Death has been defined as the separation of soul and body. But is not death more than that? If that were all, why should men fear death? Nature is kind to the dying, and has made provision for an easy and almost painless exit from this life. The blood stagnates, a lethargy creeps over the frame, consciousness departs, and all is over. I know there have been those who have cried in agony, and dreaded death, but it is what comes after death the sinner fears. Death implies the separation from loved ones. A young man walked into the office of a railroad magnate and said to him, "I want a train for New York. I want the right of way for a hundred miles ahead. I want switches nailed down for that distance, for I must reach New York in the fast est possible time." The manager said, "Young man, it will cost you something to get that." "I did not ask you what it would cost; I told you what I wanted." "All right, you shall have it." He got it; every switch was nailed down for hundreds of miles ahead of the train; the right of way was given; he arrived in New York in the fastest time ever given to a man; he took the auto in waiting, was whisked to a palatial home in a few minutes, but there was crepe on the door. Death had beat him; a loved one whose one desire was to see the young man had been hurried away by the hand of death. Death and time and tide wait for no man.
Tom Johnson was Mayor of Cleveland. He was eminently a self-made man, had made and lost several fortunes. He made the fight for three-cent car fares for the people of the city, but one day he called in wife and children, and said, "I have called you to say the last farewell. I am going to the land of shadows; the doctor tells me there is no hope, and wife, children, good-bye." They came from the room with weeping eyes and breaking hearts. Death, then, is more than the separation of soul and body. It is separation from loved ones. To the Christian it is only a separation for a little while, and then an eternal reunion. When Rev. George W. Bacheldor was dying, he called in his wife, who was the daughter of that stalwart man of God, Dr. D. W. Bartine. As she sat by his side he put his arms around her neck and bade her "good-bye for a little while," saying, "I love you next to Jesus." The second death is an eternal separation from all that is good and true, and pure and holy and happy forever. Death is a separation from home. I was called to preach the funeral sermon of a man in Michigan who had been a very successful farmer. He was a hard worker; he had cleared every acre of that farm on which he lived; planted every tree, made every foot of lawn, sowed every field, and now he was to die. As he laid there he said to some of the neighbors who were in the room, "Boys, lift me up; take me to the window; let me look out on the old farm once more." They carried him to the window. He looked long and lovingly at the barns which he had built, at the orchard he had planted, at the lawn he had made. and then he said, "That will do, carry me back," and lying down again he died. Death, then, is more than separation from the body -- it is a separation from home. Mazarin, the Premier of France. was nearing the end. He called his servants, asked them to take him out to the art gallery of his mansion, and as supported by their arms, he passed along the long gallery, looking at the works of artists and sculptors, admiring them with a critical eye, he was heard to say, "Must I leave you? Can I not take you with me Yes, he and all the rest of us must leave behind all the associations that we have loved. A lady was riding along a country road with her driver when they came to an old church. The shutters hung on one hinge, the cobwebs were over doors and windows, the weeds had grown up in the path, and yet she said to her driver, "I want to go in that old church for a little while." And getting out she went in and stayed for more than half an hour. The driver grew impatient. "What does that woman want in that old church, with all its dust and decay?" and he made up his mind he would ask her when she came out. After she was reseated in the carriage, he ventured to ask, "Madame, will you please tell me what it was that kept you so long in that dusty old church?" "Certainly I will. I am visiting back in this neighborhood where I was reared, after an absence of forty years. I never expect to return. I was converted more than forty years ago in that old church, and I wanted to go in and get down at the altar where I first met Jesus. I forgot you -- forgot the passage of time while I was there. I know you will forgive me for keeping you waiting." That old altar was dear to her heart and she knew she was leaving it for the last time.
There is a spot to me more dear Than native vale or mountain, A spot for which affection's tear Flows grateful from its fountain.
'Tis not where kindred souls are found, Though that is almost heaven; But where I first my Savior found, And knew my sins forgiven.
Death is more than separation of soul from the body; it is separation from loved associations.
But my text refers to the Second Death. Eternal Death. Death is a monster, an enemy; it is pitiless, cruel; it takes the young, the ambitious, the hopeful. It separates the husband and wife, the mother from the child. I have no liking for that hymn that once was in the Methodist Hymnal, "Ah, lovely appearance of death, thy sight upon earth is so fair." God in His Word says Death is an enemy; but this text means eternal death, unending, never ceasing, dying always and yet never dead. There are three kinds of Death. First, there is physical death, the separation of the soul from the body; then there is spiritual death, the separation of the soul from God; and there is eternal death, the separation of the reunited soul and body from God forever. Have you never been in the room where they were a long time dying? "How is he today?" "Oh, he is nearing the end. The doctor says he will pass out before sundown." Sundown comes and friends ask, "How is he today?" And again comes the answer, "He is almost gone -- cannot live through the night." But the night has gone and again the friends come and ask, "How is he today?" And again the answer, "He is nearly gone -- cannot last till noon." But at last someone inquires and is told, "He is dead." But after ten millions of years have passed away, there will never come a time when it can be said of an immortal soul, "It is dead." Death flees from them; they want to die in hell and cannot; always dying and yet never dead. I do like that word eternal -- when it is yoked up with some words that belong to the vocabulary of the skies, or the Christian. Eternal peace. Eternal joy. Eternal Heaven! But, oh, the horrors when it is yoked up with eternal Death! Oh, think what it means for that husband who is unsaved, who is going straight to a devil's hell, while his sanctified wife is going straight to a glorious heaven! It means, "Wife, good-bye forever." Eternal Separation!
