The question of immortality is one which ofttimes turns thought to the study of religion when nothing else can do so. It is not so much for themselves that men desire immortality, but rather because of their love for those dear to them. This desire becomes, in many instances, a strong incentive to personal righteousness, without which there is no hope of any satisfying reunion in the future.
A writer in a prominent monthly recently quoted a wellknown English clergyman as saying that it is now generally admitted by orthodox ministers that but little interest is felt in what is called "the other life," and that "so few have any strong confidence in regard to it." It seems that the clergymen also "dwelt upon the altered mood of the dying, their comparative unconcern about the future life, and their greater solicitude about the physical well-being of those they leave behind." This was of course regarded as evidence of increasing worldliness and lack of interest in things spiritual. In spite of this view, however, we venture the statement that, while the waves of materiality seem to rise higher than ever before, there is nevertheless a deep, sure sense of spiritual need coming into the world's consciousness with a great promise for the future. While many still cling to the frail bark of creeds, and are afraid to step out upon the troubled sea of human thought to meet the Christ, there are many others who long to know the truth, cost what it may. It is sad, indeed, that a false sense of existence has so obscured the light of immortality as to make the prospect of it seem a doubtful good, since the greater number have believed that present conditions would be resumed in the future, only under different names. Mrs. Browning's keen intuition pierces the materialism of the popular thought, when she says,—
Close to heaven,
They see, for mysteries, through the open door;
Vague puffs of smoke from pots of earthenwares,
And fain would enter, when their time shall come,
With quite another body than St. Paul
Has promised, —husk and chaff, the whole barley corn,
Or where's your resurrection?
