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The end, it is said, crowns the work, and, therefore,
it is in death that the just man's life is most
fittingly crowned, while the departure of the sinner
is a no less fitting close to his wretched career.
"Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of
his saints" (Ps.115:15), says the Psalmist, but "the
death of the wicked is very evil." (Ps. 33:22).
Commenting upon the latter part of this text, St.
Bernard says, "The death of the wicked is bad because
it takes them from this world; it is still worse
because it separates the soul from the body; and it
is worst because it precipitates them into the fire
of Hell, and delivers them a prey to the undying worm
of remorse." To these evils which haunt the sinner
at the hour of death add the bitter regrets which
gnaw his heart, the anguish which fills his soul, and
the torments which rack his body. He is seized with
terror at the thought of the past; of the account he
must render; of the sentence which is to be
pronounced against him; of the horrors of the tomb;
of separation from wife, children, and friends; of
bidding farewell to the things he has loved with an
inordinate and a guilty love wealth, luxuries, and
even the gifts of nature, the light of day and the
pure air of heaven. The stronger his love for earthly
things has been, the more bitter will be his anguish
in separating from them. As St. Augustine says, we
cannot part without grief from that which we have
possessed with love. It was in the same spirit that a
certain philosopher said that he who has fewest
pleasures in life has least reason to fear death. But the greatest suffering of the wicked at the hour
of death comes from the stings of remorse, and the
thought of the terrible future upon which they are
about to enter. The approach of death seems to open
man's eyes and make him see all things as he never
saw them before. "As life ebbs away," says St.
Eusebius, "man is free from all distracting care for
the necessities of life. He ceases to desire honors,
emoluments, or dignities, for he sees that they are
beyond his grasp. Eternal interests and thoughts of
God's justice demand all his attention. The past with
its pleasures is gone; the present with its
opportunities is rapidly gliding away; all that
remains to him is the future, with the dismal
prospect of his many sins waiting to accuse him
before the judgment-seat of the just God."
"Consider," the saint again says, "the terror which
will seize the negligent soul when she is entering
eternity; the anguish with which she will be filled
when, foremost among her accusers, her conscience
will appear with its innumerable retinue of sins. Its
testimony cannot be denied; its accusations will
leave her mute and helpless; there will be no need to
seek further witnesses, for the knowledge of this
life-long companion will confound her." Still more
terrible is the picture of the death of the sinner
given by St. Peter Damian. "Let us try to represent
to ourselves," he says, "the terror which fills the
soul of the sinner at the hour of death and the
bitter reproaches with which conscience assails him.
The commandments he has despised and the sins he has
committed appear before him, to haunt him by their
presence. He sighs for the time which he has
squandered, and which was given to him to do penance;
he beholds with despair the account he must render
before the dread tribunal of God. He longs to arrest
the moments, but they speed relentlessly on, bearing
him nearer and nearer to his doom. "If he looks back, his life seems but a moment, and
before him is the limitless horizon of eternity. He
weeps bitterly at the thought of the unspeakable
happiness which he has sacrificed for the fleeting
pleasures of the flesh: Confusion and shame overwhelm
him when he sees he has forfeited a glorious place
among the angelic choirs, through love for his body,
which is about to become the food of worms. When he
turns his eyes from the abode of these beings of
light to the dark valley of this world, he sees how
base and unworthy are the things for which he has
rejected immortal glory and happiness. Oh! Could he
but regain a small portion of the time he has lost,
what austerities, what mortifications he would
practice! What is there that could overcome his
courage? What vows would he not offer, and how
fervent would be his prayers! But while he is
revolving these sad thoughts, the messengers of death
appear in the rigid limbs, the dark and hollow eyes,
the heaving breast, the foaming lips, the livid face.
And as these exterior heralds approach, every
thought, word, and action of his guilty life appears
before him. "Vainly does he strive to turn his
eyes from them; they will not be banished. On one
side � and this is true of every man's death � Satan
and his legions are present, tempting the dying man,
in the hope of seizing his soul even at the last
minute. On the other side are the angels of Heaven,
helping, consoling, and strengthening him. And yet it
is his own life that will decide the contest between
the spirits of darkness and the angels of light. In
the case of the good, who have heaped up a treasure
of meritorious works, the victory is with the angels
of light. But the impious man, whose unexpiated
crimes are crying for vengeance, rejects the help
that is offered to him, yields to despair, and as his
unhappy soul passes from his pampered body, the
demons are ready to seize it and bear it away."
