Holy, holy, holy! All the saints adore Thee,
Casting down their golden crowns around the glassy sea;
Cherubim and Seraphim falling down before Thee,
Which wert, and art, and evermore shalt be.
--[Bishop Heber.
After we had left my parents and friends on our return from our welcome
to my sister, my brother hastened away upon some mission, and I walked
on alone toward the sacred lake. I felt the need of a rest in its
soothing waters after the exciting scenes through which I had passed.
I had hitherto visited the lake in the early morning hours; it was now
something past noontide of the heavenly day, and but few persons
lingered on the shore. The boats that sped across its calm surface
seemed to be filled rather with those intent upon some duty than simply
pleasure-seekers. I walked slowly down into the water, and soon found
myself floating, as at former times, in mid-current. The wonderful
prismatic rays that in the early morning were such a marvel, now
blended into a golden glory, with different shades of rose and purple
flashing athwart their splendor. To me it seemed even more beautiful
than the rainbow tints; just as the maturer joys of our earthly life
cast into shadow, somewhat, the more evanescent pleasures of youth. I
could but wonder what its evening glories would be, and resolved to
come at some glowing twilight, and see if they would not remind me of
the calm hours of life's closing day. I heard the chimes from the
silver bell of the great city ringing an anthem as I lay, and its notes
seemed to chant clearly:
"Holy! Holy! Holy! Lord God Almighty!" The waters took up the song
and a thousand waves about me responded, "Holy! Holy! Holy!"
The notes seemed to "vibrate," if I may use the expression, upon the
waves, producing a wondrously harmonious effect. The front row in the
battalion of advancing waves softly chanted "Holy" as they passed
onward; immediately the second roll of waves took up the word that the
first seemed to have dropped as it echoed the second "Holy" in the
divine chorus, then it, too, passed onward to take up the second note
as the third advancing column caught the first; and so it passed and
echoed from wave to wave, until it seemed millions of tiny waves about
me had taken up and were bearing their part in this grand
crescendo--this wonderful anthem. Language fails me--I cannot hope to
convey to others this experience as it came to me. It was grand,
wonderful, overpowering. I lay and listened until my whole being was
filled with the divine melody, and I seemed to be a part of the great
chorus, then I, too, lifted up my voice and joined with full heart in
the thrilling song of praise.
I found that, contrary to my usual custom, I floated rapidly away from
the shore whence I had entered the water, and after a time was
conscious that I was approaching a portion of the lake shore I had
never yet visited. Refreshed and invigorated, I ascended the sloping
banks, to find myself in the midst of a lovely suburban village,
similar to the one where our own home was situated. There was some
difference in the architecture or construction of the houses, though
they were no less beautiful than others I had seen. Many were
constructed of polished woods, and somewhat resembled the finest of the
chalets one sees in Switzerland, though far surpassing them in all that
gives pleasure to the artistic eye.
As I wandered on, feasting my eyes upon the lovely views about me, I
was particularly pleased by the appearance of an unusually attractive
house. Its broad verandas almost overhung the waters of the lake, the
wide low steps running on one side of the house quite to the water's
edge. Several graceful swans were leisurely drifting about with the
current, and a bird similar to our Southern mocking-bird, but with
softer voice, was singing and swinging in the low branches overhead.
There were many larger and more imposing villas near, but none
possessed for me the charm of this sweet home.
Beneath one of the large flowering trees close by this cottage home, I
saw a woman sitting, weaving with her delicate hands, apparently
without shuttle or needle, a snow-white gossamer-like fabric that fell
in a soft fleecy heap at her side as the work progressed. She was so
very small in stature that at first glance I supposed she was a child;
but a closer scrutiny showed her to be a mature woman, though with the
glow of youth still upon her smooth cheek. Something familiar in her
gestures, rather than her appearance, caused me to feel that it was not
the first time we had met; and growing accustomed now to the delightful
surprises that met me everywhere in this world of rare delights, I drew
near to accost her, when, before I could speak, she looked up, and the
doubt was gone.
"Maggie!" "Mrs. Sprague dear!" we cried simultaneously, as, dropping
her work from her hands, she stepped quickly up to greet me.
Our greeting was warm and fervent, and her sweet face glowed with a
welcome that reminded me of the happy days when we had met, in the
years long gone, by the shore of that other beautiful lake in the world
of our earth-life.
"Now I know why I came this way to-day--to find you, dear," I said, as
we sat side by side, talking as we never had talked on earth; for the
sweet shyness of her mortal life had melted away in the balmy air of
heaven.
"What is this lovely fabric you are weaving?" I presently asked,
lifting the silken fleecy web in my fingers as I spoke.
"Some draperies for Nellie's room," she said. "You know we two have
lived alone together so much, I thought it would seem more like home to
her, to us both, if we did the same here. So this cottage is our own
special home, just a step from Marie's," pointing to an imposing house
a few yards distant, "and I am fitting it up as daintily as I can,
especially her room."
"Oh, let me help you, Maggie dear!" I said. "It would be such a
pleasure to me."
She hesitated an instant, with something of the old-time shyness, then
said:
"That is so like you, dear Mrs. Sprague. I have set my heart on doing
Nellie's room entirely myself--there is no hurry about it, you
know--but if you really would enjoy it, I shall love to have you help
me in the other rooms."
"And will you teach me how to weave these delicate hangings?"
"Yes, indeed. Shall I give you your first lesson now?"
Lifting the dainty thread, she showed me how to toss and wind it
through my fingers till it fell away in shining folds. It was very
light and fascinating work, and I soon was weaving it almost as rapidly
as she did.
"Now, I can help Carroll!" was my happy thought, as I saw the
shimmering fabric grow beneath my hands. "To-morrow I will go and show
him how beautifully we can drape the doors and windows."
So in heaven our first thought ever is to give pleasure to others.
"You are an apt scholar," said Maggie, laughing happily; "and what a
charming hour you have given me!"
"What a charming hour you have given me, my dear!" I answered.
When we parted it was with the understanding that every little while I
was to repeat the visit. When I urged her likewise to come to me, the
old-time shyness again appeared, as she said:
"Oh, they are all strangers to me, and here we shall be entirely alone.
You come to me."
So I yielded, as in heaven we never seek to gain reluctant consent for
any pleasure, however dear; and many were the happy hours spent with
her in the cottage by the lake.