Decorah public opinion. (Decorah, Winneshiek County [Iowa]) 1895-1928, 1897-02-02
She seemed to enjoy looking at it. and

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, Mother" Do you tell me she did
not see her mother? She did. So in
my first settlement at Believille plain
man said to me- What do you think
| ! 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-
fore the throne haven't much poetry
about me, but I listened, and l heard
| them, too" Said /, 81 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 glorified kindred are
| going to troop around us.
Heaven is not a stately, formal place,
as sometimes hear it described, 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
i 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 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, viii 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 OF
mirth and beauty? Why, the picture Is
! craven in your soul. 1t cannot wear
out. II that little one should stand or
| 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 1t.
Now / bring you this glorious con-
| ISOLATION of future recognition. III you
| could get this theory into your heart 1t
would lift a great many shadows that
| are stretching across it. When l was
| a lad / used to go out to the railroad
| track and put my ear down on the
| track, and / could hear the express
train rumbling miles away, and coming
on: and to-day, my friends, IL 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 rum
bling on of the chariots of resurrection
victory.
O heaven, sweet heaven! You do not
spell heaven as you used to spell it.,
heaven, 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
cemeterj. 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 it is in heaven when Chris
tan dies! We say, ''Close his eyes"
, In heaven they say, Give him a palm"
On earth we say. Let him down in the
ground" In heaven they say, Hoist
him on throne" On earth it is, Fare
we'll, farewell" In heaven it is, wei
come. welcome And so / see a Chris
tian 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 says. 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 its feet,
then Christ said, This. oh transported
soul! this is death"