Another improvement of Christ’s death for us was this:  by it he slew for us our infernal foes; by it he abolished death; by death he destroyed him that had the power of death; by death he took away the sting of death; by death he made death a pleasant sleep to saints, and the grave for a while an easy house and home for the body.

We change our drossy dust for gold, From death to life we fly:  We let go shadows, and take hold Of immortality.

Blood takes away the guilt; inherent grace weakens the filth; but the grave is the place, at the mouth of which sin and the saved must have a perfect and final parting.  Not that the grave of itself is of a sin-purging quality, but God will follow Satan home to his own door, for the grave is the door or gate of hell, and will there, where the devil thought to have swallowed us up, even there by the power of his mercy, make us shine like the sun and look like angels.

The Christian wishing to depart.

“I have a desire to depart, and to be with Christ.”

The strength of this desire is such that it is ready, so far forth as it can, to dissolve that sweet knot of union that is betwixt body and soul—­a knot more dear to a reasonable creature than that can be which is betwixt wife and husband, parent and child, or a man and his estate; for even all that a man hath will he give for his life, and to keep body and soul firmly knit together.  But now, when this desire comes, this silver cord is loosed, is loosed by consent.  This desire delightfully grants to him that comes to dissolve this union, leave to do it.  “We are confident and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord.”

The strength of this desire shows itself in this, that it is willing to grapple with the king of terrors, rather than to be detained from that sweet communion which the soul looks for when it comes into the place where its Lord is.  Death is not to be desired for itself; the apostle chose rather to be clothed upon with his house which is from heaven, that mortality might be swallowed up of life.

But yet rather than he would be absent from the Lord, he was willing to be absent from the body.  Death, in the very thought of it, is grievous to flesh and blood; and nothing can so master it in our apprehensions as that by which we attain to these desires.  These desires do deal with death, as Jacob’s love to Rachel dealt with the seven long years which he was to serve for her.  It made them seem few, or but a little time; so do these desires deal with death itself.  They make it seem little, nay, a servant, nay, a privilege, because by that a man may come to enjoy the presence of his beloved Lord.  I have a desire to depart, to go from the world and relations, to go from my body, that great piece of myself—­I have a desire to venture the tugs and pains, and the harsh handling of the king of terrors, so I may be with Jesus Christ.  These are the desires of the righteous.