Milford chronicle., 1889-12-13

or partition OF his hair; forehead plain, and
very delicate; his face without spot or wrin-
kle, a lovely red; his nose and mouth so
formed as nothing can be represented; his
beard thick, in color like his hair-not very
long; his eyes gray, quick and clear" He
must die. The French army in Italy found
a brass plate on which was a copy Of his
death warrant, signed by John Zerubbabel,
Raphael Robani, Daniel Robani and Capet
Sometimes men on the way to the scafFold
have been rescued by the mob. No such at
tempt was made in this case, for the mob
were against him. From Q In the morning
till in the afternoon, Jesus hung a-dying in
the outskirts Of this city Itwas a scene Of
blood We are so constituted that nothing
is so exciting as blood. It il not the child's
cry in the street that so arouses you as the
crimson dripping from its lip In the dark
hall, seeing the finger marks Of blood on the
plastering, you cry; "What terrible deed
has been done hereW Looking upon this sus-
pended victim of the cross we thrill with
the sight of blood-blood dripping from
thorn and nail, blood rushing upon his
cheek, blood saturating his garments, blood
gathered in pool beneath. 1t is called an
honor to have in ones veins the blood OF the
house of Stuart, or Of the house Of Haps-
burg. Is it nothing when point you to the
outpouring blood Of the king OF the uni.
verse,
In England thename Of Henry wasso great
that It's honors were divided among different
reigns. II was Henry the First, and Henry
the Second, and Henry the Third, and Henry
the Fourth, and Henry the Fifth. In France
the name of Louis was so favorably regarded
that it was Louis the First, Louis the Second,
Louis the Third, and so on. But the king
a
Christ the Last, and Christ the Only. He
reigned before the car mounted the throne
Of Russia, OF the throne of Austria was lifted,
King Eternal, Immortal Through the in
dulgences Of the royal family, the physical
life degenerates, and some Of the kings have
been almost imbecile, and their bodies weak,
and their blood thin and watery; but the
crimson life that flowed upon Calvary had in
it the health Of the immortal God.
THE DEATH ANDR EsURRECTION.
Tell it now to all the earth and to all the
heavens-Jesus our king, is sick with his last
sickness. Let couriers carry the swift dis
patch His pains are worse; he is breathing
a last groan; through his body quivers the
last anguish; the king is dying; the king is
deadl It is royal blood.
1t is said that some religionists make too
much of the humanity Of Christ. l respond
that we make too little. If some Roman
surgeon standing under the cross had caught
one drop of the blood on his hand and ana
lyzed it, it would have been found to have
the same plasma, the same disk, the same
ilbrin, the same Rlbumen. It was unmistak-
ably human blood. 1t is a man that hangs
there. His bones are Of the same material as
ours. His nerves are sensitive like ours. II
it were an angel being despOiled l would not
feel it so much, for it belongs to a different
order Of beings. But my Saviour is a man,
and my whole sympathy is aroused. l can
imagine how the spikes felt-how hot the
temples burned - what deathly sickness
seized his heart-how mountain aud city and
mob swan away from his dying vision
something of the meaning Of that cry for
help that makes the blood Of all the ages
curdle with horror, My GOdi my Godl
why hast thou forsaken meg
Forever with all these scenes of a Saviour's |
suffering will this city be associated. Here |
his unjust trial and here his death. o Jeru- |
salem, Jerusalemi
But finally, am thrilled with the fact that
this city is a symbol of heaven, which is only |
another Jerusalem The New Jerusalem!n |
And this thought has kindled the imagination
Of all the sacred poets. am glad that Hora- |
ti0 Bonar, the Scotch hymnist rummaged !
among old manuscripts Of the Britism museum |
until he found that hymn in ancient spelling, |
parts OF which We have in mutilated form In |
our modern hymn books, but the quaint
power Of which we do not get in our modern !
versions:
Hierusalem, my happy home!
When shall come TO theel
When shall my sorrowes have an end,
Thy Joys when shall sees
Noe dampish mist is scene In thee,
Noe cOlde nor darksome night;
There evere soulc shines as the sunne
There God himselfe gives light.
The walls are made Of pretous stones,
Thy bulwQrles damondes square;
Thy gates arc Of right orient pearle,
Exceedinge richie and rare,
Thy turrettes and thy pnnaeles
With carhuncles doe shine;
Thy verrie streets ara paved with gould,
Surpassinge cleare and fine.
Thy houses are of yvorie,
Thy windows crystal cleare,
Thy tyles made Of beaten gould,
. Cod that / were there
Our sweete is mkt with bitter gaule,
Our pleasure is but paine;
Our ioyes scarce last the lOOkeing on,
Our sorrOwes stille RENAME.
But there they live IN such delight,
Such pleasure and such play,
As that TO them thousand yeares
Doth seme as yesterday.
Thy gardens and thy gallant wakes
Continually are greene;
There grow such sweete and pleasant flowers |
AS nowhere else are scene
There trees foreyeTnore beare frnite,
And evermore doe syringe;
There evermore the angels Sit
And evermOre doe singe.
Hierisalcm! my happie home!
Would God were in theel
Would God my woes were at On end,
Thy oyes that might see.