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Man is, as the Greek poet speaks, "a life-loving creature." He is ever, whilst sound and sane, averse to death. We may have very little to live for, yet we cling to the thorn which pierces us. The last messenger is unwelcome to royalty in purple, to beggars in rags; to the thoughtless multitude, to the thoughtful few.

I. THE AVERSION OF THE SCEPTIC. The unbeliever can approach death only with feelings of intense distress. Death disinherits him of all things, and leaves him poor indeed. Let a shallow scepticism trumpet as it may the supreme attractions of the gulf of nothingness, human nature can only leap into that gulf with a shriek. Alas! that since Christ has lived, death should ever again have become such a king of terrors.

II. THE AVERSION OF THE SECULARIST. The man who believes in another world, but who has not lived for it. How reluctant are such to die! It is not difficult to understand this aversion. The Lord has come to demand an account of the stewardship, and the faithless servant trembles. They have lived in sense and sin, and are unprepared for the judgment. The "sting of death is sin."

III. THE AVERSION OF THE SAINT. It is a fact that good men have an aversion to dying. We see this in the prayer of David, "O spare me that I may recover strength," etc. Hezekiah's prayer also. The Perfect Man reveals this hesitancy. "Who in the days of His flesh, when He had offered up prayers and supplications, with strong crying and tears, unto Him that was able to save Him from death." Paul also, "Not for that we would be unclothed, but clothed upon." We should like to draw the coronation raiment of purple and gold over this frayed, coarse garb of pilgrimage. And it is ever thus with all the disciples of Jesus. We recoil from dying. On what is this aversion based?

1. There is a natural love of the world we must leave. A person realises a fortune, and on a given day exchanges the old cottage for a mansion. Glad of the aggrandisement, he yet bids adieu to his old home with a regretful sigh. It is something thus with a man leaving this world for a grander destiny. This world may be the battered cottage, poor by the side of the high palace which awaits us, yet is this life and world dear to us. Here we sprang into being, and received our ideas of all glorious things. Our joys and sorrows have made the scenes of life sacred to us, and it is strange how the fibres strike from us, and unite us to the earth on which we live. Thus, when the time comes to part with earth and its ties, there is a struggle in the bosom of the saint.

2. There is a natural distaste for death as considered in itself. We cannot be reconciled to death however we may be assured of its harmlessness. Life is such a magnificent dowry that it makes us nervous to see it placed, even for a moment, on the brink of peril. To a Christian there is but the shadow of death, yet the shadow of such a disaster is abhorrent to our deepest nature. Christianity has taken the sting out of death, and yet one dislikes a serpent even when it has lost its sting.

3. There is a natural shrinking from the mysterious glories of the future. Man always shrinks when on the eve of realising some great ambition. The saint is impelled by desire, and repelled by trembling anticipation. He falters on the verge of the great universe of mysterious glory. Let us seek so to live that our aversion to death may have in it no dark or ignoble elements, and Christ will, perchance, make death light to us — lighter than we sometimes think.

(The Pulpit.)

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KJV: And Satan answered the LORD, and said, Skin for skin, yea, all that a man hath will he give for his life.

WEB: Satan answered Yahweh, and said, "Skin for skin. Yes, all that a man has he will give for his life.