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October
4
"At
evening time it shall be light."--Zechariah 14:7
Oftentimes we look forward with
forebodings to the time of old age, forgetful that at eventide it shall be
light. To many saints, old age is the choicest season in their lives. A balmier
air fans the mariner's cheek as he nears the shore of immortality, fewer waves
ruffle his sea, quiet reigns, deep, still and solemn. From the altar of age the
flashes of the fire of youth are gone, but the more real flame of earnest
feeling remains. The pilgrims have reached the land Beulah, that happy country,
whose days are as the days of heaven upon earth. Angels visit it, celestial
gales blow over it, flowers of paradise grow in it, and the air is filled with
seraphic music. Some dwell here for years, and others come to it but a few
hours before their departure, but it is an Eden on earth. We may well long for
the time when we shall recline in its shady groves and be satisfied with hope
until the time of fruition comes. The setting sun seems larger than when aloft
in the sky, and a splendour of glory tinges all the clouds which surround his
going down. Pain breaks not the calm of the sweet twilight of age, for strength
made perfect in weakness bears up with patience under it all. Ripe fruits of
choice experience are gathered as the rare repast of life's evening, and the soul
prepares itself for rest.
The Lord's people shall also enjoy light in the hour of death. Unbelief
laments; the shadows fall, the night is coming, existence is ending. Ah no,
crieth faith, the night is far spent, the true day is at hand. Light is come, the
light of immortality, the light of a Father's countenance. Gather up thy feet
in the bed, see the waiting bands of spirits! Angels waft thee away. Farewell,
beloved one, thou art gone, thou wavest thine hand. Ah, now it is light. The
pearly gates are open, the golden streets shine in the jasper light. We cover
our eyes, but thou beholdest the unseen; adieu, brother, thou hast light at
even-tide, such as we have not yet.