Sae little noo I ken o' blessed, bonnie place,
I only ken it's Hame, whaur we shall see His face
It wad surely be eneuch forever mair to be
In the glory o' His presence, in oor ain countrie.
Like a bairn to his mither, a wee birdie to its nest,
I wad fain be gangin' noo unto my Savior's breast,
For he gathers in his bosom witless, worthless lambs like me,
And carries them himsel' to his ain countrie.
--[Mary Lee Demarest.
The following morning my brother said to me, after an interesting hour
of instruction:
"Shall we go for the promised visit to Mrs. Wickham now?"
"Indeed, yes!" I answered eagerly; so we at once set forth.
We soon reached her lovely home and found her waiting at the entrance
as though expecting us. After a cordial greeting to our friend, my
brother said:
"I will leave you together for that 'long talk' for which I know you
are both eager, and will go my way to other duties. I will find you,
later on, at home." The last remark to me.
"All right," I answered. "I am familiar with the way now, and need no
attendance."
After he had gone, my friend took me all over her lovely home, showing
me, with great pleasure, the rooms prepared for each beloved member of
her earthly household still to come. One very large room, into whose
open windows at each end the blossom- and fruit-laden boughs of the
immortal trees looked invitingly, was evidently her especial care; she
whispered to me, "Douglass always did like a large room. I am sure he
will like this one." And I was also sure.
Returning down the broad stairway, we found it entered into a very
large music-room, with broad galleries supported by marble columns,
running across three sides of it, on a level with the second floor. In
this gallery was a number of musical instruments--harps, viols, and
some unlike any instruments I had ever seen elsewhere. The room itself
was filled with easy-chairs, couches and window-seats, where listeners
could rest and hear the sweet harmonies from the galleries.
"My daughter," my friend explained, "who left us in early childhood,
has received a fine musical training here, and is fond of gathering in
her young friends and giving us quite often a musical treat. You know
our old home of Springville has furnished some rare voices for the
heavenly choirs. Mary Allis, Will Griggs, and many others you will
often hear in this room, I trust."
We re-entered, from this room, the dainty reception hall opening upon
the front veranda and outer steps. Here Mrs. Wickham drew me to a seat
beside her and said:
"Now, tell me everything of the dear home and all its blessed inmates."
Holding each other's hands as we talked, she questioning, I answering,
things too sacred to be repeated here were dwelt upon for hours. At
last she said, rising hastily:
"I will leave you for a little while--nay, you must not go," as I would
have risen, "there is much yet to be said; wait here, I will return."
I had already learned not to question the judgment of these wiser
friends, and yielded to her will. As she passed through the doorway to
the inner house, I saw a stranger at the front entrance and arose to
meet him. He was tall and commanding in form, with a face of ineffable
sweetness and beauty. Where had I seen him before? Surely, surely I
had met him since I came. "Ah, now I know!" I thought; "it is St.
John, the beloved disciple." He had been pointed out to me one morning
by the river-side.
"Peace be unto this house," was his salutation as he entered.
How his voice stirred and thrilled me! No wonder the Master loved him,
with that voice and that face!
"Enter. Thou art a welcome guest. Enter, and I will call the
mistress," I said, as I approached to bid him welcome.
"Nay, call her not. She knows that I am here; she will return," he
said. "Sit thou awhile beside me," he continued, as he saw that I
still stood, after I had seen him seated. He arose and led me to a
seat near him, and like a child I did as I was bidden; still watching,
always watching, the wonderful face before me.
"You have but lately come?" he said.
"Yes, I am here but a short time. So short that I know not how to
reckon time as you count it here," I answered.
"Ah, that matters little," he said with a gentle smile. "Many cling
always to the old reckoning and the earth-language. It is a link
between the two lives; we would not have it otherwise. How does the
change impress you? How do you find life here?"
"Ah," I said, "if they could only know! I never fully understood till
now the meaning of that sublime passage, 'Eye hath not seen, nor ear
heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God
hath prepared for them that love him.' It is indeed past human
conception." I spoke with deep feeling.
"'For them that love him'? Do you believe that all Christians truly
love him?" he asked. "Do you think they love the Father for the gift
of the Son and the Son because of the Father's love and mercy? Or is
their worship ofttimes that of duty rather than love?" He spoke
reflectively and gently.
"Oh," I said, "you who so well know the beloved Master--who were so
loved by him--how can you doubt the love he must inspire in all hearts
who seek to know him?"
A radiant glow overspread the wonderful face, which he lifted, looking
directly at me--the mist rolled away from before my eyes--and I knew
him! With a low cry of joy and adoration, I threw myself at his feet,
bathing them with happy tears. He gently stroked my bowed head for a
moment, then rising, lifted me to his side.
"My Savior--my King!" I whispered, clinging closely to him.
"Yes, and Elder Brother and Friend," he added, wiping away tenderly the
tears stealing from beneath my closed eyelids.
"Yes, yes, 'the chiefest among ten thousand, and the One altogether
lovely!'" again I whispered.
