But this sick boy looked up to me, and said, "Oh, how much
more happy am I now, than I used to be when well and out at play, not
thinking of God or heaven! There is not a boy in the street so happy
as I."
This little boy had for some time been endeavoring to do his duty as a
Christian. His conduct showed that he loved the Savior. And when
sickness came, and death was near, he was happy. But, oh, how sad
must that child feel, who is dying in unrepented sin! We all must
certainly soon die, and there is nothing to make us happy in death
but piety.
But when the Christian child goes to heaven, how happy must he be! He
rises above the clouds, and the blue sky, and the twinkling stars,
till he enters the home of God and the angels. There he becomes an
angel himself. God gives him a body of perfect beauty, and furnishes
him with wings, with which he can fly from world to world. God is his
approving Father. Angels are his beloved friends. You often, in a
clear evening, look up upon the distant stars, and wonder who
inhabits them. You think, if you had the wings of an eagle, you would
love to fly up there, and make a visit. Now, it is not improbable
that the Christian, in heaven, can pass from star to star, as you can
go from house to house in your own neighborhood. The very thought is
enrapturing. If every hour of our lives were spent in sorrow, it
would be nothing, compared with the joys which God has promised his
friends at his right hand.
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