know, that we must die. But, "if a man die, shall he live again?" Shall he return again to his house? Shall he revisit his friends on earth? Shall the eyes, that have seen him, see him here again; and the ears, that have heard him, be again delighted with the sound of his voice? Shall his cold bosom be again warmed with the gentle current of life? Shall his nerveless arm, already mouldering into dust, again resume its wonted strength? Shall he come forth from the tomb, with new life, and wipe away the tears of bereaved friendship? "There is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout again; and that the tender branch thereof will not cease. Though the root thereof wax old in the earth, and the stock thereof die in the ground; yet through the scent of water, it will bud, and bring forth boughs, like a plant. But man dieth and wasteth away; yea, man giveth up the ghost, and where is he?" Where is he? Gone! gone to return no more! gone to that country, whence no traveller returns! He shall return no more to his house; neither shall his place know him any more. He is cut off forever, from all earthly objects and earthly pursuits. The voice of weeping friends cannot call him back; neither can any, by any means, redeem his brother from death, nor give to God a ransom for him, that he should be liberated from the grave, and not see corruption.

Thus is it certain, not only, that we shall die, but that death will close forever our earthly existence. Thus far knowledge extends; and here scepticism itself is compelled to be silent.

Still, however, the question returns upon us; and returns with increasing interest: "If a man die, shall he live again?" Is this world the only stage of human action, or shall we hereafter pass through new and untried scenes? Is death an everlasting sleep, or will

our minds exist after the dissolution of the body? Will our conscious existence end in time, or will our powers and susceptibilities continue with eternity?

In answer to these inquiries, reason can do but little. The answer falls not within the limits of human knowledge. It lies altogether beyond the reach of experience and observation. The grave covers it with the blackness of impenetrable darkness. The subject is properly a matter of pure revelation; and the assent of the understanding to any proposition concerning it, is in strict propriety of language an act of faith. By some, therefore, it is said, that we should never attempt to reason on the subject. And it must be admitted, that a practical and experimental believer in Christianity; a real, well-established Christian, needs not the feeble arguments, drawn from analogy, to strengthen his faith, encourage his hope and urge him forward in the path of duty, and in the way which leadeth to everlasting life. Such faith is sufficient of itself, to overcome the world and lead to heaven. Such hope purifieth the heart; and is an anchor to the soul, sure and steadfast. But since all have not this established faith and elevating hope; since some will indulge themselves in speculations beyond the limits of inductive reasoning, and follow the phantoms of slight analogy into the regions of scepticism; since many, who are professedly inquiring after truth, have suffered themselves to be perplexed by objections, founded on human ignorance, and have followed the flights of fancy and the wanderings of imagination, till their minds have become bewildered in a labyrinth of their own creation, and harassed with doubts which have no solid foundation; it becomes us to pursue them, and call them back to sober reason; to resort to the very

source of these objections and doubts, and attempt their removal.

In the few remarks which I have to make in answer to the inquiry, expressed in the words of the text, the subject of the immortality of the soul will be kept as distinct as possible from that of the resurrection of the body, and from all inquiries concerning the nature and essence and peculiar properties of what an inspired apostle denominates "a spiritual body."

When we look immediately on death, it appears to be the end of man. What can you behold in a pale corpse, which in the smallest degree indicates future life? The eye is closed; the arm is nerveless; the blood ceases to circulate; the heart no longer beats; the breath has departed out of the nostrils; and the bosom is cold, as the clod of the valley. That corporeal frame, which a little while ago was vigorous and active, is now destitute of vital heat, of animal life, of sensitive and intellectual power. Perception, reflection and all the mental faculties, seem to have expired with the cessation of the bodily functions. Nothing remains in our view, but a lump of matter, already crumbling into dust. Thus death, at first sight, appears to be the end of man. But a moment's reflection will remove this first impression, and give a new aspect to this dreary scene. We should remember, that the nature and properties of matter and mind are entirely distinct and altogether different from each other; that the changes in the one, therefore, give us no clue from analogy, by which to discover the effects of death on the other. The human body is a compound substance; and its constituent parts are in a state of constant fluctuation. Observation and experiment prove, that the matter, which constitutes our

bodies, is at no two periods the same. Particles are constantly passing from us; and others, in succession, supply their places, from the air we inhale, from the liquids we drink, from the vegetables and animals on which we feed. Thus probably a very small portion of that matter, which went to constitute our bodies ten years ago, is now a constituent part of these organized frames. Yet what we call self still remains; and we consider ourselves, as the same persons, amidst all this fluctuation and material change. If, then, the body of a man may be gradually changed, while his personality or conscious being remains identically the same; why may not the whole body be taken away at once by death, and still this self, this conscious being continue in existence, undisturbed and unchanged?

Nor can any objection of materialists diminish the force of this consideration. Should they affirm, that personal, or mental identity depends not on the existence of anything spiritual in man, but simply on the continuance of the same organization of the body; our answer would be, that this organization may be disturbed and portions of it entirely destroyed, without any diminution of the powers and energies of the mind; or on the other hand, all the phenomena of mind may be concealed from our view, without any change or diminution of bodily organization; a leg, an arm, indeed, any part of this organized frame, which is not essential to animal life, and therefore to constitute the connecting link between soul and body, may be taken away without injury to the mental faculties.

Should they plunge even deeper into the dark recesses of human ignorance, and rest their objection on a foundation entirely unseen, and altogether beyond the reach of observation in the living subject; should they make the existence of the conscious being depend

solely on the organization of the brain; our answer would be as broad, and as deep as the objection, and certainly not more presumptuous; we should say, that death may be produced without any apparent derangement of this organization. The truth is, (as far as we can observe, and as far as we are authorized to make any statement on the subject,) that this organization is necessary for the manifestation of the intellectual powers and operations to the senses. But this by no means proves or implies, that it is necessary to the existence, or to the most perfect operations of the reflective powers of the mind.

Should they, however, still pursue this strain of objections, founded on ignorance; and ask what idea we can form of spirit distinct from matter, of a mind without an organized frame, of a soul without a body; our answer would be prompt and obvious; and, to every one, accustomed to the process of analytical investigation, it must be satisfactory. We should We should say, that our ideas of material and immaterial substance, of matter and spirit, of soul and body, are equally clear, and acquired in precisely the same manner, by observation external and internal, by sensation and reflection. Both are known to us by their properties only. By sensation we discover the properties of matter, and hence conclude, that there must be some substratum, in which they coëxist. By reflection we discern the properties of spirit; and hence infer, that there must be some spiritual being, in which they are united. The ideas of matter and of mind, therefore, are implied ideas, necessary ideas; or, as Cousin would say, logical ideas. They arise spontaneously, as we take notice of the combined properties of each, and feel the necessity of some combining influence, some nexus to hold them together. The propositions, then, which affirm their existence