Hope in Christ is the confident expectation of salvation and eternal life, grounded in His resurrection and promises (Romans 8:24-25). Christian preaching often uses images of light breaking through darkness or a secure anchor, emphasizing peace and assurance amid trials (Hebrews 6:19). This hope sustains believers, inspiring perseverance and joy despite present difficulties.
Belief in future blessings motivates effort and gives life hopeful direction.
Not only does the Bible contribute to our belief in the best is yet to be, but the things of our daily lives reveal that this is true, too. It is this belief that keeps the scientist, inventor, and researcher busy.
The best car hasn't been developed.
The final cure hasn't been discovered.
The safest plane hasn't been produced.
The best song hasn't been written.
The best product is not on the market.
The best church hasn't been grown.
The best sales presentation has not been perfected.
The best class hasn't been taught.
The best way hasn't been found.
The best...is yet to be.
The phrase "The best is yet to be" is a positive affirmation that gives life direction. It provides hope: there is more to come in life. It's the spirit of expectancy: good things are going to happen. It is seen through the eyes that look for opportunities that will be greater than ever. It is received through proper planning and work. Desire is the fuel that makes it a reality. THE BEST IS YET TO BE!
Losing hope causes failure; perseverance keeps life and faith meaningful.
When you lose hope of doing better, you lose everything that makes life worth living. A great artist was once asked, "What's the best picture you've ever painted?" "The next one," he replied confidently. But another artist was heard to lament, "Too bad I failed," though he was at the very height of his glory. "Why do you say that?" asked a friend of his in astonishment. "Because I've lost any hope of improvement," he said. He was right; the person who has stopped hoping has truly failed. The Discouraged Christian
Many times the Christian wishes for death in the face of difficulties and trials. He is like the poor man carrying a load of sticks who, when he became tired, sat down on a bank, and laying his sticks on the ground said, "I am sick and tired of this. I wish death would come to relieve me." Instantly, Death slipped up and said, "Here am I; what do you want of me?" "I want you to help me put this bundle of sticks on my back again," said the astonished pilgrim. We are all prone to think that our load of sticks is heavier-that our road more difficult and our enemies more daring than any other Christian's.
The gospel song about Christ's blood gives hope for the world.
Some years ago several congressmen, who were devout Christians, were taking a walk one evening. Their conversation drifted to the subject of religion and the state of the world. They were not enthusiastic about the outlook and were just about to agree that the whole world was on the toboggan when they chanced to pass a little chapel. From within came the words of a familiar hymn:
There is a fountain filled with blood
Drawn from Immanuel's veins;
And sinners plunged beneath that flood,
Lose all their guilty stains.
As his face lighted up, one said to the others, "As long as people get together and sing that song, there is hope for the world, after all."
Believers live in hopeful anticipation of becoming fully like Christ.
A mother, the instant that she knows she is with child, lives her every moment in anticipation of her deliverance from the burden that is within her. After a time she cannot take a step, make a move, think a thought that is disassociated from the coming of her child.
In America, people are supposed to ignore the obvious fact that a woman is with child. In France the case is quite the contrary. If a man is introduced to a woman who is an expectant mother, it is the height of politeness for him to congratulate her. "Je vous felicite de votre esperance." "I congratulate you on your hope," is a common phrase among the cultured.
Just as a woman becomes pregnant in anticipation of bearing a child, so a believer becomes saved in anticipation of being fully like the Lord Jesus Christ. It is unto this state of hope that we are saved.
Hope and answered prayer sustain perseverance through difficult challenges.
Men will endure almost anything as long as they have hope. Cyrus Field said he was nearly in despair on many occasions as he sought to make his vision of the transatlantic cable a reality. Some called it a "mad feat of stubborn ignorance," that a man should endure all that he and his co-workers went through to make this feat possible. "Many times," he confessed, "when wandering in the forests of Newfoundland in the pelting rains, on the decks of ships on dark, stormy nights, alone, far from home, I have almost accused myself of madness and folly to sacrifice the peace of family, and all the hope of life, for what might prove, after all, but a dream.... And yet one hope has led me on; and I have prayed that I might not taste death til this work was accomplished. That prayer is answered. And now, beyond all acknowledgments to men, is the feeling of gratitude to God."
