to probe, or to uncover, or even to acknowledge. And now, it is this deceitful way in which men deal with themselves, this forgetfulness of themselves, that makes death and judgment so terrible. Death brings out the individuality of the soul in the most distinct light. Every thing that hides us from ourselves shall then be removed, every veil and shred torn away, and only ourselves shall remain. A well-known writer has expressed this in a few short words: "I shall die alone;" and the same thought is suggested by the language of the Gospel in reference to the end of the world: "Two men shall be in the field, one shall be taken and the other left. Two women shall be grinding at the mill, one shall be taken and the other left." One shall be taken, and he shall be taken alone--out of all the surroundings which have enveloped him here like an atmosphere, and into which he has been fitted like a long-worn garment. When our first parents heard the voice of the Lord God calling to them in the garden after the fall, they hid themselves, and Adam said: "I was afraid, because I was naked, and I hid myself." So will it be when the soul stands "before God in its nakedness, ashamed because of its guilty self-consciousness. {316} So it was with the rich man in our Lord's parable. He lived like the multitude. He had four brothers, and they were all alike. They had heard the sermons of Moses and the Prophets, but little did they think it all concerned them. But at last one of them died, and then he woke up to himself. His life is all before him. "Thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things." That was the story of it. He sees it all now: he sees what a glutton, what a proud, hardhearted, avaricious man he had been; he sees what a creature of sensuality and self-indulgence he is. Very different is his judgment of himself now, from what it was when, in his purple robes, he revelled in his banqueting-hall, the air heavy with perfume, and the table flowing with silver and flowers, and the slaves bringing in the costly dishes, while Lazarus, the beggar, sat at his gates, full of sores, and hungering for the crumbs that fell from his table. And so it will be with us: awakened to a full consciousness that our relations to God are the only reality. Stripped of all the circumstances that deceived and misled and blinded us here; with conscience fully awakened, with all the consequences of sin open before me and all its guilt manifest; I shall be brought face to face with myself, with what I am, with what I have been, with what I have done, with my sins, and my self-will, and my pride. Yes, this is the real terror of death and judgment. We think its fearfulness will be in the frowning Judge, and the throne set amid thunder and lightnings. Oh, no! the Judge does not frown, He is calm and serene. He sits radiant in beauty and grace. "When these things begin to come to pass," says the evangelist, speaking of the signs of the end of