Des Moines courier. ([Ottumwa] Iowa) 1848-1854, 1853-06-09
From the Western Christian Advocate
DYING WORDS.

DAh NU NVHeDSs
When the shadow of death falls upon
the couch Of the dying, ami the wan
sufferer realizes that the hour of DISCO
luton has come,the imagination pictures,
nay, more, faith grasps the realities of
the eternal state beyond the grave
Then every impulse of the heart acquires
additional force, not unfrequently the
mind is reused, the thoughts superlative-
ly grand and beauiiful-Pictures are i'm
printed on the soul that outrival the ar
fists pencil.
In that hour there is mighty struggle
in the soul. The endearing associations
of home, about to be severed. en,wine
themselves about the aifections-the eve
wanders in search Of each sad, familiar
face, the loved and dear ones of life
every object in the room calls up thous-
ands associations, rushing in upon the
soul like mighty torrent.
The past comes up for examination,
with lis folies and sighted mercies-,he
past, that has been SO unproftably en-
ployed. The past comes up and brings
TO the memory the hour of pardon, sea-
sons of communion with God, efforts
for holiness of heart. Faith then lays
hold OF Gods promises, and triumphs
over sin, The hour of trouble has come
but with il the Comforter. Language
has force then-there is eloquence upon
the lips of lisp;ng infancy.
We remember, when but a boy, we
saw the gloom of death Unfolding in its
arms the delicate form of an only sister.
meek and beautiful child of 8 summers.
The impressions of that hour have new
er been lost. Her ar!less words follow
ed me through many weary hour of
sin. They would well up from memo
rvs deep fountains, and | would almos,
hear the tremulous accents of her infant
voice repeat the warning, James yon
must be good boy, or you never will
meet me in heaven" To me there was
eloquence in her childlike admoniion.-
The occasion. the manner. the state OF
my own feelings conspired to make !.
eloquent.
We have recently had the opportuni.
ty of hearing the words of one of ma
:ure age. whom we supposed to be near
the door of death. Every incident that
occurred seemed to call up some beaui-
full and glowing thought connected with
salvation. An afectionate daughter pre-
sented her with beautiful white rose,
as she lay upon her bed OF suffering
Looking upon il with admiration, she re-.
Piled: sit is beautiful, my child, but in
the country to which | am going the
rose has no ihorn." How touchingy
beautiful, when uttered at such an hour!
The consultations of God were great TO
that heart. The door Of an adjoining
room was opened, and suddenly the light
burst into the apartment where the suf-
ferer lay; she asked at once, "Did you
see that light, my child! Thus 5urs, the
light OF grace into my soul" Religion
is, indeed, as ligh. shining in dark
place.
The sentiments and words of the dy-
ing are not only beautiful, but are long
remembered. Years pass away and
their impress remains, nor will they ever
be effaced. The prodigal calls to mind
the dying admonition of a mother or
father, and the tear of penitence glistens
in his eyes; be may dash it away, butt
unbidden il will come again.
Kind reader, before you lay down the
paper, call 10 mind the dying words of
hose kind friends who have passed
through the "yalley Of the shadow OF
ieath. To the Christian they are en-
TO piety; TO the sinner, the
.oice OF warning from the grave.
Veyay, Feb. 90, 1853. J. b. l..