Older believers find joy and hope in nearing eternal glory despite physical decline.
"I am on the bright side of seventy," said an aged man of God; "the bright side, because nearer to everlasting glory." "Nature fails," said another, "but I am happy." "My work is done," said the Countess of Huntingdon, when eighty-four years old: "I have nothing to do but to go to my Father." To a humble Christian it was remarked, "I fear you are near another world." "Fear it, sir!" he replied, "I know I am; but, blessed be the Lord! I do not fear it: I hope it."
A dying daughter comforts her grieving father with hope of joyful reunion in heaven.
A lovely young lady, in her near approach to dissolution observing her father overcome with grief, thus remonstrated with him: "Why, sir, so much grief? Had an offer of marriage been made me by one who in himself was all you could wish, and whose situation in life was far superior to mine, but whose residence must be in a remote part of the kingdom, perhaps, the consideration of advantage and promotion to me would have reconciled you to my removal, though it would have been little other than a separation for life. But I am now about to be promoted incomparably beyond any thing that could have occurred in this world. Then why this reluctance? Our next meeting will be in circumstances of high improvement, joyful and perpetual."
A child assures her mother that Jesus' protection brings comfort beyond death.
"Mother," said a dying child, "shall you cry much when Jesus takes me?"—"I am afraid I shall," replied the mother. "Oh, please don't!" entreated the child; "for you know, whatever may happen to Jessie and John in this naughty world, your little Ellie will be safe. Sin and Satan can't snatch her from Jesus' arms,—never, never. Won't that comfort you, mother? You never need worry about me."
Loss is temporary as believers will joyfully reunite with loved ones in heaven.
Thou hast lost thy friend; say, rather, thou hast parted with him. That is properly lost which is past all recovery, which we cannot hope to see any more. It is not so with this friend for whom thou mournest. He is only gone home a little before thee: thou art following him. You, too, shall meet in your Father's house, and enjoy each other more happily than you could have done here below. How just is that charge of the blessed apostle, that we should not mourn as men without hope for those who sleep in Jesus! Did we think their souls vanished into air, as a heathen poet profanely expresses it, and their bodies resolved into dust, without all possibility of reparation, we might well cry out our eyes for the utter extinction of those we loved. But, if they do but sleep, they shall do well. Why are we impatient at their silent repose in the bed of death, when we are assured of their awaking to glory? Bp. Hall.
Believers look forward from this life to their heavenly home with hope.
As prisoners in castles look out of their grated windows at the smiling landscape, where the sun comes and goes, so we, from this life, as from dungeonbars, look forth to the heavenly land, and are refreshed with sweet visions of the home that shall be ours when we are free. Beecher.
A believer's death can be peaceful, like a calm sunset signaling a new beginning.
How often is the believer's death-bed like the deep calm repose of a summer-evening sky, when all Nature is hushed to rest; the departing soul, like the vanishing sun, peacefully disappearing only to shine in another and brighter hemisphere! "I seem," said Simeon on his death-bed, "to have nothing to do but to wait: there is now nothing but peace, the sweetest peace."
— J. A. Macduff
A motto 'Never despair' saved a man from suicide and led to success.
A young man had come to London to seek employment, but being unsuccessful, and reduced to great poverty, he determined to throw himself into the Thames. On passing on his way to effect his desperate purpose, he saw the carriage of the late Mr. Hanway, under the arms of which was the motto, "Never despair." He gave up the design on his life, and subsequently acquired a competence.
Heaven is likened to an orange grove where hope and fulfillment become one eternal joy.
If I am allowed to give a metaphorical allusion to the future state of the blessed, I should imagine it by the orange-grove in that sheltered glen on which the sun is now beginning to shine, and of which the trees are, at the same time, loaded with sweet golden fruit and balmy silver flowers. Such objects may well portray a state in which hope and fruition become one eternal feeling.
— Sir H. Davy
Hope of a better country sustains believers through trials and unknown journeys.
