y summits where no
creature can live. Perhaps there is land on the other side; who knows?
The pale barrier separates all here from all there; we know not what may
be on the other side. Only we feel that the journey is long and chill,
that the ice and the barren stone appal, and that we never can carry our
household goods, our tools, or our wealth with us up to the black jaws
of the pass.
But for this man the Alps were tunnelled. There was no interruption in
his progress. He would go, he believed, without 'break of gauge,' and
would pass through the darkness, scarcely knowing when it came, and
certainly unchecked for even a moment, right on to the other side where
he would come out, as travellers to Italy do, to fairer plains and bluer
skies, to richer harvests and a warmer sun. No jolt, no pause, no
momentary suspension of consciousness, no reversal, nor even
interruption in his activity, did Paul expect death to bring him, but
only continuance and increase of all that was essential to his life.
He has calmness in his confidence. There is nothing hysterical or
overwrought or morbid in these brief words, so peaceful in their trust,
so moderate and restrained in their rapture. Are our anticipations of
the future moulded on such a pattern? Do we think of it as quietly as
this man did? Are we as tranquilly sure about it? Is there as little
mist of uncertainty about the clearly defined image to our eye as there
was to his? Is our confidence so profound that these brief monosyllables
are enough to state it? Above all, do we know that to die will be gain,
because we can honestly say that to live is Christ? If so, our hope is
valid, and will not yield when we lean heavily upon it for support in
the ford over the black stream. If our hope is built on anything
besides, it will snap then like a rotten pole, and leave us to stumble
helpless among the slippery stones and the icy torrent.
II. The second movement of thought here, which troubles and complicates
this simple decision, as to what is the best for Paul himself, is the
hesitation springing from the wish to help his brethren.
As we said, no man has a right to forget others in settling the question
whether he would live or die. We see the Apostle here brought to a stand
by two conflicting currents of feelings. For himself he would gladly
go, for his friends' sake he is drawn to the opposite choice. He has
'fallen into a place where two seas meet,' and for a minute or tw
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