not the normal permanent state of the
heart; but this merely remains a question, and to its answer no reason
helps us. Age after age has passed with no variation in the fell
discord of its wails, tears, and groans. Generation has followed in
the footsteps of generation, but with no rift in the gloomy shadow of
death that has overhung and finally settled over each. Six thousand
years of mourning leave unaided Reason with poor hope of any change in
the future,--of any expectation of true comfort. But then listen to
that authoritative Voice proclaiming, as no "scribe" ever could,
"Blessed are they that mourn, _for they shall be comforted_." Ah,
there is a bright light breaking in on the dark clouds, with no
lightning-flash of added storm, but a mild and holy ray,--the promise
of a day yet to break o'er our sorrow-stricken earth, when there shall
be no need for mourning, for death no more shall reign, but be
swallowed up in victory.

But turn over a few pages more, and the contrast is still further
heightened. The sun of divine revelation is now in mid-heaven; and not
merely future, but present, comfort is revealed by its holy and blessed
beam. Come, let us enter now into the "house of mourning," not merely
to clasp hands with the mourners, and to sit there in the silence of
Ecclesiastes' helplessness for the benefit of our own hearts, nor even
to whisper the promise of a future comfort, but, full of the comfort of
a present hope, to pour out words of comfort into the mourners' ears.
Tears still are flowing,--nor will we rebuke them. God would never
blunt those tender sensibilities of the heart that thus speaks the Hand
that made it; but He would take from the tears the bitterness of
hopelessness, and would throw on them His own blessed Light,--a new
direct word of revelation from Himself,--Love and Light as He
is,--till, like the clouds in the physical world, they shine with a
glory that even the cloudless sky knows not.

_First_, then, all must be grounded and based on faith in the Lord
Jesus. We are talking to those who share with us in a common divine
faith. _We believe that Jesus died_: but more, _we believe that He
rose again_: and here alone is the foundation of true hope or comfort.
They who believe not or know not this are as absolutely hopeless--as
comfortless--as Ecclesiastes: they are "the rest which have no hope."
True divine Hope is a rare sweet plant, whose root is found _only_ in
His empty tomb,