The Sedalia weekly bazoo. [volume] (Sedalia, Mo.) 187?-1904, 1878-07-02
OUR SUNDAY SERMON.

OUR SUNDAY SERMON.
The Romans marked their happy days
with . white stone.
Happy we're it for ali II, in our youth, We
had thus marked our early Sabbaths, and
upon that firm white stone, Purity, reared
the structure OF our manhoods, and build.
ell them till the frosty turrets of old age
reached high to heaven,
told from his string that reaches to eternity.
They have been separated from those to
come, and his finger trembles on the next,
that will swiftly glide over the space be-
tween the Future and the Past. Men
die and babes are born, nations rise and fall,
thrones totter and dynasties pass into OBJ
livion yet Time marches DER the ruins
with his unce asing, unchanging and unend-
ing tread. Oh! what q tale could he tell
since he began his pilgrimage! Springing
from chaos simultaneous with light, meas
uring the hours Of the work of creation,
and chronicling on his tablets the
First Sabbath of its rest. The
sands OF his glass measured the
happy hours of Eden and Innocence, and
they sorrowfully fell in the hour of mans
fall. Still the sands Of that glass flow on
a. fly the moments, each pebbly atom
noting a deed of good or i'll.
Another Sabbath. Look back. Only
seven days have past, and yet between two
Sabb.ths. upon the plain of life tracked by
our footsteps, there stands a tomb, and
around it nation bows and weeps.
Weeping for Mercedes!
But a few Sabbaths since, SPANS palace
was radiant with her brightness, the pride
of her Kings heart, and the idol of her
nation. The fsirest rose that e'er bloomed
upon the tree of Bourbon has fallen, and
its fragrance has been borne away upon the
blasts Of death to that eternity where
prince and peasant mingle in Immortality.
Castillo mourns, her nation sorrOws her
palaces are bedecked with the sable trap
pings of woe, and the heart of her King is
broken. Days may come and 60 and the
seasons change, but the ear of Alfonso will
ne'er again hear the silvery voice he loved
no we'll, neer again shall he feel the magic
of her touch, or the throb of that warm
pure heart that beat for him, his realm and
for God.
Though Queen, and the descendant of
Kings and Queens, she was a woman, ard |
loved her husband-not that the ieweIed
crown of Spain encircled the brow6f her
youthful spouse, but because her young |
pure heart lavished upon the man of her |
choice all the wealth of a reciprocal affec-
ton. And she died with her hand in his,
soothing his grief, and passing away with
a prayer upon her lips. 'Oh, the priceless |
value of the love Of 2 pure woman
Gold cannot purchase q gem so precious.
Titles and honor confer upon the heart no /
such serene happiness. In orr darkest mo-
ments, when disappointment and ingrati-
tude, with corrod,ng care, gather thick
around, and even the gaunt form of poverty
menaces with its skeleton fingers, 1t CLEANS
around the sonl with an angels smile. Time
can not mar its brilliancy; distance but
its influence: bolts and hars
cannot limit its progress; il follows the
prisoner into his dark cell, and sweetens
the homely morsel that appeases his hun
ger, and in the silence of midnight it PLAYS
around his heart, and in his dreams he
folds to his bosom the form of her who
loves him still. though the world has turned
coldly from him. The couch made by the
hand of the loved one is soft 20 the weary
sufferer, and the potion administered by
the same hands loses half its bitterness
The pillow carefully adjusted nv her brings
repose 10 the fevered brain, and her words
IF encouragement revive the sinking spirit
Ii would almost seem that God, compass
woman's first great frailty, had
planted this jewel in her breast, whose
heavenlike influence should cast into for
yetfulness mans remembrance of the fall 8
by building up IN his breast another Ellen, !
where perennial flowers forever bloom and {
,rystal waters gush from exhaustless fouu-
lains" II
Again We look. Between those Sabbaths :
stands the capital of mighty empire In =,
hat capital around table sit the represcnt- ,
ltives OF mighty ations. each holding in his b
hands the destiny of nation and the lives 9
# hundreds of thousands of its subjects
Before them stands the once naughty but
'cw humbled Mahommedan, and BY his side '
III victor, but no less humbled. Think of
{! One rash act, one hssty word, and all
Europe might tremble beneath the tread of n
millions of warlike hosts, fair fields be :,
rampled with carnage and dyed with .
Hood, cities and villages wrapped in flames Il
md all the horrors Of human butchery .
age under the sulphurous canopy that ;.
huts out heaven from their sight.
Sweet are the Sahbaths of our own fair
and. and sweet are the bells that proclaim v
hem! May our minds appreciate them, L
nay our hearts observe them. and may our m
ouls adore them and He who bestows W
hem.