The Later Glory

Acts ii. 17, 19 v.

“And it shall come to pass in the last days, saith God I will show wonders in heaven above, and signs in the earth beneath.”

“In the last days.” I always thought wonder belonged to the first days — the days of our youth. I thought it was a mark of ignorance, a sign of immaturity. Is not the great fear of our time just the fear that wonder will be killed by knowledge? We are afraid that, as we learn, we shall cease to admire, and that we shall see less of God the more we know of man. But here, the wonder comes at the end, not at the beginning; it belongs to the last days. I am told to look upon the sense of mystery, not as something that fades with the past, but as something that dawns with the future. I am told to view it, not as a feeling which knowledge shall explode, but as a sentiment which knowledge shall foster. I am told to think of it, not as the product of ignorance, but as a thing which ignorance has retarded and which perfect science will reveal. I used to think the stones of my temple had fallen from heaven. But now I have found the quarry from which they were taken; and, behold, it is on earth. What then? Shall my wonder die? Nay; rather, it ought to be for the first time born. There is no wonder where there is no workmanship. To fall from heaven is less marvellous than to grow from earth. My temple has not come down ready-made; but it has been made in a manner more wonderful still. It has risen through the efforts of myriad souls — each laying a separate stone, each unconscious what or where he laid. Each comes to build for his own end; and, lo, at the close, there is one harmonious structure, offering room to all. This shall be, this ought to be, the wonder of the Lord.

My soul, why art thou ever sighing for the former days? Why hast thou placed thy paradise ever in the past? Thy paradise is not in the past; it is on before. Thou hast built many a monument to thy vanished youth. Hast thou never built a monument to thy coming age? Why has thy wonderland been always in the olden time? God would place thy wonderland, not in the first, but in the last days. His gates of gold for thee open in the west. Men speak of aspiring youth; God speaks of aspiring age. The birds of His highest heaven twitter in the evening air. Faith’s song is more wonderful at the setting than at the rising of the sun. Love’s voice is more prophetic when it has learned the labours of the wing. Hope’s trill is more melodious when it issues from the cloud. Joy’s note is more assuring when it comes from the closing day. The old man’s dreams are better than the young man’s visions; truly, thy Father has kept His best wine until the last.