The Yale expositor., 1897-01-29

She seemed to enjoy looking at 1t, 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, "Motherw Do you tell me she did
not see her mother? She did. So in
my first settlement at Belleville plain
man said to me. What do you think
I heard last night? / was in the room
where one of my neighbors was dying.
He was a good man, and he said he
heard the angels Of God singing be-
Scre the throne. l haven't much poetry
about me, but I listened, and heard
them, too" Said I, II have no doubt of
it," Why, we are to be taken up to
heaven at last by ministering spirits.
Who are they to be? Souls that went
up from Madras, or Antioch, or Jerusa-
lem? Oh, no! our glorifed kindred are
going to troop around us.
Heaven is not a stately, formal place.
as sometimes hear 1t described, a very
frigidity of splendor. where people
stand on cold formalities and go around
about with heavy crowns 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 even
ing-tide by the fireplace, your whole
family there or nearly all of them there.
While you are seated talking and en-
joying the evening hour, there is a
knock at the door, and the door opens,
and there comes in a 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 1t 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 called you by your
first name long after others had given
you the formal Mister" You were
never anything but James, or John, or
George, or Thomas or Mary, or Flor
ence to her. Will you not know your
child's voice? She Of the bright eye
and rudy cheek, and the quiet step,
who came in from play and flung her
self into your lap, very shower or
mirth and beauty? Why, the picture is
craven in your soul. 1t cannot wear
out. If that little 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 1t! You could not
help but know It.
Now l bring you this glorious con-
ISOLATION of future recognition. If you
could get this theory into your heart II
would lift a great many shadows that
are stretching across it. When | was
a lad used to go out to the railroad
track and put my ear down on the
track, and l could hear the express
train rumbling miles away, and coming
on: and to-day, my friends, If we only
had faith enough we could >et our ear
down to the grave of our dead, and
listen and hear in the distance the rum
bling on of the chariots of resurrection
victory.
o heaven. sweet heaven! You do not
spell heaven as you used to spell IL,
h-e-a-y-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 owe, and beauty and JOY.
you spell it out as never before, in
songs and hallelujahs. oh, we whose
hearts are down under the sod of the
cemetery. cheer up at the thought OF
this reunion. Oh, how much you will
have to tell them when once you meet
them.
Oh, how different it is on earth from
the way 1t is in heaven when Chris
tan dies! We say, "Close his eyes"
In heaven they say, Give him palm"
On earth we say. Let him down in the
ground" In heaven they say, Hoist
him on throne" On earth it is, Fare
well, farewell" In heaven it is, well
come. welcome" And so see Chris
tan soul coming down to the river of
death, and he steps into the river, and
the water comes up to the ankle. He
says, Lord Jesus, is this death?"
NO" says Christ, this is not DEATH"
And he wades still deeper down into
the waters until the flood comes to the
knee, and he Gays, Lord Jesus, tell me,
tell me, is this death?" And Christ
says, mo, no, this is not DEATH" And
he wades still further down until the
wave comes to the girdle, and the soul
says, Lord Jesus, is this death ?"
NO" says Christ, this is not" And
deeper in wades the soul till the billow
strikes the lip, and the departing one
cries, Lord Jesus, is this death?"
NO." says Christ, this is not" But
when Christ had lifted this soul on a
throne of glory. and all the pomp and
Joy of heaven came surging to it's feet,
then Christ said, This, oh transported
soul this is deathp