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Page 43
A little light on this subject comes from the faith of the world's
greatest teachers. As there are, now and then, those who see farther
than others with the physical eye, so there have been a few teachers who
have been rightly called seers, because their eyes have penetrated
farther into the mysteries of the universe than have those of their
fellow-men. Among the seers of the ages, I think that the two whom all
would recognize as being pre�minent are Socrates and Jesus--the one the
finest flower of the intellectual development of Greece, and the other
the consummation of the hopes and visions of the most spiritual people
that the world has ever known. Both Socrates and Jesus believed in God,
and both have taught the world, with no uncertain sound, of their faith
in immortal life. The latter was clearly an axiom with Jesus, for He
said to His disciples in effect, "If there had been any question about
it I would have told you;" and almost with his last breath Socrates
compelled his disciples to think of him as immortal, for he told them
that, though his body might be buried anywhere, he defied both friend
and foe to catch his soul. Socrates and Jesus represent the belief of
the world's greatest seers.
The deep and abiding confidence of the teachers, who increasingly
command our admiration as the years go by, is not to be entirely
disregarded. We may care little what those tell us who walk by our sides
in the dark valleys or on the dusty plains; but there are others who
have climbed to the crests of the loftiest mountains, and who have
looked into a world of which we have only dreamed. When they come down
we listen because we know that they have had visions. Even so it is in
our intellectual life. A few men have risen above the common levels of
humanity, as the Alps above the plains of Lombardy. They have spoken
concerning what they have seen. They have had glimpses of God--the soul
of the universe, and of the persistence of individuals in the realm that
lies beyond the grave. I might not let my faith be determined by their
testimony alone, but when what they say is confirmed by many other
voices speaking in the soul, and sounding through the history of the
world, it is easy to believe that they have spoken of things which have
been revealed to them.
Another confirmation of our conviction of the reality of life after
death may be stated as follows: It is not possible for us to think of
the heroes and singers of the ages as having less endurance than the
words which they have uttered and the deeds which they have performed.
Milton's and Shakespeare's bodies have long been dead. The great
dramatist has recorded a dire curse on any one who should move his
bones. In the chancel of the Church of the Holy Trinity at
Stratford-on-Avon those bones are supposed to rest. But the plays that
Shakespeare wrote are still the wonder of the world, and the glory of
the English race. Is it possible to believe that the man was less
enduring than his work? Is it possible to believe that Shakespeare's
plays and Milton's epic will exist, perhaps, for a thousand years, while
the dramatist himself has utterly ceased to be? You open a neglected
drawer of your desk and come suddenly upon a letter written by a friend
of half a century ago; the paper is a little soiled, but as firm as
ever; the ink is hardly faded; the words are all clearly formed and full
of inspiration; and you hold that letter in your hand and ask yourself,
"Was the man who penned these lines less enduring than the paper on
which he wrote, or than the ink with which he wrote?" Such questions are
not arguments, and yet they have the force of arguments. It is not
possible in our better moments to feel that the great and good, by whom
this world has been lifted to its present condition, have gone entirely
into nothingness.
It was said of our Lord, "It was not possible that such a man should be
holden of death." And it is not possible for us to believe, in our
inmost souls, that those who become a part of our being, whose love is
of more value to us than our own lives, whose memory is the dearest
treasure that we possess, by some accident, a taint in the food or the
water, can utterly pass from existence. If it were possible to believe
that, then the most miserable creature on the earth would be man, for he
would know of his greatness, and know also that his greatness is a
mockery and a sham. In hours of doubt, let us lean hard upon the
question, "Is it possible that those with whom we have walked and
worked, conversed and communed, and by whom we have been helped and
blessed, should forever cease to be, while the houses in which they
live, and the tools with which they labor, will endure for generations?"
The soul is full of prophecies. Only as there may be continuance of
being can these prophecies have fulfillment. The feeling of dependence,
the desires for friendship which are never satisfied, the powers of
body and of mind which are capable of a development which they never
receive on earth, are prophecies of a life beyond death. Not the least
among the reasons for our belief that death is not the end of the soul
is the fact that the soul itself is a prophecy of its own immortality.
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