by John MacDuff
INTRODUCTION
If the following pages contained a mere roll and record
of death-bed scenes, they would form a gloomy volume.
Such, however, is not their purpose. While the author has
occasionally dwelt (as in the two opening chapters) on the closing hours
of Scripture worthies--whenever incidents of note in connection with these
are recorded--he has, in general, rather sought to make their "last days"
the standpoint for a retrospective view of character and history. It has
been his endeavor, mainly to inculcate, not so much lessons from death, as
lessons from life viewed from this, its solemn termination. As an eloquent
writer has remarked--"Death is often at once the close and the epitome of
existence. It is the index at the end of a volume. All a man's properties
seem to gather round him as he is about to leave the world." There is often,
moreover, a mellowed glory surrounding the hour of dissolution. God's saints
are like forest trees in their golden autumn tints--grandest in decay when
the hand of death is on them. They often hear, like Bunyan's hero, distant
bells from the land of Beulah. Ministering angels seem to bring down
draughts from the river of life, to refresh their spirits in the closing
conflict.
Perhaps, to some, the name selected for the book may
require explanation. If we regard the world of nature as a TYPICAL volume,
full of suggestive analogies--an exponent and interpreter of the world of
spirit--no symbol surely is more striking and appropriate than "SUNSET" is
of Death. Every evening, as the sun goes down, we have a permanent
type and enduring parable of the close of life, as well as a pledge and
prophecy of the rising again in the eternal morning. The God of nature, in
this His own hieroglyphic, countersigns the beautiful utterance of His
Word--"Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright, for the end of that
man is peace," (Ps. 37:37.) In support of these assertions, reference
might be made to the motto-verses from some of our best poets which head the
following chapters. It will be seen that these masters of sacred song, in
their delineations of the believer's death, have fondly clung to the same
impressive figure. They have dipped their pencils in the golden hues of a
western sky.
Few can have beheld a gorgeous sunset, without the same
suggestive association. Incomparably the grandest scene the writer ever
witnessed in nature, was a sunset on Mont Blanc. The "monarch mountain" had
appeared during the day, under varied, shifting, capricious effects of light
and shadow--at one time fleecy vapors, at another, darker masses obscuring
his giant form. As evening, however, approached, all these were
dispelled--not a cloud floated in the still summer air, when the glowing orb
hastened to his setting. The vast irregular pyramid of snow became a mass of
delicately-flushed crimson. In a short time, the shadows of night crept up
the valley, until nothing but the summit of the mountain retained the hectic
glow of expiring life--a coronal of evanescent glory. This, also, in its
turn, slowly and impressively passed away. The flaming sun of that long
afternoon sank behind the opposite range of Alps; and the colossal mass in
front, which, a few minutes before, had been gleaming with ruby splendor,
now lapsed into a hue of cold gray, as if it had assumed robes of sackcloth
and ashes, in exchange for the glow and warmth and brightness of life. The
image and emblem could not be mistaken. Both fellow spectators at the moment
gave expression to the same irresistible suggestion--What a sublime
symbol--what an dreadful and impressive photograph of DEATH!
Nor was this all. When that last lurid glow was lingering
on the summits, lighting up the jewels in this icy diadem, the sun itself
had in reality already set--he had sunk behind the line of horizon. The
valley beneath had long been sleeping in shadow, and lights were twinkling
in the chalets. This, also, had its irresistible spiritual meaning
and lesson, a lesson which is again and again noted and enforced in the
succeeding pages--that the radiance of the sunset lingers after the earthly
course has run--a man's influence survives death! These glorious orbs
of the olden time have set for thousands of years, but their mellowed luster
still irradiates the world's mountain-tops. Though dead, they yet "speak."
There is no teaching so interesting or so profitable as
that of inspired biography. There are no lessons so grand or so
suggestive as those derived from the study of the lives and character of the
great heroes of the past, who manfully struggled through trial and
temptation until crowned with victory. They are truly the world's great
"artists." They have molded life. Wondrous as are the conceptions
wrought out by the sculptor's chisel in breathing marble--what, after all,
are these? Speechless creations--soulless, inanimate expressions of beauty
and power. Grander, and more godlike, surely, has been the work of those
"great ones of the olden time" who, by their words and deeds, have
influenced successive ages--chiseled the moral features of mankind.
It is the humble wish of the writer, to act as guide to
his readers through these corridors of hoary time, rich in this noblest
sculpture. Amid the hum of a busy industry; amid the race for riches; amid
the wheels and shuttles of labor--at the counter--in the exchange--the
house--the family--let us learn from these great biographies how to live
and how to die. Each character delineated in sacred story, if we read it
aright, has some grand individual lesson to teach for this work-day
world--some principle, or spiritual grace we do well to ponder; whether it
be faith, or fortitude, or patience, or self-sacrifice, or submission, or
endurance, or scrupulous honor. In a few of the examples selected, we have
beacons to warn; but in the main, they are designed to guide, stimulate, and
instruct. Let us watch the life-struggle, and profit by its close. Let us
see how these candidates for immortality ran their race and reached their
goal, and let us "go and do likewise."
With one exception, for reasons stated in the chapter
itself, the author has restricted the "Sunsets" to those on "the Hebrew
mountains." Though thereby constrained to exclude several well-known
Bible characters, it has enabled him alike to set needful limits to the
volume, and also to include some names less known and familiar in the roll
of Hebrew worthies. He will not venture to offer any apology for the
imperfections of the volume, and the inadequate justice done to a great
theme. Such as it is, he commends these "sunset" memories to the Great Head
of the Church, with the earnest hope and prayer–
"That often from that other world on this
Some gleams from great souls gone before may shine,
To shed on struggling hearts a clearer bliss,
And clothe the truth with luster more divine."