A dyingbed in the rich, full sense of the word is becoming more and more rare.

In former times it was gloried in. And when at advanced age father or mother went into eternity, after upon their deathbed they had still cared for their children, and had exhorted and admonished them, and, before their latest breath, had gloried in the grace of God and the peace of their Savior, such a dyingbed left behind an indelible impression. Such a dyingbed edified more than ten sermons. So one had seen father pass away, so gloriously mother had died, and since then the desire has been awake in the soul, in such blessed peace oneself to be permitted to enter upon eternity.

We do not say, that such pious and instructive dyingbeds do no more occur at all, but yet, one hears less of them.

This is owing in part to the nature of the disease, for he who is taken with a shock or stricken with a stupefying illness, in most cases dies unconsciously.

In part also to the fact, that our sick are left in uncertainty, whether indeed it comes to dying.

And, alas, there is much guilt also with the less pious manner of family life; with the weaker desire to bear witness; and not being sufficiently animated with respect to eternity.

Our present-day life is so overwhelmingly rich in impressions, that already thereby our life has lost in depth.

A strong development in luxuriant growth of leaf; but in the root backward.

So one lives strenuously, but not profoundly.

One accustoms himself all too much to gliding through life, and so in the end one glides out from this life into the dreadful eternity.

OF Jacob’s dyingbed, which remains the example for the dying of God’s saints in all ages, three things are recorded.

First that he gave his sons commandments. Then, that he gathered up his feet into the bed. And third, that he yielded up the ghost, and was gathered unto his people (Gen. 49, 33).

Consider for a moment this first thing by itself alone: Jacob, the old patriarch, before he parted from his children, gave his sons commandments.

What divine restfulness and sacred peace there must have been in the old patriarch, that in that last hour he was almost not at all concerned with himself, but almost exclusively with his children.

How deeply he saw into the different characters of each of his children, and, under higher inspiration, what rich prophecy he was able to prophesy, even with respect to their descendants.

And yet, before we come to this, there is still something else, and you do well exclusively to consider that: He gave commandments.

Even as Jesus said in the parable: “Set thine house in order, for this night thy soul shall be required of thee” (Luke 12, 20).

And even this so many no more do.

Even of aged people who died, you hear it again and again, that they made no arrangements whatever; that no one knows, how they would have their effects disposed of; and that so their heirs must act in the dark.

In most cases a meaningless testament was made, when they married. And ever since they have lived along, as though from year to year this goodly, kindly life would endlessly go on.

Life was not lived thoughtlessly; but one lived year in year out, without ever a serious thought about one’s demise.

And so wife and children often stand at the bier, not knowing what to do; themselves in most cases having no knowledge of affairs; and so the real disposition passes over into the hands of a lawyer, who settles everything.

AND this is not permissible.

Up to your latest breath you are a responsible person, and if you are the head of your family, and father of children and steward of certain goods, and your own have been accustomed during your lifetime to lean and be dependent upon you, you may not at your dying so suddenly take that staff out of their hand.

From of old one heard of all sorts of testaments.

Of a testament of course concerning property one leaves behind, but also concerning so much more.

In such a testament one made confession once more of his faith and of the hope of glory, in which one died. In such a testament father gave advice and admonition to the children, which he left behind. And if he had been engaged in matters of State or Church or other public affairs, not infrequently there was found in such a testament still further instruction or disposition of how to act.

And even regarding his funeral and the spot where one desired to rest until the last day, such a testament often gave helpful hints.

And of course, he who wrote his testament in such a frame of mind, did not forget the mercies; and if he had abundant means, and wife and children were well provided for, he remembered poor members of the family, the poor of God’s church, or all sorts of institutions, which aimed at the glory of God.

THE frame of mind, expressed herein, was no mystery.

From such calm and quiet setting in order of one’s house it was evident, that one had counted with dying, and had not ignored the saying of Jesus, “that He would come as a thief in the night.”

He who so departs, had made himself conversant with the matter while he was still in life. With the dying of others he had thought about his own dying. And had not found it in conflict with an healthy rule of life, in the full strength of life to hold death before his eyes.

It was still understood what is said in the Psalms: Death beckons every hour.

Not that therefore one was sated with life or tired of life. Far less than now suicide was then heard of. And the disposition of spirit on the part of the aged was far more courageous and vigorous than now.

Even young people and children were then fond of old people; found them interesting; and were glad to be with them.

Only it was more the natural life of a man, who knows that he is a pilgrim here on earth, and that the real object of his existence is outside of this earth.

A pilgrim’s consciousness, which did not render him indifferent to the things of this earth, for before he died, he set in order, also his house.

BUT yet, stronger still than this setting in order of his house, there interests you in Jacob that giving of commandments to his sons.

Jacob in dying is engaged with his children.

Those children are the continuation of his life, when he shall be no more upon this earth.

And though you grant, that by prophetic inspiration Jacob was able to bear testimony regarding his children in a way, such as is impossible to you, who do not have this inspiration, yet this prophetic inspiration did not go outside of the natural knowledge, which he had of each one of his children.

Jacob had evidently studied his children. He had watched their doings and their ways. He had so entered into their characters that from their characters he could estimate their natures.

And on his dyingbed he calls them all around him. “Come together,” says he, “ye sons of Jacob, and listen to Israel, your father.”

He was their father.

He had generated them after more than the flesh. And as their father he wanted also in his dying still to do his duty by his children.

And now he does not spare them.

The evil characters he brands in the presence of them all; for also dying must be holy, and in no tenderness of heart may sin be condoned.

But yet in what he says to each one of his sons there speaks fatherly seriousness. It is as though, before he goes hence, he wants to let a beam of light shine on the path of every one of them, that head for head they shall walk their path with more self-consciousness.

In that address of the dying Jacob there is such a wealth of fatherly tenderness.

That aged patriarch has been more busy with his children than with his money and goods.

And also in his dying there is no complaint of pain or inconvenience of his own, but the future of his children holds all the attention of the dying saint.

How altogether different from what now you often see.

Our age, in which money is so highly esteemed, has choked so much tenderness.

And yet faith must not drift away with this.

God’s people must not yield to this.

And as need is the more imperative, to separate ourselves in our own circle, and also for our children to seek a life-circle of their own, so also must dying among us become less conformable again to the world.

For that is the real thing.

The world dies differently from the way in which God’s saints die.

And where the world tries to entice us even on our dyingbed to her side, it is the calling of the people of God, at least on the dyingbed to exclude the world.

In your dying at least you must be a child of your God.


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