The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1888-03-07
all that on: I am glad that the world is

all that on. am glad that the world is
getting better, aud that fashion, which has
dominated in the world so ruinously in other
! days, has for little time, for little degree
at any rate, relaxed its energies. All the
splendors and the extravaganza Of this world
dyed into your robe and flung over your
shoulder cannot wrap peace around your
heart for single moment. The gayest ward
robe 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 a
Saviour's Righteousness. The home may
be very humble the hat may be very plain,
the frock may be very coarse; but the halo
of heaven settles in the room when she wears
it, and the faintest touch Of the resurrection
angel will change that garment into raiment
exceeding white, so as no fuller on earth
could whiten it.. I come to you, young
women, to-day, to say that this world cannot
make you happy. L know it is a bright
world, with glorious sunshine, and colder,
rivers. and fire worked sunset, and bird
orchestra, and the darkest cave has its crys-
tails, and the wrathiest wave its foam wreath,
and the coldest midnight its flaming
aurora but God will put out oil these
lights with the blast Of his own nostrils,
and the glories Of this world will perish in
the final confiagration. You will never
be happy until you get your sins forgiven
and allow Jesus Christ to take full possession
of your soul. He will be your friend in
in every trial. He will be your defender in
every strait. dol not ask you to bring, like
Mary, the spices to the sepulcher of dead
Christ, but to bring your all to the feet of a
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
iocks and groups. Come like the south wind
% liza In
morning light tripping over the mountain.
Wrcathe all your affections on Christs 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 rejoic-
ing angels. and the towers Of God ring out
the news of souls saved.
This world Its tancied pearl may crave,
'Tis not the pearl for me;
Twill dim its lustre in the grave,
Twill perish in the sea.
But there's pearl OF price untold,
Which never can be bought with gold;
Oh, tn .t's the pearl for me.
The snow was very deep, and it was still
falling rapidly, when, in the first year Of my
ministry, | fastened to see young woman
die 1t was 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 saw nothing attractive. No pictures.
No tapestry Not even a cushioned chair.
The snow on the window easement was
not whittier than the cheek of that
dying girl. It was face never to
be forgotten. Sweetness and majesty Of
soul, and faith in God, had given her
mstchless beauty ,and the sculptor who could
have caught the outlines of those features,
and frozen them into stone, would have
made himself immortal. With her large
brown eyes she looked camiy into the great
eternity. I sat down by her bedside and
said: Now tell ME all your troubles and
sorrows and struggles and doubts.n- She re.
piled: ~ have no doubts or struggles. lis
all plain to ME. Jesus has smoothed the way
for my feet I wish when you go to your
pulpit next Sunday you would tell the young
people that religion will make them happy.
'Oh, death where is thy sting9' Mr.. Tai.
mage, I wonder if this is not the bliss Of
dying!" said: "Yes, think it must be-"
I fingered around the couch. The sun
was setting, and her sister lighted candle
She lighted the candle for me- The dying
girl, tho dawn of heaven in her face, needed
no candle l rose to go, and she said: II
thank you for coming. Good night. When
we meet again it will be in Heaven-in
Heaven! Good night good night" For her
it was good night to tears, good night to pov.
erty, good night to death; but when the sun
rose again it was good morning. The light
of another day had burst in upon her soul.
Good morning! The angels were singing her
welcome home, and the hand of Christ was
putting upon her brow a garland. Good
morning. Her sun rising. Her palm wav-
ing. Her spirit exuting before the throne
Of God. Good morning! Good morning
The whole lily of poor Margaret's cheek had
blushed into the rose of health immortal, and
the SHOWS through which we carried her to
the country graveyard were symbols Of that
robe which she wears, so white that no fuller
on earth could whiten it.
My sister, my daughter. may your last end
be like hers!