I shall never forget

one summer afternoon,

when I was preaching

in a village chapel

about the joys of Heaven,

that an elderly lady,

sitting on my right

kept looking to me

with intense delight.

Some people's eyes

greatly help the preacher.

A telegraph goes on between us.

She seemed to say to me, "Bless God for that.

How I am enjoying it!"

She kept drinking in the truth,

and I poured out more and more

precious things

about the eternal kingdom and

the sight of the Well Beloved,

till I saw what I thought

was a strange light pass over her face.

I went on,

and those eyes were still fixed on me.

She sat still as a marble figure,

and I stopped and said,

"Friends,

I think that yon sister over there is dead."

They said that it was even so,

and they bore her away.

She had gone.

While I was telling of Heaven,

she had gone there;

and I remember saying

that I wished that it had been my case

as well as hers.

It was better not, perhaps,

for many reasons;

but oh, did I envy her!

I am always looking for the day

when I shall see her again.

I shall know those eyes,

I am sure I shall.

Spurgeon Gold Pure. Refined. - Compiled by Ray Comfort