furnished by delicate hands. And not only may we learn from the attractive manner m which these tombs are adorned, but also from their inscrip- tions, that their inmates were loved, and that they are remem- bered. The value of these chaste and costly monuments is frequently enhanced by the sublime sentiments which consti- tute their records. Let us pause a moment before some of these memorials of departed worth, and examine the inscrip- tions dictated by piety and affection. There is the stately 3 26 COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. pile ^Yhich marks the resting-place of the philanthropist, and we read — " A friend to the fatherless, and his bounty caused the v.'idow's heart to sing for joy." " The blessing of those who were ready to perish, came upon him." There is the tomb of a beloved parent, with this inscription : " Our mother sleeps ! when will the morning dawn ?" Here also is one erected by a Christian congregation in memory of him who broke unto them the bread of life, and their feelings have found expression in the language of the prophet. " How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings ; that publisheth peace ; that bringeth good tidings of good ; that publisheth salvation; that saith unto Zion, Thy God reigneth !" And not far distant do we find the epitaph of a weary pilgrim, w'ho hoped and longed for heaven. " Think of me as a w-anderer who hath found his home ! " And what breathings of tenderness and words of hope do we find on the marble of those many little graves, which we meet in every enclosure consecrated to the dead. In one of these there are two reposing, whose spirits, only a few hours apart, took wing for the bosom of God ; and it is written of them — " Lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their death *hey w'ere not divided." " Side by side they're sweetly sleei^ing— Little loved ones early blest ; COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. 27 Free from care and pain and sorrow, Oh ! rejoice tliej' are at rest." And there is yet another, who sleeps lonely and far removed from those in whose family crown he shines as the first immortal gem with which God adorned it, whose grave is guarded by kind friends, and whose history is written on his tomb-stone in the sublime words of the great Redeemer ! " Of such is the kingdom of Heaven." Perhaps there are individuals whose sympathies are not in unison with sentiments like these, and who may be disposed to smile at those expressions of tenderness, which fond hearts have caused to be engraved upon the slab which designates the spot where their beloved repose ; but such are either void of sensibility, or they have never tasted the cup of bereavement, and are therefore not competent judges of what is, or is not, a fitting epitaph. Even if those little records are sometimes crude in sentiment, or not remarkable for the taste which has decided upon their appropriateness, they yet possess an air of sacredness which forbids criticism, even on the part of those whose culture and refinement qualify them to discriminate between what is, and what is not, offensive to good taste. It is not often the language of adulation, but that of the heart, which is found upon the tomb ; and therefore it is not the intellect, but the heart, which should sit in judg- ment upon it. But those who know from personal experi- ence, what it is to pass through the deep waters of affliction. and who have felt the pain which accompanies the severance of a shoot of life from the heart, will behold beauty, pro- 28 COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. priety, and meaning in those little records, which the inex{)erienced in such trials may not be able to discover. Nature seldom if ever acts wrongly, when its operations are in conformity with those laws which the Creator has ordained for its government. And where reason discharges its appro- priate functions, and religion controls these human tendencies, those expressions of grief and of hope on the part of the bereaved are perfectly consistent, because consonant Avith the laws of our being. And instead of censuring the practice of writing in modest language on the tomb of a friend, the virtues with which his character was jeweled, and thus spreading out to the public eye the history of one whose call- ing and condition in life precluded the probability of his being extensively and intimately known, we would rather encourage it, for the reason that it cannot injure any one, while it may benefit some. For the tomb-stone has sometimes been a successful preacher; — one whose discourses have produced effects upon the careless, which other instructions could not accomplish. In some instances it has been instrumental in begetting immortal hope in souls which, until brought within its influence, w^ere never animated with gratitude and love to God. Leigh Richmond, a man of blessed memory, who was honored with many seals to his ministry, gives an interesting account, in the " Young Cottager," of the impressions which the reading of those records on the tomb-stones around the church, where he was accustomed to meet the children of his parish, to instruct them in the principles of the gospel, made COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. 