The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1888-01-26

bles, have made rough work with their ap-
parel, but mona have a better right te
come in. They were the first to hear the
music of that Christmas night. The
first announcement Of a Saviour's birth
was made to those men in the fialds.
There were wiseacres that night in
Bethlehem and Jerusalem snoring in deep
sleep, and there were salaried officers OF
government, who, hearing of it afterward,
may have thought that they ought to
have had the first news of such n great
event. Some one dismounting from a
swift camel at their door and knockin :
until at some entinel's question: "Who
comes there?" the great ones of the palace
might have been told of the ce,esti al
arrival. No; the shepherds heard the
first two bars of the music, the first in
minor: ''Glory be to God in the highest,
and on earth peace, good will TO men,"
All, yes; the fields were honored. The
old shepherds with plaid and crook have
for the most part wants he'd, but we have
grazing-our United States pasture fields
and prairies contain about forty FIVE mill
ion Sheppard all their keepers ought to
follow the shepherds of my text, and oil
those who toll in fislds, and all vine
dressers, all orchardists, all hus bandmen.
Not only that Christmas night, but all up
and down the worlds history Col has
been honoring the folds. Nearly all the
messiahs Of reform, ami literature, and
and law, and benevolence,
have come from thu fields. Washington
from the fields. Jefferson from the
fields. The presidential martyrs, Garfield
and Lincoln, from the fields. Henry Clay
from the fields. Daniel Webster from the
fields. Martin Luther from the fields.
And before this world is right the
overlooking populations of our crowded
cities will have to take to the fields. In.
stead of ten merchants in rivalry as tc
who shall sell kat one apple, we want at
least eight of them to go out and raise
apples. Instead Of ten merchants desiring
to sell that one bushel of wheat, we want
at least eight of them to go out and raise
wheat. The world wants now more hard
hands, more bronzed cheeks, more mus.
cular arms. To the fields! God honored
them when he woke up the shepherds by
the midnight anthem, and he will, W lille
the world lasts, continue to honor the
fields. When the shepherds crook was
that famous night stood ag ainst the W all
of the Bethlehem kahn, it was a prophecy
of the time when thresher's fail, and
pow, and woodman's axe, and
ox's yoke, and sheaf-binder's rake shall
surrender to the God who made the coun-
try as man made the town.
Behold also that on that Christina,
night God honored motherhood Two
angels on their wings might have brouy ht
an infant Saviour to Bethlehem without
Mary's being there at all. When the vii
layers on the morning of December 25
awoke, by Divine arrangement and in
some unexplained way, the child, Jesus,
might have been found in some comfort.
able cradle of the village. But no, no!
Motherhood for all time was to be con.
'ecrated, and one of the tenderest rela-
tons was to be the maternal relation. and
one OF the sweetest words 'motter." In
Ill ages God has honored good mother
hood. John Wesley had good
mother; St. Bernard had a good
mother; Samuel Budgett good
mother; Doddridge good mother; Wal
er Scott good mother; Benjamin West
good mother. In great aud renee. most
u whom were Christians, asked that all
hose who had been blessed of Christian
mothers arise, and almost the entire as.
'embly stood up. Don't you see how i'm.
'ortant it is that all motherhood be con.
eerated? Why did Titan, the Italian
Irtist, when he sketched the Madonna.
make it an italian face? Why did Ru.
,ens. the German artist in his Madonna.
make it German face? Why did Joshua
reynolds, the English artist, in his Ma.
lonna, make it an English face? Why did
iurillo, the Spanish artist, in his Ma
lonna, make it Spanish face? never
leard, but / think they took
heir own mothers as the type
t Mary, the mother of Christ,
When you hear some one in sermon or
ration speak in the abstract of a coed.
aithful, honest mother, your eyes fill up
With tears, while you say to yourself, |
hat was my mother. The first word a
hid utters is apt to be mother, - and |
he old man in his dying dream calls.
Mother! motherw It matters not |
whether she was brought up in the sur
oundlngs of city, and in affiuent home, |
hd was dressed appropriately with ref |
renee to the demands of modern life, OF |
neither she wore the old time cap, |
nd great round spectacles, and apron of !
er own make, and knit your socks with |
er own needles, seated by the broad fire.
lace, with great backlog ablaze on a
inter night. 1t matters not how MANY
'rfnkles crossed and recrossed her face.
how much her shoulders stopped with |
ne burdens of long life, if you painted
Madonna hers would be the face. What
gentle hand she had when we were sick.
nd what voice to soothe pain, and was
here any one who could SO fill ND a
pom with peace, and purity, and
ght! And what a sad day that was
hen we came home and she could greet
not, for her lips were forever still.
ONE back. mother, this Christmas day,
nd take your old place, and as ten, or
venty, or fifty years ago, como aud
pen the old Bible you used to read,
nd kneel in the same place where you
sed to pray. and look upon us
Of old when you wished us a merry
hristmas or happy New Year. But no!
hat would not be fair toll call you
ack. You had troubles enough, and
hes enough. and bereavements
lough while you were here
arry by the throne, mother, till we
in you there, your prayers all answered,
I'd in the eternal homestead of our God
shall again keep Christmas jubilee to.
'ther. But speak from your thrones, all