IV.

CHRIST THE KEYHOLDER OF THE ETERNAL

WORLD.

"Fear not ;" "I am he that liveth, and was dead; and, behold, I am alive for evermore, Amen, and have the keys of hell and of death."-REV. I. 17, 18.

VERY clause of this sublime declaration, coming as

it does from our glorified Redeemer, is pregnant with assurance and consolation to his believing people, and is specially fitted to banish those fearful and anxious forebodings which oppress their minds in the prospect of dissolution.

“I am he that liveth," or rather, "I am THE LIVING ONE," the first and the last, without beginning of days. or end of years, self-existent, and, therefore, independent of every outward condition, and incapable of change. He asserts his supreme divinity as a reason why his disciples should "not fear;" and, surely, to every Christian mind, the fact, that the Son of Man, in whom they have trusted as their Saviour, is "the Living One," may well furnish a ground of unshaken confidence, since it assures us, that, happen what may, our trust is reposed on one, whose existence, and whose power to affect our welfare, cannot be destroyed by any event whatever, and that our interests for eternity are absolutely safe, being placed in his hands.

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But how much greater ought to be our confidence in him, and how much sweeter the consolation which his words impart, when he adds, "I WAS DEAD." He appears to the Apostle not simply as "the Living One,” the self-existent Son of God, but as God manifested in the flesh, the Son of God in human nature, and even in his glorified state, "like unto the Son of Man," whom the beloved disciple had ofttimes seen and followed as the "man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief." Let us attempt to conceive of the feelings with which the beloved disciple must have looked on his glorified Master; let us remember that he had companied with him on earth, that he had leaned upon his bosom, and that he knew the sad history of his crucifixion, and we cannot fail to perceive how the mere fact, that the same divine Redeemer now stood before him, and spoke with him of the decease which he had accomplished at Jerusalem, must have served to annihilate in the mind-of the Apostle the fear of death, and to open up to his view such a glorious prospect into the invisible world, as would strip the pathway that led to heaven of its terrors, however dark and dismal it might otherwise be.

And to every Christian, the words of our Lord, «1 was dead," will suggest reflections that should serve to fortify the mind against the fear of dissolution; or, at all events, to rebuke and mitigate the aversion with which it is usually contemplated.

Did the Redeemer die,-a Being who claims to himself the dignity of the Living One,"-a Being not

only of infinite dignity, but of spotless purity, and who, from the beginning till the end of his existence on earth, was the object of God's supreme complacency and approbation? And shall we complain that death is allotted as our portion also? we, who, as created beings, are insignificant,—by inheritance, mortal,-by actual guilt, polluted and debased? To us, death comes as wages earned by guilt; but even were it otherwise,-did death come to us as an accident of our being, how should we complain of the hardness of our lot, when Christ himself declares, "I was dead?"

Did the Redeemer die,-as the surety and representa tive of sinners? was his death a solemn expiation of our guilt, and an adequate satisfaction to God for the penalty which we had incurred? Is there no reason, then, to suppose, that dying, as he did, in the room and on behalf of the guilty, death met him in a more formidable shape, and put into his hands a bitterer cup than can now fall to the lot of any of his people; and that their dissolution will be greatly less terrible than it would have been by reason of his enduring in their room the heaviest part of it? For what is it that mainly embitters death, and surrounds it, even when viewed at a distance, with innumerable terrors? Not surely the mere pain with which it is accompanied,-for equal or greater pain we have often endured-not the mere dissolution of the tie betwixt soul and body,-for if that were all, however our sensitive nature might shrink from the shock, our rational nature might enable us to

regard it with composure,-not the mere separation from the society and business of the present world,-for that, however it may awaken a feeling of melancholy regret, can hardly account for the forebodings and terrors of which every mind is more or less conscious when it contemplates death. No; it is something more than the mere pain of dying, or the mere dissolving of the elements of our being, or the mere separation from this world, that embitters the cup of death. "The sting of death is sin,”—the same sin which gave us over as a prey to death, makes us also slaves to the fear of death; for, by the unvarying law of conscience, sin and fear are bound up together; and it is a conscience burdened with guilt, and apprehensive of punishment, which, in our case, arrays death with terrors unknown to the inferior and irresponsible creation. But Christ died to expiate and cancel the guilt of his people; he has already endured, and by enduring, has taken away the penalty of their transgression; death remains, but its sting is taken away; so that we may "thank God, who hath given us the victory through Jesus Christ our Lord," and may exclaim with the Apostle, "Oh! death, where is now thy sting,-Oh! grave, where is thy victory?"

Did the Redeemer die,-that he might show us an example of suffering affliction with patience, and be to us a pattern of faith and hope in our last extremity? And is there no consolation in the thought, that when we reach the shore of that dark water which divides

time and eternity, we can fix our eye on one who, for our sakes, crossed it in triumph before us; and think of the love of our Redeemer, who, in compassion to our fears, became "bone of our bone, and flesh of our flesh," that, by his own example, he might teach us how to die? Had he returned from earth to heaven in triumph; had he avoided the dark valley himself, and, summoning his legions of angels, left the world by a direct ascension to glory, then, whatever lessons he might have taught, and whatever commands and encouragements he might have addressed to his followers, respecting their conduct in that last hour of darkness and distress, his instructions would have had little effect in comparison with the charm of his example, when, .placing himself in their circumstances, and submitting to their fate, he "bowed his head and gave up the ghost ;" and met death, as he commands his people to meet it, in the exercise of an unshaken confidence in God, and humble submission to his will. Where shall we find such another example of holy fortitude for our imitation? where such another instance of success for our encouragement?

Did the Redeemer die,—that he might not only deprive death of its sting, but overcome him that had the power of death, and take it into his own hands? Let us, then, rejoice in his success; for once Satan had the power of death, but Christ hath "carried captivity captive," and "Satan hath fallen before him as lightning from heaven." In that hour, which he did himself emphatically call the hour and the power of darkness,"