What has been the great and what is now one of the strongest and most influential powers or motives in the human heart? A desire to find some better place, some lovelier spot, than we now have.
For what does the tradesman toil? for what does the physician practise? for what does man hope at the decline and the close of life? Some sheltered nook, some quiet spot, where, if he cannot have a rest that will never be moved, he may have, at least, a foretaste and foreshadow of it. What was it that carried Columbus across the western wave, amid insubordination within his ship, and the unexpectedly wild waves that roared and curled around and without? What sustained him on the unsounded sea, amid the untraversed waste of waters? The hope of a better country. What was it that sustained the hearts of the Pilgrim Fathers, when, driven forth from this land by stern ecclesiastical persecution, they went to the far distance, and across the western wave, and feared not the iron-bound coast, or the rugged and the unknown territory on which they set foot? It was the hope and prospect of a better, even a free and peaceful country.
— Dr. Cumming
Christian hope anchors the soul firmly amid life's storms and temptations.
As an anchor thrown to the bottom of the sea holds the ship fast amid storms and tempests; so the Christian's hope penetrates the waves of this troublesome world, and reaches the eternal shore holding fast his soul amid the waves of sin.
A believer faces death confidently, assured of a crown of righteousness from Christ.
A consumptive disease seized the eldest son and heir of the Duke of Hamilton, which ended in his death. The little before his departure from the world, he took his Bible from under his pillow, and opened it at the passage, "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: henceforth there is laid up to me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord the righteous Judge, shall give me at that day and not to me only, but unto them also the love his appearing." As death approached he called his younger brother to his bodies and, addressing him with the greatest affection and seriousness, closed with those remarkable words: "And now, Douglas, in a little time you'll be a duke, but I shall be a king."
Fixing eyes on heaven helps Christians safely cross life's dangers.
As a man crossing a swift stream does not gaze down at the water, lest it should make him giddy, and endanger his life, but fixes his eyes on the farther shore, and so crosses in safety; so the Christian, passing the troublesome waves of this life, gazes not on them, but fixes his eyes on the heavenly banks beyond, and so makes a safe crossing.
John Knox silently pointed heavenward, showing hope in death.
"Hast thou hope?" they asked of John Knox when he lay dying. He spoke nothing, but raised his finger and pointed upwards, and so died. Carlyle.
Christian hope grows brighter and stronger until the perfect day.
Hope takes fast hold of heaven itself. A Christian's hope is not like that of Pandora, which may fly out of the box, and bid the soul farewell, as the hope of the hypocrite does: no, it is like the morning light; the least beam of it shall go on into a complete sunshine; it shall shine forth brighter and brighter till the perfect day.
— T. Brooks
Christian hope endures even until death, unlike worldly hope that lasts only while alive.
The world dares say no more of its devices than "dum spiro spero" (whilst I breathe, I hope); but the children of God can add, by virtue of this living hope, "dum expiro spero" (whilst I expire, I hope).
— Leighton
Hope is an active grace that motivates the soul to pursue glory vigorously.
Hope is an active grace: it is called a lively hope. Hope is like the spring in the watch; it sets all the wheels of the soul in motion. Hope of a crop makes the husbandman sow his seed; hope of a victory makes the soldier fight; and a true hope of glory makes a Christian vigorously pursue glory. Here is a spiritual touchstone to try our hope by. T. Watson.
A white bird on a ship's mast symbolizes hope amid life's storms and trials.
A sailing-vessel was driving before the hurricane. A white bird suddenly descended on the mast: the hearts of the crew were cheered,—hope dawned! Such consolation may be always mine. One bright, holy, faithful thought is my dove upon the mast. However sadly I toss over the waves of this troublesome weary world, that gentle bird of paradise revives and strengthens me. It tells me that the storm will soon be over and gone, and the green land with the singing of the birds is come. Wilmott.
Hope remains after all blessings are lost, symbolized by Pandora's box story.
An account says that Pandora was sent in good faith to bless man; that she was furnished with a box into which every god had put some blessing. She opened the box incautiously, and all the blessings escaped, hope only excepted.
