The Stark County Democrat. [volume] (Canton, Ohio) 1833-1912, 1883-05-16

/ SunoringS; out GOD knows, God feels,
God cOmpassionates. He counts the
sleepless nights. He regards the acute
ness of the pain. He estimates the hard
ness Of the breathing. While you pour
out the medicine from the bottle and
count the drops, God counts all your
falling tears. As you look at the phials
filled with nauseOus draughts and at
the bottles of distasteful tonic that
stand on the shelf, remember that there
Is larger bottle than these, which is
hlled with no mixture by earthly apo
thecarles, but it Is Gods bottle, in
which he hath gathered all our tears.
Again, God remembers all sorrows of
poverty. There ts much want that never
comes to inspection. The deaeOns Of
the church never see it; the controllers
of almshOuses never report it. 1t comes
not to church, for 1t has no appropriate
apparel. 1t makes no appeal for help,
but chooses rather to suffer than expose
its bitterness. Fathers who fail to gain
a livelihood, so that they and their chill
dren submit to constant privatiOn; sew
Ing women who cannot ply the needle
quick enough to earn them shelter and
bread. But whether reported or uneOm-
planning, whether in seemingly COM
Portable parlor or in damp cellar or hot
| garrett, Gods angels of mercy are on the
| watch. This moment those griefS are
being collected. Down on the back
streets, on all the alleys, amid shanties
and log cabins, the work goes on. Tears
of want, seething in summers heat and
freezing in winters cold, they fall not
unheeded. They are jewels for Heavens
casket. They are pledges of Divine
sympathy. They are tears for Gods
bottle.
Again, the Lord preserves the remem-
brance Of all paternal anxieties. You
see man from the most infamous sur
r0undtngs step out into the Kingdom of
God. He has heard no sermon; he
has received no startling PrOVidential
warning. What brought him to
this new mindp This Is the secret:
God looked over the bottle in which he
gathered the tears Of his people, and he
saw parental tear in that bottle which
had been for forty years unanswered.
| he said: go to, how, let me answer
that tear, and forthwith the wanderer
Is brought home to God. Oh, this work
| of training children for God! 1t is
tremendous work. Some people think
1T Is easy. They have never tried 1t. A
child is placed in the arms of young
parent. You look into the laughing
| eyes. You examine the dimples in the
j feet; you wonder at its exquisite organ
ism. beautiful playthingl But on
some nightfall, as you sit rocking that
| little one, a voice seems to fall straight
| from the throne of God, saying, "That
child is immortal. The stars shall die,
suns shall grow old and perish, but that
| child Is an immOrtalP Now know that
with many of you this is the chief anx-
1ety. You earnestly wish your children
to grow up rightly, but you find it hard
work to make them do as you wish. You
check their temper; you correct their
Waywardness; in the midnight your pill
low ts wet with weeping. YOu have
wrestled with God in prayer for the sal
VatiOn of your children. You ask me if
that anxiety has been Intellectual 1 an
swer, no. God understands your heart.
He understands how hard you have tried
to make that daughter do right, though
she Is 80 petulent and reckless, and what
care you have bestowed in teaching that
son to walk in the path of righteousness
though he has strong tendencies for dis
sipatiOn. L speak cheering word. God
heard every counsel you ever gave him.
God remembers your prayers and knows
your anXieties, and in his lachrymatOry
mot such as stood In ancient tomb, but
in one that glows and glitters beside the
throne Of God, he holds all those ex-
hausting tears. The grass may be rank
upon your grave, and the letters upon
your tombstone effaced by the elements
before the divine response will come;
but he who hath declared, 81 will be
God to thee and to thy seed after thee"
will not forget. And some day in heaV-
en-, while you are ranging the fields of
light, the gates of pearl Will swing back
and, garlanded with glory, that long
wayWard one will rush into your out
stretched arms of welcome and triumph.
The hills may depart, the earth may
burn, and the stars fall and time perish,
but God will break his oath and tram
pie upon his promises, neVerl
MzA
brance of all bereaVements. These are
che trials that throw the red hearts of
men to be crushed in the wine press.
Troubles at the store you leave at the
store. MisinterpretatiOn and abuse of
the world you may leave on the street
where you found them. The lawsuit
that would swallow your honest accu-
mutations may be left in the court room
but bereaYements are home troubles,
and there Is no escape from them. You
will see that vacant chair; your eye will
catch at the suggestive picture; you can
| not fly the presence of such ills. You
20 to Switzerland to get clear of them,
but, more suTe-fOOted than the mule
that takes you up the Alps, your troub-
les climb up to the tiptOp and sit shiV-
ering on the glaciers. You may cross
the seas, but they can Outsail the clip
per and merchantman; you may take the
caravan, and put out across the Arabian
| desert, but they follow you like a simeon
armed with suffOcatiOn. You plunge
into the Mammoth Cave, but they hang
like stalacites from the roof of the cav
ern; they stand behind with skeleton
fingers to push you ahead; they stand
before you to throw you back; they run
upon you like reckless hOrsemen; they
charge upon you with cleaning spear;
they seem to come haphazard, like scat
| tering shots from a careless sportsman.
But not so. 1t is good aim that sends
them just right, for God is the archer. 4
This coming summer many of you will
especially feel your grief as you go to
places where once you were accOmpa-
MED by those who are gone nov. Your
troubles will follow you to the seashOre,
and keep up with the lightning express
In which you speed away. Or, tarrying
at home, they will sit beside you day by
day. and whisper over your pillow night
| after night. Iwant to assure you you
are not left alone; that your weeping is
heard in heaven. You will wander amid
the hills and say: up this hill last sum-
mer our boy climbed with great glee
and waved his cap from the toD;" or.