Mark Twain became morose and weary of life. Shortly before his death, he wrote, “A myriad of men are born; they labor and sweat and struggle; they squabble and scold and fight; they scramble for little mean advantages over each other; age creeps upon them; infirmities follow; those they love are taken from them, and the joy of life is turned to aching grief. It (the release) comes at last–the only unpoisoned gift earth ever had for them–and they vanish from a world where they were of no consequence, a world which will lament them a day and forget them forever.”
… Mark Twain.
I think Mark ended the way a vast majority of folks do. Seems like it just wasn’t worth the drive. If you add up all that you possess here, and don’t have anything of spiritual value stored up for the hereafter, it will always come out to zero. Don’t be a zero, put heaven into the equation. Give it some thought.
He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.
But as it is written: “Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor have entered into the heart of man the things which God has prepared for those who love Him.”
Figure it out.
Gary