Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright:  For the end of that man is peace.  He finds peace at the approach of death—­in death, and after death.  In order to a due estimation of the value of true religion in Himself, and in its reward, we are here called to observe the good man’s end.  It demands our careful attention.  For the scene is peculiarly instructive.  It animates to a discharge of the duties of life and supports under its troubles; especially at the approach of death, when worldly comforts fly away.

The wicked who live in habitual neglect of religion, or the indulgence of vicious desires, are commonly filled with dismay and horror, if reason remains, when they perceive their end draw nigh.  The flights which they have cast on the gospel, and on the grace therein offered; their neglects of known duty; their acts of injustice, intemperance, uncleanness, or other immoralities, the remembrance of which were almost obliterated by time, at that awful period rise up before them!  Conscience awakes; and when they consider the denunciations of divine wrath against those who do such things, and have pleasure in them, fear harrows up their souls!  They anticipate eternal woe, and are filled with agonizing horror!  Then do they appear all hurry and confusion!  The great work of life to do, and opportunity gone forever!  Bewailing past madness they cry undone!  Undone!  Such often continues their state, till the king of terrors driving them away without hope, shuts up the scene!

But the perfect and upright man, how happily different when death draws near?  If possessed of himself, like the still summer’s evening, he is calm and serene.  He talks of death with as much composure, as one returning from a strange country, to his native land; or as one returning from captivity and slavery, to his father’s house, to his family, and to the society of friends, dear as life, and with much more raised expectations!

Some ties of nature—­dear connexions, bind him indeed to earth, and would detain him here; but stronger bonds allure and draw him away toward a better world.  If concern for dear ones he must leave behind intrudes and tempts him to wish a longer stay, he remembers that though he dies, his God lives—­that God hath stiled himself the “Father of the fatherless and judge of the widow;” that he hath said “Leave thy fatherless children with me, I will preserve them alive, and let thy widows trust in me.”  Supported by such comforting declarations—­such kind promises of a faithful God, and the allured belief of his mercy and truth, he resigns them to his care and leaves them with him, not doubting, but he will preserve them, or dispose of them, as shall be most for his own glory, and their good.

As to temporal matters, which often trouble those, who are chiefly concerned about worldly things, they cannot greatly affect one who believes himself heir to an eternal inheritance.  For the comfort of those whom he leaves behind, he wishes to have his temporalities settled, and his accompts intelligible; that no disputes may arise, no injustice be done; but as to any concern which he personally takes in them, they appear in his view contemptible.  He views them as unworthy his regard, as the beggar, who hath been called to the possession of a crown the rags which he casts off to put on his robes.