LECTURE 8
OF A MAN’S FIRST ENCOUNTER WITH DEATH ON A DARK NIGHT AND ITS RELENTLESS OPPOSITION TO TAKE HIM INTO TIMELESS SPACE.
[On a dark night in the deep, death meets up with a man after pursuing so ardently after him]
Man: Why follow you so hard after me? Why dost thou pursue me so ardently?
Death: I spotted thee down the valley and I have followed thee to this point. I have come to take thee to the place from whence I came, even to that yonder world where thine other brethren have passed on to.
Man: How can I follow thee since I know not thee nor whence thou comest from. And of which brethren of mine do thou speaketh of, for they are all with me in the city.
Death: I speak not of them that are with thee now at thy house. I speak of them that thou have reckoned lost and gone. I speak of them that are no more with thee; them are they that I have with me in yonder world.
Man: Who art thou that speaketh unto me? Is it thee O Honorable death?
Death: Yes, tis I that dost speak unto thee. And today my eyes are set on thee. The time is due for thy soul to bid thy body farewell.
Man: O thou Honorable death, why hast thou set thine eyes upon me to take me away? Turn thou away from me, I pray thee, for thy terror is already fallen upon me. I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ears but now do I see thee with my own eyes. I have heard of how thou take mighty men away captives and leave their wives widowed. I also hear of how thou take mothers away from their duties and woefully inflict pains on their little ones. Tis thee who dost take friends from their loved ones. Yes tis thee. Are they not many the men whom thou hast taken away with thee? Have thou set thine eyes also upon me? Turn away, I pray thee from me that I may go to my family in peace. Let not thy terror withhold me anymore.
Death: How can I turn from thee O thou mortal, seeing I am the appointed lot of all living; both the rich and the poor, the devout and the sinner, and all they that have breath in them. Shall I then go away from my own inheritance and heritage? What speakest thou unto me? Please suffer me not to go with thee for thou have been betrothed unto me this day. Today is the day of thy trial and we ought to be going now; besides the journey is so great. The eternal tribunal is still in session and the ‘Judge of All’ is already seated to attend to thy case.
Man: I pray thee O thou honorable death, please turn away from me into the city and thou wouldest find men more handsome and intelligent than I; men that are ready to go with thee. Men that will even run to embrace thee at a distance, way before thou settest hold upon them. Thou wouldest see men that are desperately seeking and longing for thee. They are there in the city now and they patiently seek thee. Them do I entreat thee to turn to, and trouble me not a wretched soul who is so much lost in this great deep on this dark night.
Death: I wish I could turn away from thee to thy other brethren in the city. I wish I could look away from thy sorrows and tears, and hearken unto thy plea; but my members wouldn’t allow me. The more I try, the more they push me against thee. The lust they have for thee is too strong. All my loins burneth with passion for thee. They wouldn’t just let me alone until I have thee in my arms.
Man: Tell me then, tell me, with what shall I quench thy lust, O death? With what shall I appease thy burning loins that they rouseth you not against me? Shall I bribe thee with earthly treasures or shall a thousand maidens be made to satiate thy hurting loins. What wouldest thou accept of me? Tell me and I shall gladly give them for I am a man of great possession, and I have no lack whatsoever.
Death: Why thinkest thou so vain, O poor mortal? For thousands of thy beautiful maidens cannot quench mine hurting loins neither can millions of thy vain treasures move an inch of my rage. My desires and lust transcends that of mortals and they can neither be bribed nor appeased. And if thou carest to know, I have no respect unto the substance of mortals. For so were it, wouldest not I have spared the richest of men and royals? Why speakest thou so vain, o thou mortal?
Man: Do thou still insist on taking me? Have thou not repented of thy evil seeing I am so much troubled and terrified? I pray thou allow me to bring before thee my good works and merits for I know by them thou shalt spare me this distress..
Death: Why not! Thou mayest proceed with thy declaration. I am always happy when men declare their works before me. It makes me desire them even more. It fuels my rage even harder and makes me look even more atrocious. Shall I not then be happy if thou wilt declare thy own works and whisper thy might into my ears? Speak thou on, o mortal. Declare now thy fair doings for I heareth.
Man: True art the things that are said concerning thee. Thou maketh neither condescension nor compromise. Thou have always won all thy arguments by putting men to silence and thou have always won thy fight against mortals by slaying them. And me, what shall become of me? What shall thou do to me? Shall thou also make my wife a widow and render my little ones orphaned? Art thou so heartless that thou art not even moved by a woe so pitiful? Shall thou take me away from my loved ones and remove me from my fatherly duty?
