"Rachel, glad news for us. We, you and I, are soon to follow our parents and our older brothers and sisters, up through the gates of the resurrection, which our Lord so graciously opened.... Yes, yes, it is true.... Into the celestial kingdom, with bodies of celestial glory and go on to our exaltation.... And, dear, the work is being done for us in the Temple of our God.... Yes, right now, it is being done. Come, Rachel, let us go and be as near as we can.... Yes, we have permission.... This is the Temple. God's messengers are here, and His Spirit broods in and around the holy place. That Spirit we also in common with mortality, may feel. You, Rachel, ought to be at home here, more so than I. Let us follow the man and the woman who are doing the work for us.... Do you see them clearly, Rachel?... Yes; we shall not forget them when they, too, come to us in the spirit, but we shall give them a welcome such as they have never dreamed of.... Now they are by the altar. Kneel here by me, Rachel,—your hand in mine, like this. Listen, can you hear? 'For and in behalf of,'... you and me.... It is done. We are husband and wife. You are mine for eternity, mine, mine.... O, Eternal Father, we thank Thee!"
David holds the fair form of his wife in his arms. He kisses her cheeks, her eyes, her lips. Then there is silence.
PART FOURTH.
Freedom waves her joyous pinions
O'er a land, from sea to sea,
Ransomed, righteous, and rejoicing
In a world-wide jubilee.
O'er a people happy, holy,
Gifted now with heavenly grace,
Free from every sordid fetter
That enslaved a fallen race.
Union, love, and fellow feeling
Mark the sainted day of power;
Rich and poor in all things equal,
Righteousness their rock and tower.
Mountain peaks of pride are leveled,
Lifted up the lowly plain,
Crookedness made straight, while crudeness
Now gives way to culture's reign.
Now no tyrant's sceptre saddens;
Now no bigot's power can bind.
Faith and work, alike unfettered,
Win the goal by heaven designed.
God, not mammon, hath the worship
Of His people, pure in heart:
This is Zion—oh, ye nations,
Choose with her "the better part!"
Crown and sceptre, sword and buckler—
Baubles!—lay them at her feet.
Strife no more shall vex creation;
Christ's is now the kingly seat.
Cities, empires, kingdoms, powers,
In one mighty realm divine.
She, the least and last of nations,
Henceforth as their head shall shine.
'Tis thy future glory, Zion,
Glittering in celestial rays,
As the ocean's sun-lit surging
Rolls upon my raptured gaze!
All that ages past have promised,
All that noblest minds have prized,
All that holy lips have prayed for,
Here at last is realized.
—Orson F. Whitney.
I.
"Arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee. * * * And the Gentiles shall come to thy light and kings to the brightness of thy rising."—Isaiah 60:1, 3.
The sun in its downward course had reached the hazy zone, which, bounded by the clear blue above and the horizon below, extended around the green earth; in the west, the round disk of the sun shone through it, and tinged the landscape with a beautiful, mellow light.
It was midsummer. The sun had been hot all the day, and when on that evening two men reined in the horses they were driving, and paused on the summit of a small hill, a cool breeze reached them, and they bared their heads to the refreshing air. Not a word was spoken as they gazed on the scene before them; its grandeur and beauty were too vast for words.