* * * * * Death is the perfecting of our redemption. It is the last act of redeeming grace. When the Saviour, who says, "I have the keys of--death," (i.e., no one can die but at the time and manner prescribed by me,) takes us out of the world, it is to finish the work of our personal salvation. All the circumstances attending it will be as deliberately appointed, and as carefully watched and directed, as the first great act of grace towards us in our regeneration. He, too, who has provided such pastures and streams for us here, in removing us to living pastures and to living streams, will, of course, see that we go safely through the valley which must be passed to reach them. It will not be a new thing to Christ to see us die. He has watched the dying beds of millions of his friends, he has had great experience as a Shepherd in bringing them through the valley. * * * * * See that chamber in yonder mansion, where all the comforts, and some of the luxuries, of life, have contributed to prepare for some mysterious event. The garden of Eden failed to possess such joys as are there in anticipation, and are soon to be made perfect. Every thing seems waiting, with silent but thrilling interest, for the arrival of an unknown occupant. And there is raiment of needle-work, and of fine twined linen, and gifts of cunning device, from the looms of the old world, and from graceful fingers and loving hearts here, every want being anticipated, and some wants imagined, to gratify the love of satisfying them. And now God breathes the breath of life, and a living soul begins its deathless career, amidst joys and thanksgivings, which swell through the wide circles of kindred and acquaintanceship. The Holy Spirit, in the process of time, renews and sanctifies the soul through the blood of the everlasting covenant; and having, through life, walked with God, the day arrives when the spirit must return to God who gave it. You saw how it was received here, at its entrance into the world. You have seen what the atonement, and regeneration, and sanctification, and providence, and grace, have done for it, and with what accumulated love the Father of Spirits, and Redeemer, and Sanctifier, must regard it. And now do we suppose that the shroud, and coffin, and the funeral, and the narrow house, and the darkness, and the solitude and corruption, and the whole dreary and terrible train of death and the grave, are symbols of its reception into heaven, the proper pageantry of its arrival and resting place within the veil? Believe it not! If God prepared in our hearts such a welcome for the infant stranger, that even its helpless feet were thought of and cared for, surely when those feet, wearied in the pilgrimage of the strait and narrow way, arrive at heaven's gate, it must be, it is, amidst rejoicings and ministrations of love to which earth has no parallel. Let kings and queens prepare a