Death: The Universal Enemy of Mankind
By Jos. Clarke
To say that all men are mortal and must die, is only what all know. Evidence of this fact is continually before all; the soldier becomes so conversant with death that its terror seems to depart. We see death before us in the universal decay of animal and vegetable life, and in nature everywhere; but it comes nearest to us when a dear friend is laid low; when we feel its slow but sure advances in our own systems; in our decaying teeth and failing sight; we feel it in our pains and weariness; in failing memory, and desire for quietness and prolonged and frequent rest. Once we were young and vigorous. No labor was too hard or prolonged; we could bear the loss of sleep or accustomed food, and, with little sleep or rest, we could pass on in the race of life. Not so now; death has been at work, stealthily sowing the seeds of decay; but we believed it not; we could not suppose for a moment that our vigor of mind or of body would ever succumb; no, our step would continue firm and elastic, our mind would continue strong, and we would never become blind or deaf. But death smiled at our conceit, and now looks complacently upon our gray hair and shriveled face. Hard is the hand of death, unfeeling his heart; no tear ever moistened his cheek, or caused him for a moment to loosen his grasp. Without a scruple, he hurls his darts; and most defiantly he holds his sceptre. Most proudly he sits upon his throne; but happily it is written of him, that his power has a limit, that his throne is soon to be vacant, and his sceptre is soon to rust in the earth, like that of fallen tyrants of old. Then death will be swallowed up in victory. Take courage, O dying saint, the Conqueror is soon to appear. Jos. CLARKE.