Let us now consider what the Second Death really means. It is separation from God forever. From God, the Source of life and power and love. The soul was made to enjoy God forever; made to walk and talk with Him; made for communion with Him. I have thought that God really enjoyed walking and talking with that first man with whom He would meet and talk in the cool of the garden in the morning. I have thought God missed the morning walks with that good, pure man when he fell. I think that God thought so much of Enoch, that other man who walked with Him, that He took him up to Himself to make the pleasure an eternal one. But think of it! Man made to walk and talk with God, separated from Him forever! One of the blessings of the pure in heart is that they shall see God; but the sinner in hell shall never see God, never talk with God, never have a prayer answered -- it is an eternal separation from Him.
It is separation from heaven, angels, friends, saints, forever. Here we have churches, the bells peal forth an invitation every week to all to come to the house of God -- but there are no church bells calling in hell. I rode on a train one time with a man who knew me well, and be said, "I would not live in a town where there were no churches and no schools. I want them for my children. I am not a church member, but I respect the churches for the good work they are doing." Separation from Bibles and Sabbath Schools, and good people forever. Never to hear another prayer in the Spirit, or Spirit inspired, for the Holy Ghost never inspires anyone to pray when it is useless, and it is useless to pray in hell; not even a drop of water in hell, though men cry for water, water, water, to cool their parched tongues.
The Second Death is companionship with devils and demons and Satan forever. With the lost in hell forever. Think of it! Made for God and heaven, made to glorify God and enjoy Him forever, and yet shut up in hell to be the companion of the damned of all ages. All the whoremongers, all the adulterers, all the liars, all the drunkards, all the saloonkeepers, all the vile and vicious, all that loveth and maketh a lie, all the unrepentant of all ages, with Neros, the Borgias, the tyrants, the persecutors, the crucifiers of the Son of God, the Judases who betrayed Him, and this forever! After earth, with its Gospel privileges, with its blessed sunlight, with its gracious providences, with its preached Gospel, the wooings of the Holy Spirit, then to be lost in hell forever! This is the Second Death.
It is bitter memories forever. Just to think. Once appointed unto salvation. Once an heir to a robe and a crown. For I fully believe that every child that comes into this world is a saved child.
As in Adam all die, so in Christ shall all be made alive. There are no heathen babies. They are all
Christian, born under the atonement of Jesus Christ, and no matter where the child dies -- in Africa's jungles or the arid plains of India -- it goes straight to the presence of God as fast as the white-winged angels can carry it. No matter what the color of its skin, it is a saved child. But to be lost, to reject the light that comes through the atonement of Jesus' blood, to have to think and think forever, "I might have been saved!" God gave His Son to die for me, gave me the Word, unto me was the Word of salvation sent; His providences were around me, and now they are all gone forever, and I am damned."
It is tormenting remorse forever; it is agonizing despair, forever; it is weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth, forever; it is outer darkness forever. Darkness so far away from the throne of God that the light never reaches it. I saw a picture representing Napoleon at St. Helena. He stands down by the seashore; his arms are folded; he is looking away across the waters towards La Belle France. I imagine he is thinking, "Over yonder I was the loved Emperor of a devoted people; I was on a throne supported by the love of France. An army moved at the command of my Generals. But I, led on by my cursed ambition, was not satisfied. I aimed at a dominion that meant Europe at my feet. I trampled on the bones and blood of my loyal friends to reach the goal -- and here I am, to die with my boots on, to live only as a memory in the days to come." So with the lost in hell. To look out as far as mind can carry them to think, "Once I lived on yonder earth, where I was a free moral agent. I might have been a king and priest unto God. I might have been a co-worker with the Son of God, with high heaven; but I loved sin, I loved the pleasures of the world, I loved to gratify the flesh. I said No to God, and here I am banished forever from God and heaven, and hope. Death would be a relief, but death never comes here; a coffin would be a welcome sight, but coffins are useless in hell. I am lost forever.
It is to be wicked, and constantly growing more wicked forever. Want Scripture for that? You shall have it. "Evil men and seducers wax worse and worse." It is to be without any hope or power of repentance forever. Here is a man who sold his birthright and he found no place of repentance forever, though he sought it carefully and with tears. Every sinner has sold his birthright. He was appointed to be saved and would not. Jesus said, "Ye will not come unto me that ye might have life." "Let the wicked forsake his way and the unrighteous man his thoughts, and let him return unto the Lord, for He will have mercy, and unto our God, for He will abundantly pardon." That "Let" implies he may. He can, "if" he will. Every sinner is the author of his damnation. He reaps what he sows. He may cry, as I have heard them cry, "O God, give me one more chance! Give me one more altar call. Let me hear one more sermon!" But it is too late when the line is crossed.
