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What a cluster of sweet hopes!
(Octavius Winslow "Evening Thoughts")
"And God shall wipe away all tears from their
eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither
sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any
more pain." Revelation 21:4
What a cluster of sweet hopes is here!
What a
collection of bright beams, throwing, in focal power,
their splendor over that cloudless day! Heaven
will be a state of perfect freedom from all sorrow!
Child of sorrow! Sick ones dear to Christ! Bereaved
mourners! Hear these precious words, and let music
break from your lips! God will dry your tears! As the
mother comforts her sorrowing one, so God will
comfort His. Yes, child of grief, there will be no
more weeping then; for, oh, ecstatic thought!
"God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes."
And "there shall be no more death." No more rending
asunder of affection's close and tender ties; no more
separations from the hearts we love; the mourners
no more go about the streets; for death is now
swallowed up in victory!
"Neither sorrow, nor crying." Grief cannot find existence
or place in an atmosphere of such bliss. No frustrated
plans, no bitter disappointments, no withered hopes,
no corroding cares, there mingle with the deep sea of
bliss, now pouring its tide of joyousness over the soul!
"Neither shall there be any more pain." Children of
suffering, hear this! There will be no more pain racking
the frame, torturing the limbs, and sending its influence
through the system, until every nerve and fibre quivers
with an indescribable agony. "The former things are
passed away."
It will be a day of perfect freedom from all sins. Ah!
this methinks will be the brightest and sweetest of
all the joys of heaven. The Canaanite will no more
dwell in the land. Inbred corruption will be done away;
the conflict within us will have ceased; no evil heart
will betray into inconsistencies and sorrows; not a
cloud of guilt will tarnish the unsullied purity of the
soul. You holy ones of God! weeping, mourning over
indwelling and outbreaking sin, the last sigh you
heave will be a glad adieu to pollution; to be
tormented with it no more, to be free from it forever!
"I shall be satisfied, when I awake, with your likeness."
This is heaven indeed!
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