XXVIII.

HEREAFTER.

Thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter.--_John_ xiii. 7.

I look forward into the eternal years and see myself at last in my rest on the bosom of God. All over! Life, and uncertainty, and death, and judgment, and purgatory. And with my head on the Heart of Him Who has loved me to the end, I look back. How clear everything is from this height, in this unclouded light and this untroubled peace! All mists swept away; all doubts dispelled; all questions set at rest; all cravings satisfied.

_Thou shalt know hereafter._ Why that persistent prayer remained unanswered; why evil prospered and good was overcome; why in spite of every effort those difficulties remained difficulties to the last--how plain it all is now! I see now the everlasting results of the thoughts, and words, and acts that sped so quickly by. I see the distinct work of each in shaping my eternity. I see the relation of grace to glory; why I enjoy the blessed vision of God thus far and no farther. Where I guided my steps by the light of faith, clung to God in the darkness, “joined myself to Him and endured”--what fruit of joy for eternity! Where there was cowardice, self-seeking, above all, mistrust of God--what loss that can never, never be repaired! Oh, why did I not realise that I was meant to live by faith during my little life down there, in order to enjoy the fruits of faith in this real life of eternity!

_Thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter._ But I _may_ know now if I pray for light and strength. I may know now the things that are for my peace. I may have now the spiritual insight, the _lumen cordium_ which the Holy Spirit gives to all who ask.

Lord Jesus, here really present, make me see now by the light of faith what I shall see almost directly in the light of eternity; when I look back on life, and grace, and sacraments, and opportunities, on worldly aims and worldly honours--from my place in heaven. By the tears You shed over Jerusalem that knew not the day of her visitation, grant that I, that all I love, that all men may know in this our day the things that are for our peace.

Dawn now--the hours of earth’s expectancy, From the grey heaven enough of light to guide The wary feet--no more; enough to trace Against the sky in outline faint and blurred Fair forms, their fairness shrouded for the nonce: In every line of grace and symmetry And tender hue to be revealed, when day This hazy scene shall flood with living light, Bathing all things in beauty. Now we know In part, the noontide comes and _we shall see_.

O restless heart! resenting mystery, Angry with night, that by Divine decree Divides with day the task of perfecting God’s world of souls--fret not against the gloom That, baffling, humbles thee. Why this reverse, This wrong defeating right, brave effort crowned By failure, good with itself at variance, Thou know’st not now; _now_ the strong trial of faith, The clinging, blind with tears, unto thy God In patient trust--_hereafter thou shalt see_.