The Russellville Democrat., 1890-07-24


 medicine for the body and the soul. I was that one" And then Christ, from q throne orertopping the rest, well say: ''fnasmuch as ye did 1t to ono of the least of these. ye did 1t to me. : And then the seraphs will take their harps from the side of the throne and cry: What song shall it bc?" And Christ bending over the harpers, shad say: .'It shall be Harvest Home"
 Oh, have you never sat by sueh a death-bed? In that hour you hear the departing soul cry: "Harkl lookl" You hardened and you looked. A little child pining away because of the death of it's mother, getting weaker and weaker every day, was taken into the room where hung the picture of her mother. She seemed to enjoy looking at it. and then she was taken away, and after awhile died In the last moment that wan and wasted little one lifted her hands, while her face lighted up with the glory of the next world, and cried out: "Motherl" You tell me she did not see her mother? She did. So in my first settlement at Belle-s ville plain man said to me: What do you think heard last night? l was in the room where one of my neigh bors was dying. He was . good man. and he said he heard the angels of God singing before the throne. I haven't much poetry about me, but I listened and l heard them too" Said l.: II have no doubt of it. Why, we are to be taken to Heaven at last by minis tering spirits. Who are they to be? Souls that went up from Madras, or Antioch, or Jerusalem? Oh, no; our glorified kindred are going to troop around us.
 Heaven is not stately, formal place, as I sometimes hear it described, a very frigiditv of splendor. where peo- pie stand on cold formalities and go around about with heavy crows of gold on their heads. No, that is not my idea of Heaven. My idea of Heaven is more like this: You are seated in the evening-tide by the fireplace, your whole family there, or nearly all of them there. While you arc seated talking and enjoying the evening hour, there is knock at the door, and the door opens, and there comes in brother that has been long absent. He has been absent for years, you have not seen him, and no sooner do you make up your mind that it is certainly he, than you leap up, and the question is who shall give him the first embrace. That is my idea of Heaven--a great home circle where they are waiting for us. Oh, will you not know your mothers voice there? She who always calls you by your first name long after others had given you the formal s'Mister?' You were never any thing but James, or John, or George, or Thomas, or Mary, or Florence to her. Will you not know your child's voice? She of the bright eye, and the ruddy cheek, and the quiet step, who came in from play and flung herself into your lap, very shower of mirth and beauty? Why, the picture is graven in your soul. Itcan not wear out If that littlo one should stand on the other side of some Heavenly hill and call to you you would hear her voice above the burst of Heavens great orchestra. Know it! You could not help but know it.
 Again, I adopt this theory because there are features of moral tempera- ment and features of the soul that will distinguish us forever. How do we know each other in this world? Is it merely by the color of the eye, or the length of the hair, or the facial propor-' tions? Oh. no. It is by the disposition as well, by natural affinity, using the word in the very best sense and not in the bad sense; and if in the dust our body should perish and lie there forever, and there should be no resurrection, still the soul has enough features and the dis position has enough features to make us distinguishable. l can understand how in sickness man will become so delirious that he will not know his own friends, but will we be blasted with such insufferable idiocy that, standing beside our best friends for all eternity, we will never guess who they are?
 Now bring you this glorious conso- lation of future recognition. If you could get this theory into your heart it would lift great many shadows that are stretching across it. When I was a lad I used to go out to the railroad track and put my ear down on the track, and I could hear the express train rumbling miles away, and coming on; and to-day, my friends, if we only had faith enough we could put our ear down to the grave of our dead and listen and hear in the distance the rumbling on of the cbariots of res nrrection victory. O, Heaveni Sweet Heavenl You do not spell Heaven as you used to spell it. You used to spell it H-e-a-v-e-n, Heaven. But now when you want to spell that word you place side by side the faces of the loved ones who are gone, and in that irradiation of light and love, and beauty and joy, you spell it out asneyer before, in songs and hallelujahs.
 In the East they take a cage of birds and bring 1t to the tomb of the dead. and then they open the door of the cage. and the birds, flying out, sing. And I would to-day bring cage Of Christian cancellations to the grave or your loved ones, and would open the door and let them fill all tho air with the music of their voices. Oh, how they bound in these spirits before the throne! Some shout with gladness. Some break forth into uncomfortable weeping for joy. Some stand speech less in their shock of delight They sing. They quiver with excessive glad ness. They gaze on the temples, on tho palaces, on the waters, on each other. They weave their joy into garlands, they spring it into triumphal arches, they strike it on timbrels. and then all the loved ones gather in great circle around the throne of God-fathers, moth CTS, brothers, sisters, sons and daughters, lovers and friends, hand to hand around about the throne of God-the circle ever widening hand to hand, joy to joy, jubilee to jubilee. victory to victory, nxffl fba dau hrnal arI Rkn al. .d nx.a.