A Journey in Other Worlds: A Romance of the Future
Page 30
CHAPTER XIII.
THE PRIEST'S SERMON.
It being the first day of the week, the morning air was filledwith chimes from many steeples.
"Divine service always comforted in life," thought Ayrault,"perchance it may do so now, when I have reached the state forwhich it tried to prepare me."
Accordingly, he moved on with the throng, and soon was ascendingthe heights of Morningside Park, after which, he entered thecathedral. The priest whose voice had so often thrilled himstood at his post in his surplice, and the choir had finished theprocessional hymn. During the responses in the litany, andbetween the commandments, while the congregation and the choirsang, he heard their natural voices as of old ascending to thevaulted roof and arrested there. He now also heard theirspiritual voices resulting from the earnestness of their prayers.These were rung through the vaster vault of space, arousing aspiritual echo beyond the constellations and the nebulae. Theservice, which was that of the Protestant Episcopal Church,touched him as deeply as usual, after which the rector ascendedthe steps to the pulpit.
"The text, this morning," he began, "is from the eighth chapterof St. Paul's Epistle to the Romans, at the eighteenth verse:'For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are notworthy to be compared to the glory that shall be revealed in us.'Let us suppose that you or I, brethren, should become a free anddisembodied spirit. A minute vein in the brain bursts, or a clotforms in the heart. It may be a mere trifle, some unexpectedthing, yet the career in the flesh is ended, the eternal life ofthe liberated spirit begun. The soul slips from earth's grasp,as air from our fingers, and finds itself in the frigid,boundless void of space. Yet, through some longing this soulmight rejoin us, and, though invisible, might hear thechurch-bells ring, and long to recall some one of the many brightSunday mornings spent here on earth. Has a direful misfortunebefallen this brother, or has a slave been set free? Let ussuppose for a moment that the first has occurred. 'Vanity ofvanities,' said the old preacher. 'Calamity of calamities,' saysthe new. That soul's probationary period is ended; his record,on which he must go, is forever made. He has been in the flesh,let us say, one, two, three or four score years; before him arethe countless aeons of eternity. He may have had a reasonablysatisfactory life, from his point of view, and been fairlysuccessful in stilling conscience. That still, small voicedoubtless spoke pretty sharply at first, but after a while itrarely troubled him, and in the end it spoke not at all. He may,in a way, have enjoyed life and the beauties of nature. He hasseen the fresh leaves come and go, but he forgot the moral, thatbe himself was but a leaf, and that, as they all dropped to earthto make more soil, his ashes must also return to the ground. Buthis soul, friends and brethren, what becomes of that? Ah! it isthe study of this question that moistens our eyes with tears. Noevil man is really happy here, and what must be his suffering inthe cold, cold land of spirits? No slumber or forgetfulness canease his lot in hades, and after his condemnation at the lastjudgment he must forever face the unsoftened realities ofeternity. No evil thing or thought can find lodgment in heaven.If it could, heaven would not be a happy place; neither can anyman improve in the abyss of hell. As the horizon graduallydarkens, and this soul recedes from God, the time spent in theflesh must come to seem the most infinitesimal moment, moreevanescent than the tick of a clock. It seems dreadful that forsuch short misdoings a soul should suffer so long, but no man canbe saved in spite of himself. He had the opportunities--and theknowledge of this must give a soul the most acute pang.
"In Revelation, xx, 6, we find these words, 'Blessed and holy ishe that hath part in the first resurrection: on such the seconddeath hath no power.' I have often asked myself, May not thismean that those with a bad record in the general resurrectionafter a time cease to exist, since all suffer one death at theclose of their period here?
"This is somewhat suggested by Proverbs, xii, 28,. 'In the wayof righteousness is life, and in the pathway thereof there is nodeath.' This might limit the everlasting damnation, so oftenrepeated elsewhere, to the lives of the condemned, since to them,in a sense, it would be everlasting.
"Let us now turn to the bright picture--the soul that hasweathered the storms of life and has reached the haven of rest.The struggles, temptations, and trials overcome, have done theirwork of refining with a rapidity that could not have beenequalled in any other way, and though, perhaps, very imperfectstill, the journey is ever on. The reward is tenfold, yet inproportion to what this soul has done, for we know that theservant who best used his ten talents was made ruler over tencities, while he that increased his five talents by five receivedfive; and the Saviour in whom he trusted, by whose aid he madehis fight, stands ready to receive him, saying, 'Enter thou intothe joy of thy Lord.'
"As the dark, earthly background recedes, the clouds break andthe glorious light appears, the contrast heightening theever-unfolding and increasing delights, which are as great as therecipients have power to enjoy, since these righteous soulsreceive their rewards in proportion to the weight of the crossesthat they have borne in the right spirit. These souls are a joyto their Creator, and are the heirs of Him in heaven. Theceaseless, sleepless activity that must obtain in both paradiseand hades, and that must make the hearts of the godless growfaint at the contemplation, is also a boundless promise to thosewho have Him who is all in all.
"Where is now thy Saviour? where is now thy God? the unjust manhas asked in his heart when he saw his just neighbour strugglingand unsuccessful. Both the righteous and the unrighteous man aredead. The one has found his Saviour, the other is yearly losingGod. What is the suffering of the present momentary time, easedas it is by God's mercy and presence, compared with the gloriesthat await us? What would it be if our lives here were filledwith nothing else, as ye know that your labour is not vain in theLord? Time and eternity--the finite and the infinite. Deathwas, indeed, a deliverer, and the sunset of the body is thesunrise of the soul."
The priest held himself erect as a soldier while delivering thissermon, making the great cathedral ring with his earnest andsolemn voice, while Ayrault, as a spirit, saw how absolutely hemeant and believed every word that he said.
Nearly all the members of the congregation were moved--some more,some less than they appeared. After the benediction they rapidlydispersed, carrying in their hearts the germs he had sown; butwhether these would bear fruit or wither, time alone could show.
Ayrault had noticed Sylvia's father and mother in church, butSylvia herself was not there, and he was distressed to think shemight be ill.
"Why," pondered Ayrault, "am I so unhappy? I was baptized,confirmed, and have taken the sacrament. I have always had anunshaken faith, and, though often unsuccessful, have striven toobey my conscience. The spirits also on Saturn kept saying Ishould be happy. Now, did this mean it was incumbent upon me torejoice, because of some blessing I already had, and did notappreciate, or did their prescience show them some prospectivehappiness I was to enjoy? The visions also of Violet, the angel,and the lily, which I believed, and still believe, were no mereempty fancies, should have given me the most unspeakable joy. Itmay be a mistake to apply earthly logic to heavenly things, butthe fundamental laws of science cannot change.
"Why am I so unhappy?" he continued, returning to his originalquestion. "The visions gave promise of special grace, perhapssome special favour. True, my prayer to see Sylvia was heard,but, considering the sacrifice, this has been no blessing. Therequest cannot have been wrong in itself, and as for the manner,there was no arrogance in my heart. I asked as a mortal, as aman of but finite understanding, for what concerned me most.Why, oh why, so wretched?"