Persistent hope holds on firmly despite great loss and suffering.
Cynegirus, a valiant Athenian, being in a great sea-fight against the Medes, copying a ship of the enemy's well manned, and fitted for service, when no other means would serve, he grasped it with his hands to maintain the fight; and, when his right hand was cut off, he held close with his left; but, both hands being taken off, he held it fast with his teeth, till he lost his life. Such is the holdfast of him that hopes in God: as long as there is any breath, he hopes. Spencer.
Hope inspires endurance and strength through life's most perilous trials.
The hope of Christ is a staff in the hands of the weary before the arm of Christ is stretched out, on which he may be privileged to lean. Hope is a marvelous inspiration, which every heart confesses in some season of extremest peril. It can put nerve into the languid, and fleetness into the feet of exhaustion. Let the slim and feathery palm-grove be dimly descried, though ever so remotely, and the caravan will on, spite of the fatigue of the traveller and the sinoom's blinding, to where, by the fringy rootlets, the desert waters flow. Let there glimmer one star through the murky waste of night, and though the spars be shattered, and the sails be riven, and the hurricane howls for its prey, the brave sailor will be lashed to the helm, and see already, through the tempest's breaking, calm waters and a spotless sky. Oh! who is there, however hapless his lot or forlorn his surroundings, who is beyond the influence of this choicest of earth's comforters, — this faithful friend which survives the flight of riches, and the wreck of reputation, and the break of health, and even the loss of dear and cherished friends? Punshoo.
The sinner's hope is fragile and easily destroyed, like a spider's web.
The spider weaves her web with care, hanging it up, and running across, so persevering, till a fine canopy is completed; when along comes the housewife, and, with a stroke of a broom, itself and its labor perishes. The spider weaves his own winding-sheet. Such is an emblem of the sinner's hope.
Hope is a precious treasure worth more than material spoils.
It is recorded of Alexander, that, when distributing the spoil of one of his victories, he gave all away, keeping no portion as his share. One of his soldiers asked him what he reserved for himself. The monarch answered, "HOPE."
— Homes
Hope supports faith and enables boldness and prayer in the believer's life.
Hope is the daughter of Faith, but such as is a staff to her aged mother, and will produce a bold and wise profession of the truth before men, as also prayer to God. It is as the cork upon the net: though the lead on the one side sinks it down, yet the cork on the other keeps it up.
— J. Trapp
True hope comes only through the cross of Christ, not mere human assurance.
Harlan Page once went through his sabbath school to get the spiritual census of the school. Coming to one of the teachers, he said, "Shall I put you down as having hope in Christ?" The teacher replied, "No." — "Then," said he very tenderly, "I will put you down as having no hope." He closed his little book, and left him. That was enough. God gave that young man's soul no rest till he found hope through the cross.
The world without Jesus would be hopeless, joyless, and fearful despite outward beauty.
What would the world be without Jesus? We may, perhaps, have sometimes made pictures to ourselves of the day of judgment. We may have imagined the storms above and the earthquakes underneath, the sun and the moon darkened, and the stars falling from heaven, the fire raging over the face of the earth; men crying to the mountains and rocks to fall upon them and hide them, and, in the masses of the eastern clouds, Jesus coming to judge the world. We think it appropriate to add to the picture every feature of physical tumult and desolation, every wildest unchaining of the elements; although doubtless the catastrophe of that day of horrors will follow the grand uniformity of a natural law, even amidst the impetuosity of its convulsions. Yet the misery and confusion of earth upon that day will have less of real horror in it than the earth without Jesus would have, even though the sun were shining, and the flowers blooming, and the birds singing. An earth without hope or happiness, without love or peace, the past a burden, the present a weariness, the future a shapeless terror,—such would the earth be if by impossibility there were no Jesus.
— Dr. F. W. Faber
Life’s mix of joy and sorrow is woven together, but hope assures eternal joy.
