I shall know the loved who have gone before,
And joyfully sweet will the meeting be,
When over the river, the peaceful river,
The Angel of Death shall carry me.
--[Nancy A. W. Priest.
So much occurred, and so rapidly, from the very hour of my entrance
within the beautiful gates, that it is impossible for me to transcribe
it all. I have been able only to cull here and there incidents that
happened day by day; and in so doing many things I would gladly have
related have unconsciously been omitted. Of the many dear friends I
met, only a very few have been mentioned, for the reason that, of
necessity, such meetings are so similar in many respects that the
constant repetition, in detail, would become wearisome. I have aimed
principally to give such incidents as would show the beautiful domestic
life in that happy world; to make apparent the reverence and love all
hearts feel toward the blessed Trinity for every good and perfect gift,
and to show forth the marvelous power of the Christ-love even in the
life beyond the grave.
This world, strange and new to me, held multitudes of those I had loved
in the years gone by, and there was scarcely an hour that did not renew
for me the ties that once were severed in the mortal life. I remember
that as I was walking one day in the neighborhood of Mrs. Wickham's
home, shortly after my first memorable visit there, I was attracted by
an unpretentious but very beautiful house, almost hidden by luxuriant
climbing rose vines, whose flowers of creamy whiteness were beyond
compare with any roses I had yet seen in earth or heaven. Meeting Mrs.
Wickham, I pointed to the house and asked: "Who lives there?"
"Suppose you go over and see," she said.
"Is it any one I know?" I asked.
"I fancy so. See, someone is even now at the door as though expecting
you."
I crossed over the snowy walk and flowery turf--for the house stood in
an angle formed by two paths crossing, almost opposite Mrs.
Wickham's--and before I could ascend the steps I found myself in the
embrace of two loving arms.
"Bertha Sprague! I was sure it was you when I saw you go to Mrs.
Wickham's a day or two ago. Did not she tell you I was here?"
"She had no opportunity until to-day," I said. "But dear Aunt Ann, I
should have found you soon; I am sure you know that."
"Yes, I am sure you would."
Then I recounted to her something of my visit to Mrs. Wickham's that
eventful day. She listened with her dear face full of sympathy, then
said:
"There, dear, you need not tell me. Do I not know? When the Master
comes to gladden my eyes, I have no thought or care for anything
beyond, for days and days! Oh, the joy, the peace of knowing I am safe
in this blessed haven! How far beyond all our earthly dreams is this
divine life!"
She sat for a moment lost in thought, then said wistfully: "Now, tell
me of my children--are they coming?"
I gladdened her heart with all the cheering news I could bring of her
loved ones; and so we talked the hours away, recalling many sweet
memories of the earth-life, of friends and home and family ties, and
looking forward to the future coming to us of those whom even the joys
of heaven could not banish from our hearts.
Then also another evening, as the soft twilight fell, and many of our
dear home circle were gathered with us in the great "flower-room," we
heard a step upon the veranda, and as my brother went to the open door
a gentle voice said:
"Is Mrs. Sprague really here?"
"She is really here. Come and see for yourself." And sweet Mary Green
entered the room.
"I am so glad to welcome you home!" she said, coming to me with
extended hands, and looking into mine with her tender, earnest eyes.
"My precious girl!" I cried, taking her to my heart in a warm embrace.
"I have been asking about you, and longing to see you."
"I could scarcely wait to reach here when I heard that you had come.
Now, tell me everything--everything!" she said as I drew her to a seat
close beside me.
But questions asked and the answers given are too sacred for rehearsal
here. Every individual member of her dear home-circle was discussed,
and many were the incidents she recounted to me that had occurred in
her presence when her mother and I were together and talking of the
dear child we considered far removed from our presence.
"I was often so close that I could have touched you with my hand, had
the needed power been given," she said.
After a long, close converse had been held between us, I took her to
the library, whither the rest had gone to examine a new book just that
day received. I introduced her to them all as the daughter of dear
friends still on earth, confident of the welcome she would receive. My
youngest sister and she at once became interested in each other,
finding congeniality in many of their daily pursuits, and I was glad to
believe they would henceforth see much of each other in many different
ways.
There was no measurement of time as we measure it here, although many
still spoke in the old-time language of "months" and "days" and
"years." I have no way of describing it as it seemed to me then.
There were periods, and allotted times; there were hours for happy
duties, hours for joyful pleasures, and hours for holy praise. I only
know it was all harmony, all joy, all peace, at all times and in all
conditions.