And it bids us think, as St. Peter bids us:  ’When therefore all these things are dissolved, what manner of persons ought ye to be in holy conversation and godliness?’

What manner of persons?

Remember, that if an earthquake destroyed all England, or the whole world; if this earth on which we live crumbled to dust, and were blotted out of the number of the stars, there is one thing which earthquake, and fire, and all the forces of nature cannot destroy, and that is—­the human race.

We should still be.  We should still endure.  Not, indeed, in flesh and blood:  but in some state or other; each of us the same as now, our characters, our feelings, our goodness or our badness; our immortal spirits and very selves, unchanged, ready to receive, and certain to receive, the reward of the deeds done in the body, whether they be good or evil.  Yes, we should still endure, and God and Christ would still endure.  But as our Saviour, or as our Judge?  That is a very awful thought.

One day or other, sooner or later, each of us shall stand before the judgment-seat of Christ, stripped of all we ever had, ever saw, ever touched, ever even imagined to ourselves, alone with our own consciences, alone with our own deserts.  What shall we be saying to ourselves then?

Shall we be saying—­I have lost all:  The world is gone—­the world, in which were set all my hopes, all my wishes; the world in which were all my pleasures, all my treasures; the world, which was the only thing I cared for, though it warned me not to trust in it, as it trembled beneath my feet?  But the world is gone, and now I have nothing left!

Or, shall we be saying,—­The world is gone?  Then let it go.  It was not a home.  I took its good things as thankfully as I could.  I took its sorrows and troubles as patiently as I could.  But I have not set my heart on the world.  My treasure, my riches, were not of the world.  My peace was a peace which the world did not give, and could not take away.  And now the world is gone, I keep my peace, I keep my treasure still.  My peace is where it was, in my own heart.  My peace is what it was:  my faith in God,—­faith that my sins are forgiven me for Christ’s sake:  my faith that God my Father loves me, and cares for me; and that nothing,—­height or depth, or time or space, or life or death, can part me from His love:  my faith that I have not been quite useless in the world; that I have tried to do my duty in my place; and that the good which I have done, little as it has been, will not go forgotten by that merciful God, by whose help it was done, who rewards all men according to the works which He gives them heart to perform.  And my treasure is where it was—­in my heart; and what it was,—­the Holy Spirit of God, the spirit of goodness, of faith and truth, of mercy and justice, of love to God and love to man, which is everlasting life itself.  That I have.  That time cannot abate, nor death abolish, nor the world, nor the destruction of the world, nor of all worlds, can take away.