The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1886-04-08

OuG ana out anu QUIZ anu u1i duu ou anu ous
and down and down and down he sped,
until one night. with only one to greet him,
he arrived. His Decentralization so I'M
| pretending, so quiet, that it was not
known on earth until the excitement i'm the
cloud gave intimation that something
| grand and glorious had happened. Who
comes there?' From what port did he sail?
| Why was this the place of his destination?
question the shepherds, / question the
| camel drivers, / question the angels.
| have found out. He was an exile. But the
| world has had plenty of exiles. Abraham
an exile of Ur of the Chaldees; John an
| exile from Ephesus; Kosciusko an exile
! from Poland; Mazzini an exile from Rome:
! Emmett an exile from Ireland: Vis'tor Hugo
an exile from France: Kossuih an exile
| from Hungary. But this one of whom
speak day had such resembling farewell
| and came into such chilling reception-for
| not even a hostler went ont with his lam
| tern to help him in-that he is more to be
| celebrated than any other expstriated one
| of earth or Heaven.
| 1t is ninety-fiv million miles from here
| to the sun, and all astronomers agree in
| saving that our solar system is only one OF
| the small wheels of the great machinery
| the universe, turning round some one great
| center, the center so far distant it is be-
| yond all imagination and calculation; and
| If, as some think, that great center in the
| distance is Heaven, Christ came far from
| home when he came here. Have you ever
| thought of the inconsistencies OF Ch,'ist?
| Some of you know Whit Inconsistencies is,
Z. l. e., ,f,-
sent from the domestic circle. Christ was
| thirty three years away from home. Some
of YOU feel Inconsistencies when Won are a
hundred or thousand miles from the do
mestic circle. Christ was more millions ~
miles away from home than YOU could
calculate II all your life you did nothing
but calculate. You know what it is 30 he
| homesick even amid pleasurable surrourd-
ings; but Christ slept in hats, and he was
athirst, and he was ahungered, and he was
on the way from being born in another
mans barn to being buried in another
mans grave. have read how the Swiss,
when they are far away from their native
| country, at the sound of their national air
get so homesick that they fall into melan-
choly, aud sometimes they die under the
!
| of Christi Poverty, homesicl for celestial
riches. Persecution, homesick for hosanna.
WEAKNESS, homesick for rest. Homesick
| for angelic and archangelic companion
ship. Homesick to go ont of the night. and
| the storm, and the worlds execrasion, and
all that inconsistencies suffered to get us
home! # 05
/ At our best estate we are only pilgrims
and strangers here. "Heaven is our
home" Death will never knock at the
door of that mansion, and in all that coun-
| try there is not single grave. How glad
parents are in holiday times to gather
| their children home again. But / have
noticed that there is almost always SON
or a daughter absent-absent from home,
perhaps absent from the country, per-
| haps absent from the world. Oh, how glad
our Heavenly Father will be when he gets
all his children home with him in Heaven!
! And how delightful it win be for brothers
and sisters to meet after long separation!
/ Once they parted at the door of the tomb;
now they meet at the door of Immortality.
Once they saw only through glass dark
1 ly, now it is face to face: corruption. i'm
corruption; mortality, Immortality. Where
are now all their sins and sorrows and
troubles? Overwhelmed in the Red Sen OF
Death while thoy passed through dry shod.
Gates of pearl, capstones of amethyst,
thrones of dominion do not stir my soul
so much as the thought of home. Once
there, let earthly sorrows howl like storms
and roll like seas. Home! Let thrones
rot and empires wither. Home. Let the
world die in earthquake struggle, and be
buried amid procession of planets and
dirge of spheres. Home! Let everlasting
ages roll irresistible sweep. Home! No
sorrow, no crying. No tears. no death.
But home, sweet home; home, beautiful
home, everlasting home, home, bone with
each other, home with angels, home with
| God.
One night lying on my lounge, when
very tired, my children all around about
me in full romp and hilarity and laughter
| lon the lounge, half awake and half
asleep, dreamed this dream: I was in a
far country. 1t was not Persia, although
more than oriental luxuriance crowned
the cities. 1t was not the
tropics, although more than trop.
ical fruitfulness filled the gardens. 1t
was not Italy, although more than Italian
softness filled the air. And / wandered
around looking for thorns and nettles, but
found that none of them grew there, and
saw the sun rise, and watched to see it
set, but it sunk not. And saw the people
in holiday attire, and said: "When will
they put off this and put on workmen's
garb and again delve in the mine or swell
ter at the forget" but they never put off
the holiday attire. And L wandered in
the suburbs of the city to find the place
where the dead sleep, and looked all
{ along the line of the beautiful hills, the
place where the dead might most blissful-
ly sleep, and saw towers and castles, but
not a mausoleum or monument or
white slab could i see. And
went into the chapel of the
great town and I said: "Where do the
poor worship and where are the hard
benches on which they sit?" And the an.
swer was made me: "We have no poor in
this country" And then I wandered out
to find the novels of the destitute, and
found mansions of amber and ivory and
gold, but not tear could see, not sigh
could hear, and / was bewildered and
sat down under the branches of great
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