and depart,” says the Lord to us by the Prophet Micheas, “for there is no rest here for you.”[1] There is a better land of peace for you in eternity. Nevertheless we cannot think of leaving this world, of changing joy for sorrow, time for eternity, without sadness and anxiety.
And we act unreasonably in fearing it. Shown by a simile. How comes that? It is the fault, not of death, I repeat with St. Ambrose, but of our own weakness. We love only what we see before our eyes and perceive with the other senses, no matter how worthless it is. We have only a weak desire for future eternal joys, because we have never seen them, and know but little about them. In this we resemble little children. Ask a small boy for a nut or a toy that he has, and tell him you will leave him a rich legacy for it; the boy will keep fast hold of his nut or plaything, and let you do what you please with your legacy, for he does not yet understand what that is worth. A peasant girl who has been brought up in her father’s cabin, and has seen nothing of the world but the frolicking of the calves and lambs, heard nothing but the piping and whistling of the shepherds, admired nothing more than the verdure of the fields and meadows, would be with difficulty persuaded to go to a palace to live, and only with the utmost reluctance would she suffer herself to be brought away. You may describe to her as well as you can the magnificence and splendor of her future residence; the gorgeous clothes with which she shall be decked out; the costly food and drink that she shall daily enjoy; the numerous lackeys and attendants who shall be there to wait on her; the pleasures she shall find in hunting, in going to balls and theatres; she will listen open-mouthed, but will not know of what you are speaking. Her peasant’s cot and sheep-fold, the red and blue ribbons with which she binds her hair, the songs of the shepherds, her innocent amusements in the fields and gardens, her milk, butter, and cheese, are all dearer to her than the splendor you have described. Why? Because the simple maiden does not know what that splendor is.
We should rather rejoice when death comes. My dear brethren, where is our faith? our hope? our love of God? Nay, where is our reason, if we are so frightened at the idea of leaving this world by death? How can a workman be troubled when the time comes for him to receive his wages? Whaf conqueror can be sad when the day of his triumph arrives? What traveller can be sorry when he is on the point of returning
- ↑ Surgite, et ite, quia non habetis hic requiem.—Mich. ii. 10.
