488. The Coming Glory

The Coming Glory

1Co_2:9 : ’93Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.’94

The city of Corinth has been called the Paris of antiquity. Indeed, for splendor the world holds no such wonder today. It stood on an isthmus washed by two seas, the one sea bringing the commerce of Europe, the other sea bringing the commerce of Asia. From her wharves, in the construction of which whole kingdoms had been absorbed, war-galleys with three banks of oars pushed out and confounded the navy-yards of all the world. Huge-handed machinery, such as modern invention cannot equal, lifted ships from the sea on one side and transported them on trucks across the isthmus and put them down in the sea on the other side.

The revenue officers of the city went down through the olive groves that lined the beach to collect a tariff from all nations. The mirth of all people sported in her Isthmian games, and the beauty of all lands sat in her theatres, walked her porticoes, and threw itself on the altar of her stupendous dissipations. Column and statue and temple bewildered the beholder. There were white marble fountains into which, from apertures at the side, there rushed waters everywhere known for health-giving qualities. Around these basins, twisted into wreaths of stone, there were all the beauties of sculpture and architecture; while standing, as if to guard the costly display, was a statue of Hercules of burnished Corinthian brass. Vases of terra-cotta adorned the cemeteries of the dead’97vases so costly that Julius C’e6sar was not satisfied until he had captured them for Rome. Armed officials, the Corintharii, paced up and down to see that no statue was defaced, no pedestal overthrown, no bas-relief touched. From the edge of the city a hill arose, with its magnificent burden of columns, towers and temples (one thousand slaves waiting at one shrine), and a citadel so thoroughly impregnable that Gibraltar is a heap of sand compared with it. Amid all that strength and magnificence Corinth stood and defied the world.

It was not to rustics, who had never seen anything grand, that Paul uttered this text. They had heard the best music that had come from the best instruments in all the world; they had heard songs floating from morning porticoes and melting in evening groves; they had passed their whole lives among pictures and sculpture and architecture and Corinthian brass, which had been molded and shaped until there was no chariot wheel in which it had not sped, and no tower in which it had not glittered, and no gateway that it had not adorned. It was a bold thing for Paul to stand there amid all that, and say: ’93All this is nothing. These sounds that come from the temple of Neptune are not music compared with the harmonies of which I speak. These waters rushing in the basin of Pyrene are not pure. These statues of Bacchus and Mercury are not exquisite. Your citadel of Acrocorinthus is not strong compared with that which I offer to the poorest slave that puts down his burden at that brazen gate. You Corinthians think this is a splendid city; you think you have heard all sweet sounds, and seen all beautiful sights; but I tell you eye hath not seen nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.’94

You see my text sets forth the idea that, however exalted our ideas of heaven, they come far short of the reality. Some wise men have been calculating how many furlongs long and wide is the new Jerusalem; and they have calculated how many inhabitants there are on the earth; how long the earth will probably stand; and then they come to this estimate: That after all the nations have been gathered to heaven, there will be room for each soul’97a room sixteen feet long and fifteen feet wide. It would not be large enough for me. I am glad to know that no human estimate is sufficient to take the dimensions. ’93Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard,’94 nor arithmetic calculated.

I remark that we can get no idea of the health of heaven. When you were a child, and you went out in the morning, how you bounded along the road or street’97you had never felt sorrow or sickness. Perhaps later you felt a glow in your cheek, and a spring in your step, an exuberance of spirits, and a clearness of eye, that made you thank God you were permitted to live. The nerves were harp-strings, and the sunlight was a doxology, and the rustling leaves were the rustling of the robes of a great crowd rising up to praise the Lord. You thought that you knew what it was to be well, but there is no perfect health on earth. The diseases of past generations came down to us. The airs that float now upon the earth are not like those which float above Paradise. They are charged with impurities and distempers. The most elastic and robust health of earth, compared with that which those experience before whom the gates have been opened, is nothing but sickness and emaciation. Look at that soul standing before the throne. On earth she was a life-long invalid. See her step now, and hear her voice now. Catch, if you can, one breath of that celestial air. Health in all the pulses’97health of vision; health of spirits; immortal health. No racking cough, no sharp pleurisies, no consuming fevers, no exhausting pains, no hospitals of wounded men. Health swinging in the air; health flowing in all the streams; health blooming on the banks. No headaches, no sideaches, no backaches. That child that died in the agonies of croup, hear her voice now ringing in the anthem! That old man who went bowed down with the infirmities of age, see him walk now with the step of an immortal athlete’97forever young again! That night when the needle-woman fainted away in the garret, a wave of the heavenly air resuscitated her forever, for everlasting years to have neither ache nor pain nor weakness nor fatigue. ’93Eye hath not seen it, ear hath not heard it.’94

