the piece where occurs the sublime passage, "And God said, Let there be light, and there was light"—it is related, that overpowered by the harmony which he had himself created, the tears ran down the old man's cheeks, and lifting his arms to heaven he exclaimed, "Not—not from me, but thence does all this come." He sunk under the power of his emotions, and was obliged to be carried from the hall.
And would not he—who thus from earth had devoutly looked to heaven, and acknowledged it to be the true source and fountain of all lofty harmonies—would not he, when through the gate of death he reached that heaven itself find himself in the midst of those essential harmonies? instead of having left music behind him, would he not find himself now at music's very fountain-head? And with what ecstatic delight, may we suppose, he would enter into that lofty company of congenial souls, and with what raptures would they then pour forth their celestial music, "having every one of them harps," and singing "a new song" of thanksgiving and praise to their blessed Redeemer, Saviour, and God!
We may thus perceive the truth and rationality of the view, that, by the event which is called death, instead of losing anything, all (to the good at least) is gain; that in passing from this world or state of existence into the other, we pass from a world, beautiful and populous though it be, into one vastly more populous, and doubtless far more beautiful, also, since spiritual realities must be more vivid, and perfect than material forms; that, from the fact of that world being independent of time and space, the good and wise of all ages do, as Addison elegantly expresses it, "become cotempo-
