Tzasal"te from the Geman of Thremina.
TyV. Thou hast wellP
uwbn&d. As never befo. Not ewa
in childhood did I experience aouh
deep, oft, reNNWhig lumber. My ola
&ther-t-ou remembered him well-
when he stepped into the room in the
morning, where we were waiting for
him, used to may in usnwer to oer inqaur
how he had slept, "Like the blesed.e
Like the bleed, I might sy, bare I
alept; or rather like the blessed have I
awakened. I feel myself new quicken-
ed; as if all weariness, and all need of
deep were oe forever. Such vigor is
in my limb such elasticity i Imy
movements, that I believe I could fy, f
2 TER AWAKUIINO.G
W. And you are pleased with this
H. Indeed, I must say, we have been
in many a beautiful place together; but
this is wonderful and beautiful beyond
description. What trees actually
heaven high! They bear blossoms and
fruit together. Their branches swaying
to the morning wind cause the tree tope
all to give forth melody, as if a host of
feathered singers dwelt in them. Be-
hind the trees the mountains tower up.
Their majestic forms rigidly defined in
the pure air, and here and there clouds,
glowing with all the hues of sunrise and
sunset, stretch along their sides, or float
over their summits. Upon the highest
peak, out of a milk white, translucent,
shimmering mist, there spring, as it
were, the gates, and towers and palaces of
a splendid city. From this peak nearest
us, there seems to gush a mighty water,
which I may call a sea rather than a
stream, and which nevertheless leaped
down the numerous terraces of the
mountain, not with fearful roaring, but
with a melodious sound. Wide about
us are sprinkled the drops which water
the trees and flowers, and impart a deli-
cious coolness to the air, making it ee-
stacy to breathe here. Look too, at this
bank whereon we stand I How luxazi-
ant and how thickly strown with won-
derful flower! We wander over it,
and yet the spires of grass are not
broken, nor are the flowers crushed by
our footsteps. It is a solitary place;
yet on all sides vistas open to us, and
the horizon tempts us ever further and
W. Hast thou seen all this often be-
fore, or doet thou see it to-day for the
H. Notwithstanding all is so home-
like to me here, and though every thing
greets me as something long beloved.
yet when I think of it, I must say, No, I
have never been here before.
W. And dost thou not wonder to ee
me again at thy side ?
KH Indeed, and hast thou not some-
how, always been near me.
W. In a certain sense, I have; but is
another not so. It is long since thine
eyes have seen me. I disappeared from
/M Ah! now there sweeps over my
memory as it were a dark cloud--days
of anxiety, and nights spent in weeping
-only the painful thoughts and emo-
4 Tlx AWAKUNINO.
tiom which so recently absorbed me.
Now they elude my grasp, I cannot dis-
tinctly comprehend them, they appear
to me something mysterious.
W. Think on the fourteenth of Feb-
A7How, now it is all clear to me. It
was near noon. Four days hadut thou
been sick. We had feared much for
thee, but still had hope. Suddenly a
faintnoes came over thee; thou didst
lean thy head upon my breast; didst
aink back with a deep sigh; thou diedat,
-yes, it is all over, thou art dead.
W. I am dead; yet ee, I live.
IL If thou art dead, and if I see thee,
thee do I really dream ?
W. Thou dreamest not, for thou art
H. Or, art thou sent down from hea-
ven to earth, that I should see thee again
for a abshort time, and then anew through
lone years lament thy disappearance F
W. No, henceforth we shall never
separate. I am indeed sent to thee, but
not down upon the earth. Look around
thee here; where upon earth hast thou
seen each trees, such waters ? Look at
thyself; thou didit go about yonder,
bowed beneath the weight of yeas.
Now thou art young again. Thou doet
not walk, thou floatest; thine eye not
only see, but see immeasurably far.
Look inward upon thyself; has it al-
wa been with thy heart a now P
/q Within me A a deep, unfathoma-
ble, ever-swelling, and yet entirely till
and peaceful sea. Yes, when I look
about me here, and when I feel thy
hand in mine-then I meat my I am
blessed, I am in heaven.
W. Thou art.
M And then must I be actually dead?
W. Thou art. Hat thou not lain siek
in that very chamber where I died, and
whither thou didst long to be brought
Has not thy son, day and night, without
leaving thy side, sincerely and tenderly
muned thee P Hat thou not by dq
and night found open the blue eye of tky
daughter, in which she vainly strove to
hold back the forth-welling team ? Was
there not them a deep mist, and utter
darkness spread over the faces of thy
children, and over every thing aromend
H. I Am DsAD! Lord of life and
death, upon my knee I thank thee that
theou hast fulfilled thi so great thing in
me-that thou hast led me to suck high
6 TRun AWARKNINO.
happiness-to such great honor; dead,
d hppy to be dead! Thou knowest,
0 Lord, how often that moment stood
before me; how often I have prayed that
thou thyself, since I was not able to do
it, wouldst prepare me for that hour;
that thou wouldst send me a soft, blessed
death. Now, 0 Lord, that thou hast
heard this, as all my other prayers, thou
hast in this, as in all things, eternally
shown thyself gracious and pitiful.