29 upon that child's mind. " SoineUmes," he says, "I sent the children to the various stones which stood at the head of the graves, and bade them learn the epitaphs inscribed upon them." On one occasion he sent the little cottase g^irl to commit the following epitaph, which he greatly admired. " Forgive, blest shade, the tributary tear, That mourns thy exit from a world like this ; J'orgive the wish that would have kept thee here, And stfiy'd thy progress to the seats of bliss. " No more confin'd to grov'ling scenes of night. No more a tenant pent in mortal clay. Now should we rather hail thy glorious flight And trace thy journey to the realms of day." Having finished her task, she returned and informed her instructor that she had also learned the following, which he subsequently discovered had deeply impressed her mind : " It must be so — our father Adam's full And disobedience, brought this lot on all. All die in him — but hopeless should we be, Blest Revelation, were it not for thee. Hail, glorious gospel ! heavenly light, whereby We live with comfort, and with comfort die. And view beyond this gloomy scene, the tomb, A life of endless happiness to come." According to her dying testimony, the influence of those epitaphs, in connection with the instructions of her pastor, which were frequently enforced by illustrations drawn from the grave-yard, was instrumental in her salvation. And there are, no doubt, many of that multitude who now stand radiant with glory in the presence of God, who will forever, and with gratitude, remember lessons v>hich they 3* 30 COMMUNION WITH THE TAST. learned in the places of sepulture on earth. And while the Holy Spirit has thus made sentiments, chronicled upon the marble, vehicles through which He has entered and renovated hearts, we i»nd in such results, as well as in that com- munion of souls which they promote, a sufficient warrant for the erection of appropriate memorials to departed friends, and an ample vindication- of the practice of inscribing there- on such epitaphs as nature and religion may suggest. And in addition to the considerations already presented, we might urge as another argument for the propriety of hold- ing communion with the past, the soothing influence which it has upon bereaved souls. The present may offer to the contemplation of an individual a complete prostration of his fondest expectations, and spread around him an utterly cheerless desolation. Clouds and darkness may hang about our path, and the mind may not be able to seize upon a single sustaining principle or object fitted to inspire light and courage. But as David frequently sustained his spirit by the memory of past mercies, so there may be bright pictures along the pathway of life over which we have journeyed, where our dying hopes may be rekindled. "There's not a 'leath, however rude, But hath some little flower To brighten up its solitude, And scent the evening hour. There's not a heart, however cast By grief or sorrow down. But hath some memory of the past, To love and call its own." The bee does not with truer instinct guide its flight to the COMMUNION WITH THE TAST. 81 f^ir-off flower, than the mind throws its thoughts back to those brighter scenes which have gladdened former days. It may be that these sensations of pleasure which float along those chords of association which connect the presenfr^vith happier scenes, account for the singular phenomenon, that the sweet- est of all melody to the wounded and weary is the music of their own breaking hearts. But the influence of the exercise here reconmfended does not produce only a mollifying and quieting effect upon lacerated hearts, but it may also be made subservient to the interests of our salvation. It is a subject of frequent remark, that few persons are permanently bene- fited by those providential dispensations which desolate their homes. The death of a cherished friend which at first overwhelmed the heart with the deepest sorrow, becomes less painful as the period of its occurrence is removed. And as the picture loses its vividness in the distance, the resolutions of improvement which had been formed are forgotten. This will be the inevitable result where first im- pressions are not strengthened and guided to a blessed issue, by frequently recalling the scene of trial and considering the end which it was intended to accomplish. It is well, there- fore, to carry the lessons of their bereavement with them into their retirement, and there consider calmly the dealings of God with them. And we doubt not that the most disconso- late may have their sorrows so judiciously and tenderly directed, that their mourning will issue in rejoicing ; and the harps which have long hung unstrung upon the willows will again be tuned, and swept to the praise of Him whose ways are unsearchable, but whose judgments ai'c riglit. 