Since it is spoken of as a flying away, the idea of wings is suggested, from which we derive our subject.  The inspired apostle said, “Though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day.” 2 Cor. 4:16.  As the outward, physical man, day by day, becomes more feeble, the furrows on the brow grow deeper, the locks more silvery, the steps more tottering, the voice weaker and more husky, the cheeks more sunken, the ear more deaf, the eye more dim, and the heart-beats more slow; the inward man is gathering strength, or fledging his wings, ready for his upward flight to his beautiful mansion in the sky.  Oh, how often the redeemed soul, full of life, love, and hope, looks out through the fading windows of the crumbling house of clay, to its fair home on the Elysian shores eternal, and longs to take its flight!  May you, dear reader, and I, as we travel along life’s swift journey, so live in prayer and devotion to God, walk in such purity, so feed upon the divine life, that we shall gather strength to our souls day by day and be ready for the hour of our departure.  Amen.

SOME TIME

Some time, when all life’s lessons have been learned,
  And sun and stars forevermore have set,
The things which our weak judgments here have spurned,
  The things o’er which we grieved with lashes wet,
Will flash before us out of life’s dark night,
  As stars shine most in deeper tints of blue;
And we shall see how all God’s plans are right,
  And how what seemed reproof was love most true.

And we shall see how, while we frown and sigh,
  God’s plans go on as best for you and me;
How when we called, he heeded not our cry,
  Because his wisdom to the end could see. 
And e’en as prudent parents disallow
  Too much of sweet to craving babyhood;
So God, perhaps, is keeping from us now
  Life’s sweetest things, because it seemeth good.

And if, sometimes, commingled with life’s wine,
  We find the wormwood, and rebel and shrink,
Be sure a wiser hand than yours or mine
  Pours out the potion for our lips to drink;
And if some friend we love is lying low,
  Where human kisses can not reach his face,
Oh, do not blame the loving Father so,
  But wear your sorrows with obedient grace.

And you shall shortly know that lengthened breath
  Is not the sweetest gift God sends his friend,
And that, sometimes, the sable pall of death
  Conceals the fairest boon his love can send. 
If we could push ajar the gates of life,
  And stand within and all God’s workings see,
We could interpret all this doubt and strife,
  And for each mystery could find a key.

But not to-day.  Then be content, poor heart;
  God’s plans like lilies pure and white unfold;
We must not tear the close-shut leaves apart,
  Time will unfold the calyces of gold. 
And if, through patient toil, we reach the land
  Where tired feet, with sandals loosed, may rest
When we shall clearly know and understand,
  I think that we shall say, “God knew the best!”