and rebuilt and moulded into a new and perfect form. In the laboratory of Faraday, the great chemist, a man accidentally knocked a silver cup into a jar of acid. The cup was consumed by the powerful solution. When Faraday, that stalwart confessor of Christ, heard of the disappearance of the cup, he threw some chem icals into the acid. Soon the dissolved particles of sil ver were precipitated, the metal was reclaimed, sent to a silversmith and recast into a graceful cup. My friends, if a chemist can perform this miracle of reconstruction, surely Almighty God will be able to gather the particles of our bodies, though they be scat tered to the four winds, and change that which was sown a natural body into a body glorious in beauty and power-even like unto His glorious body. Here is our Lord’s own promise: “Because I live, ye shall live also.” D. L. Moody once said, “Some day you wM read the papers that D. L. Moody is dead. Don’t you believe a word of it. Right then I will be more alive than I ever was down here.” And some day you may read the news that Louis T. Talbot is dead. No, my friends, I will not be dead, either; I will be alive forevermore. T he B lessed A ssurance of C onformity to C hrist ’ s I mage Again we look at another powerful verse, “Beloved, now aré we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is" (1 John 3:2). To be conformed to the image of God’s Son is the destiny of every child of God. When the son of the Duke of Hamlin lay dying, and dying triumphant in Christ, he called his younger brother to his side, and said, "Douglas, I am dying now; I am leaving you. In a little while you will inherit Father’s property and the homestead. And that isn’t all, Douglas; you will also inherit Father’s title; and by and by they will call you the Duke of Hamlin. But, Douglas, when you are the Duke, I shall be a king.” That is truly the destiny of every child of God, whether he lives in a palace or a poorhouse. There is a crown awaiting his head. I be lieve that there is a crown for my head that wouldn’t fit your head; it is made on purpose for me. And, friends, there is another one made for you. But won derful as is this prospect of being a king and sharing Christ’s sovereignty over this earth, there is something far more wonderful than that. It is expressed in this fourth great assurance: “But we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him.” When the sainted Andrew Bonar was advanced in years, he received a letter from Charles Haddon Spur geon, asking that he send him his photograph. Mr. Spurgeon explained that he wanted to add it to his col lection of photographs of men of God. Dr. Bonar com plied with some hesitation, writing these words on the reverse side of the photograph: “Dear Spurgeon: I am sorry that you asked for my picture. This photograph is the very best I can do while I am in this mortal body. My physical form is rapidly going the way of all flesh. But one day you will see a better likeness— one which I shall be proud for people to behold; I shall be like Him, for I shall see Him as He is.’ What a prospect and what a hope! JVe shall be like Him—spirit, soul, and body! What a day that will be! I do not believe that the day is far distant. The signs that speak of Christ’s coming are multiplying daily. We may well obey our Lord’s injunction: “Lift up your heads, for your redemption draweth nigh.” Let us carry these assurances in our hearts until at last we see our Lord in person and worship at His blessed feet. May His blessing be our portion. T H E K I N G ’ S B U S I N E S S
T he B lessed A ssurance of I mmortal L ife We turn to another heart-warming verse: “For we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens” (2 Cor. 5:1). The worldly wise man speaks of nature’s two great mysteries, life and death, and they are mysteries so far as human philosophy is concerned, for the world’s wisdom and science return no complete answer to the question, from the whence to the whither written over every cradle and every grave. The ancient Greeks used to symbolize a life termi nated in death by a broken column. The firmly set foundation, the sculptured base, and the fluted shaft, were there, but when the eye, craving completeness, followed the flowing lines upward, expecting to see a crown, there was no crown—just a sharp fracture. The ■ancient Greeks thus expressed a life terminated in death because they did not know whether or not it con tinued on beyond this earthly veil. Three thousand years have passed since the Grecian philosophers spec ulated concerning the life beyond this earthly pilgrim age, and, while the world has progressed in many ways, the centuries have not brought one added flicker of light upon the mystery of death. It is very significant that Robert G. Ingersoll, the agnostic, on the occasion of the death of his brother, put into English the uncer tain feeling expressed by the ancient Greeks in their carvings upon their broken marble shafts. He said, "Life is a narrow veil between the barren peaks of two eternities. We cry aloud, and the only answer to our cry is the echo of our wail.” My friends, put over against the uncertainties of an cient and modern philosophers concerning a future life the blessed assurances of the Apostle Paul: “We know.” Further on in this same chapter, while still referring to death, Paul states: “We are confident.” This is the meaning of death for the Christian. Christ, who is the resurrection and the life, has lifted the veil that con ceals the future, so that we may boldly say, “We know.” We are not hoping this may be true! We are, rather, proclaiming the glorious certainty and the divine assur ance. I protest with all my soul against paganizing the joyous, blessed Christian doctrine of death. Read the inscriptions left by the early church in the cata combs of Rome: “Alexander lives beyond the stars” ; “Clement triumphs.” Compare this joyous feeling of victory with the modem conception of death with its ghastly paraphernalia of woe. This does not come from the catacombs but from the cloisters. A young man who was in school with me was called away because of his mother’s serious illness. He ar rived at her bedside five minutes before the dissolution of her body and soul. Knowing she had come to the end of life, and that heaven was opening before her, she took her boy in her arms, and, as she kissed him, she said, "Percy, I am leaving you now, but I will meet you in the morning.” At that moment, she closed her eyes to earthly scenes to open them in the presence of the King and to behold the glories of Immanuel’s land. What an assurance and what a staff of support in time of sadness this is—the assurance of immortal life. We know! This is an assurance in regard to the resurrection of the human body. What is it that gives us the confi dence in the resurrection and immortality of the body? It is none other than Christ’s own resurrection. Listen to Paul in 1 Corinthians 6:14: “God hath both raised up the Lord, and will also raise up us by his own power.” The open grave of the Lord becomes the pledge of the Son of God that enables us to say, “I know.” This body, though it be returned to the dust, will be revived Page Eight
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