The Second Death is the aggravation of all the woes, of all the sorrows, all the pains, all the horrors, all the diseases, all the curse that sin ever produced in the world, shut up in one place, with one class of people forever -- the people who rejected Jesus Christ while on earth and deliberately chose sin, for sin when it is finished bringeth forth Death, and my text declares it is eternal death. I went one time to an insane asylum in the state of Michigan. I went with a man, then a preacher, who once had been a clerk in the institution. We went on the first floor, where the folks
they were surely insane, and you soon found it out, but they were perfectly harmless. My friend then asked the doctor, who was our escort, to take us on the third floor where the incurables were, so we went up on the third floor. A door was unlocked. and we were locked into the "Disturbed Ward" with the doctor and the incurably insane. They came around us, hair long and unkempt, finger nails unkept, cheek bones high. eyes sunken in. They reached out their hands, touched us as though we were visitants from some (to them) unknown world. I was glad to get out of there, and I have never wanted to go back since. But hell is the disturbed ward of the universe, for to my mind the most insane thing a man can do is to reject the only salvation that can deliver from sin. When a soul rejects Jesus, he is an incurable, for there is no other name under heaven whereby we can be saved save the name of Jesus. There is no rest nor peace in hell. In the disturbed ward the constant cry is, "I want to go home. I want to go home." So in hell the one cry is for Home, for hell has nothing homelike about it. Love reigns and rules in a home; that is what will make heaven so homey. Put hate reigns in hell. They hate one another. hate God, hate Jesus, hate the Holy Spirit, hate the preachers who withheld the whole truth, hate the professing Christians who failed t3 warn them of the hell that awaited them as the consequence of sin, for as sure as God lives hell is the sequence of a life of sin!
The Second Death is to be lost in hell forever. So lost there is no hope. Lost to God, lost to hope, lost to love, lost to peace, lost to friendships, and lost forever! No Savior, no Holy Spirit, no promises, no mercy, no mourners benches, no time. Can you imagine what earth would be without these? Make it as bad as you can, and then it is what hell is forever. And now, let me give you a description of a lost soul from a preacher of the South, a master of language, a man who communed with God, and when he passed out of this life he was on his knees in prayer. He lived in an afflicted body, but it was, nevertheless, a temple of the Holy Ghost, and this man's mind and soul were filled with the quickening touch and power of the Divine within. Hear his description of a lost soul: "Saints commune with saints, and angels with angels, and they all commune with God; but this soul, sympathetic and social in the very construction of its being, its state changed and not its constitutional nature, is eternally isolated from everything like itself, and plunged into an ocean of darkness interminable to its flagging wing, where no sight nor sound will ever greet its aching sense, and doomed to wander on in the pathless void, while cycles roll and ages go grinding on. See it careering in its bewildered flight. It has crossed its track and recrossed it a thousand times. It is lost, lost beyond the power of finding. It knows it. It feels, but still it flies, now advancing, now regressing. It turns again and lo! a blush of dusky light, a stupendous arch of massive bend, greets its vision. It fain would scale the loftiest turret. it soars, it hovers, but, oh, horror of horrors! temples, gates and towers melt away into darker gloom, and it is left in awful loneliness, hanging in agony, but a speck of quivering terror in untenanted and unilluminated space. Shall it ascend, descend, or move off on a level? There are no ups nor downs or recumbent planes where there is nothing. if ups and downs and planes there are, it may soar up -- up -- up forever, or dip down -down -- down forever, or rush on -- on -- on forever. It is still -- and through all eternity -- A Lost Soul!
See it -- yonder, yonder, yonder! It goes that way -- Lost! Lost! Lost! It comes this way, and shrieking Lost -- Lost -- Lost! till our hearts stand still with horror. Scream on and fly on, cursed and ruined spirit; no battlemented walls of jasper will ever meet thy gaze, or furnish a resting place for thy weary pinions. Fly on, lost soul, forever; no angel of mercy will ever cross thy solitary way or overtake thee in thy wanderings. Lost spirits blackened with the curse of thy God. Fly on and repeat in thy despairing cry the chorus of thine own horrible death march. Lost -- lost, where no echoes will ever mock thy misery. Immortal soul, lost in boundless, bottomless, infinite darkness; fly on, thou shalt never find company till the ghost of eternity will greet you over the grave of God, and thou shalt never find rest till thou art able to fold thy wings on the gravestone of thy Maker. And the Judge will say to the angels: Bind Him hand and foot and take him away and cast him into outer darkness. There shall be wee ping and gnashing of teeth (Matt. 22:13).'"