What stronger proof does man require of the wretched
condition of the sinner, and what more does he need
to make him avoid a career which ends so deplorably?
If, at this critical hour, riches could help him as
they do at many other periods of life, the evil would
be less. But he will receive no succor from his
riches, his honors, his dignities, his distinguished
friends. The only patronage which will then avail him
will be that of virtue and innocence. "Riches," says
the Wise Man, "shall not profit in the day of
revenge, but justice shall deliver from death." (Prov.
11:4). As the wicked, therefore, receive at the
hour of death the punishment of their crimes, so do
the just then receive the reward of their virtues.
"With him that feareth the Lord ", says the Holy
Ghost, "it shall go well in the latter end; and in
the day of his death he shall be blessed." (Ecclus.
1:13). St. John declares this truth still more
forcibly when he tells us that he heard a voice from
Heaven commanding him, "Write: Blessed are the dead
who die in the Lord. From henceforth, saith the
Spirit, they rest from their labors, for their works
follow them." (Apoc. 14:13). With such a promise from
God Himself, how can the just man fear? Can he dread
that hour in which he is to receive the reward of his
life's labors? Since, as we read in Job, he has
put away iniquity, brightness like that of the
noonday shall arise to him at evening, and when he
shall think himself consumed he shall rise as the
day-star. (Cf. Job 11:14,17). Explaining these words,
St. Gregory says that the light which illumines the
close of the just man's life is the splendor of that
immortal glory which is already so near. When others,
therefore, are weighed down by sadness and despair,
he is full of confidence and joy. For this reason
Solomon has said that the wicked shall be rejected
because of their wickedness, but the just man hath
hope in the hour of his death. (Cf. Prov. 14:32).
What more striking example of this confident hope can
we find than that of the glorious St. Martin? Seeing
the devil beside his bed at the hour of death, he
cried out, "What art thou doing here, cruel beast?
Thou wilt find no mortal sin in my soul by which thou
mayest bind me. I go, therefore, to enjoy eternal
peace in Abraham's bosom." Equally touching and
beautiful was the confidence of our holy Father, St.
Dominic. Seeing the religious of his order weeping
around his bed, he said to them, "Weep not, my
children, for I can do you more good where I am going
than I could ever hope to do on earth." How could the
fear of death overcome one who so confidently hoped
to obtain Heaven, not only for himself, but also for
his disciples? Far, then, from fearing death, the
just hail it as the hour of their deliverance and the
beginning of their reward. In his commentary on the
Epistle of St. John, St. Augustine writes, "It cannot
be said that he who desires to be dissolved and to be
with Christ endures death with patience, but rather
that he endures life with patience and embraces death
with joy." It is not, therefore, with cries and
lamentations that the just man sees his end
approaching, but � like the swan, which is said to
sing as death draws near � he departs this life with
words of praise and thanksgiving on his lips. He
does not fear death, because he has always feared
God, and he who fears God need fear nothing else. He
does not fear death, because his life has been a
preparation for death, and he who is always armed and
ready need not fear the enemy. He does not fear
death, because he has sought during life to secure in
virtue and good works powerful advocates for that
terrible hour. He does not fear death, because he has
endeavored, by devoted service, to incline his Judge
in his favor. Finally, he does not fear death,
because to the just, death is only a sweet sleep, the
end of toil, and the beginning of a blessed
immortality. Nor can the accompanying accidents
and pains of death alarm him, for he knows that they
are but the throes and pangs in which he must be
brought forth to eternal life. He is not dismayed by
the memory of his sins or the rigor of God's justice,
since he has Christ for his Friend and Advocate. He
does not tremble at the presence of Satan and his
followers, for his Redeemer, who has conquered Hell
and ! death, stands at his side. For him the tomb has
no terrors, for he knows that he must sow a natural
body in order that it may rise a spiritual body, that
this corruptible must put on incorruption. (Cf. 1Cor.
