The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1888-03-05

tltty years of trouble have tanned the
spirit, and the keys of the music-board
must have a solemn tread. Though the
! voice may be tremulous, so that grand
father will not trust it in church, still he
has the psalm book open before him, and
he sings with his soul He huns his grand
child asleep with the same tune he sang
forty years ago i'll the old country meeting
house. Some day the choir sings trIno so
old that the Young people do not know it :;
but 1t starts the tears down the cheek of the
aged man, for it reminds him of the re-
vlVal scene in which he participated, and
of the radiant faces that long since went to
dust, and of the gray haired minister lean
ing over the pulpit, and sounding tho good
tldlngs of great joy.
was, one Thanksgiving day, in my pull
pit in Syracuse, N. ", and Rev. Daniel
Waldo, at 9S years of age, stood beside me.
The choir sang a tune / said, Il am sorry
they sang that new tune; nobody seems to
know it.. BLESS you, my SON." said the
old man, 81 heard that seventy years ago!'
There was a song to-day that touched the
life of the aged with holy fire. and kindled "A
glory on their vision that our younger eye
sight cannot see, 1t was the song of saliva
tion--Jesus, who fed them all their lives
long; Jesus who wiped away their tears;
Jesus who stood by them when all else
failed Jesus in whose name their marriage
was consecrated and whose resurrection has
poured light upon the graves of their de-
parted Blessed the Bible in which specta-
clel old age reads the promise, II will never
leave you, never forsake you" Blessed the
staff on which the worn-out pilgrim totters
ON toward the welcome of his Redeemer! !!
Blessed the hymn book in which the falter-
ing tongue and the failing eyes find Jesus,
the old mans song.
| speak to you again of Jesus as the night
song. Job speaks of him who giveth songs
in the night. John Welch, the old Scotch
minister, used to put plaid across his bed
on cold nights, and some one asked him why
he put that there. He said: "Oh, sometimes
in the night | want to sing the praise of
Jesus, and to get down and pray; then
just take that paid and wrap it around me,
to keep myself from the cold" Songs in
the night Night of trouble has come down
upon many of you. Commercial losses put
out one star, slanderous abuse put out
another star, domestic bereavement has put
out thousand lights, and gloom has been
added to gloom, and chill to chill, and sting
to sting, and one midnight has seemed to
borrow the fold from another midnight to
wrap itself in more unbearable darkness ;
but Christ has spoken peace to your heart
and you can sing
Jesus lover of my soul.
Let me IN thy bosom fly,
While theDillows near me roll,
While the tempest still is high.
Hide me, oh, my Saviour! hide
Till the storm of life is past,
Safe into the haven guide;
Oh, receive my soul at last"
Songs in the night Songs in the night!
For the sick. who have no one to turn the
hot pillow, no one TO put the taper on the
stand, no one 10 put ice on the temple, or
pour out the soothing anodyne, or utter one
cheerful word-yet songs in the night! For
the poor, who freeze i'll the winters cold,
and swelter in the summers heat, and
MUNICH the hard crusts that bleed the sore
gums, and shiver under blankets that
cannot any longer be patched, and
and they may be set out on
the sidewalk, and looking into the
starved face of the child and seeing famine
there and death there, coming home from
the bakery, and saying, in the presence of
his little famished ones, "Oh, my God, -four
has gone up!h Yet songs in the night
Songs in the night For the widow who
goes to get the back pay of her husband
slain by the ''sharp-shoOters, and knows it
is the last help she will have, moving out of
comfortable home in desolatiOn, death
turning back from the exhausting cough,
and the pale cheek and the lustreless eve,
and refusing all relief. Yet songs in the
night Songs in the night For the soldier
in the field hospital, no surgeon to bind up
the gun-shot fracture, no water for the hot
lips, no kind hand to brush away the flies
from the fresh wound, no one to take the
loving farewell, the groaning of others
poured into his own groan, the blasphemy
of others plowing up his own spirit, the con
densed bitterness of dying away from home
among strangers. Yet songs in the night
Songs in the night "Ah,n said one dying
soldier, ''tell my mother that the last night
there was not one cloud between my soul
int .f,,Lt
the night
The Sabbath day has come. From the
affairs of 10, 900 churches has smoked up the
savors of sacrifice. Ministers Of the Gospel
are now preaching in plain Eng lish in
broad Scotch, in flowing Italian, in harsh
Choctaw. Gods people have assembled in
Hindoo temple, and Moravin church, and
Quaker meeting house, and sailors Bethel,
and kings chapel, and high-tOwered cathe
dral. They sang, and the song fioated off
amidst the spice groves, or struck the ice
bergs, or noated off into the Western pines,
or was drowned in the clamor of the great
cities Lnmbermen sang it, and the factory
girls, and the children in tho Sabbath class,
and the trained choirs in great assemblages.
Trappers, with the same voice with
which they shouted yesterday in
the stag hunt, and mariners with throats
that only a,few days ago sounded in the
-
it. One theme for the sermons One bur
den for the song. Jesus for the invocation
Jesus for the scripture lesson Jesus for
the baptsmal font. Jesus for the sacra-
mental cup. Jesus for the benediction.
But the day will go by. 1t will roll away
on swift wheels of lignt and love. Again
the churches will be lighted. Tides of peo-
pie again setting down the streets Whole
families coming up the church aisle. We
must have one more sermon, two prayers
tn rec songs and one benediction. What
shall we preach to-nightl What shall we
readl What shall it be, childrenl Aged
men ana women, what shall 1t beg Young
men and maidens, what shall il bef If you
dared TO break the silence Of this auditory,
there would come up thousands Of quick
and jubilant voices, crying out: Let it be
Jesusn
Wc sing his birth--the barn that shell
tered him the mother that nursed him, the
cattle that fed beside him, the angels that
woke up the shepherds, shaking light over
the midnight hills. We sing his ministry
the tears he wiped away from the eyes of
the orphans: the lame men that forgot their
crutches; the damsel who from the bier
bounded out int the sunlight, her looks
shaking down over the flushed cheek; the
hungry thousands who broke the bread as
it blossomed into larger loaves-that mira
Gle by which boy with five loaves and two
fishes became the sutler for whole army.