<TITLE>07. Par 58-66</TITLE>L-58 It gives us the promise that someday that these old weakening, feebled, gray-headed, broke down mothers will be changed. Not only will mother set there by herself, but all of her family with her. And what a day that will be. What a time it will be, when we look upon the faces of those who we have loved so well. What a difference on that morning when we shall see our loved ones, and--and to watch what they'll be. Then all the afflictions will be taken away. All the mars of suffering will be done, no more pale cheeks of death, no more tears from the eyes; the resurrection promises all of this. There'll be no more funerals, no more patting the baby on the cheek that's like a piece of stone, where the undertaker has embalmed, and pushed out, and put paint on, and so forth, to look natural. It'll never be needed again there.

L-60 Then I think of when we see them standing yonder, our loved ones, our mothers, our kindreds, all our friends, and to see them in their immortal bodies, their celestial bodies, watching their character, seeing how they conduct themselves with that sweetness and quietness, no more nervousness or flusterations. To see them in-standing in the likeness of the Lord Jesus, that'll be a wonderful day.
And each one of us in our minds are anticipating and longing for that hour of consolation when we meet them. Each one is thinking of their loved one, maybe their mother that's gone on. And what a day it'll be when you see her again. And to dad, and to brother, and to the--all the loved ones, what a day it will be...

L-62 I'm thinking too right now. I'm thinking of my family, what it will mean for me at that day. I'm thinking, that on that resurrection morning, perhaps the first one will come to meet me will be my little Sharon. No, she won't be shaking. That devil can't enter that place. No meningitis can ever touch that land. She won't be waving good-bye to me. Those little blue eyes will be dancing as she throws her arms forth and screams, "Daddy." I'll be glad to see her, to know that she'll never die again, to know that it's all over, why I preached resurrection so hard.
Then I'll see her mother, the mother of Billy, my boy. And I have lots of memories right there that linger on. I remember when I was taking her up by Mr. Combs, up here, was taking her for the last ride, and I was following her in a car. As we went down Seventh Street, right there, Billy, eighteen months old...
How that they would bring him out to the street and let her see him. And she'd lay and weep and look at her baby, but she couldn't get near him.

L-66 And then on the road down, the undertaker come along and went down the--the--the Seventh Street. Mama here was taking care of him at the time. And he was standing out in the yard with a little bitty pair of short pants and a little red cap pulled sideways on his head. And when that mother, laying on that cot in the back of that ambulance, watching me, when she seen her baby standing in the yard, knowing she was taking her final ride; she raised from the cot, and screamed, and throwed out her bony hand to embrace her baby in the yard. But she couldn't have him.
Oh, it'll be a joy to see her on that day. No, she won't have bony hands, neither will them cheeks be sunk in. But she'll stand in the celestial beauty of a queen of heaven and a mother. Her black eyes, as black as ravens wings, will be dancing with joy. She won't be all stooped over where that devil of TB will never enter that land, but immortal, will stand in His likeness.


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