The Madisonian. [volume] (Washington City [i.e. Washington, D.C.]) 1837-1845, 1840-11-06
THE DYING HOUR.

If the experience of the dying hour could be
faithfully written, the thoughts that then fill the
brain, like the last inhabitants of crumbling
temple, and the feelings that then occupy the
chilled heart, be revealed to the eye Of sense,
what view would be displayed! The period
of dissolution brings with it emotions of pecu-
liar character. There are at that time operations
through which the soul never before passed.
Nothing appears in its old aspect. Like SPLEEN
did hall which has been hung in new drapery,
each object wears a different dress. Opinions,
that the strongest force of argument could not
compel to withdraw from the mind, then hastily
depart; prejudices that rooted themselves more
and more deeply at every attack, then bend be-
fore the blast cherished feelings, that the bosom
had ever chung to, then are hated and desires
that had ever found home beside affections
altar, then are banished. What fearful change
is this, that then befaleth the spirit Are the
faculties then so weakened as to prevent it from
thinking and feeling aright2 No; it now sees
things as they are. Falsehood has ceased to
obscure its vision. Truth, long deprived Of her
authority, long forced to crouch like slave, OBJ
tains her rightfu station and shows that the pre-
tended nature of the word is very unlike its real
character. O., what an hour is this When the
soul is aroused to the true relations Of objects
when mistakes are seen, but alas, too late for
correction-when eteTnity's importance and awe
enter into the decisions, wishes, and feelings of
the mind
The hour of death! In this brief space the
past is reviewed. However treacherous memory
may have been on thousand occasions, she
now acquits herself with fidelity. Omits she
now to unroll the record, which her hand had so
often clasped Is she like the trumpet, that blow
eth an uncertain sound2" Life's history her
tongue now repeats-scenes, forgotten scenes
are recalled and buried events are brought up
before the eye. Over the long path which we
have made she leads us; here she stops to me-
ditate on some dark deed; there she shows ano-
ther way into which passion hurried u.s. Have
we injured friends Have the true and fond
bosoms on which we rested been pierced by the
darts of unkindness Memory presents it. Have
we performed actions OF generosity Have the
desolation Of the widow been cheered, and the
| loneliness of the orphan been relieved by us ?
| Has the path of one individual lost thorn by
our instrumentality, or the wreath of love had
one rose added by our hands? Delighted with
the occurrence, memory repeats it in strains OF
| exultation. Crowded into this narrow period,
the moments resemble the waves that now dance
| in the sunlight TO the music Of the breeze, and
| now flow on in solemn silence beneath the shade
of overhanging boughs. But does the past alone
employ the fugitive hour2 That hour, magma
ton also makes her own. Whatever may have
| hindered its operation is now removed. Loftler
| and freer than ever scars its wing Over the
highest summit il easily rises, borrowing life
from death itself
The dying hour! 1t is then that Time and
we are parted Though he may have led us
over diversified way, we then forsake him; he
continues TO travel on in his own course, but we
are ushered into new condition. Cares cease
to distress The last tear falls from the eye, the
last sigh escapes from the bosom. Darkness ga
theirs upon the earth, relieved only by that pure
light which proceeding from heaven hath power
TO gid the closing scene Mortality, shrink not
from this hour Pursue virtue-let religion be