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The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Third-day, November 12, 1867

FromReview and Herald, Vol. XXX, No. 22

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DIED POOR.

By T. S. Arthur

“It was a sad funeral to me,” said the speaker, “the saddest I have attended for years.”
“That of Edmonson?”
“Yes.”
“How did he die?”
“Poor, poor as poverty; his life was one long struggle with the world, and at every disadvantage. Fortune mocked him all the while with golden promises that were destined to never know fulfillment.”
“Yet he was patient and enduring,” remarked one of the company.
“Patient as a Christian—enduring as a martyr,” was answered. “Poor man! He was worthy of a better fate. He ought to have succeeded, for he deserved success.”
“Did he not succeed?” questioned the one who had spoken of his perseverance and endurance.
“No, sir; he died poor, as I have just said. Nothing that he put his hand to ever succeeded. A strange fatality seemed to attend every enterprise.”
“I was with him in his last moments,” said the other, “and thought he died rich.”
“No, he has left nothing behind,” was replied. “The heirs will have no concern for the administration of the estate.”
“He has left a good name,” said one, “and that is something.”
“And a legacy of good deeds, that were done in the name of humanity,” remarked another.
“And precious examples,” said another.
“Lessons of patience in suffering; of hope in adversity; of heavenly confidence when no sunbeams fell upon his bewildered path,” was the testimony of another.
“And high trust, manly courage, heroic fortitude.”
“Then he died rich!” was the emphatic declaration; “richer than the millionaire, who went to his long home the same day, a miserable pauper in all but gold. A sad funeral, did you say? No, my friend, it was rather a triumphal procession! Did he not succeed? Why, his whole life was a series of successes. In every conflict he came off victor, and now the victor’s crown awaits him. Any grasping, selfish soul may gather in money, and learn the art of keeping it; but not one in a hundred can bravely conquer in the battle of life, as Edmonson has conquered, and step forth from the ranks of men a Christian hero. No, no; he did not die poor, but rich—rich in neighborly love, and rich in celestial affections. And his heirs have an interest in the administration of the estate. A large property has been left, and let them see to it that they do not lose the precious things through false estimate and ignorant depreciation.”
“You have a new way of estimating the wealth of a man,” said the one who had at first expressed sympathy for the deceased.
“Is it not the right way? There are higher things to gain in this world than wealth that perishes; riches of priceless value, that ever reward the true merchant who trades for wisdom, buying it with the silver of truth and the gold of love. He dies rich who can take his treasures with him to the new land where he is to abide forever; and he who has to leave all behind on which he has placed affection, dies poor indeed. Our friend died richer than a Girard or an Astor; his monument is built of good deeds and noble examples. It will abide forever.”—T. S. Arthur.