the true metaphors and gentle expressions of Holy Scripture, which are surely not to be only understood of the final state of beatitude; such descriptions, we mean, as are found in Rev. vii. 16, 17, to say nothing of such definite revelations of the conditions of the unseen Life, as that in Rev. vi. 11,* where the souls of the martyrs are sweetly said to 'rest'? Ah, and do not the words of Jesus also present a far more restful image of that hidden Life: 'In My Father's house are many mansions,' and again, 'To-day shalt thou be with Me in Paradise'? Yes; how much more Divinely restful is that Voice when we let it breathe on us its own peace than such (and we say it advisedly) cruel words as these: When we recall, in spite of ourselves, expression, tones of voice, the touch of a loving hand, we must stoically crush the imagination if we are to be logically true. . . . Every thought that has its root in the tabernacle of flesh and blood is buried with it in the grave out of our sight.'

Well has the writer of these cold, heartless words used the expression 'stoically.' Christian faith requires no such stoical operation. No; perish such heart-chilling logic! The warm breath of the dying Jesus will suffice to thaw and melt such frozen reasoning with the Divine touch of those few words, like the fingers of the southern sunlight, Thou

* It has been remarked by Bishop Wordsworth ('Comment. on Rev. xxi. 25') that the form of the word 'gates,' used even of the city and the beatific life, is πvλõvɛç (not úλai, the gates of a city, but) the doors of a house, descriptive, therefore, of the home-life in God. It is always so used in the New Testament, and occurs eleven times in the Revelation.

The promise of these words' (well observes Archbishop Trench) " can hardly fail to remind us of another Thou shalt be with me,' -Samuel's to Saul (1 Sam. xxviii. 19)—that also in Sheol, in the world of spirits; but that announcement,-how unlike to this; as full of fear and terror as this is of hope and joy !'—' Studies in the Gospels,' p. 306, note.

Canon Swaine, 'The Blessed Dead,' p. 4.

with Me in Paradise.' What vague, vast wildernesses we wander into, instead of into the garden of Life, when the same writer tells us that the expressions 'far or near, here or there,' when used of the state of the blessed dead, imply conditions of local space which are inapplicable,' and that all conceptions of their praise, mutual communion by spoken words, and delight in the contemplation of the everlasting and the beautiful, are 'mere figures of speech.' The heart, that has just broken, will break afresh at such a blank and formless prospect of the life behind the veil.

Hear rather the voice of the primitive Church: 'We should remember that we have renounced the world, and are in the meantime living here as guests and strangers. Let us salute and embrace the day which assigns each of us to his own home, which snatches us hence, and sets us free from the snares of the world, and restores us to Paradise and the kingdom. Who, that has been long sojourning in foreign lands, would not hasten to return to his own country? Who, that is hastening to return to those he loves, would not eagerly desire a prosperous gale, that he might the sooner embrace those dear to him? We regard Paradise as our country ("patriam "); we already begin to consider the patriarchs as our parents; why do we not hasten and run, that we may behold our country, that we may greet our parents? There a great and loving company of our dear ones awaits us-parents, brothers, children, a manifold and numerous assemblage, are longing for us, already assured of their own safety, and still full of solicitude for our salvation. To attain to their presence and their embrace, what a gladness both for them and for us together! and oh, sweet, heavenly realms, where death can never terrify, and life can never end! Ah, perfect and perpetual bliss! There is the glorious company of Apostles;

there the host of the rejoicing prophets; there the innumerable multitude of martyrs,* crowned after the victory of their conflict and passion; there are triumphant virgins, who subdued the lust of the flesh and of the body by the vigour of their continency; there are merciful men obtaining mercy and rewarded, who, by feeding and doing bounty to the poor, have done the works of righteousness; who, keeping the Lord's precepts, have translated their earthly possessions to the heavenly treasuries. To these, dearest brethren, let us hasten with an eager desire; let us crave speedily to be with them, and quickly to come to Christ.'t

We could almost wish that it were not needful to descend from the holy and spiritual heights, to which these words of the blessed martyr have made our souls thus to ascend. But we must now inquire into the derivation of the word, Paradise. Prudentius, the Christian poet of the fourth century, has plaintively sung, in his poem 'On the Burial of the Dead':

'Until Thou dost recall from the dust and refashion, O God, the body, that must (by death) be dissolved, in what region wilt Thou bid the pure soul to rest?'

