in nature and grace, that it cannot gain much credence with believers in the simple representations of the Bible.  What a mockery Elijah’s translation seems, upon that theory!  Whither was he translated?  Did the chariots of fire, and the horses of fire, convey him to a dreamless sleep of thousands of years?  Was that pomp, that emblazonry, all that fiery pageant, a deception signifying nothing but that the greatest of prophets was to begin a stupid slumber, which, this day, under a heaven with not one redeemed soul in it, and in a world where there is every thing to be done for God and men, holds him, and every other dead saint, in a useless suspension of his consciousness, and, indeed, for so many ages, annihilation?  Poor economy in the dispensation of overflowing love to intelligent beings,—­we say it with submission,—­does this seem to be; nor can we think that, in the case of Elijah, it was this which was heralded by horses and chariots of fire.  Chariots and horses are emblems of flight; but if sleep were descending upon the hero of the prophetic age, twilight would more appropriately have drawn her soft veil over nature, birds would have begun their vespers, clouds would have put on their changing, pensive colors, while cadences of music, breathed by the winds, would have shed lethargic influences into the scene.  Inspiration does not trifle with us by really meaning such a preparation for a sleep of ages, and yet informing us, in so many words, that “the Lord would take up Elijah into heaven by a whirlwind.”  No; going to heaven is not going to sleep, and going to sleep is not going to heaven.  Sleep and death are used figuratively for each other, according to the laws of language, which describes appearances without regard to scientific truth, as in speaking of the sun’s rising, for example, and the going down of the sun; but to fall asleep in Jesus is to awake in heaven; to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord.  This we all believe; and may we never be moved away from this cheering, animating hope.  Yet how little power has this belief and hope upon our feelings and conduct! for our Christian graces partake of the same imperfection which characterizes our whole nature; the soil is poor in which they grow; the seasons are short, the climate cold; they do not reach maturity.  It is instructive to notice how men who have had the very best advantages, and the greatest knowledge, are, nevertheless, prone to unbelief.  Christ appeared to his disciples, and upbraided them because they believed not them which said he was risen.  Their incredulity strikes us as marvellous.  They were not the first, nor the last, whose want of faith is a marvel.  These sons of the prophets in Elisha’s day were equally slow to believe.  They themselves had said to him, “Knowest thou that the Lord will take away thy master from thy head to-day?” Elisha came back to them from the scene of the translation.  Of course he told them what had happened, describing