32 COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. But if we would attain the highest benefits of affliction, we must command such a scope for our meditations as to associate the occurrences of other days with those great realities which are still future ; for it is from comprehensive views of human destiny and the Divine government, that we derive valuable lessons and solid consolation. The efful- gence of those eternal realities which stand out to the vision of faith, has its lustre augmented by the reflected glov/ of our departed days of sunshine. For while our afTections fondly linger around the graves which contain all that was earthly in our beloved, our thoughts are charmed away to that bright inheritance which their spirits have gone to possess. And heaven has already become more attractive to us, because they are there. The eternal song rises in louder and sweeter harmonies, because the voices whose music gladdened us on earth are mingling in the hymns of Cherubim and Seraphim. The white-robed multitude is arrayed in a more brilliant glory, because our sainted ones are of that number. And the lustre of the New Jerusalem has become more resplendent, because in the midst of its glories owr jewels shine. Blessed, holy ones! how beautiful you make the memories of the past, how radiant the pros- pects of the future ! It cannot be wrong to indulge in such reflections, for they are eminently fitted to assist us in our preparations for a better world. That they may be made tributary to this end is abundantly manifest from that capability of the human mind which enables it to con- template with satisfaction those things amiable in others, COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. 33 the very consideration of \Yhiich will foster a love for all that exalts them in our estimation. By such a process as this may the living incorporate into their own characters those virtues which they most valued in their departed. And thus our growth in moral excellence will be promoted, and we will endear ourselves to those with whom we are associated, thereby enlarging our sphere of usefulness. Were tht-y blameless in their deportment? So may we become inno- cent. Were they distinguished for kindness of heart and gentleness of temper ? In us these may also form promi- nent characteristics. Did their presence diffuse a glow of happiness as doth the blessed sunshine ? We may imitate their example, and become a blessing to those around us. Was their piety the steady brilliant light of true heart-devotion ? Upon our hearts also may the Divine fire burn, and make us "the light of the world." Did hope illumine their hour of dissolution, and did their i^pirits take wing from the radiant summit of salvation ? By a similar course of life " our death may be that of the righteous, and our last end like unto his." If we subject our hearts to those influences which operated so advan- tageously for them, we may expect like blessed eflects. Take the highest type of Christian character — it is formed by a combination of the loftiest of known virtues ; its possessor is a centre of light, and exerts a fragrant influ- ence, and makes the ways of piety attractive by his gentle and Christ-like spirit: still this standard of excellence lies within the reach of every humble and sincere follower of 34 COMMUNION WITH THE PAST. Jesus. Surviving friends may gather all these blessed fruits by recalling the excellencies of their sainted ones, if they are animated with a similar purpose, accompanied with like perseverance and faith. And by such an importation of the virtues which shone in the characters of our departed into our being, we will derive lasting benefit from communion with the Past. And it is by such means that our Heavenly father will cause " our light afflictions to work out for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." Thus, under the tuition of the Holy Spirit, we may gather honey out of the mouth of the destroyer, while a gracious Providence wreathes our clouds of dark calamity with brilliant bows of promise. From these considerations we may see the propriety of holding communion with the past ; for it brings the virtues of the departed good into collected forms, and makes them flaming orbs, whose light gilds the pathway of life and makes our future radiant with immortal hopes. CHAPTER SECOND. THE SAC REDNESS OF TEE SEPULCHRE. "Yet e'en these bones from insult to protect, Some frail memorial still, erected nigh, With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd, Implore the passing tribute of a sigh. Their name, their years, spelt by the unletter'd muse. The place of fame and elegy supply ; And many a holy text around she strews, To teach the rustic moralist to die. For -who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey. This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigu'd, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind. On some fond breast the parting soul relies, Some pious drops the closing eye requires ; E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires." Among the instincts which do honor to human nature, there is none deserving of more exalted rank than that which causes us to respect the dead, and constrains us to regard as re]i"-iously sacred the places of their repose. (The shrines of the dead are holy^ A mysterious sacredness encompasseth the sepulchres of the departed. There is a stillness about the "rave which breathes an air of quietness over all the (35) 86 THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. scenery around it, and which invests every object with a silent, but impressive power. The atmosphere seems to partake of the sanctity of the place, and the winds blow in softer whispers, because they sigh their requiems over the dead. Even the trees and flowers do not there appear as gay and brilliant as elsewhere, but are tinged with