And then he sings on of the place of rest as a sweet garden 'hedged in by flowers.'+ Let us hear the

*Thanks be to God!' exclaims St. Patrick in his fervid and beautiful epistle to Coroticus, so little did the Saint of Ireland believe in a Purgatory,-'ye baptized believers have passed to Paradise.''Writings of Patrick,' p. 74.

† St. Cyprian, 'De Mortalitate,' 20

How much sweeter than the dismal ideas of the gloomy ascetic African, Tertullian-' De Animâ,' c. 55. Yet even he can say ('Adv. Marcion.,' iv. 34): The rich man could not have "lifted up his eyes' except to a superior height, and, as from a distance, up through a vast immensity of height and depth. It must, then, be evident to every man of intelligence who has ever heard of the Elysian fields, that there is

impassioned words of the blessed Anselm of Canterbury.*

'What meaneth this, O King of all desire? Thou art wounded with the nails, and dost Thou yet promise Paradise? Thou hangest on the tree, and yet sayest to the thief: "To-day thou shalt be with Me in Paradise." And, O thou Desire of souls, where is this Paradise, in that thou sayest so to the thief, "With Me in Paradise"? Or is Paradise with Thee, and, where Thou willest, is that Paradise? Or art Thou Thyself of a truth this Paradise, in that Thou dost so certainly promise Paradise, saying: "Thou shalt be with Me in Paradise"? I believe, O Lord, I do verily believe that where Thou willest and where Thou art, there is Paradise, and to be with Thee, this is to be in Paradise. . . . Oh, how good is it to be with Thee, and how blessed are they that are with Thee, for they truly are in Paradise and in the Kingdom, who are with Thee in faith and love.' Beautiful, devout, and true these words are, but they do not deny a local Paradise. They breathe a devout aspiration rather than give a definition. Those who only know St. Anselm by his more logical treatises,—in which the exact reasoning so anticipates the theological clearness and precision of our reformed doctrine that, had the world listened to the scholar of Bec and the saint of Canterbury, the Reformation might have been centuries earlier, would be scarcely prepared for the spirit of rapt and pathetic devotion in these exquisite prayers.

some determinate place called "Abraham's bosom," and that it is designed for the reception of the souls of his children, even from among the Gentiles, who are of the same faith as that whereby he himself believed God without the yoke of the law of circumcision. Although it is not heaven, it is higher than hell' (sublimiorem inferis), and is appointed to afford an interval of rest to the souls of the righteous, until the consummation of all things shall complete the resurrection.'

* Or. 42, Op. i. p. 275.

It

Now, Paradise is not a Hebrew word, nor is it found in any of the languages that are kindred to the Hebrew. is not, indeed, a Semitic word at all. It belongs to that family of languages called Aryan, from which our own tongue is derived.* It is an Indian or Persian word, and means simply a park, only it has a rather wider idea in it, and of a wilder and more forest-like demesne. The word has an underlying sadness in it, the diapason of a mournful cadence and echo, for it recalls the lost Eden, and, of every earthly Eden, since it has been truly and touchingly said: 'Cries of pain rise from this Eden of ours. They come from the forest glade, where the hawk pounces upon some quivering thing; from the village, where the peasant takes the newborn lamb from its mother; they come still more from cities —clamours, sinister laughs, slaughtered cattle, sobs, threats, men who kill, who are killed; tears of those who refuse to be comforted! And those whom we do not hear, who do not cry out, are those who suffer most.'t How sad, how bitter a change from the innocence and sunshine of the lost Eden!

'In the evolution of theology in the later Jewish schools' (says Archbishop Trench) 'that garden had lent a name to the happy place where the souls of the faithful, released from the burden of the flesh, are waiting their perfect consummation and bliss; and it is of this Paradise our Blessed Lord is speaking.'§ The pure, though ascetical sect of the Essenes seem to have especially emphasized this doctrine. (Cf. Hippolytus, Adv. Hær.,' ix. 22). Jeremy Taylor has well traced the history of the word,' and has said, in his 'Life of Christ' (cf. pp. 715-718): 'The holy

* Smith's Bible Dict., i., p. 704.

+ The Near and the Heavenly Horizons,' p. 292.

In Abraham's bosom, "the receptacle for all faithful souls," Tertullian says again, 'images of the future are presented wherein some foresight of the pure glory' (candida, white) of the twofold Judgment is given.' § Archbishop Trench, 'Studies in the Gospels,' p. 308.