DEATH
"All men think all men are mortal, but themselves!"
Side by side they lie in the dust, and worms cover them both!Ever gliding down the stream of time into the ocean of eternity
He preached his own funeral sermon
What a superlatively grand and consoling idea!
I have been informed of the loss of your dear wife
The key of Death is in the Savior's hands
Spurgeon Gems on Death and Dying
A grey head, and a carnal worldly heart
Susannah Spurgeon, "A Song of Sighs"
He who trifles with it is a fool
There lies his mortal body, moldering into dust—and feeding the worms
Soon I must go down that road from which I will never return
Nine evils which death will put an end to
You are on the road to eternity!
The great Arbiter of life and death!
Flying through the air with an angel-escort
Swept off the great chess-board of this world
The funeral of all his sorrows!
The nest was destroyed, and the poor bird lay bleeding and exposed!
His uplifted dart is inexorable!
People are like grass and flowers
The house in which we must all abide at last!
Many times Jesus and His people pull against one another in prayer!
Could you be so selfish—and so cruel?
View well the monster in true light
That last river which we all must pass over
It must be consigned to the dust from whence it came
Zeuxis died laughing at the picture of an old woman
The vilest reptile and the proudest prince!
The messenger of Christ to fetch us home to Himself
I am in eternity—and you are on the brink!
He never thought that he would sink into Hell!
You are only fattening it for worms
When we gaze upon the lifeless corpse
There is no discharge in that war
The happiest moment of his life
In the midst of all the wild scene—Stephen fell asleep
When the cold winds are whistling over your grave
Both are buried in the same dust — both eaten by the same maggots
And there reader, you are going!
The thread of life is held by the divine hand alone
The house appointed for all living
Though we mourn, we must not murmur
Prayer for a time of bereavement
In a few days — I may be in Hell
That ruthless invader of all happiness
Where am I bound for? For Heaven—or for Hell?
When will it be my time to be eaten?
One more step, and his icy hand may lay hold of us!
Surely, we would not wish them back again
Running to and fro like ants upon a heap
The funeral of all your sorrows
All the trees of earth are marked for the woodman's ax
Crawling along the road of life
Death is a change of employment
It will matter little when I lie in my coffin
You are the one who has done this
Love photographs them in the heart!
A few feet of earth will suffice
An inlet to three dreadful things
Like a passing scene in a drama
A worm, a gnat, a fly, a hair, a raison, a skin of a grape
The great robber of our loves and joys
We sicken, and die, and moulder away in the grave
Death brings the soul to a state of eternal rest
They only think of amusements and entertainments!
Death puts an end to all changes
The mad desire of plenty and pleasure
This tyrant wields a universal sway
A bowl which will soon be broken
We shall wither, fade, and die!
A hideous skeleton, a collection of bones, a heap of dust
Let all God's people look upon death through Scripture spectacles
Death — to the righteous and the wicked
Beyond this, I have no great desire to live
The base cares & the petty enjoyments of the present world
You are the one who has done this
The time has come for my departure!
The death of your godly daughter
My little daughter Ann was in good health on Monday — and on Thursday she was a corpse
I have been just informed of the loss of your dear wife
Poor Miss Smith — where is she now?
Reader, turn aside and see this great sight!
He then sank back, like his son, smiled, and expired
The gate of death, and the gate of glory, are one
Now am I one day nearer Heaven than I ever was!
All our care, forethought, and caution
When you come to creep into your hole
Honor, wealth, and pleasure lose their charms
Mr. Andrews met with many storms and billows during his voyage on the sea of life
The design of the divine Artist
How many more years will I live?
This dark valley of corruption, earth, and worms
SEVEN LESSONS LEARNED TOO LATE
When the Puritan Richard Baxter lay dying
It would make us sleep more quietly, and die more comfortably
Look forward to your sinless and perfect home
I desire that this may be my text at my funeral:
You are on the road to eternity
Riches Beauty Pleasure Genius Fame
Your beauty, strength, and fine attire
The grass will be growing over our graves
The death of our dear friend Elmore
Dear Mrs. Brown died this morning
The things the pagans are always concerned about
Dust you are and to dust you will return
When my sweet daughter Eliza was dying
Neither youth, nor wit, nor beauty, nor strength, nor money!
Poor man, poor lost man, poor dying man
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