You see, then, how the believer is ushered into the beauties and blessedness of the beatic state. There is, therefore, nothing to be dreaded by the approach of the last enemy. For, says the prophet, He "will swallow up death in victory: and the Lord God will wipe away tears from off all faces; and the rebuke of the people shall he take away from off all the earth; for the Lord hath spoken it." It is by a realization of his security in death that the believer in Jesus can calmly meditate on the hour of dissolution--that he is blest with longings for home; that he is soon to be delivered from the present evil world; in short, that he is completely constituted an actuality in the Church triumphant. He is at last brought into intimate alliance with Christ, not now by faith but by sight, not by prayer, but by praise; not by earthly circumscribed anticipation, but by the power of unfathomable and constraining grace, and a deep sensibility of soul which springs from the knowledge that he is forever with the Lord; now the strugglings of faith are ended. When Peter, James, and John beheld Christ transfigured on the summit of the mount, and as they gazed upon the glory of the scene, they said, "It is good to be here." It was a sight of Moses and Elias that enraptured their soul. That was only a transitory sight. But at death the Christian is admitted into endless glory. It is day without a night. It is to be admitted into the House of the Lord. "The house not made by hands, eternal in the heavens." Through much tribulation they enter into the kingdom. Soon shall close their earthly mission; soon shall end their pilgrim days; hope shall change to glad fruition. God is continually guiding our feet to those mansions above, where flowers that never fade do deck the heavenly plains. Where our loved ones gone before shall meet us and greet us on the golden strand. Many are the voices so sweet and tender, and true, who are calling us away to join the holy ones, that no man can number, who stand around the throne clothed with white robes, and palms in their hands. The angels beckon us away to join their ranks. Truly blessed are the dead who die in the Lord. In the Treasury Hymnal there is a Pilgrim Song by Dr. Horatius Bonar, and the music is from Beethoven; it is very sweet and cheering in this connection: A few more years shall roll, a few more seasons come, And we shall be with those that rest asleep within the tomb. Then, oh, my Lord, prepare my soul for that great day, Oh, wash me in my Saviour's blood, and take my sins away. We truly spend our years as a tale that is told. But in heavenly love abiding, no change my heart shall fear. How precious is this thought; though friend after friend depart, "For who has not lost a friend?" What though the storm of bereavement and affliction howl without? Still, amid it all, the unbounded, uncomprehended love of God changeth never.