The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on December 20, 1893 · Page 3
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The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 3

Algona, Iowa
Issue Date:
Wednesday, December 20, 1893
Page 3
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THE UPPEK DBS MOINES ALGOLS A IOWA WJfflpfrgSPAY DECEMBER 20, 189& WHY. ! " SHJSi "'' • ! "Why doesn't lid write 5" Cried a mAiden tnit, . '. As she toyed with her wealth . Of golden hftir And gazed in the mirror With n queenly nlr. "Civn ho lie faithless? Or 've forgotten the niaht When he vowed he loved mo- Why doesn't ho wrlto?" HE. Whv doesn't she write?" Cried a handsome youth, Whose face was an index Of honor nnd truth "She said she would," And I, forsooth, Have will ted and waited Day and night. But no letter comes-- Vf'ay doesn't sho write?" THE REASON. 1'wo servants s;U In separate towns- Two thievish, Knavish. Country clowns, With unkempt hair And untidy gowns; In fact, they looked .• I-ilke regular tramps. And they tore up some loiters To sell the stamps. IDE MISADVENTURES OF JOHN NICHOLSON. BY KO BERT TjOlttS STEVUNSOIf. CHAPTER IX—CONTINUED. •No doubt, no doubt,"said Alexander; "but then, you see you arn't always on the spot to have tho thing 'explained to you. Last night, for ' instance—" "You could have wakened me last Anight," interrupted his father. "Was it not some similar affair 'that first got John into a mess?" asked the son, skillfully evading tho point. But the, father was not less adroit. "And pray, sir, how did you come , and go out of the house?" he asked. "I forgot to lock the seems," I replied Alexander. "I have had cause to complain of 'that too often," said Mr. Nicholson. "But still I do not understand. Did you keep tho servants up?" "I propose to go into all that at length after breakfast," returned "Alexander. "There is the half hour ' gong. Wo must not keep Miss Mac ' icen/ic waiting." ' And greatly daring lie opened tho door. Even Alexander, who, it must have been perceived, was on terms of comparative freedom with his parent— 1 .oven Alexander had never before t dared to cut short an interview in this high-handed fashion. But the ' truth is, the very mass of his son delinquencies daunted the old gentleman. Ho was like tho man with the cart of apples—this was beyond him That Alexander should have spoiled his table, taken his money, stayed ou1 all night, and then coolly acknowl edged all, was something undreamet of in the Nicholsonian philosophy and transcended comment. The return o the change, which the old gentlomai still carried in his hand, had boon feature of imposing impudence; it had dealt him a staggering blow. Then there was tho reference to John's original flight—a subject which he always kept resolutely curtained in his own mind, for he was a man who loved to have made no mistakes, and when he fearod ho might have made one, kept the papers sealed. In view of all these surprises and reminders, and of his son's composed and masterful demeanor there began to creep on Mr. Nicholson a sickly misgiving. He seemed beyond his depth; if he did or said anything ho might come to re- .gret it. The young man, besides, as he had pointed out himself, was playing a generous part. And if wrong had boon done—and done to one who was, after and in spite of all .a Nicholson—it should certainly bo righted. All things considered, monstrous .as it was to be cut short in his inquiries, the old gentleman submitted, pocketed tho change and followed his son into tho dining room. During these few steps ho onco more mentally revolted, and once more, and this time finally laid down his arras; :a still, small voice in his bosom having informed him authentically of a piece of nows; that he was afraid of Alexander. The strange thing was that ho was pleased to be afraid of him. He was proud of his son; ho might bo proud of him; tho boy had a •character and grit, and know what he was doing. Those wore his reflections as lie turned the corner of the dining room door. Miss Mackenzie was in tho place of honor, conjuring with a tea pot and a cozy; and, behold! there was another person present, a largo, portly, whiskered man of a very comfortable and respectable air, who :uow rose from his seat and came forward, holding out his hand. "Good morning, father," said he. Of tho contention of feeling that Tan high in Mr. Nicholson's starched bosom, no outward sign was visible; nor did ho delay long to make a choice of conduct. Yet in that interval he had reviewed a great field of possibilities both past and future; whether it was possible he had not been perfectly wise in his treatment of John; whether it was possible that John was innocent; whether, if he turned John out a second time, as his outraged