those pleasing melancholy hues which the grave only can impart. The graveyard and cemetery are not common ground. They are enclosures where all is not earthly ; for there the living and the dead hold communion, and the influences of two worlds blend. God has clothed these acres, where seed for the resurrection morn is so^\^l, with a sacredness which none but the grossly profane can venture to disturb ; while He has also implanted in the hearts of the living such senti- ments of reverence for the sainted as will form a perpetual bulwark around their slumbering dust. All men seem con- scious of the truthfulness of this assertion ; and hence, we find among all a uniform regard for the graves of the departed. Children are often the most competent teachers, when lessons pertaining to the impulses and instincts of our nature are to be learned. They shall be our instructors here. It was on a bright morning in May, as I had set out on a visit to one of those beautiful cemeteries in the vicinity of Phila- delphia, that my attention was arrested by a group of sprightly children. I observed them tripping along the hill-side until they reached a spot where bloomed the violet and hare-bell ; and I saw their little hands busily engaged in gathering THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. 37 bunches of these, and they then approached the entrance of the sacred enclosure where I stood. As soon as they entered, then' innocent glee abated, their merry voices subsided into gentle whispers, and they moved about with subdued feelings, inspecting the graves and reading the inscriptions on the tomb-stones. I followed on, until they paused before a little grave, and I read on the slab which covered it, the touching record — " Our Willie." On this tomb two of the little girls laid their treasure of violets. Why do you strew these flowers on this grave, I asked ? They looked at me with an air of surprise, and replied, " Why, sir, our brother Willie sleeps here, and we love him, and often bring him flowers!" After the others of their company had made similar offerings to beloved ones, they left the place without disturb- ing any thing, and with apparently happy hearts. Such are the feelings of children, and they exhibit the instincts of nature in relation to the sepulchre. And there is no better method of ascertaining the remains of that which is com- mendable and lovely in our depraved humanity, than by observing the unreserved and untaught out-flows and motions of the hearts of uncorrupted children. For their minds do not yet labor under the pressure of those false notions, which are the growth of riper years, but which despoil the heart of its early and sweet sensibilities ; neither are they yet the subjects of those cares and anxieties which freeze the fountain of the soul's sympathies. But it is not only in children that we may witness a becoming respect for the graves of the departed^ out also in all those of mature years, 4 38 THE SACREDNESS OP THE SEPULCHRE. whose culture has not been grossly neglected. And if there are those occasionally found who would rudely tread upon the dust of a fellow-mortal, they are such as have outlived the finer and holier feelings of early years. Yet such are seldom met with; and among the multitudes of those who move among the mansions of the dead, there are few whose emotions do not partake of the sanctity of the place. And this veneration for the abodes of the dead is a sentiment not peculiar to an age, or a nation, but is coextensive with time, and wide-spread as the human family. For while there may exist at different periods a diflference of sentiment in relation to the same subject, no such diversity has marked the feelings of the race in its respect for the dead. One age may prize the monuments of art and of science, and cherish with intense enthusiasm those trophies of genius which have come down to them from a remote period, while their immediate succes- sors may be as remarkable for the contempt with which they treat those ancient memorials of intellectual triumph. But in whatever else mankind have differed in their several generations concerning the same thing, this feeling of respect for the sepulchre was never impaired, neither is it liable to change. From the remotest antiquity down to the present hour, have men loved and venerated the silent abodes of the dead. Various causes have doubtless contributed to invest the tomb with a high degree of sanctity. And apart from that instinctive veneration for it, of which all are conscious, the other causes most active and chiefly instrumental in clothing THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCIIRE. 