like one of us? Thy pomp is brought down to the grave, and the noise of thy viols: the worm is spread under thee, and the worms cover thee. How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! how art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations.”—The whole tenor of this passage shows that the dead knew who he was. They recognized him as the king of Babylon, and address him as a king. He, as a king, is represented as being received with pomp by the "chief ones of the earth" who knew him before. The other kings there are represented as still upon their thrones, and as rising up to meet him. They address him with a kind of taunting irony, reminding him that his pride and glory is departed, and that he, like them, has become weak and a fellow of worms, in the dreary regions of the dead. All this shows that there was here a mutual recognition.

This scene, it is true, is among the lost; for, although Sheol does only mean the region of the dead in general, yet here its meaning is made definite by the context, in which the character of this king is represented as wicked --he is also received by hell" from beneath," and is said to have "fallen from heaven." Its force, however, as a proof that the prophets at this time believed in future recognition, is not weakened by this fact. For we might insist, by way of inference, that the ties which bind the wicked together cannot be stronger and more perpetual than those which unite the saints; and if the former stretch unbroken across the grave, why not the latter? Without, however, insisting upon this inference, we may remark that we see a great deal more force in the fact, that this passage exhibits the dead in general as continuing still in the same stations, and as having the same

habits, dispositions, and characters, as they had here on earth. In this passage, the general features of human life, and human society, are carried over the grave, and are represented as still existing there under the same general type. Hence the dead know and are known, recognize and are recognized, by the same marks of identity and difference, as here on earth. The whole scene in this picture is of earthly imagery, only covered over with a thin and semi-transparent veil of mystery, with which our mind naturally covers the somewhat awful abodes of the dead. Hence, in the shades, or in the mysterious world of the departed, this passage still discovers the continuation of the social life of earth in its general features. Kings are still known and recognized as kings, great ones as great ones, and friends as friends.

This same view of the spirit-world continued common among the Jews, and manifested itself on various occasions in the days of our Saviour. The patriarchs are spoken of as sitting in the kingdom of heaven, and others are represented as being gathered to them, and as sitting down with them. The question of the Sadducees, as to whose wife she should be, who had been the wife of seven, shows that the Jews then believed that the ties of earth would continue; for though the Sadducees themselves did not believe in a resurrection and in another life, yet they knew that the other Jews did; and for this reason they supposed that this question would trouble them. Had the Jews not believed that knowledge of each other would exist in heaven, the Sadducees could not have supposed that this question would cause any difficulty.

All this shows most clearly that, as exhibited in these allusions, it was a common sentiment among the Jews,

that society in the future life would exhibit essentially the same features as here on earth-that habits, dispositions, character, and station, would there be discoverable as here and that, consequently, all who had known each other on earth, would there be able to recognize each other by the same marks and signs which distinguished them in this world. In this sense the passage under consideration, independent of the inference alluded to, affords a strong, yea, a conclusive proof, that the Jews believed in a general mutual recognition of each other in a future life.

The Jews, living in the childhood of the world, when imagination and hope were stronger than reason and clear understanding, must have found this doctrine peculiarly precious and consoling. Experience and observation prove that, even now, among simple-hearted peasants, whose minds are less critical and less logical than the minds of those who live in the light of science, the memory of the departed is cherished with more tenderness and less interruption. We do not mean that they believe more, or more firmly, but that they doubt less. With what pious and implicit faith is this doctrine now held, where there is not ability to offer one reason for it, in the peaceful tents of humble life! Around many a green country grave-yard it clusters with its blessed hopes and consolations, and is as fresh and living in the hearts of mourners, as the green grass and wild flowers that grow in peace together there. There no speculative doubts arise. There faith rests, not upon reason, but upon a sweet unquestioned tradition, too innocent and too much in accordance with unsophisticated and instinctive nature, to be assailed by such as love to doubt. Their love for the dead is quite too

childlike to be disturbed by thoughts either right or wrong, They love their dear departed ones with that love which believeth all things, hopeth all things, and never faileth.

This was precisely the condition of the Old Testament saints. They were children in knowledge, in thoughts, feelings, manners, hopes, and affections. Hence we have such tender and moving instances of lovely grief for the dead recorded in the Bible. The family feeling was strong and sacred; and they felt that those who, year by year, dropped away from the circle of their love, were not lost but gone before. By a holy and affectionate instinct which, cultivated by revelation, grew gradually more and more into a clear faith, they felt constrained to cherish their memory, in the sweet and comforting hope of reunion with them in the life everlasting.

CHAPTER VI.

Beavenly Recognition in the Teachings of Christ.

When sorrowing o'er some stone I bend,

Which covers all that was a friend,

And from his voice, his hand, his smile,
Divides me for a little while;

Thou, Saviour, seest the tears I shed,

For thou didst weep o'er Lazarus dead.

THE direct object of our Saviour's mission into the world was to reveal God's will, to bring to men life and salvation, and thus to repair upon earth the ruins of the fall. Intent upon this object, He was concerned and employed rather with men's duties upon the earth, than with their privileges in heaven. Although what He did and said was designed in the final issue to bear upon the heavenly kingdom, yet His first and immediate aim was the establishment of a kingdom upon the earth. He did not therefore speak so largely and directly of the heavenly world, no doubt because He thought it not fit unduly to crowd the future into the present. He could have said much of the glory which surrounded Him above, and which is waiting for the saints, but that was to be revealed to them more fully in its time, while as yet His great mission, and their most urgent duty, was to secure for them a clear and sure title to the heavenly blessedness.