authority suggested, it was possible to avoid scandal; and whether, if he went to that extremity, it was possible that Alexander might rebel. ••Hum!" said Mr. Nicholson, and put his hand, limp and dead, into John's. And then, in an embarrassed silence, all took their places; and even tho paper—from which it was the old gentleman's habit to suck mortification, daily, as ho marked the decline of out- institutions—even the paper lay furled by his side. But presently Flora came to tho vescue. She slid into tho silence with •$ technicality, asking if John still took his old inordinate amount of su- g"ft^' '-'$h|ncfe it \vas but a stop to the burning'qlidstioh of,the flay; and in tones a-little shaken, she'commented on the interval since she had last made tea for tho prodigal, and con- gra,tulated him on his return. And ;hcn addressing Mr. Nicholson, she Congratulated him also in a manner ,hat defied his ill-humor; and from ,hat launched into tho tilo of John's misadventures, not without some suitable expressions. Gradually Alexander joined; between them, whether ho would or no, ;hcy forced a word or two from John; and these fell so tremulously, and spoke so eloquently of a mind op- n-essed with dread, that Mr. Nicholson relented. A't length even he con- .ributcd a question; and before tho tieal was at an end all four were talk- ng even freely. Prayers followed, with tho servants japing at this new-comer whom no one had admitted; and after prayers there came that moment on tho ;lock which was the signal for Mr. Nicholson's departure. John." said ho, "of course you will stay hero. Bo very careful not to excite Maria, if Miss Mackenzie thinks it desirable that you should see dor. Alexander, I wish to speak to you. alone." And then, when they were both in the back room: "You need not come to the oHico to-day," said he; "you can stay and amuse TABERNACLE PULPIT, DR. TALMAOE PREACHES TO THE TENNKSSEEANS. A Sermon from t.lie Text IsMah, "TUB tntno Tuko tho tfroy"—Tho Royn.1 Fninlly of tho Ktcrrmt Identlllcd. your brothel 1 , and I think it would bo respectful to call on Uncle Groig. And by the bye" (this spoken with a certain —dare we say P—bashfulnoss). 'I agree to concede tho principle of an allowance; and I will consult with Doctor Durie, who is quite a man of the world and has sons of his own, as to the amount. And, my fine follow, you may consider yourself in luck!" he added, with a smile. "Thank you," said Alexander. Before noon a detective had restored to John his money,and brought news, sad enough in truth, but perhaps tho least sad possible. Alan had been found in his own house in Regent's Terrace,under care of tho terrified butler. lie was quite mad, and instead of going to prison, had gone to Morningsiclo asylum. Tho murdered man,it appeared,was an evicted tenant who had for nearly a year pursued his late landlord with threats and insults: and beyond this, tho cause and the details of the tragedy wore lost. When Mr. Nicholson returned from dinner they wore able to put a dispatch into his hands: "John V. Nicholson. Randolph Crescent, Edinburg. Kirkman has disappeared; police looking for him. All understood. Keep mind quite easy. Austin. Having had this explained to him,tho old gentleman took down tho cellai key and departed for two bottles ol 1820 port. Undo Groig dined there that clay, and Cousin Robina, and, by an odd chance, Mr. Macewon; and tho presence of these strangers relieved what might have been otherwise ti strained relation. Ere they departed tho family was welded once more into a fair semblance of unity. In tho end of April John led Flora —or, as more descriptive, Flora led John—to tho altar, if altar that may bo called which was indeed the drawing-room mantel-piece in Mr. Nicholson's house, with tho Rov. Dr. Durio posted on tho hearth-rug in the guise of Hymen's priest. The last I saw of them, on a recent visit to tho North, was at a dinner pa.-ty in tho house of my old friend, Gollatly Macbrido; and after we had, in classic phrase, "rejoined tho ladies," I had an opportunity to overhear Flora conversing with another married woman on tho much canvassed matter of a husband's tobacco. "Oh, yes!" wild sho; "I only allow Mr. Nicholson four cigars a day. Three ho smokes at fixed times—after a meal, you know, my dear; and tho fourth he can take when ho likes with any friend." "Bravo!" thought I to myself; •this is tho wife for my friend John!" THE END. ,. ., • NASimr,i,B. Term., Dec. IT.