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Lord’s Day 36, 2019

I was glad when they said to me, “Let us go to the house of the Lord.”


Behold, I tell you a mystery; we will not all sleep, but we will all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet; for the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For this perishable must put on the imperishable, and this mortal must put on immortality. But when this perishable will have put on the imperishable, and this mortal will have put on immortality, then will come about the saying that is written, “Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law; but thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. —1 Corinthians 15:51–56

An Evening Reflection.




Another day is past,
The hours for ever fled,
And time is bearing me in haste,
To mingle with the dead.


Perhaps my closing eyes
No more may hail the light,
Seal’d up, before the morning rise,
In everlasting night.


But I’ve a part to live,
A never dying ray,
The soul, immortal, will survive
The ruins of her clay.


This mortal frame must lie
Unconscious in the tomb,
But oh! where will my spirit fly,
And what will be her doom?


On the tremendous brink
Of vast eternity,
Where souls with strange amazement shrink,
What will my prospect be?


When the dark gulph below,
With death and horror fraught,
Reveals its scenes of endless woe—
Oh dreadful, dreadful thought!


But lo! yon shining skies
Beam down a cheerful ray,
And bid my drooping hopes arise
To glorious realms of day.


’Tis there my Saviour lives,
My Lord, my life, my light;
His blissful name my soul revives
Adieu to death and night.


He conquer’d death and hell,
And his victorious love
Shall bear his ransom’d friends, to dwell
In his bright courts above.


Jesus! and art thou mine?
O let thy heav’nly voice
Confirm my hope with pow’r divine,
And bid my soul rejoice.


Then shall my closing eyes,
Contented, sink to rest;
For if to night this body dies,
My spirit shall be blest.

—Anne Steele, The Works of Mrs. Anne Steele (Munroe, Francis, and Parker, 1808).

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

Please don’t miss worshiping with your local congregation
if you can possibly help it.
But if you’re in need of a good sermon
, try these.

Posted 2019·09·15 by David Kjos
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Posted in: Anne Steele · Death · Lord’s Day · Works of Mrs Anne Steele

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