“The Contemplation of Death”

a sermon of Asahel Nettleton (April 21, 1783 - May 16, 1844)

“O that they were wise, that they understood this, that they would consider their latter end!”

Deuteronomy 32:29

Man has a beginning but will never have an end. Though the body will die and return to dust, yet the soul will exist ages without end. Whenever we are called upon to mark the end to which we are hastening, we are to take a serious and solemn view of death with all its consequences. Sometimes the peaceful and happy death of the righteous and the glorious rewards of heaven is the end to which we are pointed by the finger of God. “Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright: for the end of that man is peace.” (Psalm 37:37) Sometimes the unhappy death and everlasting destruction of the finally impenitent is the end which we are called upon seriously to consider. Says the Psalmist, “I was envious at the foolish when I saw the prosperity of the wicked” – until I went into the sanctuary of God; then I understood their end – how they are brought into desolation, as in a moment, whose end is destruction, who are nigh unto cursing, whose end is to be burned. If judgment begins at the house of God, what shall be the end of those that obey not the gospel of God? And if the righteous scarcely be saved, where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear?

Of similar import is the text now under consideration. The Lord had repeatedly warned the rebellious Israelites, but they would not hear. He had announced an awful penalty to His law - a penalty which could not be repealed; and yet they continued to rebel. Notwithstanding the awful end to which they were already exposed by repeated acts of transgression, they continued to make their end still more awful. And, surprising to tell, their sensibility diminished as their danger increased, until the Lord himself exclaimed, “O that they were wise, that they understood this, that they would consider their latter end!”

Our text more than intimates a strong aversion in sinners to a serious consideration of their own death and its consequences. Mankind can converse with much carefulness about the trifles of time – they are wise to plan and active to pursue the business of this world. But few, very few, seem to be laying their plans for and making their calculations for the world to come. At times, however, the thoughts of death and eternity may startle and alarm; while we hear the thunders of God's law or witness our friends in the agonies of death; yet, how soon all is forgotten.

Others there are, who form some faint resolutions to reform or become Christians before they die; but ere one short day or hour is past, all is gone and forgotten. The subject is dismissed – there is time enough, yet, they believe. Death and eternity are now viewed at a distance. But his friends assemble around the sinner – they take him by the hand – they tell him, “You are dying.” Now, for the first time, he begins to feel that he is mortal. All men think all men are mortal – but themselves. But he is too far gone to make preparation. This solemn statement is whispered in his ear as he nears the very threshold of the eternal world. Such is the reluctance of others that they die without uttering a word about their souls. Friends, too, are no less reluctant. All are concerned – all are active – all are anxious for the body; but if anxious for his soul, yet nothing is said – nothing is done.

What reluctance – what backwardness to speak of death and its solemn consequences! Why is it that mankind will not pause and reflect on a subject of such infinite moment? Whatever may be the cause, the fact is obvious. On all other topics, friends and neighbors can meet and converse with ease and interest, but on death, judgment, and eternity have little or nothing to say. The great end for which we came into being must neither be spoken of nor thought of. Here, both the wickedness and folly of sinners are exposed. On all other subjects they seem to have some wisdom and a little understanding, but on this they have neither. “O that they were wise, that they understood this, that they would consider their latter end!”

However reluctant the human heart may be seriously to reflect on death and its consequences, it is yet absolutely indispensable. Otherwise, no preparation will be made. God once commissioned a Prophet to cry in tears to all the world. The evangelical Prophet was sent with this message: “The voice said, Cry. And he said, What shall I cry? All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field: The grass withereth, the flower fadeth: because the spirit of the Lord bloweth upon it: surely the people is grass. The grass withereth, the flower fadeth: but the word of our God shall stand forever.”

Philip, king of Macedonia, employed a crier to call at the door of his bed-chamber every morning, “Philip, remember that thou art mortal.” Were the sinner seriously to reflect upon death, judgment, and eternity for one-half hour every morning and evening, he would soon be astonished at his own stupidity and the folly of thousands around him.

It may be useful to the believer as well as to the unbeliever to become familiar with this subject. “If you cannot face the image, how will you endure the reality.”

“It is better to go to the house of mourning, than to go to the house of feasting: for that is the end of all men, and the living will lay it to his heart.”

The text leads us to contemplate death and its consequences. First, it separates soul and body. The soul is the man – it is the only thing that we have worth an important thought. It dwells in a clay tenement – subject to dissolution. We dwell in houses of clay, our foundation is the dust. They are fearfully and wonderfully made.

“Our life contains a thousand springs,

And dies if one be gone;

Strange, that a harp of a thousand strings,

Would keep in tune so long.”

