And with this thought would we close. This fear of God may and should end in the perfect love that casteth out fear. This powerful and terrible emotion, which we have been considering, may and ought to prepare the soul to welcome the sweet and thrilling accents of Christ saying, “Come unto me all ye that are weary and heavy laden,” with your fears of death, judgment, and eternity, “and I will give you rest.” Faith in Christ lifts the soul above all fears, and eventually raises it to that serene world, that blessed state of being, where there is no more curse and no more foreboding.
“Serene will be our days, and bright,
And happy will our nature
be,
When love is an unerring light,
And joy its own security.”
[Footnote 1: The moral and healthful influence of fear is implied in the celebrated passage in Aristotle’s Poetics, whatever be the interpretation. He speaks of a cleansing [Greek: (katharsin)] of the mind, by means of the emotions of pity and terror [Greek: (phobos)] awakened by tragic poetry. Most certainly, there is no portion of Classical literature so purifying as the Greek Drama. And yet, the pleasurable emotions are rarely awakened by it. Righteousness and justice determine the movement of the plot, and conduct to the catastrophe; and the persons and forms that move across the stage are, not Venus and the Graces but,
“ghostly
Shapes
To meet at noontide; Death the Skeleton
And Time the Shadow.”
All literature that tends upward contains the tragic element; and all literature that tends downward rejects it. AEschylus and Dante assume a world of retribution, and employ for the purposes of poetry the fear it awakens. Lucretius and Voltaire would disprove the existence of such a solemn world, and they make no use of such an emotion.]
[Footnote 2: WORDSWORTH: Intimations of Immortality.]
[Footnote 3: LUCRETIUS: De Rerum Natura, III. 989 sq.; V. 1160 sq.]