What stood before me is now over.
Truly, though dead, I have not yet
learned exactly what death is; but this
much I know, death is sweet. As one
bears a sleeping child out of a dark
chamber into a bright spring garden, so
hast thou borne me from earth to heaven.
But now, loved one, bold me no longer
W. Whither wouldst thou go ?
H. Cant thou ask? To whom else
but to Him? All is beautiful and love-
I here; these trees, these Bowers, this
down streaming water, this coolness
which breathes over flowers and trees
and deep into my heart; thyself, thy
presence which after so long a oepas,
tion, after so many tears, I enjoy again;
but not even all thi satisfee me,
TBn AWAKUNINm. I
Hmesar I must ee. Let him adom his
heaven u beautifully as he may, that
cannot compensate for the les of Id
presence. What was impossible he has
made possible; so long, so unweariedly,
so fithfully has he worked in me, that I
might be capable of blise I Even before
I was born be chose me. Where is the
little earth ? Yonder it spins, how fr
from here. In what darkness it i veiled.
I would not again return to it. He has
condescended to go down thither, has
trod its dust with his sered feet, has
endured hunger and thirst, has died.
Ah! he will quicken my vision that I
may pierce deeper than heretofore the
abyss of his death pains. There be wea
me for his .own; and, that I, his dearly
purchased one, should not again be loe
to him, he has from my earliest years
given me his eeaselem care. Much that
he has done for me have I already lears-
ed upon the earth, now I know more;
and I shall know still more in the future,
when together we recount the whole.
Bet now I have no time fr this. Emo-
tion within me is too strong; my heart
will burst; I must away to him, see
him, thank him-if I capable of
I TUn AWAJiRNINL.
tenlking him-if in thuis overpowerin
bl* tkaugiving be not swallowed
W. Thou wilt Me him, but not until
be waees to thee. Until then be pa-
tiet. I am sent to thee, to tell thee
that mph is his will
A Now I kiow for a certainty that I
an is heaven, for my will yield itself
ia icitly to his without struggle. I
a thought it wholly insupportable not
.to Me Him here. Yet I not only bear it,
but bear it cheerfully. Hs wills thi, I
will it also. Other than this seems now
impossible to me. So readily could we
vet submit below. But if thou art sent
to me Isom Him, then must He have
spoken with thee. He has already
qpokes maay words with thee ?
W. Alady many.
X 0 thou truly bleecd one! Cant
thou tell bow it was with thee, whea he
for the fits time apake with thee ?
W. As it has been in my heart each
following time. I am uaing an earthly
lafuage with thee, in which these
thin cannot be described.
L As thou sawest him for the Ast
time, didt tho instantly recognize him?
H. How ?-By that particular gloy
in which he outshines all angels ?
W. He has no neea to clothe WhiOelf
in splendor; we know him without that.
I. Dost thou mean that I will iame-
diately recognize Him, without any oM
saying to me, That is He P
W. Thine own heart will tell thee.
IL How will he really meem to me
severe or gentle ? Below, when I crie
to Him out of the darkness of my earth
life, he often answered me with utern-
W. There below He is coatrained to
do this with his beat beloved. Here, it
is no longer necessary; here there is no
need that he should do violence to his
own heart; He can give free expr ems
to his love. This love is infinite; om
earth we could not fathom it, as little
can we do so here.
H. Do there exist among you hen,
differences in glory and blessedness ?
W. In endless degrees; but then the
highest are even as the meet lowly; so
they stoop down to the humblest. And
thi doe he require of them; for He
who ranks above the highest, is himself
the humblest of alL So, then, these
10 THE AWAKENING.
diversities become swallowed up, and
we are all one in Him.
H. Lo, I have often thought me, if I
only reach heaven, only dwell not with
the enemies of the Lord, I shall be con-
tent to be the very least of all there.
Thou, methought, wouldst soar in a
much higher circle, and our children
.also when they left the earth. But then
if only once in a thousand years, I might
be counted worthy to see the Lord-still
methought it would be enough for me.
1W. Be trustful. Whom He receives,
He receives to glory. Knoweet thou
not by what wonderful way He has
called us in his word?
H. Well do I know all that, and I
see with what glory and honor He has
crowned thee. Between thine image in
thy last sickness, and that which now
stands revealed to me; between that
perishable flower, and the heavenly
blossom-what a difference! No, this
bloom upon thy cheek can never fade;
this light in thine eyes can never be
dimmed; thy form shall never bear the
impress of age. Thus ever wilt thou
wander about with me here, thee wilt
show me the glory of these heavenly
myasions, and also wilt lead me to those
THu AWAKZSINe. 11
other bleed ones who are dear to
W. Thou wilt see them as soon a
thou hast seen the Lord.
IL How delightful was it of old when
we sought our aged father in his cot.
Our carriage rolled up; all came run-
ning out before the house, and among
the whole troop we sought first hi dear,
honored countenance. How much more
delightful to see him here! He whom
the smallest favor filled with thanks to
the giver, who could find beauty in a
single spire of grain, who smiled at a
brighter sunbeam, who went forth so
joyfully under the starry heavens, and
adored the Creator of these worlde-
what must he experience here, where
the wonders of Omnipotence lie all open
and unveiled before him I He who in
the silent joy of his heart thanked the
Lord for his beneficence, and for the
least refreshing which was granted him
on his weary earth.way-what thanks
will he now pour forth to his Redeemer.
