By Rev. Francis A. Baker
Last Sunday after Pentecost
All flesh is grass, and all the glory thereof as the flower of the field. The grass is withered and the flower is fallen. Isaiah 40:6,7
I
A
It is but a few weeks since you were told that the natural world has lessons of deep spiritual importance to teach us. Our Lord, as we see in the Gospel, sometimes drew the text of His discourse from the flowers of the field, sometimes from the birds of the air; and it must be evident to any reflecting mind that this was not done as a mere exercise of fancy on His part, but was the Divine Interpretation of these messages of love which from the beginning He had commissioned Nature to tell us.
B
Nature, then, is really intended by God to be our Teacher. It is my purpose this morning, to direct your thoughts to one part of its teaching that is, the spiritual instruction suggested to us by the season of Autumn.
II
A
Here, in the Church, where we have always the same doctrines, and the same worship, we might forget how all things without are full of change and decay, were it not that the Church uses Nature as a handmaid, and calls her within the sanctuary to adorn the Altar with her gifts.
B
We miss today the flowers that have been so plentiful all summer, and this tells us what is going on without. The crown of flowers which the Spring brought forth to grace our Easter festival, and which were the truest type of the Resurrection, which made that feast so joyful, have all perished.
C
The rose of Pentecost, the floral wealth of Corpus Christi, the white lily of midsummer, have all gone their way. The glory of Lebanon is departed; the beauty of Carmel and Sharon. In the garden and the field, where so lately there was every kind of fruit and flower that is pleasant to the eye and sweet to the smell or taste there are now but a few dried leaves, and the skeletons of trees and shrubs shaking and rattling in the wind.
D
Nothing green is left except the fir-tree and the box-tree and the pine-tree together, patiently enduring cold and snow so as to be on hand when the Holy Night comes round, and the Heavenly Babe is born, to make his humble home glad and beautiful with their green wreaths and branches.
E
The birds that peopled the woods and made them merry with their music have gone south, leaving their summer home silent and desolate. The days are short. Clouds flit across the sky. The air is strong and keen, and men shut it out and make all warm and snug within.
F
Yes, the little time that has elapsed, since we began to number our Sundays from Easter, has been a full cycle of being in the vegetable world. Spring has given place to summer, and summer to autumn. Seed-time and harvest have followed each other, and now the dreary winter has commenced. The grass is withered and the flower is fallen.
III
A
And what does all this mean to us? I am sure all of you understand it well. This season speaks to us in tones that reach every human heart. It tells us that we are dying. It is strange how slow we are to realize this. I look around this church, and I see many dressed in the dark garments that tell they are mourning for the dead.
B
In what house, indeed, is the family unbroken? Where is there not a vacant seat at the table? Who of us has not lost a friend? And yet we rarely think that we too are soon to follow them. Now, God wishes us to think of this. He tells us of it by our reason.
C
He tells us of it by our vacant hearths and homes; He tells us of it by sermons, and by His word, but, not content with this, He makes the natural world, heir with us of the sentence of mortality, a monitor to us of this great truth. Day unto day utters speech of it, and night unto night shows knowledge of it. (Psalm 19:2)
D
But in certain seasons He tells us of it more distinctly and in a greater variety of ways. Would you know what the Autumn teaches? Hear the Holy Spirit, Himself interpret it: The voice said, cry; and I said, what shall I cry? All Flesh is grass and all its glory as the flower of the field: the grass is withered and the flower is fallen. (1 Peter 1:24) In the morning man shall grow up like the grass; in the evening he shall fall, grow dry and wither. (Psalm 90:6) Man is born of a woman, lives for a short time, and is filled with many miseries. He comes forth as a flower and is destroyed; he flees as a shadow and never continues in the same state. (Job 14:1,2)
E
Oh, do not require God always to speak to you in a voice of thunder: listen to Him when He speaks gently. Open your eyes and ears, and receive instruction from the sights and sounds of Nature. We are dying: the sighing winds tell us so. We are dying: the falling leaf tells us how Death will soon have power over us as a leaf carried away by the wind, and pursue us as a dry straw. (Job 13:25)
F
We are dying: the harvest-man is discharged, so our days are like the days of an hireling, and the end of labor draws nigh. (Job 7:1) We are dying: the short days tell that to us the sun and the light and the moon and the stars will soon be darkened. (Ecclesiastes12:2)
G
We are dying: the earth has already wrapped itself in its winding-sheet of snow, to foretell to us the time when, stiff and cold, we shall be dressed for the grave. We are all dying. Are you young? Well, the young are dying. Life is but a lingering death. As soon as we were born, we began to draw to our end.
