of the personal life be
restored.

The most momentous question which the dying can ask, or which the
living can ask in the prospect of death, is, "If a man die, shall he
live again?" does he all die? and does he die forever? There is a
terrible doubt in the human heart that it may be so; and there have
never been wanting teachers who have turned this doubt into a dogma.
They hold that mind is only a form or a function of matter, and that,
therefore, in the dissolution of the bodily materials, man dissolves
and mixes with the material universe. Others, while holding fast the
distinction between mind and matter, have taught that, as the body
returns to the dust, the mind returns to the ocean of being, in which
its personality is lost, as the drop is in the sea, and there can be no
reunion. There is, however, something high and sacred within us that
rebels against these doctrines; and the best teachers of the race have
encouraged us to hope for something better. Still, their assurances
have been hesitating and their own faith obscure. It is to Christ we
have to go: He has the words of eternal life. He spoke on this subject
without hesitation or obscurity; and His dying word proves that He
believed for Himself what He taught to others. Not only, however, has
He by His teaching brought life and immortality to light: He is Himself
the guarantee of the doctrine; for He is our immortal life. Because we
are united to Him we know we can never perish; nothing, not even death,
can separate us from His love; "Because I live," He has said, "ye shall
live also."

It may be that in a very literal sense we have in the study of this
sentence been learning the art of dying: these may be our own dying
words. They have been the dying words of many. When John Huss was
being led to execution, there was stuck on his head a paper cap,
scrawled over with pictures of devils, to whom the wretched priests by
whom he was surrounded consigned his soul; but again and again he
cried, "Father, into Thy hands I commend my spirit." These were also
the last words of Polycarp, of Jerome of Prague, of Luther, of
Melanchthon, and of many others. Who could wish his spirit to be
carried away to God in a more glorious vehicle? But, whether or not we
may use this prayer in death, let us diligently make use of it in life.
Close not the book without breathing, "Father, into Thy hands I commend
my spirit."

[1] "Father, into Thy hands I commend