Гарриет Бичер-Стоу
He's Coming To-Morrow
"No, indeed, you can't. Why, look here," he added, pointing to the papers. "Here is what stands for millions! To-night it's mine; and to-morrow it will be all so much waste paper; and then what have I left? Do you think I can rejoice? I'd give half; I'd give – yes, the whole, not to have Him come these hundred years." She stretched out her thin hand towards him; but he pushed it back.
"Do you see?" said the angel to me solemnly. "Between him and her there is a "GREAT GULF fixed." They have lived in one house with that gulf between them for years! She cannot go to him; he cannot go to her. To-morrow she will rise to Christ as a dewdrop to the sun; and he will call to the mountains and rocks to fall on him – not because Christ hates him, but because he hates Christ."
Again the scene was changed. We stood together in a little low attic, lighted by one small lamp – how poor it was! – a broken chair, a rickety table, a bed in the corner where the little ones were cuddling close to one another for warmth. Poor things! the air was so frosty that their breath congealed upon the bedclothes, as they talked in soft, baby voices. "When mother comes, she will bring us some supper," said they. "But I'm so cold!" said the little outsider. "Get in the middle, then," said the other two, "and we'll warm you. Mother promised she would make a fire when she came in, if that man would pay her." "What a bad man he is!" said the oldest boy; "he never pays mother if he can help it."
Just then the door opened, and a pale, thin woman came in, laden with packages.
She laid all down, and came to her children's bed, clasping her hands in rapture.
"Joy, joy, children! Oh, joy, joy! Christ is coming! He will be here to-morrow."
Every little bird in the nest was up, and the little arms around the mother's neck; the children believed at once. They had heard of the good Jesus. He had been their mother's only friend through many a cold and hungry day, and they doubted not He was coming.
"Oh, mother! will He take us? He will, won't He?"
"Yes, my little ones," she said softly, smiling to herself; "He shall gather the lambs with His arms, and carry them in His bosom."
