It is then I feel my immortality. I look
through the grave into heaven. I ask no miracle, no proof, no
reasoning for me; I ask no risen dust to teach me immortality. I am
conscious of eternal life.
Or like Byron when he wrote:
I feel my immortality oversweep all pains, all tears, all time, all
fears, and peal, like the eternal thunders of the deep into my ears
this truth--thou livest forever!
Death loses its terrors and the grave becomes a welcome goal for weary
and buffeted mariners on life's stormy sea--the gate to endless life.
By these oft-repeated scenes in this Chamber; by the frequent visits of
the stern messenger to both Houses of Congress to summon a member from
his field of labor here to the bar of the Supreme Ruler of the Universe
above; by the constant changes going on around us in obedience to the
inevitable law of nature, by which death everywhere succeeds to life,
we are reminded that we shall not long continue as we now are. It is
possible that as we are startled by the announcement of the death of an
associate we mentally ask ourselves, Who will be called next?
So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan which moves
To that mysterious realm where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon; but sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one that wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
Pages:
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139