It adds tenderness and force to these consoling hopes, that Jesus once "tasted death himself." It moves us, that "Jesus wept." But it gives a new nature to death, that Jesus died! For while the _merit_ of _his_ death takes the sting from ours, his presence in the tomb dispels all its terrors. Therefore, since Jesus died, let us consent to death; and surrender at his call those most dear to us. The graves of all his saints he blest, And softened every bed-- Where should the dying members rest, But with their dying head! It must be sweet to lie in that grave which he has hallowed by his presence among the dead. One of the considerations which should make us acquiesce in the removal of our beloved friends who die in the Lord, is this--that we are suffering for their sakes; and that they could not be blessed without our sufferings. For their death, (the dread cause of all our grief,) was necessary to their perfect and eternal blessedness. This thought ought to soften every pang. If we really love them, and if our sacrifices for them while they were here below, were the fruit of our love, then we have only to remember that this is one prolonged, supreme sacrifice for their sakes.--This reflection if properly pursued, would often turn our mourning into gladness.[9] And then, if this weight of sorrow that is laid on us may but be duly improved and meekly borne; if it may not only mark the bliss of our friends begun on high, but be made by a wise and good God conducive to our growth in grace--it will have in it the pledge of our everlasting re-union in heaven; and thus be an affliction doubly blessed. [9] A lovely example of the power of this sentiment in subduing grief, is given in the narrative of one of our American missionaries. He and his fellow-labourer were alone in a barbarous land, far away from any creature who cared for their Lord or for them. Suddenly his friend was taken from him. In that awful moment of desertion and anguish, after commending the parting soul to God, and closing the eyes of the dead, _he kissed his cold lips, and thought, "What glory has already burst upon his view!"_ In this thought his sorrow was lost. But the silencing, yea, elevating thought of all is, that it is _for Jesus' sake_, we are called to suffer. "_The Master_ is come and called for her." It is indeed the richest of our earthly treasures. Our own life were a far lighter offering. But for that reason we honour him the more. It is our _Isaac_ that God calls for; and it is then indeed we honour God when we can _offer_ like Abraham. We shall receive the offering back, if not as soon, as certainly--and at no distant day! When, therefore, He who laid down his life for us, asks for our richest gift, let us not call him a hard master, but give without a murmur.