The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1888-02-23

bravery of their tinkling ornaments
about their feet, and their cauls, and
their round tires ike the moon, the
chains, and the bracelets. and the
muffiers, the bonnets, and the head
bands, and the tablets, and the earrings,
the rings, and the nose jewels, the
changeable suits of apparel, and
the mantles, and the wimples, and
the crisping pins, the glasses, and
the fine linen, and the hoods, and the
yeils.' Only think of a woman having
all that onl I am glad that the world is
getting better, and that fashion, which
has dominated in the world SO ruinously
in other days, has for a little time, for
little degree at any rate, relaxed its en-
ergies All the splendors and the ex-
travaganza of this world dyed into your
robe and flung over your shoulder cam
not wrap peace around your heart for
single moment. The gayest wardrobe
will utter no voice of coincidence in
the day of trouble and darkness. That
woman is grandly dressed, and only
she, who is wrapped in the robe of
Savior's righteousness. The home may
be very humble, the hat may be very
plain, the frock may be very coarse; but
the halo in heaven settles in the room
when she wears it, and the faintest
touch of the resurrection angel will
change that garment into raiment ex-
ceeding white, SO as no fuller on earth
could whiten it. I come to you young
women, today, to say that this world
cannot make you happy. know it Is a
bright world with glorious sunshine, and
golden rivers, freworked sunset, and bird
orchestra, and the darkest cave has its
crystals, and the wrathiest wave its foam
wreath, and the coldest midnight its
flaming aurora; but God will put out all
these lights with the blast Of his own
nostrils, and the glories of this world will
perish in the final conflagration. You
will never be happy until you get your
sins forgiven and allow Christ Jesus to
take full possession of your soul. He
will be your friend in every perplexity.
He will be your comfort in every trial
He will be your defender in every strait
do not ask you to bring, like Mary, the
spices to the sepulcher of dead Christ,
but to bring your all to the feet of living
Jesus. His word is peace. His look is
love. His hand is help. His touch is
life. His smile is heaven. Oh, come
then, in focks and groups. Come, like
the south wind over banks Of myrrh.
Come like the morning light tripping
over the mountains Wreathe all your
affections on Christ's brow, set all your
gems in Christ's coronet, pour all your
voices into Christ's song, and let this
Sabbath air rustic with the wings of re-
joicing angels, and the towers of God
ring out the news of souls saved.
This world its fancied pearl may crave,
'TiS not the pearl for me;
Twill dim its luster in the grave,
Twill perish in the sea.
But there's pearl of price untold,
Which never can be bought with gold;
o, that's tho pearl for me-
The snow was very deep, and it was
still falling rapidly when, in the first
year of my Christian ministry, I hastencd
| to see young woman die. 1t was a
very humble home. She was an orphan
her father had been shipwrecked On the
banks of Newfoundland She had earned
her own living. AS I entered the room
l saw nothing attractive. No pictures
No tapestry. Not even cushioned
! chair. The snow on the window case
ment was not winter than the cheek of
that dying girl. 1t was face never
to be forgotten. Sweetness and
majesty of soul, and faith in God,
had given her matchless beauty,
and the sculptor who could have caught
the outlines of those features, and frozen
| them into stone, would have made him
self immortal. With her large, brown
eyes she looked calmly into the great
eternity. I sat down by her bedside and
eaid: ''Now tell me all your troubles, and
sorrows, and struggles, and doubts .
She replied: 81 have no doubts Oh
struggles. 1t is all plain to me. Jesus
has smoothed the way for my feet
wish when you go to your pulpit nexi
Sunday you would tell the young people
that religion will make them happy
'Oh, death, where is thy sting?' I1r.
Talmage, wonder if this is not the bliss
of dying?" said: "Yes, + think it must
be-" fingered around the couch. The sur
was setting, and her sister lighted 6
candle. She lighted the candle for me-
The dying girl, the dawn of heaven il
her face, needed no candle I rose te
go, and she said: 81 thank you for com
ing. Good nightl When we meet agair
it will be in heaven-in heaven! Good
night! Good night" For her it wai
good night to poverty, good night tc
death; but when the sun rose again il
was good morning. The light of another
day had burst in upon her soul. Coco
morning! The angels were singing hel
welcome home, alld the hand of Chris
was putting upon her brow garland
Good morning Her sun rising Hel
palm waving. Her spirit exulting be
fore the throne of God. Good morning
Good morning The white lily of poo
Margaret's check had blushed into tn,
rose of health immortal. and the snow
through which we carried her to tn,
country graveyard were symbols Of tha
robe which she wears. SO white that n,
fuller ON earth could whiten it.
My sister, my daughter, may your las
end be like hers!