"The shapings of our heavens are the modifications of our constitution,"
said Charles Lamb, in his reply to Southey's attack upon him in the
Quarterly Review.
He who is infinite in love as well as wisdom has revealed to us the fact
of a future life, and the fearfully important relation in which the
present stands to it. The actual nature and conditions of that life He
has hidden from us,--no chart of the ocean of eternity is given us,--no
celestial guidebook or geography defines, localizes, and prepares us for
the wonders of the spiritual world. Hence imagination has a wide field
for its speculations, which, so long as they do not positively contradict
the revelation of the Scriptures, cannot be disproved.
We naturally enough transfer to our idea of heaven whatever we love and
reverence on earth. Thither the Catholic carries in his fancy the
imposing rites and time-honored solemnities of his worship. There the
Methodist sees his love-feasts and camp-meetings in the groves and by the
still waters and green pastures of the blessed abodes. The Quaker, in
the stillness of his self-communing, remembers that there was "silence in
heaven."
The Churchman, listening to the solemn chant of weal music or the deep
tones of the organ, thinks of the song of the elders and the golden harps
of the New Jerusalem.
The heaven of the northern nations of Europe was a gross and sensual
reflection of the earthly life of a barbarous and brutal people.
The Indians of North America had a vague notion of a sunset land, a
beautiful paradise far in the west, mountains and forests filled with
deer and buffalo, lakes and streams swarming with fishes,--the happy
hunting-ground of souls. In a late letter from a devoted missionary
among the Western Indians (Paul Blohm, a converted Jew) we have noticed a
beautiful illustration of this belief. Near the Omaha mission-house, on
a high luff, was a solitary Indian grave. "One evening,"
says the missionary, "having come home with some cattle which I had been
seeking, I heard some one wailing; and, looking in the direction from
whence I proceeded, I found it to be from the grave near our house. In a
moment after a mourner rose up from a kneeling or lying posture, and,
turning to the setting sun, stretched forth his arms in prayer and
supplication with an intensity and earnestness as though he would detain
the splendid luminary from running his course. With his body leaning
forward and his arms stretched towards the sun, he presented a most
striking figure of sorrow and petition. It was solemnly awful. He
seemed to me to be one of the ancients come forth to teach me how to
pray."
A venerable and worthy New England clergyman, on his death-bed, just
before the close of his life, declared that he was only conscious of an
awfully solemn and intense curiosity to know the great secret of death
and eternity.
The excellent Dr. Nelson, of Missouri, was one who, while on earth,
seemed to live another and higher life in the contemplation of infinite
purity and happiness. A friend once related an incident concerning him
which made a deep impression upon my mind. They had been travelling
through a summer's forenoon in the prairie, and had lain down to rest
beneath a solitary tree. The Doctor lay for a long time, silently
looking upwards through the openings of the boughs into the still
heavens, when he repeated the following lines, in a low tone, as if
communing with himself in view of the wonders he described:--
"O the joys that are there mortal eye bath not seen!
O the songs they sing there, with hosannas between!
O the thrice-blessed song of the Lamb and of Moses!
O brightness on brightness! the pearl gate uncloses!
O white wings of angels! O fields white with roses!
O white tents of peace, where the rapt soul reposes
O the waters so still, and the pastures so green!"
The brief hints afforded us by the sacred writings concerning the better
land are inspiring and beautiful. Eye hath not seen, nor the ear heard,
neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive of the good in
store for the righteous. Heaven is described as a quiet habitation,--a
rest remaining for the people of God. Tears shall be wiped away from all
eyes; there shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, neither
shall there be any more pain. To how many death-beds have these words
spoken peace! How many failing hearts have gathered strength from them
to pass through the dark valley of shadows!
Yet we should not forget that "the kingdom of heaven is within;" that it
is the state and affections of the soul, the answer of a good conscience,
the sense of harmony with God, a condition of time as well as of
eternity. What is really momentous and all-important with us is the
present, by which the future is shaped and colored. A mere change of
locality cannot alter the actual and intrinsic qualities of the soul.
Guilt and remorse would make the golden streets of Paradise intolerable
as the burning marl of the infernal abodes; while purity and innocence
would transform hell itself into heaven.
