hields the cymbals clap as Miriam
begins to discourse: "Sing ye to the Lord, for He hath triumphed
gloriously; the horse and the rider hath He thrown into the sea." And
then I see a white-robed group. They come bounding toward me, and I
say: "Who are they? The happiest, and the brightest, and the fairest
in all heaven--who are they?" And the answer comes: "These are they
who came out of great tribulations, and had their robes washed and
made white with the blood of the Lamb."

I pursue this subject only one step further. What is the terminus? I
do not care how fine a road you may put me on, I want to know where it
comes out. My text declares it: "The redeemed of the Lord come to
Zion." You know what Zion was. That was the King's palace. It was a
mountain fastness. It was impregnable. And so heaven is the fastness
of the universe. No howitzer has long enough range to shell those
towers. Let all the batteries of earth and hell blaze away; they can
not break in those gates. Gibraltar was taken, Sebastopol was taken,
Babylon fell; but these walls of heaven shall never surrender either
to human or Satanic besiegement. The Lord God Almighty is the defense
of it. Great capital of the universe! Terminus of the King's highway!

Doctor Dick said that, among other things, he thought in heaven we
should study chemistry, and geometry, and conic sections. Southey
thought that in heaven he would have the pleasure of seeing Chaucer
and Shakespeare. Now, Doctor Dick may have his mathematics for all
eternity, and Southey his Shakespeare. Give me Christ and my old
friends--that is all the heaven I want, that is heaven enough for me.
O garden of light, whose leaves never wither, and whose fruits never
fail! O banquet of God, whose sweetness never palls the taste, and
whose guests are kings forever! O city of light, whose walls are
salvation, and whose gates are praise! O palace of rest, where God is
the monarch and everlasting ages the length of His reign! O song
louder than the surf-beat of many waters, yet soft as the whisper of
cherubim!

O my heaven! When my last wound is healed, when the last heart-break
is ended, when the last tear of earthly sorrow is wiped away, and when
the redeemed of the Lord shall come to Zion, then let all the harpers
take down their harps, and all the trumpeters take down their
trumpets, and all across heaven there be chorus of morning stars,
chorus of white-robed victors, chorus of martyrs from under the