The morning news., 1889-02-18

words and wavs and habits. Forgive
ness. Word of eleven letters, and some
Of them thrones, and some Of them
palm branches. Better have Christ write
close TO our names that one word, though
he write it In dust, than to have our name
cut into monumental granite with the
letters that the storms of a thousand years
can not obliterate. Bishop Babington had
a book Of only three leaves. The first leaf
WAS black, the second leaf red, the third
leaf white The black leaf suggested sin;
the red leaf atonement; the white leaf
publication. That is the whole story.
God will abundantly pardon.
l must not forget to say that as Christ,
STOPPING down, with his finger wrote on the
ground it is evident that his sympathles
are with this penitent woman, and that he
has no sympathy with her hypocritica' pur-
suers. Just opposite to that is the worlds
habit. Why didn't these unclean Paarlsees
bring one of their own number to Christ for
excGriation and capital punishment? No,
no; they overlook that in man which
they damnate in woman. And
so the world has had for Of
Tending women scourges and objur-
cation, aud for jusJ one offense she
becomes an outcast, while for men whose
lives have been sadouic for twenty years,
the world swings open its doors of brilliant
welcome, aud they may sit IN legislatures,
aUd senates and parliaments or on thrones.
Unlike the Christ Of my text, the world
writes mans misdemeanOr in dust, but
chises woman Otfense with great capitals
upon ineffacable marble. For for
egn lords and princes, whose names
cannot even be mentioned in respect
able circles abroad because they are
walking lazarettos of abomination, or
American princesses of fortune wait, and at
the fist beck sail out with them into the
blackness of darkness forever. And in wha5
are called higher circles OF society there IS
now not only the imitation Of foreign dress
and foreign manners, but an imitation Of
foreign dissoluteuesS. | like an Enlglshman
and like an American, but the slckest crea-
ture on earth is an American playing the
Englishman. Society needs to be re-
constructed on this subject Treat them
alike, masculine crime and feminine crime.
If YOU cut the one in granite, cut them both
in granite. If you write the one in dust,
write the other in dust. No, no, says the
world, let woman 20 down and let man go
up. WHAT'S that hear plashing into theEast
river at midnight, and then there is CUR
gle as of strangulation, and all Is still.
Never mind. 1t is only woman too dis
cguraged to live. Let the mills of the cruel
world grind right on.
But while speak of Christ Of the text,
not think ! underrate the literature of the
dust. 1t is the most solemn and tremendous
Of all literature. II is the greatest of all
libraries When Layard exhumed Nineveh
he was only opening the door of its mighty
dust. The excavations of Pompeii have
only been the unclasping of tho lids of a
volume of nations dust. When
Admiral Farragut and his friends,
few years ago, visited that
bouSa of
Balbo, who had been one of its chief citizens
in its prosperous days, was opened and a
table was spread in that house which
eighteen hundred and ten years has been
buried by volcanic eruption, and Farragut
and his guests walked over the exquisite
mosacs and under the beautiful frescO, and
it almost seemed like being entertained by
those who eighteen centuries ago had
turned to dust Oh, this mighty literature
of the dust Where are the remains of
Sennacherib aud Attila and Epami-
nondas and Tamerlane and Trojan
and Philip of Macedon and Julius Caesar
Dust Where are the heroes who fought
on both sides at ChHronea, at Hastings, at
Marathon, at Cressy, of the 10000 men
who fought at Agucourt, Of the 250,O00
men who faced death at Jena, of the 4U0,-
900 whose armor glttered il the sun at
Wagram, Of the 1,000 010 men under Darius
uh al ltttldg u ill' ~,Otl .bOV hItli 1uubI
Xerxe} al ThermopylRs Dustl
Where are the guests who danced the
flo rs of the Alhambra. or the Persian pal
aces Of Ahasuerusi Dust Where are the
musicians who played and the orators who
spoke, and the sculptorS who ChiSeled and
the architects who built in all the centuries
except our ownl Dust TIE greatest Ii
brary Of the world, that which has the
widest shelves aud the longest aisles and
the most multitudinous volumes and
the vastest wealth, is the under
library, the continental library, the
hemisphere library, the planetary
library, the library Of the dust. And all
these library cases will be opened, and all
these scrolls unrollel and all these volumes
unclasped and as easily as in your library
or mine we take up a book, blow the dust
off of it, and turn over its pages, 50 easily
viii the Lord # the Resurrection pick up
out of this library of dust every volume Of
human life and open it and read it and dis
play it. And the volume will be re-
of the Kings palace, 'or in the prison
library OF the self destroyed. Oh, this
mighty literature of the dust! 1t is not so
wonderful after all that Christ chose, in-
stead of anlnkstand, the impassionable sand
on the floor of an ancient temple, and, in-
stead Of a hard pen, put forth his forefinger
with the same kind of nerve, and muscle,
and bone, and flesh. as that which makes
up our own forehpger, and wrote the awful
doom Of hypocrisy and full and complete
forgiveness for repentant sinners, even the
" orSt.
And now | can believe that which read
how that mother kept burning a candle
in the window every night for ten years,
and one night very late poor waif of the
street entered. The aged woman said to
her, sit down 10y the fire. and the
stranger said: "Why do you keep that
light il the Window The aged woman
said That is to light my wayward
daughter when she returns. Since she
turned white. Folks blame me for
mother, and sometimes, half a dozen times
a night, | open tie door and look out into
the darkness and cry, 'Lizzior Lizzie =
But | must not tell you any more about my
trouble, for l guess, from the way you cry,
you have trouble enough Of your own
Why, how cold and sick you se e,ml On,
my can it bef Yes, you are Lizzie, my
own lost child. Thank God that you are
home agauh And what "A time of rejoicing
there was in that house that night And
Christ again stopped down, AID IN the
asno- Of that hearth, now lighted up not
more by the great blazing logs than by the
JOY of reu Ilted household wrote the
sa ne lberajing words that he had written
more than eighteen huudred years ago in
the dust of the Jerusalem temple. For
giveness! A word broad enough and high