I remark, further, that we can, in this world, get no just idea of the splendors of heaven. John tries to describe them. He says: ’93The twelve gates are twelve pearls,’94 and that ’93the foundations of the wall are garnished with all manner of precious stones.’94 As we stand looking through the telescope of St. John, we see a blaze of amethyst, and pearl, and emerald, and sardonyx, and chrysoprasus, and sapphire, a mountain of light, a cataract of color, a sea of glass, and a city like the sun. John bids us look again, and we see thrones, thrones of the prophets, thrones of the patriarchs, thrones of the angels, thrones of the apostles, thrones of the martyrs, throne of Jesus’97throne of God. And we turn round to see the glory, and it is thrones! thrones! thrones!

John bids us look again, and we see the great procession of the redeemed passing; Jesus, on a white horse, leads the march, and all the armies of heaven following on white horses. Infinite cavalcade passing, passing; empires pressing into line, ages following ages. Dispensation tramping on after dispensation. Glory in the track of glory. Europe, Asia, Africa, North and South America, pressing into the lines. Islands of the seas shoulder to shoulder. Generations from before the flood following generations after the flood, and as Jesus rises at the head of that great host, and waves his sword in signal victory, all crowns are lifted, and all ensigns flung out, and all chimes rung, and all hallelujahs chanted, and some cry, ’93Glory to God most high!’94 and some, ’93Hosanna to the son of David!’94 and some, ’93Worthy is the Lamb that was slain’94’97till all exclamations of endearment and homage in the vocabulary of heaven are exhausted, and there comes up surge after surge of ’93Amen! Amen! and Amen!’94 ’93Eye hath not seen it, ear hath not heard it.’94 Skim from the summer waters the brightest sparkles, and you will get no idea of the sheen of the everlasting sea. Pile up the splendors of earthly cities, and they would not make a stepping-stone by which you might mount to the city of God. Every house is a palace. Every step is a triumph. Every covering of the head a coronation. Every meal is a banquet. Every stroke from the tower is a wedding-bell. Every day is a jubilee, every hour a rapture, and every moment an ecstasy. ’93Eye hath not seen it, ear hath not heard it.’94

I remark, further, that we can get no idea of the reunions of heaven. If you have ever been across the seas and met a friend, or even an acquaintance, in some strange city, you remember how your blood thrilled, and how glad you were to see him. What will be our joy, after we have passed the seas of death, to meet in the bright city of the sun those from whom we have long been separated. Here on earth, after we have been away from our friends ten or fifteen years, and we come upon them, we see how different they look. Their hair has turned, and wrinkles have come in their faces, and we say, ’93How you have changed!’94 But oh, when we stand before the throne, all cares gone from the face, all marks of sorrow disappeared, and feeling the joy of that blessed land, methinks we will say to each other, with an exultation we cannot now imagine, ’93How you have changed!’94 In this world we only meet to part. It is goodbye, goodbye. Farewells floating in the air. We hear it at the rail-car window, and at the steamboat wharf’97goodbye. Children lisp it, and old age answers it Sometimes we say it in a light way’97’94 goodbye,’94 and sometimes with anguish in which the soul breaks down. Good-bye! Ah! that is the word that ends the thanksgiving banquet; that is the word that comes in to close the Christmas chant. Good-bye, goodbye. But not so in heaven. Welcomes in the air, welcomes at the gates, welcomes at the house of many mansions’97but no goodbye. That group is constantly being augmented. They are going up from our circles of earth to join it’97little voices to join the anthem’97little hands to take hold in the great home-circle’97little feet to dance in the eternal glee’97little crowns to be cast down before the feet of Jesus. Our friends are in two groups’97a group this side of the river, and a group on the other side of the river. Now there goes one from this to that, and another from this to that, and soon we will all be gone over. How many of your loved ones have already entered upon that blessed place? If I should take paper and pencil, do you think I could put them all down? Ah, my friends, the waves of Jordan roar so hoarsely we cannot hear the joy on the other side when that group is augmented.

