Thou art gone; the abyss of heaven
        Hath swallowed up thy form, but on my heart
    Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given,
        And shall not soon depart.

    He who, from zone to zone,
        Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight,
    In the long way that I must tread alone,
        Will lead my steps aright.

Christ promoted peace by giving us assurance that a line of communication can be established between the Father above and the child below.  And who will measure the consolations of the hour of prayer?

And immortality!  Who will estimate the peace which a belief in a future life has brought to the sorrowing hearts of the sons of men?  You may talk to the young about death ending all, for life is full and hope is strong, but preach not this doctrine to the mother who stands by the death-bed of her babe or to one who is within the shadow of a great affliction.  When I was a young man I wrote to Colonel Ingersoll and asked him for his views on God and immortality.  His secretary answered that the great infidel was not at home, but enclosed a copy of a speech of Col.  Ingersoll’s which covered my question.  I scanned it with eagerness and found that he had exprest himself about as follows:  “I do not say that there is no God, I simply say I do not know.  I do not say that there is no life beyond the grave, I simply say I do not know.”  And from that day to this I have asked myself the question and have been unable to answer it to my own satisfaction, how could anyone find pleasure in taking from a human heart a living faith and substituting therefor the cold and cheerless doctrine, “I do not know.”

Christ gave us proof of immortality and it was a welcome assurance, altho it would hardly seem necessary that one should rise from the dead to convince us that the grave is not the end.  To every created thing God has given a tongue that proclaims a future life.

If the Father deigns to touch with divine power the cold and pulseless heart of the buried acorn and to make it burst forth from its prison walls, will he leave neglected in the earth the soul of man, made in the image of his Creator?  If he stoops to give to the rose bush, whose withered blossoms float upon the autumn breeze, the sweet assurance of another springtime, will He refuse the words of hope to the sons of men when the frosts of winter come?  If matter, mute and inanimate, tho changed by the forces of nature into a multitude of forms, can never die, will the imperial spirit of man suffer annihilation when it has paid a brief visit like a royal guest to this tenement of clay?  No, I am sure that He who, notwithstanding his apparent prodigality, created nothing without a purpose, and wasted not a single atom in all his creation, has made provision for a future life in which man’s universal longing for immortality will find its realization.  I am as sure that we live again as I am sure that we live to-day.