The body must die and return to the dust. There is no man that hath power over the spirit to retain the spirit; neither hath he power in the day of death; and there is no discharge in that war. The dust returns to the earth as it was, and the soul can no longer keep possession but must return to God who gave it. The soul and the body do not part without a struggle. It is a solemn thing to die. Aside from its consequences, it is in itself solemn. Hence, it is called the king of terrors. What it is to endure the pangs of death we cannot tell. Some, in the hour of death, have told us that it is more solemn than they had ever before imagined – that they had always considered it a very solemn thing to die, but now it appeared indescribably more solemn than ever. But after all that the dying have told, they have never in a single instance told us all. No one has ever returned to describe the last struggle and pang of separation. Death is an untried scene to all of the living. Notwithstanding, so many have died in our world and so many are daily and hourly dying around us; yet, when our turn comes it will be all new to us. Though we may have seen many in the agonies of death, yet when our time comes we shall then feel as we have never felt before. And so death will always continue to be new to all who shall die. It will be as new to the last who shall die upon this earth as it was to Abel, the first who gave up the ghost.

Secondly, death dissolves all earthly relations. We have tender connections – near and dear relatives. But all of these connections must be dissolved. No ties of kindred blood, love, and affection are regarded by this king of terrors. When he calls, the nearest relations must part – the dearest earthly ties are broken. The husband is a husband no more. The wife is a wife no more. The parent is a parent no more. The child is a child no more. The brother is a brother no more. The sister is a sister no more. The pastor and his people must part.

Thirdly, death strips us of all of our possessions. Those having large possessions of earthly wealth – houses and lands – silver and gold and merchandise – gone. And all who have much goods laid up for many years, and are now laying up treasures on earth must obey the summons of the king of terrors.

“Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee. Riches profit not in the day of wrath.” He is relieved of his possessions at once. He is now reduced to a coffin and a grave. “We brought nothing into this world, and it is certain that we can carry nothing out. As he came into the world, naked shall he return to go as he came, and shall take nothing of his labour, which he may carry away in his hand.”

Death strips all of their tiles – dissolves kings and emperors. All must lay themselves in the dust.

Princes, this clay must be your bed,

In spite of all your towers,

The tall, the wise, the reverend head,

Must lie as low as ours.

Visit the land of darkness and on whom do you tread? The mighty man, and the man of war; the Judge and the Prophet, and the prudent, and the ancient, the captain of fifty, and the honorable man, and the counselor, and the cunning artificer, and the eloquent orator. The grave hath enlarged herself and opened her mouth without measure, and the glory of the nations, and their multitude, and their pomp have descended into it. Man that is born of a woman is of few days and full of trouble. Man dieth and is wasted away; yea, man giveth up the ghost and where is he?

Fourthly, death breaks up all of our earthly plans. All of our worldly schemes are laid to waste, at once. The worldling, the covetous, and the man of pleasure must stop their calculations. Their purposes are broken off. The rich man says,

“I will pull down my barns and build greater; and there will I bestow all my fruits and my goods. And I will say to m soul, Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years; take thine ease – eat, drink, and be merry.”

But death breaks into his plans. God says,

“Thou fool, this day thy soul shall be required of thee.”

The happy and the thoughtless youth is flattering himself with future scenes of happiness on earth, but suddenly the stroke of death ends all forever. All of our schemes and plans for doing good, however wise and pious and benevolent, are now come to an end.

“Also their love, and their hatred, and their envy is now perished, neither have they any more a portion forever in anything that is done under the sun. Whatsoever thine hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might; for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom in the grave, whither thou goest.”

Fifthly, death puts a period to our probation, and any possibility of our salvation. This is not our home. The great errand on which we were sent into this world is to prepare for eternity. It is now the season of trial – the most important that we shall ever witness during the period of our earthly existence. Every act of ours will have some influence upon us through interminable ages. To every soul, God has assigned a great and important work. All things are now ripening for the day when God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret revealed. The gates of heaven are now standing wide open to sinners under the gospel. Heaven with all its glories is now brought within his reach.

At this critical moment, the world is presenting all of its charms. The path to hell is broad, and of easy and rapid descent. The lusts of the flesh, the lusts of the eyes, and the pride of life are laid out before you, and all of the fascinating pleasures of sin are now exerting their united influence to try your immortal soul, whether it will yield and go to hell, or, whether it will resist, deny itself, and take up the cross, despising the shame. Every hour and every moment is big with consequences. Characters are rapidly forming. The season of trial is short. It is never to be enjoyed but once. Eternity is written on the wings of every moment. Every sinner is now on trial – once and for all. He is now invited by all of the charms of a bleeding Saviour, urged by all of the horrors of the second death to enter into the ark of safety. He is now called upon to strive and agonize to enter heaven. But death closes the scene forever.

“At midnight the cry is made, Behold, the bridegroom cometh, go ye out to meet him.”

Then those that are ready enter into heaven and the door is shut. To the impenitent, death closes the door to heaven. It closes it forever. The voice of the Saviour and the sound of the gospel will be heard no more. Ministers will preach and pray no more. No more will they warn every man night and day with tears. The sinner will never again be disturbed by the sound of the gospel. No Sabbath will ever again dawn upon his guilty head. The doors of the sanctuary will never again be opened and the voice from the mercy seat inviting him to enter will be heard no more.