39 it with its sacredness, are to be souglit in its origin, and the ])roibund respect with which it has from time immemorial been regarded. Its origin dates far back in history; — to such a remote period in the past, that it may be safely assumed to be coeval with death. And if so, is not its origin Divine ? It would seem that such an inference might be legitimately drawn from the declaration of God, at the time when He announced to our first parents in Paradise, the penalty of their disobedience. "Dust thou art, and unto dust shall thou return." While there is nothing positive or specific in this language, as to the mode in which the human body should be resolved into the dust from which its elements had been taken, it would certainly suggest itself to the mind, that the most befitting way to dispose of the body would be to deposit it in the ground, that it might quietly moulder back to its mother. There is moreover a propriety which could not escape the consideration of the living, in thus removing from their sight the form of a beloved one while it still w-ears the impress of beauty and life, that the humiliating process of decay to which all must be subjected might be seen only by the eye of Plim, whose hand will reconstruct it glorious and immortal. But if such an infe- rence from the sacred text were not allowed, and if we could offer no tangible proof that the spirit of God even suggested such a disposition of the dead, the custom of inhuming has enjoyed the Divine sanction in all ages of the w^orld. In the most ancient of the Divine records, there are 40 THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. frequent allusions to the grave as a place of sacred rest. It is represented as a safe and blessed retreat from the miseries of earth, and as a scene of undisturbed tranquillity in contrast with the disquietudes of life. Job speaks of " the house appointed for all the living," and hopefully looks forward to the tomb, as a place where " the wicked cease from troubling, and where the weary are at rest." Abraham uttered the language of nature and religion, when he said to the sons of Heth, " give me possession of a burying-place with you, that I may bury my dead out of my sight," And the offer which the sons of Heth made to Abraham, " in the choice of our sepulchres bury thy dead," conclusively shows that inhumation was generally practised in those times. But Abraham seemed unwilling that his sainted wife should repose undistinguished among strangers, and therefore insisted on purchasing a lot of ground for this particular purpose, " And Abraham weighed to Ephron the silver which he had named in the audience of the sons of Heth, four hundred shekels of silver, current money. And after this, Abraham buried Sarah his wife in the cave of the field of Machpelah, before Mamre, the same is in the land of Canaan." And this lot which he purchased remained as a family burying-ground ; for after Abraham had died, the sacred record informs us that his sons Isaac and Ishmael buried him in the cave of IMachpelah. In this 'entire proceeding of this ancient patriarch, there is a beautiful exhibition of tenderness and regard for the dead. He would not receive the field as a proffered gift, but paid for it; neither THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. 41 was he willing to accept the offer of a sepulchre, but provitled one lor her whom he loved. It is manifest from his conduct, that his feelings concerning his departed were the same as the bereaved now experience ; for he neither wished to forget the companion of his bosom, nor have her buried where her grave might be exposed to the intrusion of strangers. He cherished those sentiments of regard for the sainted dead of which all the good are conscious, and of the existence of which they give pleasing evidence in their care to beautify the tombs of their departed. Jacob, in the closing scenes of his life, also gives us a touching exhibition of the yearnings of his being for the dust of his kindred. Although he had experienced many distin- guished mercies in the land of Egypt, and the honorable positfbn of his son Joseph would have secured for him a royal intombment in that country, yet did he earnestly desire that his body might repose with his friends, and his dust mingle with theirs. "And he charged them" (his sons) " and said unto them, I am to be gathered unto my people ; bury me with my fathers in the cave that is in the field of Ephron the Hittite : in the cave that is in the field of JMach- pelah ; which is before Mamre in the land of Canaan, which Abraham bought with the field of Ephron the Hittite, for a possession of a burying-place. There they buried Abraham and Sarah his wife, there they buried Isaac and Rebecca his wife, and there I buried Leah." And this dying request was religiously observed ; for we are informed that Joseph with the royal sanction, ordered the most imposing fiineral obse- 4* 42 THE SACIIEDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. qules for his father. A large multitude, composed of Hebrews and Egyptians, accompanied the remains to Canaan, where they buried Jacob amid great lamentation and mourn- ing. And the same intense desire to repose with his fathers in that hallowed spot manifested itself in Joseph during his last moments. " And Joseph said unto his brethren, I die, and God will surely visit you, and bring you out-of this land unto the land which he sware to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob. And Joseph took an oath of the children of Israel, saying God will surely visit you, and ye shall carry up my bones from hence." That the people of God attached a very high degree of sacredness to the sepulchre, may also be gathered from the importance which they ascribed to an honorable burial. To be deprived of this they viewed as one of the most distressing calamities that could befall them. There is an affecting instance of this kind mentioned in II. Sam. xxi. 9-14. The sons of Rizpah had been delivered to the Gibeonites, who slew them, and exposed their bodies. The mother of these unfortunate persons " took sackcloth, and spread it upon a rock from the beginning of harvest until water dropped upon them out of heaven, and suffered neither the birds of the air to rest upon them by day, nor the beasts of the field by night." And when it was told to David, he ordered their remains to be gathered up and decently interred. In this touching incident we see the regard which a mother had for the bodies of her sons. And there is not that mother living, if she be worthy of that holy name, who would not, under THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. 