" We shall meet again,' he said to me
in his last sickness, as he pressed my
hand with all his remaining strenh,
"We shall meet again, and toget
thank God for his grace."
12 THE AWAZENIN.
W. Thou wilt soon see him and thy
IL My mother who loved me with
such unspeakable tenderness, and whom
I have never known! I was but three
years old when I lost her. As she lay
upon her death-bed, and I was playing
in the garden before the house, What
will become of my poor child ?" she cried.
Good mother! all that a man can be,
thy son has become-an inhabitant of
heaven. Through the grace of God has
this been effected, and also by the help
of thy prayers. Is it not so ?
W. t is even so. I have often spoken
of thee with thy father and mother.
H. Is X ohee?
H. I had not expected it. That, how.
ever, was wrong; why aM I keu 9 But
the dear soels whom I left behind me
on earth, I would have some tidings of
them; or is the perception of them lost
to us until the moment of re-union?
W. This question thou mayest speed-
ily answer for thyself. Look thither.
H.I do so; but I ee nothing.
W. Look longer in this direction-
and you will surely see. Doet thou see
T23 AWAKmmIN. 18
M Perfectly. The place i familiar
to me. It is the chureh-yard, where I
placed thy mortal part, which was give
back to the earth. The place became
dear to me; I often sought it, and kneel-
ing upon the grave, raised my eye hith-
erward to heaven, where we both arena
now. Among beautiful trees and flower,
I thought, may *bshe be wandering three,
among trees and flowers shall her body
rest Are. So a flower-garden, and a
wilderness of blossoms sprung up, and
every beautiful thing which the anniver-
sary brought with it adorned thy grave.
W. I knew it well. Look thitherward
now. What seest thoenu P
H. Near thy grave another is open,
The church-y gate stands open, a
corpse is borne forward; our children
follow. Do ye weep, loved hearts, weep
so bitterly ? Could ye ee aswe see
you, ye would not weep, or at the most
only for longing. The body--my body
-i lowered; now they cast a handful
of dust upon the coffin. The grave is
closed, now rests my dust by thine. Go
home now, ye loved onme, and may the
foretaste of that heavenly peace which
we enjoy glide to your souls. But re
tern hitherward oftem and seek the grave
14 TRH AWAKENING.
of your old parents. When ye meet
and pray there, we will be near you, and
bring you heavenly gifts from the Lord.
Henceforth take his hand as ye go. He
will guide you safely; your old parents
have proved this! And one day will he
bring us all together again.
W. Amen. Thus it will surely be.
H. Hearest thou those sounds? What
may it be? Strange and wonderful, like
the mingled roarnng of the sea, and
sweetest flute notes, they come from
that quarter and float through the wide
heaven. Hark I now from the other side
melody arises, a wholly different note,
and yet just as strange and enrapturing.
What may it be?
FW. They are angel choirs, which
from immeasurable distance answer one
IL What do they sing?
W. Ever of One, who is the theme of
eternal and ceaseless praise.
H. For some time already a form
moves about there.
W. Observe it more closely; and then
tell me, why it attracts thee so.
H. Pardon me, who am so lately called
from the earth, an earthly, childish com-
perison. At the home where I was born
-thou knowest it well, though at the
time thou wait no longer upon earth-I
had planted a garden. As the spring
came, I devoted myself to its sultivauot
and enjoyed myself over my plant, a
their beautiful unfolding. Th were were
many trees there, much shrubbery, and
many flowers; yet I knew every shoot;
I had myself planted and watered it;
each in its tarn came under my inpec-
tion, and when it put on its bright gren,
and blossomed beautifully and grew
thriftily, then found I a heart friend in it
Thus seems to me that man to be the
gardener in this heavenly garden. He
moves hither and thither quietly, and in
mildest radiance; but one can see that
every thing here is familiar to him. He
casts around on all besides a satisfied
and friendly glance, and appear, to find
joy in all creation here. My heart! till
this moment I have felt within me only
soft, soothing emotions; but now a tern-
pert is rising in my breast; I am dizzy;
heaven with its glory vanishes from my
eight; I see Him alone. Now pain re-
turns again to this heart; yet in this
ain there lives a higher blessedness.
My soul burns with longing to approach
Him. Yes, He is indeed one known to
16 Tom AWAKUMN.
me, though never before men ihee to
thee. Now he turns hitherward, and
looks upon us. He appear to rejoice
over us. His eyes glisten with tears of
joy. I can no longer restrain myself, I
must away to Him. I must say to Him,
that I love Him as I never loved aught
before. He raises his hands-how P in
those hands a mark, and from the mark
ray darting forth ? Yes, thom are the
pierced, the bleeding hands. He blesses
us! Deep in my heart I feel his bless-
ing. Now know I that I am in Heaven!
Now know I that this is He!
W. Away, then, to Him.