PERSONAL IMMORTALITY.

Manawatu Herald, Volume XXXI, Issue 479, 11 September 1909, Page 4

PERSONAL IMMORTALITY.

THE POWER OF AN ENDLESS LIFE.

THE THING WE CALL DEATH,

It was just after Easter, aud a half dozen men lingered after their luncheon at the Club, discussing a matter which had been committed to them, and for the consideration of which they had come together. They found themselves in agieement sooner than they expected,, and the report which the chairman of committee had drafted was approved without modification aud signed by all. There was thus a little unexpected time after the luncheon from which none of those ordinarily busy men made haste to depart. They had got into conversation about Easter, and the topic bad reached a point of general interest. There had never been a more perfect day, they all agreed. The air had been balmy, the grass had been green, the birds'had sung, ths churches bad been filled to over-flowing, and the day had left a most pleasant memory. But what had the day really meant ? There was some quotation of sermons, either us heard or as reported in the newspapers, and some comment on the change of emphasis in Easter preaching now aud iu foimer years. There was some tendency to agree that the hope of personal immortality seemed large in the mind of the man of to-day than in the mind of men of other gereiations.

“After all,” said one, “ihe question is not how we live, bin .how well. This life is quite as lung as most men make good use 01, and I don’t know but that it is as lo'g as I care for. One world at a time is enough, and if there is any other, it wi-1 lake care >.f itself when it conns.” Others spoke m the same view, and this appealed to be the general feeling among the men piesent. Towatds the end of the lit ’e controvi-isy one ol them spoke who had been a silent, yet deeply interested hearer of all that the lest bad said.

“Two weeks ago,” be said, “I was called back to the old Lome by a message that my anther was dying. I sat for the greater part of the two days that elapsed until the end came, bolding one of her hands, while my father held the other. . , , “She was conscious to the end. She faced death without a tremor, though she was a somewhat timid woman. “Those were sad hours, but, nevertheless, beautiful bouis. My mother was able to live over with us the years of the past, and to tell us'her hopes and her wishes. We had never realised before —no man can realise until be goes through a similar experience—what the fullness of life is.

“We saw the change approaching. My father, who had walked by her side for more than fifty years, said, “ihe is nearing the shore ! She is nearing the shore !” “ Then came the last breath and her life’s journey had ended. “That is it—this thing we call death ? It is a beautiful thing—my mother’s death was, at any rate. Yet, after all, it is an ominous and a terrible thing. What is it ? What is there beyond it ?

“I agree with what you have been saying this morning—yet it is not all I want. I came to this Easter time with a deep yearning for a word of positive comfort, and I have heard it—the clear faith of my mother reaffirmed in the words, T am the resurrection and the life.’ I believe in the immortality of the soul. I believe in my mother’s religion. And this has been for me a really beautiful Easter.’’ There was something in this bit of a business man’s heart that made all academic discussion seem lifeless and out of place. The conference ended, and as each man parsed out he grasped the hand of the man who had last spoken, but few of them said anything.

What had been said had left a deep impression on all present — deeper than many of them would care, perhaps, to acknowledge. It made them feel that there was something beyond this fleeting vale of tears —something tangible, a hereafter of some kind, after the mists and vapours of earth have been left behind, and this mortal shall have put on immortality.