“The sacred temple's sounding roof,

The voice of mercy and reproof,

Regarded never”

…will lie heard no more, forever.

Sixthly, death seals up your account to the judgment.

“It is appointed unto all men once to die, and after this the judgment.”

At that solemn hour all the duties of religion neglected, all the sins which have been committed, and unpardoned, will remain unpardoned. At death our work for eternity is ended. The account is gone in – it is sealed up – it cannot be altered. At death every thing begins to put on eternity and to wear the aspect of immutability. Now a voice from heaven hath pronounced:

“He that is unjust, let him be unjust still; and he which is filthy, let him be filthy still; and he that is righteous, let him be righteous still; and he that is holy, let him be holy still.”

Thus I have attempted to lead your thoughts to the consideration of a few particulars connected with the closing scene of human life. Death separates soul and body. It dissolves all earthly relations. It strips us of all our possessions. It breaks up all of our earthly plans. It puts a period to our probation. Death seals up our account to the judgment.

I have been preparing the way to address a few words to these bereaved mourners. To the parents, the partner, the brothers and sisters of the deceased, my friends, you have been called to witness the solemn scene which I have faintly described. Your beloved is no more. But a few days since you beheld that sprightly and active loved one – blooming with rosy health. But the fairest specimen of the human form is like the fading flower.

“Man that is born of woman is of few days, and full of trouble. He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down; he fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not.”

You followed – you saw your beloved enter the dark valley – and there the spirit took its flight to the unknown world. Eyes now closed in the wakeless sleep of death – until the heavens be no more and never to awake nor be raised out of that sleep. Death hath now dissolved your relationship forever. By weeping, you cannot bring your beloved back again. You must go to your beloved, but your beloved shall never again come to you.

When our friends die, our duty to them is ended; it remains for the living to lay it to his heart. Fail not to bring this warning home to your houses and your hearts. Now the streams of earthly comforts begin to fail, so set your affections on the things above, not on the things on this earth. And when Christ Jesus, who is life, shall appear, then shall ye also appear with Him in glory.

My fellow mortals – it is a solemn thing to die. When I look around this assembly, I see none but those who will and must die. Though death now appears to be solemn, yet bye and bye it will appear more solemn than ever. These mortal bodies on which you most fondly dote will soon fade and die. Your friends will assemble around you, and take you by the hand and tell you, “You are dying.” O, how will you then feel.

All earthly relations in this house will soon be dissolved. Husbands and wives, parents and children, brothers and sisters – you must all bow to the king of terrors. As the nations which have gone before us are all sleeping in the dust and the living walk over them; so shortly our bodies will all lie in the grave and the living shall walk over us. What a solemn sound when others hear your name announced as dead! Shall it then strike on the ear of your thoughtless friends and family? Yet, so shall it be shortly said of each one of us. The living will call us all by name, one after another. He is dead – she is dead – and we shall all be forgotten among the living. And the places which now know us will know us no more forever.

There is something solemn in the close of a day – of a week – of a month – of a year. Today is the last Sabbath and the last day of the year 1837. We now stand, as it were, on an eminence, between the grand division of time. Here, let us pause and take a retrospective glance at the year that is gone. Let us each one ask himself, what report has it borne to heaven? According to the course of events thousands and millions of our fellow travelers have gone to their long home. Many of them entered on the year that is past with blooming health, and the brightest of earthly prospects – and where are they now? Some with whom we took sweet counsel and walked to the house of God in company – and where are they now?

“The mighty flood, that rolls along,

Its torrents to the main,

The waters lost can ne'er recall,

From that abyss again.

The days, the years, the ages dark,

Descending down to night,

Can never, never be redeemed,

Back to the gates of light.

Where are our fathers? Whither gone,

The mighty dead of old?

The patriarchs, prophets, princes, kings,

In sacred books enrolled?

Gone to the resting place of man,

His long, his silent home;

Where ages past have gone before,

Where future ages come.”

Had you been among that number where would your soul have been? Let me ask: Have you repented of your sins and made your peace with God?

One year more is gone out of your day of salvation – one year more you have enjoyed the privileges of the gospel. One year more God has been waiting to be gracious. The sins of one year more you have to answer for at the bar of God. One year less to live – one year nearer the grave, and to the judgment seat of Christ Jesus, and where are you now? One year more you have stood as a barren fig tree in God's vineyard. The voice of mercy: “Spare it a little longer” has prevailed for one year more. But that voice is waning feebler and feebler, while the voice of justice is waxing louder and louder,

“Cut it down, why cumbereth it the ground.”

“Today attend His gracious voice,

This is the summons that He sends;

Awake, for on this transient hour,

Thy long eternity depends.”