Southern sentinel. [volume] (Plaquemine, Parish of Iberville [La.]) 1848-1858, 1851-01-25
FroG the Saturday Gazette.
Death,
BY JOHN J. MORRIS.

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If the truths Of inspiration were not yndica
ted by the fnltiIment of prophecy, the circum
stances attending the close of the life of man
would of themselves be sufficient to establish
the authenticity Of the Sacred Writings. Ths
mind, then, if not cloudeG by the alteration!
which sometimes follow in the track of disease
and ara more fruitful at the consummatio1
than the commencement OF it, is gifted witt
proper ideas Of things, both earthly and heay
emily The earthly appear less pleasing, less
iaclnatng, less brilliant, and the heavenly more
glorious, more ennobling, more consstant with
the character Of an immortal being,
Scenes of early years are reproduced from
the countless chambers Of the brain, and the
remembrance of dark deeds move like swar.
ming reptiles over the clear surface of the mind
and leave the trail of their slime as an evidence
of the enormity.
Good deeds, worthy actions, are also remem.
bered at death. They come like ight-winged
angels, and move hither and thither with kind
OF consolatory movement which the dying man
loves to contemplate. 1t is possible for man
to delude himself through long lifetime, but
the hand of death strips off the veil, and per-
mits him to behold the deformities of his ma
ture in all their horrd realities and bloated out.
line. The profane man remembers his oaths
and blasphcmes, the adulterer his adulteries,
the thief his thefts, the assassin his assassina-
tions, and the seducer his seductions, and the
consequent suicide.
The Christian remembers Christ. True his
heart is not insensibe to the errors of which
he was guilty, and the wrongs he has committed,
but he treasures the assurance that the blood
of Jesus cleanseth from all sin. The hardened
unbeever dies in torment of wrath to come
His punishment is already begun. The fumes
of hell are around his death couch The sui
phureous exhalations, the howls, the curses,
and the rumbling thunder ascending from the
abode of lost souls, almost drown his cries Of
agony and shrieks of torture.
His countenance after death bears the very
impress of horror Not so the Christian. The
hallelujahs of glory, shouts of angels, songs Of
saints and seraphs, float over his pillow. Hsav-
en- is begun below. Jesus is folded to his EN-.
brace here as well as hereafter.
He is certain of victory over death and can
gaze at the yawning grave with An air Of true
indifference. Faith beckons his soul onward
and upward, but though it is still chained to
clay, though the last ligature which bound it
earthward has not been broken, his communion
is with the spirits and ransomed ones which
dwell above.
He longs to be gone to The bosom of his
Father, and yet would await calmly and conf
dently the will Of one so mercifuI as Jesus is;
he is notconscious of having a wish on the SUBJ
ject, knowing that when death has sealed his
lips forever on earth, his soul shall expatiate for
ever. on the transports of heaven.
And behold ON his features the stamp of i'm
mortality. Who can gaze upon that lovely
countenanc, all radiant with the blazing splen.
dors of Paradise, and not believe that the soul,
once an occupant of that clay, has not departed
to dwell forever at the throne Of the most high
God