"Ah, now you begin to meet the conditions of the new life! Like many
another, the changing of faith to sight with you has engendered a
little shrinking, a little fear. That is all wrong. Have you
forgotten the promise, 'I go to prepare a place for you; that where I
am, there ye may be also'? If you loved me when you could not see me
except by faith, love me more now when we have really become 'co-heirs
of the Father.' Come to me with all that perplexes or gladdens; come
to the Elder Brother always waiting to receive you with joy."
Then he drew me to a seat, and conversed with me long and earnestly,
unfolding many of the mysteries of the divine life. I hung upon his
words; I drank in every tone of his voice; I watched eagerly every line
of the beloved face; and I was exalted, uplifted, upborne, beyond the
power of words to express. At length with a divine smile, he arose.
"We will often meet," he said; and I, bending over, pressed my lips
reverently to the hand still clasping my own. Then laying his hands a
moment in blessing upon my bowed head, he passed noiselessly and
swiftly from the house.
As I stood watching the Savior's fast-receding figure, passing beneath
the flower-laden trees, I saw two beautiful young girls approaching the
way he went. With arms intertwining they came, happily conversing
together, sweet Mary Bates and Mae Camden. When they saw the Master,
with a glad cry they flew to meet him, and as he joyously extended a
hand to each, they turned, and each clinging to his hand, one upon
either side, accompanied him on his way, looking up trustingly into his
face as he talked with them, and apparently conversing with him with
happy freedom. I saw his face from time to time in profile, as he
turned and looked down lovingly, first upon one, then the other lovely
upturned face, and I thought, "That is the way he would have us be with
him--really as children with a beloved elder brother." I watched them
till the trees hid them from my sight, longing to gather the dear girls
to my heart, but knowing his presence was to them then more than aught
else; then I turned and passed softly through the house to the
beautiful entrance at the rear. Just before I reached the door I met
my friend Mrs. Wickham. Before I could speak, she said:
"I know all about it. Do not try to speak; I know your heart is full.
I will see you very soon--there, go!" and she pushed me gently to the
door.
How my heart blessed her--for it indeed seemed sacrilege to try to talk
on ordinary topics after this blessed experience. I did not follow the
walk, but kept across the flowery turf, beneath the trees, till I
reached home. I found my brother sitting upon the veranda, and as I
ascended the steps he rose to meet me. When he looked into my face, he
took both hands into his for an instant, and simply said, very gently:
"Ah, I see. You have been with the Master!" and stepped aside almost
reverently for me to enter the house.
I hastened to my room, and, dropping the draperies behind me at the
door, I threw myself upon the couch, and with closed eyes lived over
every instant I had spent in that hallowed Presence. I recalled every
word and tone of the Savior's voice, and fastened the instructions he
had given me indelibly upon my memory. I seemed to have been lifted to
a higher plane of existence, to have drunk deeper draughts from the
fountain of all good, since I had met "Him whom my soul loved." It was
a long, blessed communion that I held thus with my own soul on that
hallowed day. When I looked upon the pictured face above me, I
wondered that I had not at once recognized the Christ, the likeness was
so perfect. But I concluded that for some wise purpose my "eyes were
holden" until it was his pleasure that I should see him as he is.
When at last I arose, the soft golden twilight was about me, and I
knelt by my couch, to offer my first prayer in heaven. Up to this time
my life there had been a constant thanksgiving--there had seemed no
room for petition. Now as I knelt all I could utter over and over, was:
"I thank Thee, blessed Father; I thank Thee, I thank Thee!"
When I at last descended the stairs, I found my brother standing in the
great "flower-room," and, going to him, I said softly:
"Frank, what do you do in heaven when you want to pray?"
"We praise!" he answered.
"Then let us praise now," I said.
And standing there, with clasped hands, we lifted up our hearts and
voices in a hymn of praise to God; my brother with his clear, strong
voice leading, I following. As the first notes sounded, I thought the
roof echoed them; but I soon found that other voices blended with ours,
until the whole house seemed filled with unseen singers. Such a grand
hymn of praise earth never heard. And as the hymn went on, I
recognized many dear voices from the past--Will Griggs' pathetic tenor,
Mary Allis' exquisite soprano, and many another voice that wakened
memories of the long ago. Then as I heard sweet child-voices, and
looked up, I saw above us such a cloud of radiant baby faces as flooded
my heart with joy. The room seemed filled with them.
"Oh, what a life--what a divine life!" I whispered, as, after standing
until the last lingering notes had died away, my brother and I returned
to the veranda and sat in the golden twilight.
"You are only in the first pages of its record," he said. "Its
blessedness must be gradually unfolded to us, or we could not, even
here, bear its dazzling glory."
Then followed an hour of hallowed intercourse, when he led my soul
still deeper into the mysteries of the glorious life upon which I had
now entered. He taught me; I listened. Sometimes I questioned, but
rarely. I was content to take of the heavenly manna as it was given
me, with a heart full of gratitude and love.