H
Every path in life leads straight to the grave. Are you old? Are you sick? Ah! Then, there is a voice within you which repeats the warning from without. You are not as strong and well as you once were. Time was you felt within you a fount of health and strength that defied danger and despised precaution.
I
What a strange, fierce joy it was for you to struggle with the buffetings of the wintry blast! But, somehow, you know not how, either it was an accident or an imprudence, there came over you now and then a pain, a cough, a strange weariness, and the raw wind steals away from your cheek the bloom which once it imparted, and sends a chill to your heart.
J
What does it mean? I will tell you. It is the shadow of mortality. You are dying. Men do not realize this. They do not realize it of themselves, and they do not realize it of others. Death is always a surprise and an accident. It is one of the things in the world on which men do not count.
K
It is something which has nothing to do with us until the doctor stands over us, and says we have but a few days or a few hours to live. We speak of the dead with pity, as if they were the victims of some unlucky chance which we had escaped. This ought not to be so It is appointed for man once to die. (Hebrews 9:27)
L
Because we are living, therefore we must die. Adam in Paradise might have escaped death if he would, but since Adams sin and our loss of integrity, the sentence of death has passed upon all. There is no reflection which a man can make more certainly true than this: I must die. The time is fixed.
M
There shall come to me a day that knows no setting, a night that knows no dawn. The lights shall be lit in the church; the pall spread over the bier; the priest singing Mass at the altar. My body shall lie under that pall, and my name be mentioned in that Mass.
N
From the church my body shall be carried to the grave, and my soul be happy or miserable according to the deeds it has done on earth. I do not know when I shall die. Youth is no protection against death. Health is no protection against death.
O
I do not know where I shall die. No corner of the earth can hide me from His summons. I do not know how I shall die, whether at home, among my friends, with the rites of the Church, with my reason, with a quiet mind or abroad, or suddenly, or without the last sacraments, or with a heavy load of sin on my soul, or in a state of insensibility.
P
All these things are uncertain; this only is certain, that I must die that I must die, that my turn shall come; and others shall speak of me as I speak now of those already dead.
IV
A
But some of you may say, why tell us this? Life is short at the best, why vex ourselves with thinking of that which we cannot prevent. We have got many projects in hand, many pleasures in prospect, and we do not want to paralyze our energies and sadden our days by meditating always on death.
B
No, my brethren, I do not ask you to think of death in order to paralyze your energies, but to direct them aright; not to sadden your days, but make them calm and tranquil. I know that a celebrated modern writer has made it a matter of reproach against Christianity that it sends men to learn the solemn lessons of the grave. But surely this reproach in unreasonable.
C
It cannot be denied that men do die. The earth has already many times seen an entire generation of her inhabitants pass away. There are many more sleeping in the ground than live on its surface. Now, if this be so, if death is an inevitable fact in our history, and a fact on which much depends if this life is not all, but after this life there is an Eternity dependent on our conduct here, it is plain that reason requires us to think of death, and he is foolish who forgets it.
D
Besides, the thought of death is enjoined upon us by the Almighty, as a sure means of salvation: In all thy words remember thy last end, and thou shall never sin. (Ecclesiastics 7:36) And I will say more.
E
The thought of death really contributes to our comfort, because it is the only way of getting rid of the fear of death. Suppose you do refuse to listen to the warnings which Death suggests, are you therefore free from anxiety? Is there no trouble in your conscience? Is there nothing frightful to you in a sleepless night, or a sickbed?
F
Would you hear with equanimity that you had a hopeless disease? No, it is the coward that will not think of death, who all his life through fear of death is subject to slavery. Act like a man. Face this King of Terrors, and you disarm him. His countenance is stern, but his words are kind and friendly.