—Tier. Dr. Tnlmnge. who is now in this city on uis I western lecture tour, selected as his topic or to-day.a text full of spiritual flncourage- nent for thoso who labor under disadvan- nge in tlio struggle of lifo. The text hosen was Isoiab 8i!:^3, "Tho Lame Take he Prey." The utter demolition of the Assy rum lost was hero predicted. Not only robust men should go forth and gather he spoils of conquest, but even men crippled of arm and crippled of foot ,hould go out and capture much that vas valuable. Their physical disndvan- ,ages should not. hinder their great en- iehment. So it has been in the past, so it is now, so it will bo in the future. So it is in all departments. Men labor- ng under seemingly great disadvantages, and amid the most unfavorable circumstances, 'yet making grand achievements, getting great blessing j for themselves, great blessing for the world, great blessing for the church, ind so "the lame take the prey." Do you know that the three, great poets'of the. world were, totally blind? :_ _ . i i •« r' flomor, Ossian, John Milton. Do you b, w' The Conquest know that John Prescott, who wrote r,lfe ill tho Detnl Sou. It has come to be a scientific axiom that the waters of tho Dead sea are absolutely destitute of any living vegetable or animal organism. A French investigator, M. Lortot, has now found that even this supposed great truth is wrong. He finds innumerable species of micro-organisms, and they are found to bo of a very malevolent character. Animals inoculated die in a few days from blood-poisoning brought on through the agency of these minute bodies. Tho river Jordan, which is so popular with pilgrims for bathing, is said to be full of those micro-organisms to such an extent as to be absolutely unlit for bathing, and for drinking water almost perilous.—Mohan's Monthly. A Valid Argument. "I approve, sir, of physical education in our schools, for I know that there is nothing better for boys and men than good, healthy oxcercise." "There may bo, and yet our fathers never spent any time at gymnastic exercises." "1 know it. And what's tho consequence! 1 Aren't they all dead do-day?" piu-itblUty of Teak. The great durability of teak, the most valuable of East India timbers, is due in a large measure to tho presence of an essential oil in the wood, which is in only a slight degree volatile while in its original condition iu the pores, though somewhat more so after being extracted. Au Impossible iivcn<. "They say Cholly has softening oi tho brain." "I cannot conceive it possible." "Why noti 1 " "Because his brain can not become any softw: thau it hw always beeu." that enchanting book, of Mexico," never saw Mexico, could not even sec the paper on which he was writing? A framework across the sheet, between which, up and down, went the pen immortal. Do you know that Gambassio, the seulptor,eould not, the marble before him, or the chisel with which he cut it into shapes bewitching? Do you know that Alexander Pope, whose poems will last us long as the English language, was so much (if an invalid that he had to be sewed up every morning in rough canvas, in order to stand on his feet a tall? Do you know that Stuart, the eele- In-ated painter, did much of his wonderful work under the shadow of the dungeon, where he had been unjustly imprisoned for debt? Do you know that Demosthenes, by almost superhuman exertion, first had to conquer the lisp of: his own speech before he conquered assemblages with his eloquence? Do you know that Bacon struggled all ' through innumerable sicknesses, and that Lord Byron and Sir Walter Scott, went limping on clubfoot through all their life, and that many of tho great poets and painters and orators and historians and heroes of the world hud .something to keep them back, and pull them down, and impede their way, and cripple their physical or their intellectual movc- mc'ut, nnd yet that they pushed on and pushed up until they reached the spoils of worldly success, and amid the luv/.za of nations and centuries, "the lame took the prey"? You know that a vast multitude of these men started under the disadvantage of obscure parentage. Columbus, the son of the weaver, Ferguson, the. astronomer, the son of the shop- icrd. America the prey of the one; worlds on worlds the prey of the other. But what is true in secular directions is more true in spiritual and religions directions, and 1 proceed to prove it. There are in all communities many invalids. They never know n well day. They adhere to their occupations, but they go panting along the streets with exhaustion, and at even- time they lie down on the lounge with achings beyond all medicaments. They have tried all prescriptions, they have gone through all the cures which were proclaimed infallible, and they have come now to mi-render to perpetual ailments. They consider they are among many disadvantages; and when they see those who are buoyant iu health" pass by, they almost envy their robust frames and easy respiration. But f have noticed among that invalid class those who have the greatest knowledge of the bible, who are in nearest