15:42,44).
Since, as we have already remarked, the end crowns
the work, and, as Seneca tells us, the last day
condemns or justifies the whole life, how can we,
beholding the peaceful and blessed death of the just
and the miserable departure of the wicked, seek for
any other motive to make us embrace a life of virtue?
Of what avail will be the riches and prosperity which
you may enjoy during your short stay in this life, if
your eternity will be spent in the endless torments
of Hell? Or how can you shrink from the temporary
sufferings that will win for you an eternity of
happiness? Of what advantage are learning and skill,
if the sinner uses them only to acquire those things
which flatter his pride, feed his sensuality, confirm
him in sin, make him unfit to practice virtue, and
thus render death as bitter and unwelcome as his life
was pleasant and luxurious? We consider him a wise
and skillful physician who prudently seeks by every
it means to restore the health of his patient, since
this is the end of his science. So is he truly wise
who regulates his life with a view to his last end,
who constantly employs all the means in his power to
fit himself for a happy death. Behold, then, dear
Christian, the twelve fruits of virtue in this life.
They are like the twelve fruits of the tree of life
seen by St. John in his prophetic vision. (Cf. Apoc.
22:2). This tree represents Jesus Christ, and is also
a symbol of virtue with its abundant fruits of
holiness and life. And what fruits can be compared to
those which we have been considering? What is there
more consoling than the fatherly care with which God
surrounds the just? What blessings equal those of
divine grace, of heavenly wisdom, of the consolations
of the Holy Spirit, of the testimony of a good
conscience, of invincible hope, of unfailing efficacy
in prayer, and of that peaceful and happy death with
which the just man's life is crowned? But one of
these fruits, rightly known and appreciated, should
suffice to make us embrace virtue. Think not that
you will ever regret any labor or any sacrifice made
in pursuit of so great a good. The wicked do not
strive to attain it, for they know not its value. To
them the kingdom of Heaven is like a hidden treasure.
(Cf. Matt. 13:44). And yet it is only through the
divine light and the practice of virtue that they
will learn its beauty and worth. Seek, therefore,
this light, and you will find the pearl of great
price. Do not leave the source of eternal life to
drink at the turbid streams of the world. Follow the
counsel of the prophet, and taste and see that the
Lord is sweet. Trusting in Our Saviour's words,
resolutely enter the path of virtue, and your
illusions will vanish. The serpent into which the rod
of Moses was converted was frightful at a distance,
but at the touch of his hand it became again a
harmless rod. To the wicked, virtue wears a
forbidding look; to sacrifice their worldly pleasures
for her would be to buy her at too dear a rate. But
when they draw near they see how lovely she is, and
when they have once tasted the sweetness she
possesses they cheerfully surrender all they have to
win her friendship and love. How gladly did the man
in the Gospel hasten to sell all he had to purchase
the field which contained a treasure! (Cf. Matt.
13:44). Why, then, do Christians make so little
effort to obtain this inestimable good? If a
companion assured you that a treasure lay hidden in
your house, you would not fail to search for it, even
though you doubted its existence. Yet though you
know, on the infallible word of God, that you can
find a priceless treasure within your own breast, you
do nothing to discover it. Oh! That you would realize
its value! Would that you knew how little it costs to
obtain it, and how "nigh is the Lord unto all them
that call upon him, that call upon him in truth" (Ps.
144:18)!
Be mindful of the prodigal, of so many others who
have returned from sin and error, to find, instead of
an angry Judge, a loving Father awaiting them. Do
penance, therefore, for your sins, and God will no
longer remember your iniquities (Cf. Ezech.
18:21-22). Return to your loving Father; rise with
the dawn and knock at the gates of His mercy; humbly
persevere in your entreaties, and He will not fail to
reveal to you the treasure of His love. Having once
experienced the sweetness which it contains, you will
say with the spouse in the Canticle, "If a man should
give all the substance of his house for love, he
shall despise it as nothing." (Cant. 8:7).
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