The apparition of death is the conductor by which my
spiritual eye passes over to the new life of myself, and of a Nature
for me.
Every one of my kind who passes from earthly connections, and who
cannot, to my spirit, seem annihilated, because he is one of my kind,
draws my thought over with him. He still is, and to him belongs a
place.
While we, here below, sorrow for him with such sorrow as would be
felt, if possible, in the dull kingdom of unconsciousness, when a
human being withdraws himself from thence to the light of earth's
sun--while we so mourn, on yonder side there is joy because a man is
born into their world; as we citizens of earth receive with joy our
own. When I, some time, shall follow them, there will be for me only
joy; for sorrow remains behind, in the sphere which I quit.
It vanishes and sinks before my gaze--the world which I so lately
admired. With all the fulness of life, of order, of increase, which
I behold in it, it is but the curtain by which an infinitely more
perfect world is concealed from me. It is but the germ out of which
that infinitely more perfect shall unfold itself. My faith enters
behind this curtain, and warms and quickens this germ. It sees nothing
definite, but expects more than it can grasp here below, than it will
ever be able to grasp in time.
So I live and so I am; and so I am unchangeable, firm and complete
for all eternity.
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