But whatever your heredity, let me say, you may be sons and daughters
of the Lord God Almighty. Estranged children from the homestead come
back through the open gate of adoption. There is royal blood in our
veins. There are crowns in our escutcheon. Our Father is King. Our
Brother is King. We may be kings and queens unto God forever. Come and
sit down on the ivory bench of the palace. Come and wash in the
fountains that fall into the basins of crystal and alabaster. Come and
look out of the upholstered window upon gardens of azalea and
amaranth. Hear the full burst of the orchestra while you banquet with
potentates and victors. Oh, when the text sweeps backward, let it not
stop at the cradle that rocked your infancy, but at the cradle that
rocked the first world, and when the text sweeps forward, let it not
stop at your grave, but at the throne on which you may reign forever
and ever! "Whose son art thou, thou young man?" Son of God! Heir of
mortality! Take your inheritance!