intimacy with Jesus Christ, who have the most glowing experiences of the truth, who have the most remarkable answers to prayer, and who have most exhihirant anticipations of heaven. The temptations which weary us who are in robust health they have conquered. Many who are alert and athletic and swarthy, loiter in the way—the lame take the prey. Kobort Hull an invalid, Kdward Payson an invalid, Richard Baxter an invalid, Samuel Rutherford an invalid. This morning, When you want to call to mind those who are most Christlike, you think of some darkened room in your father's house from which there went forth an influence potent for eternity. A step farther: Through raised let- >»rs the art of printing has been brought to the attention of the blind. You take up the bible for the blind, and you close your eyes, and you run yc-.u- fingers over the raised letters, and you say: "Why. 1 never could get any information in this way. What a slow, lumbrous way of reading! God help the blind!'' And yet, I find among that class of persons, among the blind, the deaf and the dumb, the most thorough acquaintance with God's word. Shutout from all other sources of information, no sooner does their 'hand touch the raised letter than they gather a prayer. Without eyes, they look oft' upon the UiDgdonis'of God's love. Without hcar- ingrthey catch the minstrelsy of the sides. Dumb, yet with pencil, or with irradiated countenance, they declare the glory of God. A large audience assembled in New- York ut the anniversary of the Deaf and Dumb asylum, and oije of the visitors with chaik on the blackboard wrote this question to the pupils; ''Do you not find it very hard to be deaf and dumb?" And one of the pupjls took the chalk and wrote on the blackboard this sublime scntcnoi in answer: "When the song of the angels shall burst upon our enraptured ear, we will scarcely regret that our cars Were never marred with earthly so\tiids." Oh! the brightest eyes in heaven will be those that never saw on earth. The ears most alert in heaven will bo those that in this worl 1 heard neither voice of friend, nor thrum of harp, nor carol of bird, nor doxology of congregations. A lad who had been blind from infancy was cured. The oculist operated upon the lad and then put a very heavy bandage over the eyes, and after a few weeks had gone by the bandage was removed, and the. mother said to her child, "Willie, etui you see?" He said, "Oh! mamma, is this heaven?" The contrast between the darkness before and the brightness afterward was overwhelming. And I tell you the glories of heaven will be a thousand- fold brighter for those who never saw anything on earth.' While many with good vision closed their eyes in eternal night, and many who had a gootl, artistic and cultured car wont down i into eternal discord, these afflicted ones cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and he made their sorrows their advantage, and so "the lame took the prey." In the seventh century there was rf. legend of St. Modobert. It was sa^d that his mother was blind, and one day while looking tit his mother he felt so sympathetic for her blindness that he rushed forward and kissed her blind eyes, and, the legend says, her vision eamc immediately. That was only a legend, but it is the truth, a glorious truth, that tho kiss of God's eternal love has brought to many a blind eye eternal illumination. A step farther: There arc those In all eommuutios who toil, mightily for a livelihood. They have scant wages. Perhaps they are diseased, or have physical infirmities, so they are hindered from doing a continuous day's work. A city missionary finds them up a dark alloy, with no fire, with thin clothing, with very coarse bread. They never ride iu the street oar; they ciin •not afford the a cents. They never see any pictures save those in the show window on the street, from which they are often jostled, and looked at by i ] some one who seems to say in the look, ! "Move on! what are you doing hero ! looking at pictures?" I Yet many of them live, on mountains j of transfiguration. At their rough table \ he who fed tho five thousand breaks tho bretid. They talk often of the good times that are coining. This i ont at all, is world has no charm for them, but heaven entrances their spirit. They often divide their scant -crust with some forlorn wretch who knocks at their door at. night, and on the blast of tho night wind, as the door opens to lot them in, is hoard the voice of him who said, "f was hungry and ho fed me." No cohort of heaven will be too advantages becnttso they were so early bereft, .these .are the lame who to.c-k the prey. • ••: A 'step fnrthor. There arc those who would like to do good. They say, "Oh! if I only had wealth, or if 1 had clo> quenec, or if T had high