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they will begin to learn that death is still ahead—death, mystery and God. "Thou shalt surely die"—not once only, but a thousand thousand times. If we shall live again, doubt not that we shall die again: wherever there is finite life, death is the consequent. But let this pass. Death cannot be an infinite advance. The second life is at no such vast remove from the first, either in the height of the grade or the character of the consciousness thereof. Doubt not that there are theories and speculations in the second life, as to the nature of the third; and there are legends and revelations also, both real and deceptive, even as here. We shall enter that state belated, even as we did this. A pretentious past will be behind us, to rebuke and censure our parvenue theology. But our answer is recorded: We may change forever, but we cannot know the end. Death can wake us to none but the bottomless, the incomprehensible life. Yon starry host, whose golden harps are humming far within the bosom of God, have not yet read their destiny, nor his purpose. And something whispers us, that though they be older, and higher, and brighter than we are, God loves us as tenderly as them. The brave, true heart on earth is nobler than the learned head; and we doubt not that pale John Huss, though deceived and headstrong, shall yet for the brave and gentle heart within him shine brighter in heaven than Copernicus and Newton, with constellations sparkling on their heads.

And with the finitude of intellect will go, undoubtedly, the imperfect heart and purpose. We must err in the head, though the heart were pure; and there-