At present we live in a tent--"_the earthly house of this tabernacle._"
And often the tent is very rickety. There are rents through which the rain
enters, and it trembles ominously in the great storm. Some tents are frail
from the very beginning, half-rotten when they are put up, and they have
no defence even against the breeze. But even the strongest tent becomes
weather-worn and threadbare, and in the long run it "falls in a heap!" And
what then?
We shall exchange the frail tent for the solid house! "_If the earthly
house of this tabernacle be dissolved, we have a building of God, a house
not made with hands, eternal in the heavens._" When we are unclothed we
shall find ourselves clothed with our house which is from heaven. The
glory of this transition can only be confessed by "the saints in light."
To awake, and discover that the creaking, breaking cords are left behind,
that all the leakages are over, that we are no longer exposed to the
cutting wind, that pain is passed, and sickness, and death--this must be a
wonder of inconceivable ecstasy!