social position, how much t would accomplish for God nnd the church!" J stand here to-day to tell you that you have great opportunities for usefulness. Who built tho Pyramids? .The king who ordered them built? No; the plain workmen who added stone after stone and stone after stone. Who \mt1t the dikes of Holland? The government that ordered the enterprise? .No; the plain workmen who carried the earth and rung their trowel on tho wall. Who arc those, who have built these vast cities? The capitalists? No; the carpenters, the'masons, the plumbers, the plasterers, the tinners, the roofers, dependent on a day's wages for a livelihood. And so in the great work of assuaging suffering and enlightening human ignorance and halting human iniquity. In that great work, the chief part is to be done by ii.diun.ry men, with ordinary speech, in nil ordinary manner, and by ordinary means. The trouble is that in the army of say, "Mouse of Haftebtirgj Ilottse ol , Stuart, ' House of, Bourboh.' 1 -. ThcJ lived: iiYpahrces ; and had groat' equipage. But who are the Lord's royal family? fiomo of them may sei'voyoa in the household, some of .them are ill unlighted garrets, some of them wiU walk this afternoon down the street, on their arm a basket of broken foodf some of them are in the alimhoiise, de< spiscd and rejected of men, yet ia the last great day. while it will be found that some of us who fared sumptuously every day nre hurlcrl back into discomfiture., they are the lama that will take the prey. One step farther: There nre a great many people discouraged about gfttinj? to heaven. You are brought up h» good families, you had' Christian par-* entngc; but you frankly tell me that you are astray, a thousand miles from the right track, you say. My brother, you are the one I want to preach ta now. 1 have been looking for you. T will tell you how you got astray. H was not maliciousness on your part It was, perhaps, through the geniality and sociality of your nature that you fell imo sin. You wandered away from your duty, you unconsciously left the house of God: you admit the gospel to be time, and yet you have so 1 1 11" tll.Hll^ilJlC»llll*l'W I. IIUIIV^ iv I. At*. J •"•*- >-• *- , TI 1 Christ we all want to be captains and I grievously and so prolongedly wander- cd. you say rescue is impossible. 11 would take a week to count up tho colonels and brigadier generals. We are not willing to march with the. rank and file and do duty with the, private soldier. We want to belong to the reserve corps and road about the battle while warming ourselves at the camp fires, or on furlough tit home, our foot upon an ottoman, we sagging back into an armchair. As you go down tho street you see an excavation and four or live men tire work-ing-, and perhaps twenty or thirty leaning on the rail looking over at them. That is tho way it is in the church of God to-day: whore you find one Christian hard at work, there are fifty men watolling tho job. Oh! my friends, why do you not go to work and preach tho gospel? You say, "I have no pulpit." You have. It may bo tho carpenter's bench, it may bo the mason's wall. The robe in which you are to proclaim this gospel may be a shoemaker's apron. Hut woo unto you if you preach not this gospel somewhere, somehow! If this world is over brought to Christ, it will be through the unanimous and long- continued efforts of men who, waiting for no special endowment, consecrate to God what they have. Among the most useless people in tho. world are men with ten talents, while many a one with only two talents, or no tai- doing a great, work, and the lame take tho prey." There are thousands of ministers of whom you have novel- heard—in log cabins at the; west, in mission, chapels at the east—who urn warring against tho legions of darkness, successfully warring. Tract-distributors, month by month undermining tho citadels of You do not know their going or transport them. By Hod's their coming; but the foot-fulls of their bright to help they have vanquished the Assyrian host. They have divided among them the spoils. Lame, lame, yet they took the prey. I was riding along the country road one day, and I saw a man on crutches. 1 overtook him. He was very old. He, was going very slowly. At that rate, it would have taken him two hours to go a mile. 1 said, "Wouldn't you like to ride?" He said, "Thank you. I would, (iod bless you." When he Hat beside me, he said, "You see, .1 tun very lame and very old, but the Lord has been a good Lord to me. 1 have buried all my children. The Lord gave them and the Lord had a right to take thorn away. Blessed bo his name! 1 was very sick, and I had no money, and my neighbors came in an I took care of me, and I wanted nothing. 