The Bottineau pioneer. (Bottineau, N.D.) 1885-1895, 1889-09-26

lad, and he stopped and said: "My boy, do
you know how to read and writer" The boy
made no answer. The man asked the ques.
write7'' and then the boy answered with a
tear plashing on the back Of his hand. He
said in defiance: mo, sir; I can't read nor
write neither. God, sir, don't want me to
read and write. Didn't he take away my
father SO long ago l never remember to have
seen himf and haven't l had to go along the
street to get something to fetch home to eat
for the folks? and didn't !, as soon as l could
carry q basket, have to go out and pick mp
cinders, and never have no schooling, sir!
God don't want me to read, sir. l can't
read nor write neither?'' Oh, these poor
wanderersl They have no chance. Born in
degradation, as they get up from their hands
and knees to walk, they take their first step
on the &c ad to despair. Let us 60 forthin the
name otthe Lord Jesus Christ to rescue them.
If you are willing to go forth yourself then
give OF your means; and If you ore too lazy
to go, and IT you are stingy to help. then
get out Of the way. and hide yourself il the
dens N caves of the earth, lest, when Christs
trample you into the mire. Beware lest the
thousands of the destitute Of your city, in
the last great day, rise up and curse your
neglect. One cold winters day aaa Christian
man was going along the battery in New
York he saw a little girl seated at the gate,
en!VerihS III Inc coio. ne said 10 nor: my
child. what do you sit there for, this cold
day?' ooh" she replied, ~ nm waiting-I
am waiting for somebody to come and take
care of ne. ""Why," said the man, "what
makes you think anybody will come and take
care Of your" "Oh," she said, 'my mother
died last week andI was crying very much,
and she said: Don't cry, my dear; though
will send somebody to take care of you.' My
mother told q lie; she said some one would
come and take care of me, I am waiting for
them to come." Oh, yes, they are waiting
for you. Men of great hearts, gather them
in. 1t is not the will of your heavenly father
that one of these little ones should perish.
Lastly, the street impresses me with the
fact that all the people are looking forward.
l see expectancy written on almost every
lace I meet between here and Brooklyn bridge,
or walking the whole length of Broadway.
Where you find a thousand people walking
straight on, you only find one man stopping
and looking back. The fact is, God made us
In this tramp of the multitude on the streets
l hear the tramp Of great host, marching
and marching for eternity. Beyond the Of.
flee, the store, the shop, the street, there ia
o world populous and tremendous. Through
Gods grace may you reach that blessed place.
A great throng fills those boulevards and the
streets are a-rush with the ch ariots of con-
4AOAoAos IL AAAUOAl1ut6 ~ uP Ulu OOWA,
but they never weep and they never toll. A
river flows through that city with rounded
and luxuriant banks, and trees of lite, laden
with everlasting fruitage, bend their branches
to dip the crystal. No plumed hearse rattles
over the pavement, for they are never sick.
With immortal health glowing in every vein
they know not how to die Those towers Of
strength, those palaces Of beauty, CLEAN in
the light of the sun that never sets. Oh,
heaven, beautiful heavenl Heaven, where
our friends are. They take no census in that
city, for it is inhabited by "a multitude which
no man can number" Rank above rank.
Host above host. Gallery above gallery,
sweeping all around the heavens. Thousands
of thousands. Millions of millions. Blessed
are they who enter in through the gate Of
that city. Oh, start for it today. Through
the blood Of the great sacrifice of tho Son 81
God take up your march to heaven. "The
spirit and the bride say come, and whose
ever will let him come and take of tho water
OF life freely" Join this great throng march
ing heavenward. All the doors of invitation
are open. "And l saw twelve gates and
there were twelve pearls"