CHAPTER XVII.
"Some day," we say, and turn our eyes
Toward the fair hills of Paradise;
Some day, some time, a sweet new rest
Shall blossom, flower-like, in each breast.
Some day, some time, our eyes shall see
The faces kept in memory;
Some day their hand shall clasp our hand,
Just over in the Morning-land—
O Morning-land! O Morning-land!
—[Edward H. Phelps.
One evening, some three years—counted by the calendar of earth—after I had entered upon the joys and duties of the heavenly life, I sat resting upon the upper veranda of our home, after a somewhat arduous journey to a distant city of the heavenly realm. From this part of the veranda we caught rare glimpses of the river through the overhanging branches of the trees; and just below us, at a little distance, we could see the happy children at their play upon the lawn. Here my brother sought me out, and throwing himself upon a soft veranda lounge near, lay for a time motionless and silent. He looked as wearied as one can ever look in that life, but I felt no anxiety about him, for I knew the rest was sure. He had been absent on some earth-mission much of the time for many days, and I knew from experience that some of the fatigue and care of earth will cling to us on such occasions, till we are restored by heaven's balmy air and life-giving waters. He had not told me, as he sometimes did, where his mission had led him, and I had not asked him, feeling sure that all it was best I should know would be imparted. My own duties had of late been unusually responsible, leading me daily to a distant part of the heavenly kingdom, hence I myself had not visited the beloved of earth for a much longer period than usually elapsed between my visits. When last seen, all of the dear ones had seemed in such vigorous health and were so surrounded by earthly blessings that I had ceased to feel they needed my ministrations as in the early days of their sorrow, hence I had thrown all of my energies into the work assigned me by the Master.
At length, after a time of rest, my brother arose to a sitting posture, and regarding me for a moment in silence, said gently: "I have news for you, little sister."
A thrill like an electric shock passed through me, and in an instant I cried out joyously: "He is coming!"
He nodded his head, with a sympathetic smile, but did not at once reply.
"When will it be? Am I to go to him?" I asked.
He hesitated an instant before saying: "Of course you are permitted to go, if your heart will not be denied."
"Oh, I must go to him! I must be the first to greet him! Perhaps it may be granted him to see me even while he is yet in the flesh."
He shook his head sadly at this, and said, "No, dear; he will not know you."