43 like circumstances, sit down and watch the remains of those whom she loved until reheved from her office by death. And a similar abhorrence of being exposed to insult, or devoured by the fowls of heaven, or the beasts of the field, is expressed by Solomon, when he says, "If a man live many years and be not filled with good, and also have no burial, I say that an untimely birth is better than he." In the seventy- ninth Psalm, the treatment of the dead on the part of the heathen is thus deplored. " The dead bodies of thy saints have they given to be meat unto the fowls of heaven, the flesh of thy saints unto the beasts of the earth. Their blood have they shed round about Jerusalem, and there was none to bury them." A like feeling prevailed among other nations on this subject. The Eg}'ptians carefully embalmed their friends, and, after suitable preparations for interment, they used the precaution to place them where they might remain undisturbed. And such care marked their disposition of the dead, that but for the restless and inquisitive antiquarian, they would have slumbered on unmolested in their silent mansions until the dawn of the resurrection morn. And it is a well-established fact, that all nations deplore the fate of those to whom the right of sepulture is denied. A distin- guished writer on the Antiquities of Egypt says, that among that ancient people there was a regularly organized court, before which the character of the deceased person was examined prior to his burial. If he had not lived in accord- ance with established rules burial was denied, and he was cast into a pool. If, however, the constituted authorities 44 THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. pronounced a favourable judgment upon his character, an honorable disposition of his body was ordered. And those cases where interment was not allowed produced the most painful distress among survivors ! And this instinctive dread of being left without burial is common to all. With what imploring looks does the emigrant mother beg of the captain of the vessel, that he might spare her child's body until they touch at some friendly shore where it may be committed to the earth ! Another proof of the sacredness of the sepulchre may be drawn from the universal regard with which it is cherished. Wherever we meet with allusions to the grave, whether in sacred or profane history, there is invariably associated with it a high degree of sanctity. And not only is it manifest in the records of nations that they regarded the tomb as something inviolable, but they have also shown a uniform respect for the sepulchre by the care which they bestow upon it. A traveller, in speaking of Eastern sepulchres, remarks : " If we except a few persons who are buried within the precincts of some sanctuary, the rest are carried out at a small distance from their cities and villages, where a great extent of ground is allotted for that purpose. Each family has a particular portion of it walled in like a garden, where the bones of their ancestors have remained undisturbed for many generations ; for in these enclosures the graves are all distinct and separate, having each of them a stone placed upright, both at the head and feet, inscribed with the name of the person who lies there interred ; whilst the intermediate THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCnUE. 45 space is either planted witli flowers, or paved all over \viih tiles." Mr. Buckingham, another traveller, says, " Not far from the spot where we halted to enjoy this enchanting view, was an extensive cemetery, at which we noticed the custom so })revalent among Eastern nations, of visiting the tombs of tlieir deceased friends. These were formed with great care, and finished with extraordinary neatness ; and at the foot of each grave was enclosed a small earthen vessel, in which was planted a sprig of myrtle, regularly watered every day by the mourning friend who visited it. Throughout the whole of this extensive place of burial we did not observe a single grave to which this token of respect and sorrow was not attached ; and scattered among the tombs, in different quarters of the cemetery, we saw from twenty to thirty females, sitting near the honored remains of some recently lost and deeply- regretted relative or friend, and either water- ing the myrtle plants, or strewing flowers over the green turf that closed upon their heads." In the book of Nehemiah, there is an interesting account of an interview which took place between that Jew and Artaxerxes, which illustrates the regard these representatives of two nations exhibit&d for the sacredness of the p-rave. Nehemiah was the son of one of the