G
Listen to him, and you will find that he can relax his grim features and smile upon you, and there is nothing can give you such comfort, as for death to come to you with a smiling face. The sting of death is sin: be careful to avoid sin, and then at his coming you can exclaim: O death, where is thy victory! O death where is thy sting! (1 Corinthians 15:55)
V
A
Oh, it is a shame and a disgrace that Christians think so little about death. Why, death is our best friend and our wisest counselor. A London anatomist once placed over his dissecting rooms this inscription: Hic mors juvat succurrere vitae; Here death helps to succor life. You see the meaning.
B
The physician takes a dead body and studies it, spends days and nights over it, repulsive as it is, in order to learn the secrets of the living frame and how to minister to its complaints. So let the Christian look at death and learn from it how to keep his soul in health, how to secure its everlasting life.
C
It is nothing very terrible that death has to tell us now. The time will come, if we refuse to hear him now, when his words will be terrible; but now, though solemn, though calculated to make us serious and thoughtful, they need not make us gloomy. He says, you have a great work to do, and little time to do it in time enough, but none to spare.
D
He says to the young: Look at me, look into my face, and see the value of beauty and of pleasure. He says to the proud: Come and see how kings and beggars lie side by side in my dominion. He says to the covetous: Come, open a grave, and see what a man carries away with him when he dies.
E
And he says to all, you must die alone; what you are, what you have made yourself, so must you appear before God, to receive a just and final sentence. This is the sermon of Death, that he has been preaching from the beginning. It never grows old. It has converted more sinners than all missionaries and preachers by any other means. It has made more saints, induced more to embrace a religious life, sent more souls to heaven than an other sermon ever did.
F
Oh! Death is a great preacher. There is no answer to his reasonings, no escape from his appeal. He speaks not, but his silence is eloquent. He makes no gestures, but that motionless arm of his is more expressive than the most impassioned action.
G
There is a story told of a certain man named Guerrieus, which shows how powerfully death preaches. This man was a Christian, but one who loved the world too well, and one evening he strayed into a church when the monks were singing matins. The hour, the place, all invited to reflection, and as he stood and listened, one of the monks came forth, and in a loud, clear voice sang the lesson of the day.
H
It was as follows: And all the time that Adam lived, came to nine hundred and thirty years, and he died. And Seth lived after he bagat Enos eight hundred and seven years, and all the years of Seth were nine hundred and twelve years, and he died. And Enos begat Cainan. And all the years of Enos were nine hundred and five years, and he died. And all the days of Cainan were nine hundred and ten years, and he died. (Genesis 5:5-9)
I
So it came at the end of every period, the same melancholy cadence, Et mortuus est, and he died. The words rang in the ear of Guerricus. So then, said he, that is the end of all. The longest life ends with that record and he died. So it will one day be said of me. And with this reflection his mind, he went away and distributed his wealth to the poor, commenced a life of mortification and prayer, and began in good earnest to prepare to die.
J
Happy those who after this example are led by the thought of death to enter on a really devout life! They will not be confounded in the evil day. They will not be afraid of any evil things. When the great prophet Elijah was about to leave this world, the sons of the prophets came to tell Elisha of it as a piece of afflicting news, saying: Do you know that the Lord will take away your master from you today? (2 Kings 2:3)
K
And he said: Yes, I know it, hold your peace. So when the good Christians last hour comes on, and sorrowing friends approach his bed to break it to him that he is dying, he can say, Yes, I know it. It is no news to me. I have long known it. I have expected it.
L
Dying, you say. So then, I can exclaim with St. Teresa, The hour is come! the hour I have so long been waiting for, the hour I have labored for, the hour that is to end my exile here, and unite me forever to my Savior and my God!
VI
A
I tried just now to describe to you the desolation that is now spread over the face of Nature; but a few weeks ago the scene was quite different. The fields were laden with a golden harvest, and the husbandman was gathering it in with joy. He knew that winter was coming, and he prepared for it. In the morning he sowed his seed, and in the evening he withheld not his hand. He labored in the chill, uncertain spring, and in the hot day so for summer, and when autumn came, he gathered his fruits into the garner, safe from the frosts of winter.
B
So he who thinks of death makes the most of the spring-time of life, takes care in his youth to plant in his heart the seeds of piety, and to tear up the weeds of vice, guards his soul in the storms of temptation, labors untiringly through the heat and burden of life, and, when his last hour arrives, lies down in peace, confident that he shall enter into those fruits of righteousness which, by patient continuance in well-doing, he has laid up for the time to come.
