66 PICTURES OF HEAVEN Bring me, if you please, one of Titian's most magnificent pictures, the Martyrdom or the “Assumption," or any of those masterpieces on which his fame stands. I look at it and say to my companion, "What is that?" "That," he says, "is the Virgin." "What is that deepest and most glowing of reds?" That is her gorgeous robe." What is that exquisite blue further up on her shoulders? What is that green that I see 'What is it that I see through 66 "That is her scarf." behind her?" "That is a tree with leaves on it." the tree?" "That is the sky." 66 66 No; it is not. I go up to the picture and scrape it, and that red is nothing but pigment; and that blue is nothing but a little metal and oil. There is no robe and no scarf there at all. I scrape off one of those leaves and there is no juice in it. It is metal and oil, and that is all. And that sky-you can pinch it, and scratch it, and crumble it in your hand. It is all dirt-nothing but dirt. And yet, out of these base substances, by the cunning hand and imagination of the artist, is wrought a picture such that when you look upon it you never will remember what it is made up of. You will not see the pigment, nor the metal, nor the oil. These things to the looker-on are garment, are face, are flesh. They seem to be a living being, clothed in beautiful garments, though in reality they are but dead matter. All the world is a palette, and all human experiences are so many pigments, and the method of teaching which God pursues in the New Testament is that he, as the Sublime Artist, takes his palette of universal experience and draws in gorgeous colors the lines and lineaments of the heavenly state. And the things which he uses are all earthly, and not to be reproduced in heaven, though the things which they represent to us are heavenly. The materials out of which our conceptions spring are earthly experiences. But the effect of the conceptions, when combined with the spirit of God, upon the imagination of man, is to reveal to him and bring him into sympathy with the invisible and spiritual life, as it could be done by no philosophical process. He who knows aught of heaven, therefore, knows it altogether through the experience and interpretation of his imagination.-H. W. Beecher. A NEW EARTH Science and philosophy are at last tending to the conclusion which Christ announced eighteen centuries ago, viz., that the origin of the material universe is purely spiritual; that all which is merely or grossly material will one day pass away; and that then there will come "the regeneration," some more spiritual and perfect manifestation of the creative energy, in which there will be none of the defects and hindrances that inhere in all that is physical and temporal. In short, the invisible will shine through the visible, the eternal through the temporal, and the real through the phenomenal.-Rev. S. Cox, D.D. 1 HARVEST-TIME Hark! the stalwart reapers chant the harvest-song, As they bear the golden grain with sturdy arms along:- Who gives and who may take away-His will be done!" Hark! the happy children, romping o'er the field, 66 TOILERS OF THE FIELD Glory, praise and glory, ever be to One Who gives and who may take away-His will be done!" So, to One above us, let us also sing, Praising Him for earth's fair fruits it pleaseth Him to bring:- Who gives and who may take away-His will be done!" Heaven's gates are not so highly arched as princes' palaces; they that enter there must go upon their knees.-Daniel Webster. WHERE OUR TREASURES ARE You want to hear about the land where they never have any heartbreaks and no graves are dug. Where are your father and mother? The most of you are orphans. I look around, and when I see one man who has parents living, I see ten who are orphans. Where are your children? Where I see one family circle that is unbroken, I see three or four that have been desolated. One lamò gone out of this fold; one flower plucked from that garland; one golden link broken from that chain; here a bright light put out, and there another; and yonder another. With such griefs, how are you to rest? Will there ever be a power that can attune that silent voice or kindle the lustre of that closed eye, or put string and dance into that little foot? When we bank up the dust over the dead, is the sod never to be broken? Is the cemetery to hear no sound but the tire of the hearse-wheel, or the tap of the bell at the gate as the long processions come in with their awful burdens of grief? Is the bottom of the grave gravel and the top dust? No! No! No! The tomb is only a place where we wrap our robes about us for a pleasant nap on our way home. The swellings of Jordan will only wash, off the dust of the way. From the top of the grave we catch a glimpse of the towers glinted with the sun that never sets. O ye whose locks are wet with the dews of the night of grief; ye whose hearts are heavy, because those well-known footsteps sound no more at the doorway, yonder is your rest! There is David triumphant; but once he bemoaned Absalom. There is Abraham enthroned; but once he wept for Sarah. There is Paul exultant; but he once sat with his feet in the stocks. There is Payson radiant with immortal health; but on earth he was always sick. No toil, no tears, no partings, no strife, no agonizing cough, no night. No storm to ruffle the crystal sca. No alarm to strike from the cathedral towers. No dirge throbbing from seraphic hearts.-Rev. T. De Witt Talmage, D.D. THE TWO ANGELS There Pity, shuddering wept; but Love, with faith too strong for fear, And lo! that tear of Pity quenched the flame whereon it fell, If thou art a believer, thou art no stranger to Heaven while thou livest; and when thou diest, Heaven will be no strange place to thee; no, thou hast been there a thousand times before.-J. Elliot. THE BETTER COUNTRY "In His Likeness." What a glorious, what a strange transformation! Who would recognize the spirit that is now chafed and buffeted with temptation and sin, corruption and iniquity, then made resplendent with the image of the holy God! As the shapeless, unseemly root of the flower or plant struggling amid rubbish and stones and cheerless darkness, after fastening its fibres in the soil, sends up a graceful stalk, efflorescing in loveliness and beauty, its leaves waving in the sunlight, and filling the summer air with their fragrance, so will it be with the soul. It is here sown in corruption. It fastens its roots in a world dark and cheerless, by reason of sin. Its immortal fibres are nursed and disciplined amid trials and sorrows, difficulties and perplexities. It is soiled and degraded with the corruptible elements through which it has to fight its upward way. But there is a glorious summertime at hand, when the root thus nurtured shall burst its mortal coil, and its leaves and blossoms shall not only be bathed in the loveliness of heaven, but their every tint will be resplendent with a glory reflected from the Great Source of all light and joy. "THE FIRST NIGHT" The night of death, as we term it, is but the twilight of those glorious hours in which the heavenly powers are to be revealed. When, in Paradise, the first night came down upon the fair creation, and in its darkness wrapped and veiled the beautiful world, what terror must have seized the minds of our first parents, as they saw, in the gathering gloom, each beautiful object disappear. They knew of no returning morn and the vanishing creation threatened the return of "chaos and old night." But presently the evening star broke forth, and leading up her train of magnificence and glory, that darkness, which seemed to shut out creation, did but reveal its vastness and its glory. Who could believe such darkness lay concealed If light can thus deceive us, wherefore, then, not life? Yes, the sun, the light of day, is beautiful, but as, when it sets, fair and more glorious worlds are seen above, so life, setting in the darkness of the grave, reappears in fairer worlds, and amid glories that " eye hath not seen nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive." Wherefore, let us thank God that while "there is a natural body," there is also "a spiritual body." If our Creator has so bountifully provided for our existence here, which is but momentary, and for our temporal wants, which will soon be forgotten, how much more must he have done for our enjoyment in the everlasting world!— Hosca Ballou. |