MEN of business who travel to town every day become so accustomed to the journey that at last they observe nothing by the way, and pay no heed to what is on either side of them. But the Christian travels to heaven knowing that every step of the road is of interest to him and to his Lord, but set upon the goal which seems nearer and dearer to him as he presses on.
I know an old carrier in the country who travels every day of his life, except Sunday, twenty-four miles to a distant town behind a slow horse doing wearisome work on the same oft-travelled road. Shall I tell you the burden of his song? As his horse plods along, you may hear him constantly humming to himself,—
“Here in the body pent,
Absent from Him I
roam,
Yet nightly pitch my
moving tent
A day’s march nearer
home.”
Over and over again, day after day, he repeats the same words, “A day’s march nearer home.” His heart is full of home-land joy.