"THINE EYES SHALL SEE THE KING IN HIS BEAUTY."
The thought is ever present, Shall these eyes indeed see the Maker of the universe? shall these feet indeed walk the Golden City? shall these hands wave the palm of victory and strike the chords of the glorious harp whose music shall be sweeter than that of David's? Can this be possible, and do I weep and mourn because of present affliction? Oh, the future, the future! what has it not in reserve for me? Glories of which mortal never dreamed: eternal life—eternal happiness—perpetual youth—knowledge unbounded, yet ever increasing! Fly, fly, fly, days of pain and sorrow! Hail, all hail! bright morn of deliverance. It will come; and I—oh, the thought overpowers me—I, poor and wretched and sinful, shall be blessed forever, forever, FOREVER.