But when all due allowances have been made for the uncertainty of final perseverance, and for the anxiety arising from natural temperament, it seems not too much to say that, for the most part, the fear and dread of death which haunts so many Christians can be reduced to two causes: a defect of faith or a love of the world. It is one of these causes, or both of them together, which alone can explain, in the majority of cases, why such numbers of Christians and Catholics are unwilling to surrender the present life, and are disturbed at the very thought of dying. Either they do not realize by faith the surpassing glories of the life beyond—doubting its reality, questioning its nature, misunderstanding the goodness and mercy of God; or else they are so attached to the present existence that all serious thought and desire for a better life are excluded from their minds and hearts. Fenelon says that the condition of our spiritual life is indicated by the answers we give to the following questions: “Do I love to think of God? Am I willing to suffer for God? Does my desire to be with Him destroy my fear of death?” We do not fear to meet or to be with one whom we really love, for “love casteth out fear.” There is no dread at the coming of the parent or friend whom we truly love, unless, perchance, we have offended him, and lack full faith that we have been forgiven and reinstated in his favor and friendship. So it is with God. If we are unwilling to meet Him, or filled with fear at the approach of His coming, it seems of a certainty that our faith is at fault. Why should we not wish to meet Him who has made us, who loves us, who has washed away our sins with His own blood, who alone can comfort our trembling souls and fill us with every good? Perhaps we have sinned and betrayed our Maker many times and grievously in our lives, and the voices of those sins are haunting us, and bidding us beware of the hour of death and of the judgment that follows. Perhaps there is a lurking suspicion that we have not been forgiven, a temptation that we are not sincere, a feeling that our sins are too grave to be pardoned, a conviction that we do not belong to the company of the elect. We may have notions, moreover, altogether severe, of the nature of God and of His justice; we feel His immensity and sanctity, we have heard so much of His ineffable beauty, that, weighed down with a sense of our nothingness, of our poverty and misery and sinfulness, we cannot but shudder at the thought of appearing in His presence. These and similar terrors may take hold of us and fill us with a dread of death; but is it not clear that, whatever their cause, these fears are born of a lack of faith? We do not trust, as we ought, the Shepherd that loves us, we are not convinced of His mercy and kindness, if we do not believe with child-like confidence that He stands ready ever to forgive and bless the least of His children that humbly and sincerely seek