gaptives in Babylon, and although born and reared in that country, he cherished that love for the Holy Land which is common to every Jew. Doubtless all that was glowing in the history of God's chosen people was communicated to him in childhood, and it is therefore not singular that his heart should burn with patriotic 46 THE SACEEDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. love. Having heard from some who had come from Pales- tine, of the privations and sufferings to which those were subjected, who had gone there to rebuild Jerusalem, and also, of the desecration of the tombs of the Prophets and Kings of Judah, he gave himself to earnest prayer, and besought God to make him instrumental in the deliverance of his brethren, and in the restoration of the Holy Land. His appearance before the king is best described in his own pathetic narrative. "And it came to pass in the month of Nisan in the twen- tieth year of Artaxerxes the king, that wine was before him, and I took up the wine and gave it unto the king. Now I had not been beforetime sad in his presence : wherefore the king said unto me, why is thy countenance sad, seeing thou art not sick? this is nothing else but sorrow of heart! Then I was very sore afraid, and said let the king live forever ; why should not my countenance be sad, when the city, the place of my father's sepulchres, lieth waste ? " There could not be a more delicate, yet profound expression of his reve- rence for the o-raves of his fathers. He makes no mention of the desolations of the city, only in so far as they related to the condition of the sepulchres of his kindred. He does not picture the departed glory of Jerusalem, he says nothing of her broken-dow^n walls, her fallen palaces, her temple in ruins, only so far as these have affected those sacred enclosures which contained the dust of her illustrious dead. There was no eye to watch, no hand to adorn, and no arm to defend the tombs of the Prophets. There is not an incident in the history of this distinguished man, which sheds a brighter THE SACKEDNESS OE TJIE SEPULCHRE. 47 glow over his eventful life. His noble spirit had borne up under the varied and weighty calamities which had cast their dark shadows over the Holy Land, or emptied their woes upon the chosen nation. He had become reconciled to all the humiliations incident to his own condition, and endured his servitude with cheerfulness ; but the intelligence of these profaned sepulchres brought such a settled sorrow upon his heart, that, even to the eye of a stranger, it was painfully mirrored upon his countenance, and awakened the solicitude of the Persian monarch. Before we conclude our examination of this subject, it may be important to consult the views and practices of the primi- tive Christians in relation to the departed and the places of their repose. Christianity in its influence does not suppress, but rather exalt and ennoble the feelings of human nature. Its grand aim is to build up, not to destroy ; to correct, to chasten, and to purify the tendencies of our nature, and not to make us stoically indifferent when the tender relations of life are sundered by death. " From the first," says Neander, " Christianity condemned the wild, and at the same time hypocritical expressions of grief with which the funeral procession was accompanied ; those wailings of women who had been hired for the occasion : yet it required no stoic resignation and apathy, but mitigated and refined the anguish of sorrow by the spirit of faith and hope, and of child-like resignation to that eternal love, which takes, in order to restore what it has taken under a more glorious form ; which separates for the moment, in order to re-unite 48 THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. the separated in a glorified state through eternity." "We ought not to mourn," says Cyprian, " for those who are delivered from the world by the call of the Lord, since we know they are not lost, but sent before us." " They live with God!" "There await us a multitude of those whom we love, fathers, mothers, brothers, and children, who have secured already their own salvation, and are concerned only for ours." But while they were thus comforted by the hopes and promises of the gospel, diese very consolations gave origin to the custom, which required that the memory of departed friends should be celebrated by their relations, on the anniversary of their death, in a manner conformable to the spirit and hope of religion. On these festival occasions the Lord's Supper was administered, and was intended to convey the idea "of their inseparable fellowship with those who had died in the Lord." For the same reason did they deposit gifts on the altar in the name of their departed, because they were still "living members of the church." Besides these more private or family celebrations of the memory of those who had been called to the church triumphant, whole communi- ties joined in commemorating the death of martyrs. "The anniversary of the death of such individuals was looked upon as their birth-day to a nobler existence." " On each return- ing anniversary of their birth-day (in the sense which has been explained), the people gathered around their graves, where the story v>'as rehearsed of their confession and suflrr- ings, and the communion was celebrated in the consciousness of a continued fellowship with them, now that they were THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. 