Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1883-06-19
The Abode Of the Lost.

IL Hunsey Ill GniS clGy Will doubtless re
cognize the following as a part of one O
the sermons delivered by that gifted divine
J in this city:
'1t may be dark and frightful sphere
isolated from all worlds, cnrsed of God
erratlc and laWless, rolling beyond the con-
nnes OF creatlon, with no sun or star to
ngnG up lts darkness and chase away it:
inIe!nal vapors, with rivers and oceans OF
liquid fires, continents of incinerated rock
and scattered scorie, and rent with awfnl
chasms. Over it the lost NAV walk. and
run, and grope, and stumble. and fall. and
climb forever. 1t may have a strange
power over the lost, answering as to gravity,
which binds them to its surface. and COM
pels them to dwell there through all eter-
nifty. 1t may not be this. It NAV be q
world riven and shivered by volcanic fires
and smothered cases. where lurid darkness
and hazy light mingle in its dusky shades.
where smoky flames ooze from thousand
crannles, ana hlcker and flash from thou
sanu nssures, Where serpents hiss in every
gorge, and goDllns dance on every hill, and
spec1res creep from every rock, and phan-
toms ride on every wind, and demons sit
on every mountain-and where redoubta-
Die horrors, mounted upon fiery dragons
chase the ruined souls over smoulderipg
plains, gloomy hills, mountains diney, mo.
rasses foul, and abysses squalid, and chase
1t forever. 1t may not be this. It NAV be
gloomy, desolate, and barren world.
whose rocks and mountains are tumbled
INTO anarchy; where there are no blushinp
flowers, nodding tress, dewy wales, grassy
slopes, and running streams, and where
there are no homes, no churches, no preach
ing, no morality, no religion, no friend
ship, no God. Religion is order, love and
light; and where it is not, all is disorder,
enmity, hate, and night.
Ihe world must be in harmony with its
inhabitants. Then, the best hell we can
promise is world OF ugly ruins, shrouded
IN Nights blackeSt pail, where no one of
the damned has friend, and filed with
cUrsAngs and strife, and where all ranks
ana sexes are herded in one promiscuous
mob with foulest demons, and where every
sinking cave is inhabited with fend and
gnashlng ghost, and on whose black craps
the ravens of despair sit and croak. and
where Gods eternal justice plies his burn
ing whip, and remorse lays on his fierv
thongs-the flashes of whip and THONGS
their only ight-world without end. Or If
may be some huge cavern followed ont the
centre OF some blasted, shattered, and God
cursed planet, in which the poison and
stencil Of ages have gathered, and CON
densing distill on the walls-ai.nly LIGHTED
by sulphurous torches held by grimaeino
and bowling tiend, and whose sickly flick.
erlng render the da5&pess in all the wind
ing pits, ehasmss and corners but blacker:
and where occasional blue flames, break
ing through the assures overhead. lick
along the arches, and bolts of thunder
CRASH through the grottoes and roar along
The lahyNnths, in which lost men and fallen
angels may be driven from the Judgment
seat, the ponderous gates closing and lock-
ing them-the key fastened to the girdle of
God and the Divine Omnipotence installed
as perpetual sentinel to guard the way.
Or it may be an unquenchable lake of fire
and birthstone, surrounded with precipi-
tious shores of black and beetling crags.
over whose surface beat eternal storms, the
fiery waves lashing, and dashing, and
splashing, and groaning around the shores
bubbles dancing on every wave and swell,
and bursting, emit fumes and smoke thread
ed with serpent flames, in whose ascending
volume everlasting ightnings flash and
cross-while the unfettered thunders of
God upon hell's Internal drums roll the
eternal bass in hell's uproar, and beat time
to the eeaseless groans of the lost. The
hell of the Bible is horrible beyond descrip-
ton and the hypothesis of this hour cannot
exceed it. Its miseries are as far beyond
description as the joys of heaven are. Be
it better or worse, let US not go there.
Suppose the soul in no special or par
ticular place Of misery, but simply lost
flung by the power of God beyond crea-
tiOn'S boundaries into immeasurable wastes
of night where no world ever rolled in
sight, no ray of light ever penciled an i'm
age, no word or sound ever wandered, and
over whose expanse no angel ever flew
| See it traversing the darkness and thread
| ing the inky abysms in search of worlds, in
search of heaven, in search of something
where there is nothing visible, tangible, or
ponderabe, in search of something besides
| itself. World smiles to world, and star
shines to star, as they speed with lightning
wings along their ethereal track; and the
ezra io comet itself must needs shine for
company, as it blazes in it's eccentric flight
through the illimitable ether plying like
the weaver's shuttle from apis to apis
from point to point-crossing and decus-
sating orbits, ecliptics and lines, and weav-
ing its fiery hair into the plexus of univer-
sal being Saints commune with saints,
angels with angels, and they all commune
with God; but this soul, sympathetic and
social in the very construction of it's being,
it's state changed, and not its constitutional
nature, is eternally isolated from every
thing like itself, and plunged into an ocean
of darkness interminable to its tagging
wing, where no signet or sound will ever
greet its aching sense, and doomed to wan
der in the painless void while cycles roll
and ages go grinding on. See it careering
in it's bewildered flight. 1t has crossed its
track thousand times, and recrossed it.
1t is lost lost beyond the power of find
ing it. 1t knows it. 1t feels it, but still it
flies, now advancing, now regressing. 1t
turns, and turns again, and 10 ! blush of
dusky light-a stupendous arch of massive
bend, and temple grand in darkness, with
dusky gates and dingy towers, greets it's
vision. It fain would scale the loftiest tur-
ret-it scars, it hovers, but oh, horror of
horrors temple gates and towers melt
away into darker gloom, apd it is left in
awful loneliness hanging in agony, but a
speck of quivering terror in untenanted
and unilluminated space. Shall it ascend,
descend, or move off on level? There
are no ups or downs, or recumbent planes
where is nothing. If ups and downs and
planes there are, it may soar up-up-up-
forever, or dip down-down-dow
ever-it is still, and through all eternity a
lost soul. See -yonder-yonder-y
der. 1t goes that way; lost lost lost
lost 1t comes this way, shrieking lost
lost lost lost till our hearts stand still
with horror. Scream on, and fly on, cursed
spirit; no battlemented walls of towering
jasper will ever meet thy gaze, or furnish a
resting place for thy weary pinion. Fly
on, lost soul, forever, no angel of mercy
will ever cross thy solitary way, or over.
take thee in thy wanderings. Lost spirit
blackened with the curse of thy. God, fly
on, and repeat in despairing cry, the chorus
J of thine own horrible death-march, lost
lost, where no echoes will ever mock thy
misery Immortal soul lost in bound
less, bottomless, infinite darkness; fly on
, thou shalt never find company till the
, ghost of eternity will greet yon over the
grave of God, and thou shalt never fine
rest till thou art able to fold thy wings Oh
! the gravestone of thy Maker"
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