Let my Lord Jesus—since he willeth to do so—weave my bit-and-span length of time with white and black, weal and woe, with the Bridegroom's coming and his sad departure, as warp and woof in one web: and let the rose be neighbored with the thorn: yet hope, that maketh not ashamed, hath written a letter to the mourners in Zion, that it shall not be long so. When we are over the water, Christ shall cry, "Down crosses, and up heaven forevermore." Rutherford.
Old age is a hopeful journey toward the crown of glory in heaven.
Mr. Venn, conversing with a stranger, was thus addressed: "Sir, I think you are on the wrong side of fifty?"—"On the wrong side of fifty!" answered Mr. Venn. "No, sir: I am on the right side of fifty."—"Surely," the other replied, "you must be turned fifty?"—"Yes, sir," added Mr. Venn; "but I am on the right side of fifty; for, every year I live, I am nearer my crown of glory."
Earthly lack is outweighed by the hope of heavenly blessings and eternal joy.
A young lady who complained because she could not have a piano says, "Never shall I forget my mother's gentle tone as she simply replied, 'Never mind: if you cannot have a piano on earth, you may have a harp in heaven. Instantly the whole current of my feelings was changed. Earthly things dwindled into insignificance; and the 'harp in heaven,' with its golden strings, became the object of my desire. I felt reproved for my murmurings against Providence that had placed me in a humble home; and, from that moment, the enjoyments of heaven seemed far to outweigh all the pleasures of earth.'"
Choosing suffering with hope in heaven over worldly prosperity shows true faith.
I was called upon to visit an individual, a part of whose face had been eaten away by a cancer. In his agony, I said, "Supposing that Almighty God were to give you your choice, whether would you prefer your cancer, your pain, and your sufferings, with a certainty of death before you, but of immortality hereafter, or health, prosperity, long life in the world, and the risk of losing your immortal soul?"—"Ah, sir!" said the man, "give me the cancer, the pain, the Bible, the hope of heaven, and others may take the world, long life, and prosperity." W. Treffit.
Believers have hope and reward whether or not there is an afterlife, unlike infidels.
"Indisputably," says Lord Byron, "the firm believers in the gospel have a great advantage over all others, for this simple reason, that if true, they will have their reward hereafter; and if there be no hereafter, they can be but with the infidel in his eternal sleep, having had the assistance of an exalted hope through life, without subsequent disappointment, since, at the worst for them, 'out of nothing, nothing can arise,' not even sorrow."
The prospect of heaven surpasses all earthly blessings and makes death glorious.
Mr. N. R. Cobb, of Boston, so much noted for his benevolence, a short time before his death said: “Within the few last days, I have had some glorious views of heaven. It is indeed a glorious thing to die. I have been active and busy in the world. I have enjoyed it as much as any one. God has prospered me. I have every thing to tie me here. I am happy in my family; I have property enough; but how small and mean does this world appear when we are on a sick bed! Nothing can equal my enjoyment in the near prospect of heaven. My hope in Christ is worth infinitely more than all other things. The blood of Christ, the blood of Christ; none but Christ.”
Hope in heaven brings joy and peace even in the hardest earthly lives.
"Passing down Hudson-street in New-York one day," says a clergyman, "a sooty, noisy chimney-sweep crossed my path. I had often noticed this class of persons before; and as I heard their hideous cries and marked their filthy dress and the sooty implements of their calling, I had thought their lot among the most miserable of our race. Pity and curiosity prompted me, as this chimney-sweep was now passing, to address a few kind words. After a salutation I said: 'My friend, this must be a hard life that you live?' 'O, no,' said he, and his eye kindled as he spoke; 'it's not a hard life; it will soon be over, and then we shall have rest.' I was silent for a moment; but recovering from my surprise I replied: 'Yes, indeed, we shall have rest in heaven if we love and serve the Savior on earth. Do you love him?' 'I do not wish to presume,' said he, 'but I trust I do love the Savior!' What was my gratification to learn that he was a professor of religion and had been for years a member of a church of the same denomination with myself. And when I told him who I was—a minister of Christ and one of his own brethren—he was full of joy. With a few words of advice and congratulation I passed on. 'O, happy man,' thought I. 'Happier in hope of heaven than the kings of the earth without it. Is not such a hope like an anchor to the soul?'