49 united with him for whom, by their sufferings they had witnessed a good confession." This custom among the early Christians was not only innocent and beautiful, but eminently fitted to promote spiritual edification, to strengthen their faith, and to inspire the living with fortitude to live, to suffer, and to die for Christ. That it was afterwards -per- verted and made to minister to superstition cannot be denied ; but whatever subsequent abuses may have grown out of it, these could not vitiate the original excellence and beauty of the principle. The pious solicituae manifested in the times of persecution, by the followers of the Redeemer, to rescue the mutilated remains of their martyred brethren from the contumely and msults of the Pagans, and the care with which they attended to the interment of such fragments of their bodies as they could obtain, attest the respect which they cherished for the dead, and their veneration for the rights of sepulture. They regarded the body of the Christian as the sanctified organ of the soul, and were therefore not only solicitous to provide for it a place of repose, but sacredly cherished the grave, from which it was one day to arise in its glorified form. In the History of the Church, by Eusebius, lib, iv. ch. 15, there is recorded a letter from the church of Smyrna, givmg an account of the martyrdom of Polycarp, their bishop, in which they reply to the heathens, who refused to give up the remains of the martyr "lest the Christians should abandon the crucified and begin to worship IdmV The church writes — "our envious and malignant adversary, that wicked enemy 5 50 THE SACKEDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. of all the righteous, seeing the lustre of his martyrdom, had provided that not even his corpse could be obtained by us, though many of us eagerly wished it, so as to have commu- nion with the sacred body. It was suggested that we would desert our crucified master, and begin to worship Polycarp. Foolish men ! They know not, that we can neither forsake that Christ who has suflTered for the salvation of all men, nor w^orship another. Him we adore as the Son of God ; but the martyrs we love as they deserved for their imconquerable love to their king and master, and because we also wish to become their companions and disciples. The centurion therefore caused the body to be burned ; we then gathered his bones, more precious than pearls and more tried than gold, and buried them. In this place, God willing, we will meet in joy and gladness and celebrate the birth-day of his martyrdom, in remembrance of the departed champion, and for the purpose of exercising and arming those whom the conflict is still waiting." Here then we have the reason why they manifested such a commendable anxiety to possess the bodies of those who fell victims to the spirit of persecution : it was, that they might commune with each other and with the departed, around their holy sepulchres. But they also exhibited their regard for the dead and their reverence for the grave, by erecting suitable memorials in honor of those whom they loved. They constructed monu- ments of the most costly and durable materials, and inscribed upon these the virtues of the deceased. Their cemeteries were prepared with great care, and sacredly guarded against profane intrusions. THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. 51 " The Christians called their burial-places Koi/ji.r)rY)pia, dormi- tories, because death, in the light of the Gospel, is a sleep. These dormitories, as we here see, were frequented by the Christians, as peculiarily calculated to cherish religious senti- ments, particularly if these places had been the depositories of martyred confessors. It was here, too, where, in the firm faith that death is but a sleep, they could hold a kind of com- munion with departed virtue, and find their own strengthened by it. Well may Christianity be pronounced the only true philosophy, when she arrays our greatest terrors in such a light." — Euseb. lib. vii., chap. xiii. Many of these were constructed underneath the surface of the earth; and, no doubt, with a view to afford the perse- cuted disciples of our Lord a safe retreat, where they might worship Him unmolested. In after years of quiet and victory over their enemies, they sometimes erected churches over the graves of distinguished saints. We have, therefore, the ample and conclusive testimony of sacred and profane history to sustain the sacredness of the sepulchre. And shattered and vitiated as our humanity is, it still claims as one of its jewels reverence for the tombs of our departed. And although some may raise the cry of superstition and man-worship, where notliuig more is intended than merited respect, we regard the feeling which invests the abodes of the dead with sanctity, as one of exceeding beauty and worth. The absence of such a senti- ment in man must greatly detract from his character, and is almost demonstrative proof that he is a stranger to those 52 THE SACREDNESS OF THE SEPULCHRE. heavenly inspirations with which the religion of Jesus peoples the human heart. It is not possible that any exalted and noble feelings should live where there is no respect