O wretched man that I am! Who shall deliver me from the hands of this monstrous death? Who shall redeem me from its paws; for it has overpowered all them that came forward to lend me a hand. He has scared all the mighty men that were drawn to render me help. O death, shall thou lead me also by the hand to thy far land as though I were an infant. Knowest thou not that I bid them that are at home that I will be back. I promised my little ones I will return with gifts in my hand. Shall I then depart with thee without bidding them farewell? Depart, I pray thee, from me and come again tomorrow. For then shall I be prepared to go with thee. By then would I have called an attorney to prepare my will. In fact, should you even spare me some few minutes, I will quickly put my house in order and make adequate provision for thy distant journey. So, wouldest thou tarry a bit? Wouldest thou depart for a while?
Death: To whence shall I depart, O thou troubler. Knowest thou not that the hour of thy departure is at hand. As my eyes art set on thee so shall I take thee and lead thee gently away. If thou had a good conscience, thou wont fear me that greatly.
Man: Alas! Alas! I am undone, For my separation with mortals is at hand. This day shall the living begin to fear me and I the living. Oh wretched man that I am, I regret and weep over the delightful days I spent following hard after triffles and fooleries. My days have vanished without any profit. How could I have been so prodigal a son to have taken my portion of wealth into that far country of emptiness and gloominess. Why didn’t I anticipate this day? Why didn’t I prepare so massively for this distant journey. Now has darkness dawned upon me, and I have not enough oil in my lamp to meet the bridegroom, and time wouldn’t lend me any. How I wish I had my delightful days before me now; then would I have cherished every time and looked upon every minute as a gift. I would have valued them more preciously and thankfully than a poor boy who has received a toy. Oh! Oh! Oh! Shall I also die like a fowl without wisdom? Shall I perish without understanding? How on earth could I have been so careless to feast my days away? I have always said to God tomorrow – tomorrow till I am now fallen into the hands of death. Just how could I have been so foolish in not seeking first that Eternal Kingom. How I wish I had an anchor, upon which I may hang my frail soul in the storms of eternity. But I have none. Oh, Disgusting and Useless me, a foolish creation I have being!
Hear me oh little ones who still have your flaming days ahead of you, I admonish thee to turn thy youth to God, and with Him alone occupy your time, so that what has happened to me does not happen to you. Trust flattering life no more, redeem time past, and live each day as if it were thy last. For then only wilt thou not fear the intimidation of this monstrous death
THOU INEVITABLE DAY
By Archbishop Richard Chenevix Trench
Thou inevitable Day,
When a voice to me shall say,
'Thou must rise and come away;
'All thine other journeys past,
Gird thee, and make ready fast
For thy longest and thy last':--
Day deep-hidden from our sight
In impenetrable night,
Who may guess of thee aright?
Art thou distant, art thou near?
Wilt thou seem more dark or clear?
Day with more of hope or fear?
Wilt thou come, unseen before
Thou art standing at the door,
Saying, light and life are o'er?
Or with such a gradual pace,
As shall leave me largest space
To regard thee face to face?
Shall I lay my drooping head
On some loved lap,--round my bed
Prayer be made and tears be shed?
Or at distance from mine own,
Name and kin alike unknown,
Make my solitary moan?
Will there yet be things to leave,
Hearts to which this heart must cleave,
From which parting it must grieve?
Or shall life's best ties be o'er,
And all loved ones gone before
To that other happier shore?
Shall I gently fall on sleep,
Death, like slumber, o'er me creep,
Like a slumber sweet and deep?
Or the soul long strive in vain,
To escape, with toil and pain,
From its half-divided chain?
Little skills it where or how,
If thou comest then or now,
With a smooth or angry brow;
Come thou must, and we must die--
JESUS! Saviour! stand Thou by,
When that last sleep seals our eye!
LIFE AND DEATH
By William Davenant
Frail Life! in which, through mists of human breath
We grope for truth, and make our progress slow,
Because by passion blinded; till, by death
Our passions ending, we begin to know.
O reverend Death! whose looks can soon advise
E'en scornful youth, whilst priests their doctrine waste;
Yet mocks us too; for he does make us wise,
When by his coming our affairs are past.
O harmless Death! whom still the valiant brave,
The wise expect, the sorrowful invite,
And all the good embrace, who know the grave
A short dark passage to eternal light.
LIFE
By Bishop Thomas Ken
O fool,--of short-lived goods possest,--
In mere uncertainties to rest;
From your full barns and bags of gold,
To dream of slowly growing old;--
Can you bribe death, with all your store,
To respite you one moment more?
Tell me, my soul, is there no art,
To arm against death's sudden dart?
Has gracious Heaven contrived no way
Of lengthening here our mortal stay,
Or, on this momentaneous stage,
In a short time to live an age?
The infants from the font who fly,
Unsullied, to the joys on high,
Live longer than obdurate men,
Who sin to threescore years and ten:--
We those dear moments only live,
Which, we to GOD devoutly give.