To the usual messages of consolation he now adds the eternal reason, "In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you." Well did Carlyle say that if Jesus were only man, he had no right to utter these words. But Jesus said much more. He would prepare the place. He would come again. He would receive them into his company. If some doubter shall ask about the way, his reply shall be the same as of old, "I am the way." Through him alone we come to the Father. Full trust in him removes all bitter tears: and the remainder of tears he does not rebuke. He inspires the visions wherein we see those who have come up out of great tribulation hungering no more, nor thirsting any more, nor smitten by the sun or any heat; but fed by the Lamb and led by him amid fountains of living waters, while God wipes away all tears from their eyes. This doctrine of heaven as a consolation for sorrow is not born of selfishness, as is often charged. The rankest of infidels said, "In the night of death, hope sees a star, and listening love can hear the rustle of a wing." Not "listening selfishness," but "listening love"! The love that we bear to our own and to all mankind seeks this vision and finds it waiting in the divine plan. Is it selfish to desire that for ourselves which will injure none others? Is it selfish to long for that which will meet the longings of the whole world? Verily some critics discover strange dictionaries when they define words in reference to the holy faith. But all the while the afflicted seek the face of Christ. Troubles look unto him and are lightened. The poor man cries and the Lord still delivers him out of his troubles. Our Bibles and our Hymnals personalize the haven for us. He is the Rock of Ages. His bosom is the Refuge. To him we go when shadows darkly gather. A present help is he. The last low whispers of our dead are burdened with his name. The suffering world states its comfort in terms of Christ himself. For the final sorrow of death he offers the full consolation. The tragedy of separation remains. Our indictment against death is that of Tennyson: He puts our lives so far apart, We cannot hear each other speak. The more worthy of immortality our beloved seems to be, the keener is the pang of parting. Lowell felt it so "After the Burial": Immortal! I feel it and know it, Who doubts it of such as she? But that is the pang's very secret-- Immortal away from me. The Bible has no rebuke for the sorrow of separation. But it does have the healing hope of eternal reunion. Jesus said: "I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth on me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die." These words, fully believed, still our fear, confirm our hope, and comfort our final sorrow.