How
different these sweet sounds of praise from the rude sounds of
earth! I am receiving my reward for every bitter tear of penitence I
shed on earth; an age of joy is before me. Who am I, that I should
be raised from companionship with sin to the society of heaven? My
soul at length is at rest. But how? Not as rests my poor body in the
grave, but in blessedness; for I rest from sin, but not from praise.
I rest from suffering, but not from everlasting joy. How sweet to
rest, while not ceasing to cry, Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God
Almighty! I rest in the bosom of my Saviour. My prayers are turned
to praise, and my love is perfect.
"While these thoughts filled my soul, I thanked the Lord with a new
song on the golden harp that had been placed in my hands, singing
with a loud voice, 'What is my worthiness, O eternal King, that thou
hast made me to walk in thy pilgrimage, while millions are shut out
from it?'
"Now a company of the holy ones led me through a street of pure
gold, to where the river of water of life proceeded out of the
throne of God. They showed me the hidden manna, and the tree of life
yielding its twelve fruits, and leaves for the healing of the
nations; and beyond, I saw a great company of martyrs who had been
slain for the word and for the testimony of Jesus Christ.
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