"Then said Samuel, Bring ye hither to me Agag the king of the Amalekites. And Agag came unto him delicately. And Agag said, Surely the bitterness of death is past."—1Sa_15:32.
The words of the text we design to consider as a motto for our discourse, quite independently of their original use or application. No subject can be more proper for our meditation than that of death. For, is it not a subject applicable to all? A subject, solemn in itself—but also one most amazingly forgotten! It is, evidently, one of Satan's chief efforts to keep out of sight from men their own mortality. Hence, the great majority of mankind endeavor to evade the subject of death; or only give it a very occasional or evanescent consideration. But every now and then, events occur in society, which forces it on our attention.
Some instance of sudden death. Perhaps, of some minister in the pulpit—some senator in the house—some judge on the bench—or some crowned head in the palace. And thus the subject of mortality stands out, and calls forth a nation's considerations and reflections.
Let us, then, on the present occasion,
I. Offer some remarks on the subject of death.
II. On that which constitutes its bitterness.
And,
III. How the bitterness of death may be removed.
I. Some general observations concerning death.
We may view death,
1. In its origin, as the result of sin.
The threatening of death was annexed to the Divine law—as given to our first parents in paradise. "The day thou eatest, &c., dying thou shalt die." So life, from that hour, was a passage to the region of the grave. This doctrine is explicitly stated—Rom_5:12; 1Co_15:21.
2. In its universal certainty, in reference to our race.
All ages have verified this.—All countries.—All classes, and degrees, and conditions of men. No exemption in this war,—"the living know," &c. Only exceptions, Enoch and Elijah. Every house is the residence of mortals,—from the hovel of the peasant, to the palace of the monarch. Moral or spiritual excellences avail not, in preventing the stroke of death. Consider death,
3. In the uncertainty as to the time, and manner, of its approach.
We must meet the king of terrors; but when, and how, and where, we know not. The future is wisely concealed from our knowledge. God reserves the times and seasons in his own power.
But let us notice,
II. What constitutes its bitterness.
This arises often,
1. From its general painful train of precursors.
Death, as a monarch, generally sends his heralds and harbingers before him. He has a variety of fierce diseases, which go to attack the citadel of the human body. And often this is the season of distressing bitterness—extreme suffering—sometimes, awful agonies—racking tortures—burning fevers—incessant restlessness—overwhelming suffocations—days of suffering—nights of excessive weariness. This is often a cup of bitterness, which language is utterly unable to describe.
It often arises,
2. From its distressing separations.
It removes us from those we love. From dear friends and kindred. Often those who are apparently dependent on us. The close ties of devoted attachment. If we died in groups, &c.; emigrated in companies to the better land, it would appear desirable; but no, the cup must be drank alone,—the journey trodden alone,—the conflict maintained alone; and, hence, the bitterness of death.
3. From the actual fears and pains of dying.
It may be often, that the act of dying is only just falling asleep. But sometimes the agonies of death are distressing; the struggles fearful. Then its very indefiniteness makes it awful. It is a something which has never been described—of which we have had no experience. And, hence, the dread mystery in which it is involved.
4. From its immediate and awful consequences.
(1.) The body and the grave.
(2.) It conveys us into eternity. The region to us of unknown darkness. The world of spirits. It brings us into direct contact with God. It fixes our condition, and seals our doom forever.
Thus, these are the chief elements which constitute the bitterness of death.
We ask, then,
III. How the bitterness of death may be taken away.
I remark,
1. Of the happy dead, this is a certified fact.
"Blessed are the dead," &c. "To die is gain," &c. O yes; the storm is over—the conflict is past—the sorrow is over—and every tear is wiped away. But the bitterness of death may be taken away, even before the act of death is experienced.
Now this is what the religion of the Lord Jesus can alone effect; and this vital Christianity does, by—
(1.) Extracting from death its fearful sting: 1Co_15:56. Here death has its poison from sin, and its condemnation from the law broken. Now, destroy sin, and the poison is gone. Destroy sin, and the law is silent. In Christ there is life for the guilty, condemned sinner. And by faith in him, we pass from death to life; and from condemnation by the law, to justification by the rich and free grace of God.
(2.) By the grace it supplies. We have spoken of pains, agonies, &c.; but Christianity provides a sustaining portion. A cordial. An invigorating balm. Christ's strength and peace are given, and thus the cup is resignedly, and even cheerfully, drank
(3.) By the hopes which it inspires. It lifts up the head and directs the eye to the blessed future—the celestial Canaan—the heavenly world of life and glory—the better land. It points to heaven, as our final home. There is our Father, Saviour. The holy and elite of the universe. Many of our friends, and all the rest who are pious, will join us there. How bright these hopes! How ecstatic! "Thou shalt see the king in his beauty," &c.
(4.) From the Saviour's presence, which it actually secures. Christ will be with you on the tempestuous billows of death—as with Peter. He will sustain, when flesh and heart fail, &c. He will hail the racer. Crown the warrior. Receive his saints to himself, &c.
Now in conclusion, remember,
1. We must all die.
2. Death has an essential and awful bitterness.
3. Only religion provides an antidote.
4. How do you stand—how feel?
Out of Christ, all is terrible,—beyond the power of words to express.