Fremont journal. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County [Ohio]) 1853-1866, 1861-03-22
HOW LONG SHALL 1 LIVE.

There are no dead. The blow which struck
asunder body and spirit, did not end the spirits
life. And sol the countless myriads of the past,
whose dust has long since mingled with the soil,
"still live" The men, women and children of
N Noah's day, and Abrahams, and David's-the
motley tribes that herded beneath the crescent of
the Arabian prophet-the swarms of Goth and
Hun Tartar and Vandal, that swept the plains
of the Eastern world-the IRd man that roamed
the forests of the Western world, and left the
mounds and tree grown ruins the history ofther
earthly existence-all these are yet alive. They
cannot die. Immortality is their birthrght and
inheritance With the first breath of life they
inhaled immortality.
You too, are henceforth eternal. The life you
have begun is endless. You have only crossed
the threshold. The countless ages before you
stretch out immeasurable distance. When you
have trod the path of those years or millions of
years which you cannot reckon up, there will
still be before you as many more, fresh and new
like the first, and so on forever and ever. As
a traveller can discern his pathway winding
among the hills till far off ON the horizon it
seems to end, but when he reaches the place.
there stretches the path again away to another
hill-top-so will the ages of your endless life lie
before you forever, age following age, until all
| your powers of computation and measurement
have been bafled and slenced-and you have
scarce begunl The never-ending eternity stretch
es out just as far as when you took the first step
| of your journey.
How long will you live? You will never
cease to live. You cannot die. BY the endOw-
ment of your Maker you bear "charmed life"
and whatever rounds the epochs of history Of the
! great universal shall run parallel with them all
! nay with the eternal years of God.
All me! My birthright, Immortality, weighs
on my heart. ! tremble. l shrink from the
burden. Those myriad ages fill me with dread.
From the bosom of that far-off distance know
not what strange things will befall me. Some
accident shall doubtless waylay me on the road.
Some mis-step to the right hand or the left shall
bring my soul to some unforeseen and fatal
plunge.
| No. On the highway of Heaven none fall
In the hollows of hell none rise. You have fix
ed your state forever when you leave this world.
The case is closed. You have either married
yourself to Christ with an eternal love, or TO
your load of sins which no possibility can lift off
All change must be made this side of the grave
there is no change beyond. The preparations
must be finished; for there there is no time
Time is ended; and you rre in eternity The
decree is unalterable; che who is filthy, let him
be filthy STILL he who is holy, let him be holy
still.
Do you see it my friend? Have not all the
men, women and children of the patrarchs' days
the tribes that followed the false prophets
the swarms of Goth, Hum Vandal, Tartar and
red men alike found that time was given them
to prepare for eternity?
Those eighteen, upon whom the tower in ST.
loan fell and slew them, think ye that they were
sinners above all men that dwelt in Jerusalem!
tell ye nay; but except ye repent, ye shall like
wise perish. "Strange," cries Fenelon, "that
the experience of so many ages did not make us
Judge more solidly off the present and the future
so as to take proper measures in the one for the
other We dote upon this world as if it were
never to have an end, and we neglect the nex
as if it were never to have a beginning"
How long will you live? You will live forev
err And your life there will depend upon you
life here. Every day as you complete it, vii
re-appear in the year to come. Every hour, ev
cry moment, as it hurries on its way, leaves
page to be read before the throne. Every word
every act every thought and feeling of you
heart records itself fimperishably in the memory
of One who never forgets. You are writing
your life for eternity.
In gallery in Paris hangs a famous picture
: of Murillo, of an old Spanish monk seated at hi
desk. He had begun the chronicle of his life
, Death had summoned him before the work wal
, done; but he had sought and obtained leave t.
return to earth and finish it. You see in thu
monks pale face more than natural energy
Those sunken eyes had looked "beyonC
the vail, and CLEAN with the visions of eternity
The soul within has cOmmuned with the unseeI
world, and beheld face to face Him who is in
: visible" And one who has already forgotten
the fading scenes of time, and is absorbed in tht
{ realities beyond.
So let the record of your life be written as il
, the light of eternity. Look beyond and see th
u unutterable things that shall soon surround you
; when you stand before your Judge. Behoi'
t your endless life--your speedy departure. Oh
needless soul, l adiure you to prepare for tina
eternity-Christ and obedient service towar
: Him, as you may read it in eternity with joy
I COngregdtionaljSt.