I have been requested to preach the funeral sermon of the wife of brother Levi Savage, who died last December; and since coming to this place this morning, I have been requested to preach the funeral sermons of several of the Saints who have died in England; and I have concluded, instead of limiting my address to any one individual case, to preach what may be considered a general funeral sermon of all the Saints that have died in all past ages and generations, with all that shall die hereafter, and the funeral sermon of all those who are not Saints, and also the funeral sermon of the heavens and the earth; and for this purpose I will take a text, which you will find recorded in the 51st chapter of the prophecy of Isaiah, and the sixth verse—
"Lift up your eyes to the heavens, and look upon the earth beneath, for the heavens shall vanish away like smoke, and the earth shall wax old like a garment, and they that dwell therein shall die in like manner; but my salvation shall be forever, and my righteousness shall not be abolished."
All things with which we are acquainted, pertaining to this earth of ours, are subject to change; not only man, so far as his temporal body is concerned, but the beasts of the field, the fowls of the air, the fishes of the sea, and every living thing with which we are acquainted—all are subject to pain and distress, and finally die and pass away; death seems to have universal dominion in our creation. It certainly is a curious world; it certainly does not look like a world constructed in such a manner as to produce eternal happiness; and it would be very far from the truth, I think, for any being at the present time to pronounce it very good: everything seems to show us that goodness, in a great degree, has fled from this creation. If we partake of the elements, death is there in all its forms and varieties; and when we desire to rejoice, sorrow is there, mingling itself in every cup; and woe, and wretchedness, and misery, seem to be our present doom.
There is something, however, in man, that is constantly reaching forward after happiness, after life, after pleasure, after something to satisfy the longing desire that dwells within his bosom. Why is it that we have such a desire? And why is it that it is not satisfied? Why is it that this creation is so constructed? And why is it that death reigns universally over all living earthly beings? Did the great Author of creation construct this little globe of ours subject to all these changes, which are calculated to produce sorrow and death among the beings that inhabit it? Was this the original condition of our creation? I answer, no; it was not so constructed. But how was it made in the beginning? All things that were made pertaining to this earth were pronounced "very good." Where there is pain, where there is sickness, where there is sorrow, and where there is death, this saying can not be understood in its literal sense; things cannot be very good where something very evil reigns and has universal dominion.
We are, therefore, constrained to believe, that in the first formation of our globe, as far as the Mosaic history gives us information, everything was perfect in its formation; that there was nothing in the air, or in the waters, or in the solid elements, that was calculated to produce misery, wretchedness, unhappiness, or death, in the way that it was then organized; not but what the same elements, organized a little differently, would produce all these effects; but as it was then constructed, we must admit that every particle of air, of water, and of earth, was so organized as to be capable of diffusing life and immortality through all the varied species of animated existence—immortality reigned in every department of creation; hence it was pronounced very "good."