The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1889-07-11

have been q better woman ever SlnCo' AZ
the jar of the closing gate Of the sepuleher
you heard the changing of the opening
gate of Heaven, and you felt an lrreslstl-
BILE drawing heavenward. You have been
purer of mind ever since that night when
the little one for the last time put its arms
around your neck and said: "Good
night papa; good night, mamma
Meet me in Heaven" But I must
come on down to your latest sor-
row. What was it? Perhaps it was
your own sickness. The child's
tread on the stair, or the tick of the watch
on the stand disturbed you. Through the
long weary days you counted the figures
in the carpet or the flowers in the wall
paper. Oh, the WEAKNESS, the exhaustionl
Oh, the burning pangs! Would God it
were morning, would God it were night,
were your frequent cry. But you are bet
ter, or perhaps evon well. Have you
thanked that God to-day that you came
out in the fresh air; that you are in this
place to hear Gods name, and to sing
Gods praise, and implore Gods help, and
to ask Gods forgiveness? Bless the Lord
who healeth all our diseases, and redeem
eth our lives from destruction.
Perhaps your last sorrow was fnan-
cial embarrassment. congratulate some
of you on your lucrative profession or oc-
cupation, on ornate apparel, on a commo-
dious residence-every thing you put your
hands to seems to turn to gold. But there
are others of you who are like the ship on
which Paul sailed, where two seas met,
and you are broken by the violence of the
waves. By an unadvised Endorsement or
by a conjunction of unforeseen events, or
by fire, or storm, cor a senseless panic,
you have been flung headlong, and where
you once dispensed great charities, now
you have hard work to make the two ends
meet. Have you forgotten to thank God
for your days of prosperity, and that
through your trials some of you have
made investments which will continue
after the last bank of this world has ex-
ploded. and the silver and gold are molten
in the fires of burning world
Have you, amid all yo1r losses and dis
couragements, forgot that there was
bread on your table this morning, and
that there shall be a shelter for your head
from the storm, and there is air for your
lungs, and blood for your heart, and light
for your eye, and a glad and glorious and
triumphant religion for your soul? Per-
haps your last trouble was a bereave-
ment. The heart which in childhood was
your refuge, the parental heart, and
which has been a source of the quickest
sympathy ever since, has suddenly be-
come silent forever, and now sometimes,
whenever in sudden annoyance and with
out elaboration you say: 81 will go and
tell mother" the thought flashes on you,
81 have no mother;" or the father, with
voice less tender, but as stanch and earn
est and loving as ever, watchful of all our
ways, exultant over our success without
saying much, although the old people dc
| talk it over by themselves, his trembling
hand on that staff which you now keep as
family relic, his memory embalmed in
| grateful hearts, is taken away forever.
Or, there was your companion in life,
sharer of your joys and sorrows, taken,
! leaving the heart an old ruin, where the
| chill winds blow over a wide wilderness
of desolation, the sands Of the desert
| driving across the place which once
bloomed like the garden of God. And
| Abraham mourns for Sarah at the Cave
of Machpelah. Going along your path in
| life, suddenly, right before you, was an
open grave. People looked down, and
| they saw it was only few feet deep and
! few feet wide, but to you it was cavern
down which went all your hopes and
all your expectations. But cheer up in
the name Of the Lord Jesus Christ, the
comforter. He is not going to forsake
you. Did the Lord take the child out of
your arms? Why, He is going to shelter
| it better than you could. He is going to
array it in white robe, and with palm
branch it will be all ready to greet you at
your coming home. Blessed the broken
heart that Jesus heals. Blessed the i'm
| Fortunate cry that Jesus compassionates.
Blessed the weeping eye from which the
soft hand of Jesus wipes away the tear.
was sailing down the st. John river,
Canada, which is the Rhine and the Hud-
son commingled in one scene of beauty
and grandeur, and while was on the deck
of the steamer a gentleman pointed out
to me the places of interest and he said:
"All this is interval land, and it is the
richest land in all the provinces of New
Brunswick and Nova Scotia" ''What,"
said l. "do you mean by erval land?''
"Well," he said, &c land is
submerged for q part N the year;
spring freshets come down, and all these
plains are overfowed with the water,
and the water leaves a rich de-
posit, and when the waters are gone the
harvest springs up, and there is the grand
est harvest That was ever reaped." And
instantly thoughts: cit is not the heights
of the church, and it is not the@heights of
this world that is the scene of the greatest
prosperity. but the soul over which the
foods of sorrow have gone. the soul over
which the freshets of tribulation have
torn their way, that yields the greatest
fruits of righteousness, and the largest
harvest for time. and the richest harvest
for eternity" Bless God that your soul
is interval land.
But these "reminiscences reach only to
this morning. There will vet be one
more point of tremendous "Reminiscences,
and that is the last hour of life, when we
have to look over all our past existence.
What a moment that will bel I place
Napoleon's dying "reminiscences on st.
Helena beside Mrs. Judson's dying rem.
iniscence in the harbor of st. Helena,
the same island, twenty years after. Ma
poleon's dying "reminiscences was one of
delirium, "Head of the army" Mrs.
Judson's dying Renaissance, as she
came home from her missionary toll and
her life of self-sacrifce for God, dying in
the cabin of the ship in the harbor of st.
Helena, was: 81 always did love che Lord
Jesus Christ" And then, the historian
says, she fell into a sound sleep for an