Christian hope in heaven contrasts with the bleak outlook of false religious hope.
When I was in the Church of St. John Lateran, at Rome, I read a request for prayer for the repose of the soul of his Eminence, Cardinal Wiseman. Now Cardinal Wiseman was a great man, a prince of the church, but yet he is somewhere in the other world, where he is not in repose: so this request indicates. There must be a very poor outlook for an ordinary Catholic. For my part, I would give up so cheerless a hope, and become a believer in the Lord Jesus Christ, and go to heaven.
Believers remember friends ahead in heaven as they journey through life.
When sailors, years ago, used to go to India, they would give as a toast when they left, "To our friends astern"; but when they had reached half way on the voyage, they changed it, and it was, "To our friends ahead." When we are midway on our voyage, we are bound to remember our friends ahead.
A grieving mother finds hope in her child's hands leading her to heaven.
See MISSIONARIES IN THE MAKING.
CHILD, LEADING OF A
A young mother who had lost her firstborn, sat fondling its icy hands, and amid her tears said, “If ever I get to heaven, it will be these little fingers that will pull me there.” (Text.)
Daybreak symbolizes moving from darkness and trouble into joy and light.
The poem found below, by P. Habberton Fulham, in London _Outlook_, gives a striking figure that would well symbolize a human experience in passing from a season of darkness and trouble into one of joy and light:
As some great captain, ere the morn be red,
Might watch his tired ranks sleeping in the dew,
Linger a moment, with some sense of rue,
Then bid réveillé sound o’er quick and dead--
So the loth sun-god leaves his cloudy bed,
Then, swift the heavy hangings striding through,
Bids the dawn’s silver bugles sound anew,
His golden banners streaming overhead--
Like camp-fire smoke the mist of morning stirs,
Like strewed arms seem the dewy glistenings,
And, as that shining clarion peals on high,
Up spring the trees like bright-faced warriors,
Behind him each his cloak of shadow flings,
And one great shout of color shakes the sky! (Text.)
A hopeful heart finds joy and trust in God despite life's storms and trials.
The following verses are by M. A. Kidder:
There is many a rest in the road of life,
If we only would stop to take it,
And many a tone from the better land,
If the querulous heart would wake it.
To the sunny soul that is full of hope,
And whose beautiful trust ne’er faileth,
The grass is green and the flowers are bright,
Tho the wintry storm prevaileth.
There is ever a gem in the path of life,
Which we pass in our idle pleasure,
That is richer far than the jeweled crown,
Or the miser’s hoarded treasure.
It may be the love of a little child;
Or a mother’s prayers to heaven;
Or only a beggar’s grateful thanks
For a cup of water given.
Better to weave in the web of life
A bright and golden filling,
And to do God’s will with a ready heart
And hands that are swift and willing,
Than to snap the delicate, slender threads
Of our curious lives asunder.
And then blame heaven for the tangled ends,
And sit, and grieve, and wonder.
Optimism is maintaining hope and trust even when circumstances worsen dramatically.
* * * * *
In answer to the question, “What is optimism?” this humorous instance was recently given:
A man lost his balance and fell from the fortieth story of the Singer Building, Broadway, New York. As he passed each story going down he said to himself, “It is all right so far.” That was optimism.
Life and death are likened to spring, symbolizing hope, renewal, and immortality.
When I am gone, somehow I hope that spring
Will typify my life, my optimism,
My hope of victory through the years,
My nerve of step, my clear and visioned eye.
The early flowers, the robins singing in
The rain (may they not sing since they have wings?),
The increasing light, the slowly opening buds,
The almond blooms, the trees in vernal dress
Are like the silver crown upon my head:
A prophecy of heaven’s summer time.
Yes, when I die, it shall be springtime then
Of my great immortality.
When I am gone, let men say, He was always young;
Not even Sorrow, with his ruthless plow;
Nor base ingratitude, nor brothers false,
Nor slander’s venomed tooth, nor poverty,
Could rend rude furrows in his springlike soul
That soon arrayed itself with lovely vines
And fragrant flowers that added beauties new
To one who, ripe in years, knew not old age.
