“I thought I saw the Saviour,” he whispered. “I did indeed. Over the crystal river, and beyond the white figures and the harps, was a great light. There stood in it One different from the rest. He had a grand, noble countenance, exquisite in sweetness, and it was turned upon me with a loving smile of welcome. Johnny, I know it was Jesus. Oh, it will be good to be there!”
No doubt of it. Very good for him.
“The strange thing was, that I felt no fear. None. Just as securely as I seemed to lie in the arms of the angels, so did I seem secure in the happiness awaiting me. A great many of us fear death, Johnny; I see now that all fear will cease with this world, to those who die in Christ.”
A sudden burst of subdued sobbing broke the stillness of the room and startled us beyond everything. Lady Whitney had wakened up and was listening.
“Oh, John, my darling boy, don’t talk so!” she said, coming forward and laying her cheek upon his shoulder. “We can’t spare you; we can’t indeed.”
His eyes were full of tears: so were mine. He took his mother’s hand and stroked it.
“But it must be, mother dear?” he gently whispered. “God will temper the loss to you all.”
“Any of them but you, John! You were ever my best and dearest son.”
“It’s all for the best, mother: it must be. The others are not ready to go.”