Part 5 (2/2)

Oh, to have no Christ, no Saviour, How lonely life must be!

Like a sailor lost and driven On a wide and sh.o.r.eless sea.

Oh, to have no Christ, no Saviour, No hand to clasp thine own!

Through the dark, dark vale of shadows Thou must press thy way alone.

--_W. O. Cus.h.i.+ng_

But what a blessing and comfort it is for those who know Christ as Saviour and Comforter, to have the a.s.surance that in that last hour of life He is by their side to guide them. It was doubtless this thought of the presence of Christ that comforted Tennyson when he wrote the words of that beautiful poem:

Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me!

And, may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea.

Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark!

And, may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark;

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crossed the bar.

--_Alfred Tennyson_

Some one has called the fourth verse of the Psalm a song of the waters.

Did you ever hear singing on the water? There is something wonderful about it. The water seems to take all harshness out of the music, and puts something exquisitely beautiful into it. Here then is ”a psalm of the waters,” a song for the believer to sing when his feet are touching the margin of the river: ”When thou pa.s.sest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee....

For I am the +LORD+ thy G.o.d.”

Here, too, is ”a song in the night.” Sing it, Christian pilgrim, when earth's last hour is at hand. Sing it as you enter the valley. Sing it as the darkness deepens. Sing it when the light of earth's day begins to fade. Sing it when the earth is receding, heaven is opening and G.o.d is calling you. Sing it until the glory of the eternal morn breaks upon thine enraptured vision. Sing it until your feet stand upon that golden sh.o.r.e against which death's chilly wave never again shall dash, and where death is no more. Sing it, sing this song of the waters--”Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”

Why be afraid of Death as though your life were breath!

Death but anoints your eyes with clay. Oh glad surprise!

Why should you be forlorn? Death only husks the corn.

Why should you fear to meet the thresher of the wheat?

Is sleep a thing to dread? Yet sleeping, you are dead Till you awake and rise, here, or beyond the skies.

Why should it be a wrench, to leave your wooden bench?

Why not with happy shout run home when school is out?

The dear ones left behind? O foolish one and blind.

A day--and you will meet--a night--and you will greet!

This is the death of Death, to breathe away a breath, And know the end of strife and taste the deathless life.

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