--_Western Christian Advocate._
A small garden with a vast sky above illustrates hope and spiritual vision beyond circumstances.
A story is told by the Rev. Silvester Horne of a college professor who often told in the class-room of thoughts that had come to him in the garden. The thoughts were often so beautiful, and opened up such vistas to the imagination, that the students, none of whom had visited the professor at his home, pictured the garden a very Eden--spacious, and a glory of trees and flowers. One day two of the students made a pretext to visit the professor and get a glimpse, if possible, of the garden. They were received and taken into the garden, which, to their surprize, they found was the narrowest strip shut in by high brick walls. “But, professor,” they said in their pained disillusion, “surely this is not the garden you are always talking about, in which such fine thoughts come to you?” “Oh, yes, it is,” he said with a smile. “But it is so small. We had imagined quite a large garden.” “But,” replied the professor, pointing to the clear sky studded with stars, “see how high it is!”
An imprisoned man’s upward look to mountains gave him renewed hope and patience.
* * * * *
Francois de Bonnivard, whom Byron has immortalized in his “Prisoner of Chillon,” was for many years immured in the dungeon of the castle of Chillon, which lay below the level of Lake Geneva, but from which he could hear the sound of the water constantly. One day a bird came and sang at his window the sweetest carol he ever heard. The music awakened within him an inexpressible longing for a look at the outer and upper world, all so free and bright to that bird. Digging a foothold in the dungeon wall he climbed to the little window, from which he saw the mountains of his beloved Switzerland, unchanged, capped with eternal snow, and that upward look gave him new patience and hope. (Text.)
Dying believers express joy and assurance in Christ's presence and salvation.
Bateman, when dying, said: “I surely must be going now, my strength sinks so fast. What glory! the angels are waiting for me. Farewell!” Mrs. Booth, wife of Gen. Booth of the Salvation Army, said as she neared the river’s brink: “The waters are rising, but so am I. I am not going under, but over. Do not be concerned about dying; go on living well, the dying will be all right.” George Brodil said: “I am so glad I am saved. The Lord has forgiven all my sins. Oh, papa, there is Jesus.” Mrs. Ferris said as she was leaving the world: “Oh! beautiful! beautiful! lovely! Is this walking through the valley of death?”
A dying believer's vision of heaven brings peace and readiness to meet the Lord.
Mrs. Mattie Campbell thus relates the death of her sister: “With mind clear and composed she waited for death. ‘Hark,’ said she, ‘I hear music; don’t you? And mother, I see a door. It is open. I see inside. It is a beautiful palace. It is Heaven. I see forms clothed in white. Many, yes, a multitude of beautiful beings, their hands upraised. Why, there’s Pa! Come, dear Lord, I am ready.’“
The dead live on in a purer, happier state beyond this life.
—On a day or night sad and dreary to us, the dear ones, with radiant faces kissed us, and said “Good-bye.” They were dead. Kind neighbors came and carried them out of our homes and we saw them tenderly laid beneath the earth. We returned to the vacant house which could never again be the same house. Our hearts were broken. Time moves on, but the dear ones do not return. We hear their voice no more. Are they really dead? No. They live; we cannot tell where, whether far or near; we cannot tell in what form, but they live. They are more beautiful than when we knew them, and purer, and holier, and happier. They are not sick nor weary now. They are not alone. They have joined others. They may think and talk of us. They may make affectionate inquiries for our welfare. They may be waiting for us.
The departed speak through memories and the lasting impact of their lives.
They speak by their lives, by their works, by their words. The friends we have loved pass away from our sight but they live in our memory and our hearts, while their voices come back to us with a power that they never had when we saw their moving lips. Your eye may rest upon some memorial of the past: perhaps it is the little shoe that you took off once with a smile and a kiss, which shall never again be worn by the little foot now in the grave. Perhaps it is a garment that yon wrapped around a loved, form for the last time. It may be the worn cane that no longer is needed by him who has gone to the spirit world. Perhaps it is a glove that you last saw on a dear one’s hand. Anything is enough to call up memories both hallowed and sad.
