Today we see our friends in health, tomorrow we hear of their death. Only yesterday, we shook hands with the strong man, and today we close his eyes. We rode in a chariot of comfort only an hour ago, and in a few more hours the black hearse must carry us to the home of the living. The little lamb that plays in the field must soon feel the knife. The cow that lows in the pasture is fattening itself for the slaughter.
Trees only grow to be cut down.
Yes, and greater things than these feel death. How often do we take up a history book, and read of the rise and fall of empires. We hear of the coronation and the death of kings. Death is the black servant who rides behind the chariot of life. Death reaches far throughout this world, and has stamped all terrestrial things with an arrow pointing to the grave.