The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1883-06-18
THE NUMBER OF OUR DAYS.
Sermon by Rev. John Fulton at st.
Paul's Cathedral.
An AdmonitiOn to Christian ms to Live and Die
COntentedly in the Faith-David's Prayer
in Christian Hearts and Lives.

the obsequies of the late DIR. Robert N. Todd,
and was prevailed upon to remain over Sunday
ard address his old congregation in this city.
DR.. Fulton took for his text the prayer of
David.
"Lord, let me know my end and the number of
my day g, that may be certified how long have
TO live.-Psalm xxx; ).
Again and again the minister of every congre-
cation OF the church is called to use these solemn
words beside the cold remains of members of his
flock Lord, let me know my end and the num-
beT of my days. that may be certified how long
have to live" Again and again the unerfing
arrow OF Gods messenger of death issped where
1t was little looked for, and the grave is closed
upon the sacred dust OF those who, but as yes
terday, were entering the courts OF Gods house
by our sides. Elsewhere, too, we know the dark
proved angels wings are lowering. Ere many
days have passed his arrow will be sped again.
We ask ourselves: Where will it strkes Where
next, and next, and next4 All, IL we Only knew
that-if we only knew the number of onc days
how great change would pass over many OF
cur lives; how many grand plans and how many
foolish ones we should give up; how many
things that we are striving for would fall into
contempt; how slight and trivial this worlds
gear would seem; how insIgnifcaut the past;
how great the future. To him who is about to
die the things of time and of eternity assume
their true proportions. That of which he hardly
thought he sees at last 60 be the only thing
worth thinking of; and that to which he gave his
whole thoughts cares and loves dwindles to
vanity. Surely, II we would be wise, we should
desire TO see things as they are when they are
seen rightly We ought often to place ourselves
as In the imminent presence OF death. Nothing
is so certain as death. From the hour Of our
birth nothing but death Is certain. Not more
surely does the water of the river flow onward
to the sea than life flows to death. Men
run TO and fro and knowledge ia increased, but
the race has always the same ending, which no
knowledge can avert; nor can any knowledge
certify them how, or when, or where their race
shall end 1t was an old custom in Edinburg
that prisoners under sentence of death should be
taken under guard to the TalbOoth Church to
attend attend div, divine service on the sunday
memorable in Scottish history, where
two condemned men were thus before the
preacher, the venerable man, in an affecting ad-
dress to them, made this startling remark: That
the whole congregation there assembled were
equally under sentence of death, and that the
only difference between the condemned men
and the others was that the date of their sem
tence had been made known to them. They knew
the time of their end, and had been certified how
long they had to live,
1t was a startling saying; but if any who heard
1t cried out In their hearts, "Lord, let know
fused TO answer. To that question, His Oracles
are always dumb-and mercifully dumb, be-
cause though death is one of Gods good
appears to be the king of terrors;
and il we knew the time of his dread visitation,
1t would darkeu all our lives with an unreason-
ing and unreasonable fear wisely dumb too,
because nothing Is so selfish the fear of death
II we knew the time of Its coming we should
bound our efforts and our labors solely by the
boundary Of our own lives. We should not look
beyond that. We should forget that this won
dertul world Ia to go on and grow and fulfill
itself according to Gods purpose long after
have been transferred to other spheres Hence
we should perform our allotted parts in 1t sadly
aud hall, heartedly. Our energies would be
paralyzed, our spirits would be dampen-
ed, our affections would be chilled. We
should not only go through the world
are; we should live in it like men who are al
ready dead. David's prayer that he might know
the number OF his days was a very natural
prayer Tor an Israelte but it was certainly not
Christian prayer. the intimatlons of q future
life. which God vouchsafed to Israel OF old were
very dim and shadowy. They were intima
tiuns of il merely: they were not N clear and sat
isfactory revelation of 1t. TO David death was
soil gloomy mystery. "Dost thou show won
rise up again and praise thee9 Shall thy loving
kindness be showed in the grave or thy faithful
ness in destructionf Shall thy wondrous works
be known in the dark, and thy righteousness in
the land where all things are forgotten9 The
time to answer these deep questionings had not
yet come, and God vouchsafed answer save
rhe dawning of an immortality of hope in
David's own breast. 1.-THE dead praise not thee,
Lord" he said; ''neither all they that go down
this time forth for evermore." What death migi.6
he he did not know The stiffness of the grave
seemed to wrap all in endless and un6roken
upon him that IN spite of all
deaths silent mystery, the tongue that had
delighted here to sing Gods praise would find a
noble utteranoe to chant the sacred lame forever
more. But these bright transient flashes of the
coming day spring from on high were not a
in the Psalms of David nor in any of the writ
ings OF the saints of the Old Testament do we
find anything like the glorious visions of the
Apocalypse, or anything like the radiant GER
tainty OF immortal life that CLEANS from
every page of the New Testament. Therefore,
to one who had no clear cognition of the life be-
yond the grave il was natural to wisi mat this
life should be rounded Gnd completed
to its utmost possibility: David had a
family to train, kingd0m to establish,
a temple of God to make prvision for, though
he was never to behold 1t. Meanwhile he was
sick In body and sorrowful of heart. If he only
knew how long he had to work, he would know
how much it was worth while TO attempt. His
heart grew hot as he thought OF the vain
shadows he had been walking in the wasted
labors the blighted hopes, the unforeseen
changes, the apparently impossible misohances
that beset him, and he cried out in his helpless
ness Lord, let me know my end and the number
OF my days that may be certified how long
have TO livei twas a natural cry from devout
and earnest soul; but 1t was not a Christians
prayer There is nothing like it in the prayer
our Lord has taught us--nothing like it in any
part OF the teachings either of Christ or of his
apostles tits very remarkable that neither
our Saviour nor any of his disciples says much
about death. In the mind of Jesus and OF his
followers death was merely an incident,
birth is, and they speak of death very little
more than they speak of birth. Life here, and
the life beyond are the themes of their dscourse
the passage from the one into the other is no
concern of ours, and they say little OF It, And
1t is very wonderful TO observe how differently
our Saviour speaks of human life contrasted
with all other teachers Here aud there some
strong, brave psalm of life telling the world that
"Life is real life is earnest,
Life is not an empty dream"
But for one who speaks there are hundreds
who dwell on its vanities and miseries, its short
ness and uncertainty, the whips and scorns with
which IL lashes us, the wrongs and contumelies
that assails us, the inevitable end that awaits
Heaven and earth have been explored for
SMILES of the n0thingness of life. 1t is hkened
to a birds flight through the air. to a ships track
through the sea, to the bubbles of the brook to
the transitory glare of summer lightning, to the
glimmer of a taper scarce worth shutting out. 1t
is compared to the hollow mummng
of mask, to the unreal mock
cries of the mimic stage, to the phantasm
of a brief, uneasy dream. Poets, mOralists,
philosophers delight, apparently. to speak of
life in that way; and even Christian preachers
have been prone TO speak as il this life of ours
were nothing, and as If death were all. Not so
spake the Savior, and the reason is not far to
seek. All men-poets, mOralists, philosophers and