Death is the stone into which our oblivion hardens.
Choose to see death as simply removing a garment or moving from one room to another... it's merely a transition.
Paradise is not somewhere else... it is within you. And it is not in some other time, after death... It is in you right now.
There is no such thing as death. We have all lived before and we are all going to experience new lives.
There are no limits to the amount of love and wisdom one can take to heaven.
For death betimes is comfort, not dismay, and who can rightly die needs no delay.
There is no flock, however watched and tended, but one dead lamb is there! There is no fireside howsoe'er defended, but has one vacant chair.
The most heaven-like spots I have ever visited, have been certain rooms in which Christ's disciples were awaiting the summons of death. So far from being a "house of mourning," I have often found such a house to be a vestibule of glory.
Death is the ultimate boundary of human matters.
Those only can thoroughly feel the meaning of death who know what is perfect love.
You should not fear, nor yet should you wish for your last day.
Death? Translated into the heavenly tongue, that word means life!
Going out into life--that is dying. Christ is the door out of life.
So we fall asleep in Jesus. We have played long enough at the games of life, and at last we feel the approach of death. We are tired out, and we lay our heads back on the bosom of Christ, and quietly fall asleep.
A short death is the sovereign good hap of human life.
Death is like thunder in two particulars; we are alarmed, at the sound of it; and it is formidable only from that which preceded it.
The hand that unnerved Belshazzar derived its most horrifying influence from the want of a body, and death itself is not formidable in what we do know of it, but in what we do not.
O Death, what are thou? nurse of dreamless slumbers freshening the fevered flesh to a wakefulness eternal.
Death is dreadful to the man whose all is extinguished with his life; but not to him whose glory never can die.
To close the eyes, and give a seemly comfort to the apparel of the dead, is poverty's holiest touch of nature.
What is certain in death is somewhat softened by what is uncertain; it is an indefiniteness in the time, which holds a certain relation to the infinite, and what is called eternity.
Remember to think of your departed mother always as living, just away in another room of our Father's house.
Every day His servants are dying modestly and peacefully--not a word of victory on their lips; but Christ's deep triumph in their hearts--watching the slow progress of their own decay, and yet so far emancipated from personal anxiety that they are still able to think and plan for others, not knowing that they are doing any great thing. They die, and the world hears nothing of them; and yet theirs was the completest victory. They came to the battle field, the field to which they had been looking forward all their lives, and the enemy was not to be found. There was no foe to fight with.
Many persons sigh for death when it seems far off, but the inclination vanishes when the boat upsets, or the locomotive runs off the track, or the measles set it.
How beautiful it is for a man to die Upon the walls of Zion! to be called Like a watch-worn and weary sentinel, To put his armour off, and rest in heaven!
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