Wessington Springs herald. (Wessington Springs, Aurora County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1891, 1886-03-26
the hartor Of light into tho oceans beyond.

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down and down and down he sped,
Until one night, with only one to greet him,
he arrived. His Decentralization so un.
so quiet, that. it was not
on earth until the excitement in the
loud 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, I question the
camel drivers, I question the angels. I
found out. He was an exile. But the
world has had plenty Of exiles. Abraham
exile of ur OF the Cbaldees; John an
exile from Ephesus; Kosciusko an exile
Poland: Mazzini an exile from Rome;
Emmett an exile from Ireland; Victor Hugo
an exile from France; Kossuth an exile
Hungary. But this one of whom 1
speak to-day had such %resounding farewell
and came into such chilling reception-for
not even a hostler went out with his Ian.
tern to help him in-that he is more to be
celebrated than any other expatriated one
Of earth or Heaven.
1t is ninety five million miles from here |
to the un, and all astronomers agree in |
that our solar system is only one OF
the small wheels of the great machinery o
the universe. turning round some one great
center, the center so far distant it is be.
yond all imagination and calculation; and
II, 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 Christ?
of you know what homesickness is,
when you have been only a few weeks alb
sent from the domestic circle. Christ was
thirty three years away from home. Some
Of you feel inconsistencies when you are .
hundred or a thousand miles from the do.
nestle circle. Christ was more millions of
calculate il all your life you did nothing
but calculate. You know what it is to be
homesick even amid pleasurable surround-
ings; but Christ slept in huts, 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. 1 have read 10Y 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, and sometimes they die under the
homesickness. But oh, the homesickness
of Christ! Poverty, homesick for celestial
riches. Persecution, homesick for hosanna.
WEAKNESS, homesick for rest. Homesick
for angelic and archangelic companions.
ship. Holnesick to go out of the night, and
the storm, and the worlds execration, and
all that inconsistencies suffered to get US
home!
At our best estate we are only pilgrims
nrl ek~ howe kEI1n-1r s. 80
home" Death will never knock at the
door of that mansion, and in all that coun-
try there is not a single grave. How glad
parents are in holiday times to gather
their children home again. But l have
noticed that there is almost always a 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 bis children home with him in Heaven
And how delightful it will 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 a glass dark.
ly, TOY it is face to face; corruption, in.
corruption; mortality, Immortality. Where
are now all their sins and sorrows and
troubles? Overwhelmed in the Red Sea of
Death while they 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! Nc
sorrow, no crying. No tears. No death
But home, sweet home; home, beautiful
home, everlasting home, home, home 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
ON the lounge, half awake and hall
asleep, l dreamed this dream: l was in q
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. II
was not italy. although more than Italian
SOftneSS fllled the air. ana L wandered
around looking for thorns and %nettles, but
l found that zone of them grew there, and
l saw the SUI rise, and l watched to see il
set, but it SUM 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 forge" but they never put of
the holiday attire. And l wandered in
the suburbs of the city to find the place
where the dead sleep, and l looked all
along the line of the beautiful hills, the
place where the dead might most blissful.
ly sleep, and l saw tower and castles, but
not a mausoleum or a monument or
a white slab could l see. And
l went into the chapel of the
great town and l said: "Where do the
poor worship and where are the hard
benches on which they sit?" And the ar
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 a tear could l see, not a sigh
could l hear, and l was bewildered and
sat down under the branches of a great
tree ard l said: "Where am L? and
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