1 miff'er a great deal with pain, but then 1 have so many mercies left. Tho Lord has been a good Lord to me." And before we had got far, 1 was in doubt whether I was giving him a ride, or lie was giving me a ride! He said, "Now, if you please, I'll got out here. Just help me down on my criUctics, if you please. (iod bless you. Thank you, sir; good morning, good morning. You have been feet to tho fume, hir. you have. Good morning." Swarthy men had gone the road that day. 1 do not know where they eamo out, but every hobble of that old man was toward the, shining gate. With his old crutch he had .struck clown many a Sennacherib of temptation which has mastered you and me. Lame, so fearfully lame, so awfully lame; but he took the prey. A step farther: There are in all communities many orphans. During our last war and in the years immediately following, how many children at the north and south wo heard say, "Oh! my father was killed in the war." Have you over noticed — I feav you have not— how well those children have turned out? Starting under the greatest disadvantage, no orphan asylum could do for them what their father would have done had he lived. The skirmisher sat one night by the light of fagots, in the swamp, writing a letter home, when a sharpshooter's bullet ended the letter, which was never folded, never posted and never read. Those children came up under great disadvantage. No father to light their way for them. Perhaps there was in the old family bible an old yellow letter pasted fast, which told the story of that father's long inarch, and how ho suffered in the Hospital; but they looked still further on in the bible, and they came to the story of how God i.s the father of the fatherless, and the widow's portion, and they soon took their father's place in that household. They battled the way for their mother. They came on up, and many of them have already, in the years since the war, taken positions in church and state, north and south. While many of those who suffered nothing during those times haye had sons go out into lives of indolence and vagabondage, who stq-vm under so »any ministry are heard in the palaces of heaven. Who arc the workers in our Sabbath schools throughout this land to-day? Men celebrated, men brilliant, men of vast estate? For the most part, not that at all. 1 have noticed that the chief characteristic of the most of those who arc successful in tho work is that they know their bibles, arc earnest, in prayer, are anxious for the salvation of the young, and Sabbath by Sabbath arc willing to sit down unobserved and tell of Christ and tho resurrection. These are tho humble workers who are recruiting the groat army of Christian youth—not by might, not by power, not by profound argument, not by brilliant antithesis, but by tho blessing of God on plain talk, and humble story, and silent tear, and anxious look-. "The lame take tho prey." Oh! this work of saving the youth of our country —how few appreciate what it is! This generation tramping on m the grave — we will soon all be. gone. What of the next? Au engineer on a locomotive going across the western prairies day after day, saw a little child come out in front of a cabin and wave to him; so he got in the habit of waving back to tho little child, and it was the day's joy to him to sec this little one come mit in front of the cabin door and wave to him, while ho answered back. One day the train was belated and it came on to the dusk of tho evening. As tho engineer stood at his post ho saw by the headlight that little girl on the track, wondering why the train did not come, looking for tho train, knowing nothing of her peril. A great horror sei/ed upon tho engineer. He reversed the engine. He gave it in charge of the man on board, and then he climbed over the engine, and ho came down to tho cowcatcher, lie said though ho had reversed the engine, it seemed as though it were going at lightning speed, faster and faster, though it was really slowing up, and with almost supernatural clutch ho I caught that child by the hair and ! lifted it up, and when the j train stoppeil and the passengers ] gathered around to see what was i the matter, there the old engineer lay. j fainted dead away, the little, child ' alive ami in his swarthy arms. "Oh!" ' you say, "that was well done." Hut ; 1 want you to exercise some kindness | and some appreciation toward those in i the community who are snatching tho little ones from under tho wheels of temptation and sin—snatching them from under thundering- rail-trains of eternal disaster, bring them up into respectability in this world and into glory for the world to come. You ap- i prooiato what tho engineer did; why ! can you not appreciate the. grander i work done by every Sabbath school ! teacher and by every Christian worker? Oh! my friends, I want to impress upon myself