and pine for something more
satisfying. We turn from the shadow to the reality; and realizing the
insufficiency of home as a mere type, we turn with anxious hope to that
which it typifies--our heavenly home.

Heaven is the antitype of the Christian home. There the latter reaches its
consummation, and reaps the rich harvest of its great reward. The Father;
the Mother of us all; our Brethren; our inheritance; our all sufficiency
are there. Yea, all that is included in the dear name of home, is treasured
up there, for the child of God. In that better land he finds the reality of
his home on earth; the latter is but the prophecy of the former:--

"There is my house and portion fair,
My treasure and my heart are there,
And my abiding home."

That better home is radiant with light and love. There you shall not see
through a glass darkly, but shall behold all things face to face. You shall
not merely know in part, but even as you are known. There you shall realize
in all its fulness what you dimly taste here. We have a hunger here which
is not fully satisfied till in heaven we pluck the fruits of the tree of
life. We have a thirst here which is not fully quenched till in heaven we
drink of the waters of the river of life which flows fast by the throne of
God. In our tent-home here, we eat and drink, but hunger and thirst again;
we are healed, but we sicken again; we live in the light of truth, but
darkness and clouds intervene; we are comforted by the spirit and by
friends; but we sorrow and weep again.

But in heaven "sighing grief shall weep no more;" and we "shall hunger no
more, neither shall we thirst any more; and we shall not say I am sick;
and there shall be no night, nor sorrow, nor tears, nor sighing, nor death;
for the former things are passed away." Love will then be perfect; there
will be no heart-burnings and disappointments there. There you shall enjoy
the honey without the sting, and the rose without the thorn. "Earth hath no
sorrows that heaven cannot heal." All care and toil, and tears, and
orphanage, and widowhood, shall drop and disappear at the threshold of
heaven. If our tent-home stirs up within us imperishable joys, by the power
of anticipation and foretaste, what joy will not that better land afford?
If the promise is so cheering, what must the fulfillment be! If the pursuit
is so inspiring, what must the possession be! If our home on Tabor, where
we have but a distant view of home-life, aff