VII. Heaven.
Back to CONCLUDING OBSERVATIONS
All the souls that God has made are in heaven, earth, or hell. We who are in earth know something about it. Oh that we may never know by experience, the nature of the woes of the pit! If we would be saved, we must learn as we can something of heaven, must breathe something of its spirit, must long for its blessings.
Heaven is a place. Jesus so calls it. It is a city. It is a heavenly country. It is a better country than any known on earth. It has locality. Of its position in relation to the sun, moon, and planets, we have no information; and we need none; but heaven exists in reality, not merely in imagination.
Heaven is also a state, exceedingly pure, holy, excellent. Angels themselves have never attained to a better state. The spirits of just men made perfect, can rise no higher.
The inhabitants of heaven have large measures of clear and certain knowledge of the most excellent things. They see God. They see Jesus. They know as they are known. They do not see through a glass darkly, but face to face. They are not liable to errors, mistakes, or misapprehensions. The Lamb himself feeds them, and leads them to fountains of living waters.
The inhabitants of heaven are happy. They are full of joy. They never sin, and they never sigh; they never pity one another, nor envy one another, nor grieve at one another, nor are mortified by each other's follies or weaknesses. Their warfare is ended, their turmoils are over, and their conflicts past. They weep no more. Jesus wipes tears from off all faces of his redeemed, and the holy angels never did weep.
Heaven is full of variety. It is not all one house; there are many mansions and many holy characters there. The dwellers therein praise much, they exult much, they admire much. They have rest; they never leave; they serve God day and night. In heaven fellowship is perfect, though constantly receiving new and desirable accessions. All unite in loving the Lamb that was slain. Yet there is a great variety in the history and character of its inhabitants. There are angels, who have great power and wisdom and experience. There are patriarchs and prophets and apostles and martyrs and confessors and reformers and kings and shepherds and feeble-minded folk and little children. There the choirs of those redeemed by atoning blood are arrayed in linen white and clean. Choice spirits are constantly joining this throng above.
Let a few words be said of two who have lately passed from earth. One was a dear, talented little creature. Before her departure she said, "I am not afraid to die. I have committed all to Christ. There is in the Bible no phrase so precious to me as, 'the Lord our righteousness.'
My pastor is partial to me. Let him not praise me at my burial; let him exalt the Lord's righteousness. When I committed myself to Christ, I did it wholly and unreservedly. I never doubted him since. I may be self-deceived, but of Christ I have no doubt. When I appear at the judgment-bar of God, if I should hear the word, 'Depart,' I would turn with astonishment to Christ, and say, 'Dear Savior, there must be a mistake here. Did I not commit all to you?' Again she said, "Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly." Her last words were, "While I have voice and memory left, I wish to say—the Lord our righteousness. It is sufficient for you all. It is all you need."
In the year 1839, a family was made glad by the birth of a little daughter. Father, mother, two elder sisters, and a large circle of friends rejoiced together. The babe was a bud, promising beauty and fragrance. Early in life, by her charm and warmth of affection, she attached many to her. In her teens, her schoolmates saw her worth, admired and imitated. Her education at school being finished, she noiselessly began to move in the best circles of pious fellowship. Here she attracted the love of aged men and women, and of those pressed with the cares of middle life, no less than of the young.
Without a dash of forwardness, she was often the companion of people thrice her age. Before long divine grace began its blessed work, and on this lovely stock engrafted the Rose of Sharon. Still artless and natural, the work of God's Spirit heightened in her all that was previously charming, and sweetly chastened the exultant joyousness of her youth. Elder sisters married and left the paternal roof. She remained greatly to honor father and mother, and light up the boyhood of a younger brother. On a visit to a friend, she began the ailment that removed her from earth.
Her constitution being good, she buffeted disease for a while; but at last she was shut within doors. Her kind and skillful medical attendant for a season thought the danger slight; but God's will was to take her to himself. Alarming symptoms appeared, and about eight o'clock in the morning of a blessed Sabbath day, her good physician found her sinking, and in the sweetest manner told her that she was entering upon her eternal rest. Surprised, but not terrified, she calmly inquired when the change had taken place.
At once the work of life rose before her mind. She thought of the Industrial school and of the Sabbath-school. She said, "I have so much work to do; but God knows best." To her brother, who has since followed her, she made the kindest little address. Then turning to her father, she said, "It is sad for you all." On his assenting, and saying, "Yes, my child, but I feel I shall soon meet you in heaven," she said in a clear, audible voice, "I hope so," and gently fell asleep as the Sabbath bells began to ring.
One of her pastors says, "This coincidence reminds us of Bunyan's expression respecting what followed the entrance of Christian and Hopeful into the heavenly Jerusalem: 'Then I heard in my dream that all the bells in the city rang again for joy, and that it was said unto them, Enter into the joy of your Lord.' The last earthly sound which echoed in the ear of this dying believer was that of the church-bell; the first which met her ransomed spirit on high was the peal of welcome from the blood-washed throng before the throne."
Dear child, until the heavens be no more, we shall not again see your charming face; but you shall see the face of Jesus. Our hearts were knit together. I love your memory. I love your sincerity. I love the paths marked by your footsteps. "I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me—Write, Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord. Yes, says the Spirit, that they may rest from their labors; and their works do follow them." The names of these young heroes of the cross need not be given. They are written in the Lamb's book of life.
Into the lips of a glorified spirit in heaven Matthew Henry puts these words: "Would you know where I am? I am at home in my Father's house, in the mansion prepared for me there. I am where I would be, where I have long and often desired to be; no longer on a stormy sea, but in a safe and quiet harbor.
My work in time is done, I am resting; my sowing time is done, I am reaping; my joy is as the joy of harvest. Would you know how it is with me? I am made perfect in holiness; grace is swallowed up in glory; the top-stone of the building is brought forth. Would you know what I am doing? I see God; I see him as he is; not as through a glass darkly, but face to face; and the sight is transforming; it makes me like him.
I am in the sweet employment of my blessed Redeemer, my Head and my Husband, whom my soul loved, and for whose sake I was willing to part with all. I am here bathing myself at the spring-head of the heavenly pleasure, and joy unutterable; and therefore weep not for me. I am here singing hallelujahs incessantly to him who sits upon the throne, and I rest not day or night from praising him. Would you know what company I have? Blessed company, better than the best on earth.
Here are holy angels and the spirits of just men made perfect. I am set down with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of God, with blessed Paul and Peter and James and John and all the saints; and here I meet with many of my old acquaintances that I fasted and prayed with, who got here before me. And lastly, would you consider how long this is to continue? It is a garland that never withers; a crown of glory that fades not away; after millions of millions of ages it will be as fresh as it is now—and therefore weep not for me."
Grace is glory begun; but glory is grace matured, completed, crowned with the fullness of beatific vision. Now unto the king eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise God, be honor and glory forever and ever! Amen!
Back to CONCLUDING OBSERVATIONS