“Now the soft peace-march beats, home, brothers, home.”
This is the joy of the saint. He has fought a good fight, he has
finished the course, he has kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid
up for him the crown of righteousness. His battle is over, and then
for him there are rest and home. Home! Yes, home. And what a
home for us to return to and abide in forever! A home prepared
before the foundation of the world, a home in the many mansions,
a home in the innermost circle of creation, nearest the throne and
heart of God, a home whose peace shall never be broken by the
sound of war or tempest, whose brightness shall never be overcast
by the remotest shadow of a cloud. How solacing to the weary
spirit to think of a resting-place so near, and that resting-place our
Father’s house where we shall hunger no more, neither thirst any
more, where the sun shall not light on us, nor any heat, where the
Lamb that is in the midst of the throne shall feed us and lead us to
living fountains of waters, and God shall wipe away all tears from
our eyes.
The time is at hand. The Church’s conflicts are almost over. Its
struggles and sorrows are nearly done. A few more years, and we
shall either be laid quietly to rest, or caught up into the clouds to
meet our coming Lord. A few more broken bonds, and then we
shall be knit together in eternal brotherhood with all the scattered
members of the family. A few more suns shall rise and set, and
then shall ascend in its strength the one upsetting sun. A few more
days shall dawn and darken, and then shall shine forth the one
unending day. A few more clouds shall gather over us, and then the
firmament shall be cleared forever. A few more sabbaths shall
come around, filling the sum of our privileges and completing our
allotment of time, and then the everlasting sabbath shall begin. But
a few brief years, and we shall “enter in through the gates into the
city,” sitting down beneath the shadow of the tree of life, feeding
upon the hidden manna, and drinking of the pure river clear as
crystal, which proceedeth out of the throne of God and of the
Lamb. But a few years and we shall see His face, and His name
shall be upon our foreheads.
This was an excerpt from The Night of Weeping
By Horatius Bonar
This is the joy of the saint. He has fought a good fight, he has
finished the course, he has kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid
up for him the crown of righteousness. His battle is over, and then
for him there are rest and home. Home! Yes, home. And what a
home for us to return to and abide in forever! A home prepared
before the foundation of the world, a home in the many mansions,
a home in the innermost circle of creation, nearest the throne and
heart of God, a home whose peace shall never be broken by the
sound of war or tempest, whose brightness shall never be overcast
by the remotest shadow of a cloud. How solacing to the weary
spirit to think of a resting-place so near, and that resting-place our
Father’s house where we shall hunger no more, neither thirst any
more, where the sun shall not light on us, nor any heat, where the
Lamb that is in the midst of the throne shall feed us and lead us to
living fountains of waters, and God shall wipe away all tears from
our eyes.
The time is at hand. The Church’s conflicts are almost over. Its
struggles and sorrows are nearly done. A few more years, and we
shall either be laid quietly to rest, or caught up into the clouds to
meet our coming Lord. A few more broken bonds, and then we
shall be knit together in eternal brotherhood with all the scattered
members of the family. A few more suns shall rise and set, and
then shall ascend in its strength the one upsetting sun. A few more
days shall dawn and darken, and then shall shine forth the one
unending day. A few more clouds shall gather over us, and then the
firmament shall be cleared forever. A few more sabbaths shall
come around, filling the sum of our privileges and completing our
allotment of time, and then the everlasting sabbath shall begin. But
a few brief years, and we shall “enter in through the gates into the
city,” sitting down beneath the shadow of the tree of life, feeding
upon the hidden manna, and drinking of the pure river clear as
crystal, which proceedeth out of the throne of God and of the
Lamb. But a few years and we shall see His face, and His name
shall be upon our foreheads.
This was an excerpt from The Night of Weeping
By Horatius Bonar