and upon yourselves that it is not. the number of taleuts we possess, but the use we make of them. Gad has a. royal fauiiiy iu the world, if I should, *sfe "Who are the names of those in heaven who wore Oil earth worse thau you tell mo. you are. , They went the whole round of iniquity, they disgraced themselves, they dip- graced their household, they despaired of retttrn because their reputation was gone, their property was gone, everything was gone; but iu some hour likes this they hoard the voice of God, and they threw themselves on the clivino compassion, and they rose, up more than conquerors. And I tell you there is tho same chance for you. That is one reason why 1 like to preach this gospel, so free a gospel, so tremendous si gospel. It takes a man all wrong, and makes him all rig-lit. .In a, former soU'.emont, whoip I preached, n. member of my congregation quit tho house of God, . quit respectable circles, went Into all styles of sin, and was slain of his iniquity. The day for his burial came, and his body was brought to the house of God. Some of his comrades who had destroyed him were overheard along tho street, cm their way to the burial, saying, "Come, let us go and hoar Tal mage damn this old sinner!" Oh, I had nothing- but tears for tho dead, and I had nothing b\it invitations to the living. You woo I wiild not do any otherwise. "Christ .lesus flame to seek and save that which was lost." Christ, in bis dying 4 prayer waid, ••Father, forgive them,'' 1 and that was a prayer for you and a prayer for me. Oh! start on tho road to heaven today. You are not happy. The thirst of your soul wil'i never be slaked by the fountains of sin. You turn everywhere but to God for belli Right whore you are, call on him. lie knows you, ho knows ail about ywu. fie knows all tho odds against which you have been contend ing- in life, ton not go to him with a, long rigmiirolo of u prayer, but just look up and say, "Help! Help!" Yet you say, "My hand tremble-* so from ray dissipation:;. 1 oun't. even taUo- hold of a hymn book to :iing." Do not worry about that, my brother; I will give- out. ri hymn. :u. the close so familiar you can sini,' it without a book., But you say, "1 have such terrible habits; on ine, I can't gat ric! of them.' My answer is, Almighty grace can break up that habit and will break it up. But you say, ''The wrong 1 did wtis to one dead and in heaven now, and I can't correct that wrong." You oan correct it. By the griuso of God, I go into the presence of that one, and j the apologies you ought to have, made on earth make in heaven. ! "Oh!" says some man, "if I should 1 try to do right, if '• should turn away from my evil doing unto the Lord, T would bo jostled. I would be driven back-, nobody would have any sympathy for me." You arq mistaken, Here, in the presence of the church on earth and in heaven, I give you to-day .the right hand of Christian fellowship. God sent mo hero to-day to preach this, and he sent you here to hoar this: "Let the wickod forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thought, and let him'return unto tho Lord, who will have mercy, and nnto our God, who will abundantly pardon." Though you may have been tho worst sinner, you may become the best saint, and in the groat day of judgment it will V'o found that "where sin abounded, grace does much more abound," and while tho spoils of an everlasting kingdom are being awarded for your pursuit, it will be found that tho lame took the prey. Blessed bo God that wo are, this Sabbath, one week nearer the obliteration of all tho inequalities of this life and all its disquietudes. Years ago, oil a, boat on the North river, tho pilot gave j a very sharp ring to the boll for the j boat to slow up. The engineer attended to the machinery, and then he came up with some alarm on deck to see what was the matter. He saw it wus a moonlight night nnd there were no obstacles in tho way. lie. wont to the pilot and -said: "Why did you rijfi the hell in that i way'/ Why jp?. you want to stop? there's nothing ihe mat tor." And the pilot said to him. "Thoi-o is a miat gathering on the river: don't, you seo that? and there is night gathering darker inui darker and 1 ^aa't see the. way." Then tho engineer looking around «iid it was a bright'moonlight looked the face of'the pilot and saw ho was dying, and -then that he doad. God grant that when our la-^t moment comes we may be found -it our post doing our whole duty; and \vheu, the mists of the river uf death 8'iitber on our eyelids, may the good Pilot take the wheel from our hands and guid« us into the calm harbor of eternal vest! Droptbe anchor, furl the sail J tin gtjfe \vltWa tJw "" into that w-< .U-*A-.'L. .," .... ?'.'"£. !<_>jj."j_..i,

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