VII
A
I commend these thoughts to you all, my brethren; but there are some among you to whom I commend them especially, those, namely, who are to die soon. When the captains of Israel were assembled together at Ramoth-Galaad, the messenger of Elisha appeared in their midst and said, I have a message to you, O prince. And they answered, To which one of us all?
B
So I feel this morning as if I had a message to some of you in particular, though I do not know who they are. The message is that which Jeremiah the prophet sent to Hananiah: Thus says the Lord, this year you shall die. (Jeremiah 28:16)
VIII
A
How many of those who were alive a year ago are now dead! How many of those who listen to me now will be dead before another year rolls round! Now, to these persons it is a question of the most pressing urgency, Am I now as I would wish to be when I die?
B
When Death comes, it will not wait because you are laden with sins or unprepared. It will not wait for you to send for the priest or finish your confession, or to receive absolution. At the moment that sentence is given, you must yield up your soul, in whatever state it is. Now, then, is the time to put your house in order.
C
Perhaps you are not a Catholic. You are lingering outside the Church, with misgivings in your heart that only in her fold you can secure your salvation. Will those misgivings help you to die easily? Will those ingenious and far-fetched arguments, by which you fortify yourself against conviction now, give that peace to your soul, which the broad, strong, plain evidence of the Faith imparts to the soul of a Catholic?
D
Would you not like, as you go out of this world, to step on the firm rock of Peter? To go hence with the sign of faith, with the blessing of the Mother of Saints upon you, and the grace of her sacraments within your heart?
IX
Or, you are a Catholic, but a careless one. You have the load of years of sin on your conscience. When you come to die, will you not wish to have those sins blotted out? Will you then forego as you do now those absolving words which our Lord has promised to ratify in heaven? Will you trust all to the uncertain chance of confession in that hour, or to a doubtful contrition?
X
A
Or it is a cloud of venial sins a veil of worldliness, and selfishness, and unfaithfulness, of omissions and neglects, that darkens your soul. Do you wish to die with that veil not taken away? Do you wish to go before God as careless and as sensual as you are now? Are you spending your time as you would wish to spend the last year of your life?
B
Oh! be diligent. The night comes. Work while it is day. Whatever your hand is able to do, do it earnestly; for neither work, nor reason, nor wisdom, nor knowledge shall be in the land of the dead where you are hastening. (Ecclesiastics 9:10) Receive instruction. Be not of the number of those who have foolishly thrown away their salvation.
XI
A
There are stories of mens passing through grave-yards on dark and stormy nights, and hearing dismal sounds, as of a restless and unhappy soul complaining of its torments. You say it is the wind. Suppose it is: may not the wind be speaking for the dead?
B
Is not the earth for the elect? Does not Nature sympathize with man? Does not every creature groan and travail for our redemption? (Romans 8:22) Did not the prophet call upon the fir-trees and the oaks to howl for the destruction of Jerusalem. (Zechariah 11:2)
C
Did not the sun hide its face at the crucifixion of our Lord, and earth tremble under His Cross? And when He comes to judgment will not the stars fall from the sky and the heavens be parted as a scroll? Is it not, then, that instinct of humanity right which has understood the fearful sounds and sights of Nature as Divine utterances pictures and voices of a woe that is unspeakable and indescribable.
D
There is a bird in South America with a cry so melancholy that it is called The Lost Soul. And Nature, that speaks there to the hearts of men by that dismal cry, tells the same story to us by the storm at sea, and the moaning and sighing and shrieking of the wind on a winters night.
E
What troubles you, O sea, tossed and driven with the waves? Let the Scriptures answer. The voice of the Lord is upon the waters, the God of majesty has thundered, the Lord is upon many waters. (Psalm 29:3)
F
Why does the winter come upon us with desolation and storm? Let the Holy Scripture answer again: The vineyard is confounded, and the fig-tree has languished. The pomegranate-tree, and the palm-tree, and the apple-tree, and all the trees of the field shall wither because joy is withdrawn from the children of men. (Joel 1:12)
G
Yes, there are sad things in nature because there is death and reprobation among men. The days grow short out of sorrow for the lost children of God, and the wintry heavens are black with clouds, and winds, and rain, because to many the harvest past, the summer is ended, and they are not saved. (Jeremiah 8:20)