A little child’92s mother had died, and they comforted her. They said, ’93Your mother has gone to heaven, don’92t cry’94; and the next day they went to the graveyard, and they laid the body of the mother down into the ground; and the little girl came up to the verge of the grave, and, looking at the body of her mother, said: ’93Is this heaven?’94 Alas! we have no idea what heaven is. It is the grave here’97it is darkness here’97but there is merry-making yonder. Methinks when a soul arrives, some angel takes it around to show it the wonders of that blessed place. The usher-angel says to the newly arrived, ’93These are the martyrs that perished at Piedmont; these were torn to pieces at the Inquisition; this is the throne of the great Jehovah; this is Jesus’94 ’93I am going to see Jesus,’94 said a dying boy; ’93I am going to see Jesus.’94 The missionary said, ’93You are sure you will see him?’94 ’93Oh, yes; that is what I want to go to heaven for.’94 ’93But,’94 said the missionary, ’93suppose Jesus should go away from heaven’97what then?’94 ’93I should follow him,’94 said the dying boy. ’93But if Jesus went down to hell’97what then?’94 The dying boy thought for a moment, and then said, ’93Where Jesus is there can be no hell!’94 Oh, to stand in his presence! That will be heaven! Oh, to put our hand in that hand which was wounded for us on the cross’97to go around amid the groups of the redeemed, and shake hands with the prophets and apostles and martyrs, and with our own dear, beloved ones! That will be the great reunion; we cannot imagine it now! Our loved ones seem so far away. When we are in trouble and lonesome, they do not seem to come to us. We go on to the banks of the Jordan and call across to them, but they do not seem to hear. We say, ’93Is it well with the child? is it well with the loved ones?’94 and we listen to hear if any voice come back over the waters. None! none! Unbelief says, ’93They are dead, and they are annihilated,’94 but blessed be God! we have a Bible that tells us different. We open it and we find they are neither dead nor annihilated’97that they were never were so much alive as now’97that they are only waiting for our coming, and that we shall join them on the other side of the river. Glorious reunion, we cannot grasp it now! ’93Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.’94 What a place of explanation it will be! I see, every day, profound mysteries of providence. There is no question we ask oftener than Why? There are hundreds of graves in Greenwood and Laurel Hill that need to be explained. Hospitals for the blind and lame, asylums for the idiotic and insane, almshouses for the destitute, and a world of pain and misfortune that demand more than human solution. God will clear it all up. In the light that pours from the throne, no dark mystery can live. Things now utterly inscrutable will be illumined as plainly as though the answer were written on the jasper wall, or sounded in the temple anthem. Bartimeus will thank God that he was blind; Joseph that he was cast into the pit; Daniel that he denned with the lions; Paul that he was humpbacked; David that he was driven from Jerusalem; and that invalid, who for twenty years could not lift his head from the pillow; and that widow, that she had such hard work to earn bread for her children. The song will be all the grander for earth’92s weeping eyes and aching heads and exhausted hands and scourged backs and martyred agonies. But we can get no idea of that anthem here. We appreciate the power of secular music, but do we appreciate the power of sacred song? There is nothing more inspiriting to me than a whole congregation lifted on the wave of holy melody. When we sing some of those dear old psalms and tunes, they rouse all the memories of the past. Why, some of them were cradle songs in our father’92s house! They are all sparkling with the morning dew of a hundred Christian Sabbaths. They were sung by brothers and sisters gone now’97by voices that were aged and broken in the music’97voices none the less sweet because they did tremble and break.

When I hear these old songs sung, it seems as if all the old country meeting-houses joined in the chorus, with city church and sailor’92s Bethel and western cabins, until the whole continent lifts the Doxology, and the sceptres of eternity beat time in the music. Away then with your starveling tunes that chill the devotions of the sanctuary and make the people sit silent when Jesus is marching on to victory. When generals come back from victorious wars, do we not cheer them and shout, ’93Huzza, huzza’94? and when Jesus passes along in the conquest of the earth, shall we not have for him one loud, ringing cheer?

All hail the power of Jesus’92 name!

Let angels prostrate fall,

Bring forth the royal diadem,

And crown him Lord of all.

But, my friends, if music on earth is so sweet, what will it be in heaven! They all know the tune there. All the best singers of all the ages will join in it’97choirs of white-robed children, choirs of patriarchs, choirs of apostles. Morning stars clapping their cymbals. Harpers with their harps. Great anthems of God roll on! roll on!’97other empires joining the harmony till the thrones are all full, and the nations all saved. Anthem shall touch anthem, chorus join chorus, and all the sweet sounds of earth and heaven be poured into the ear of Christ. David of the harp will be there. Gabriel of the trumpet will be there. Germany, redeemed, will pour its deep bass voice into the song, and Africa will add to the music with her matchless voices. I wish we could anticipate that song. I wish we might catch an echo that slips from the gates. Who knows but that when the heavenly door opens today to let some soul through, there may come forth the strain of the jubilant voices until we catch it? Oh, that as the song drops down from heaven, it might meet half way a song coming up from earth. They rise for the Doxology, all the multitude of the blest! Let us rise with them; and so at this hour the joys of the church on earth and the joys of the church in heaven will mingle their chalices, and the dark apparel of our morning will seem to whiten into the spotless raiment of the skies. God grant that through the mercy of our Lord Jesus we may all get there!

Autor: T. De Witt Talmage