The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1890-02-13

mounted hh6 throne OF &8SSl3, OF b1S
throne Of Austria was lifted, king,
eternal. immortal" Through the in
diligence of the royal family the phys
ical 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 immortal God.
Tell it now to all the earth and to all
the heaVens-Jesus, our King, is sick
with His last sickness. Let couriers car
ry the swift dispatch. His pains are
worse; He is breathing last groan; the
King is dying; the King is deadI 1t is
royal blood. It is said that some re-
ligionists make too much of the human
ity 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
analysed it, it would have been found to
have the same plasma, the same disk,
the same fbrin, the same albumen. 1t
was Enthusiastically human blood. 1t
is a man that hangs there. His
bones are of the same material
as ours His nerves are sensitive
like ours. If it were an angel be-
ing despoi1ed I would not feel it so much,
for it belongs to different order of be-
ings. But my Saviour is man, and my
whole sympathy is aroused. I can
imagine how the spikes felt-how hot
the temples burned-what deathly sick
ness seized the heart-how mountains,
and city, and mob swan away from His
dying yision-something of the mean
ing of that cry for help that makes the
blood of all ages curdle with horror:
MY God! nay God! why hast thou for
saken me?" Forever with all these
scenes of q Saviour's suffering will this
city be associated. Here Hisunjust trial
and here His death. o, Jerusalem, Jeru-
Salient
But finally am thrilled with the fact
that this city is symbol of Heaven
which is only another Jerusalem. '.The
New Jerusalem!' And this thought has
kindled the Imagination of all the sacred
poets. l am glad Horatio Bonar, the
Scotch hymnist, rummags1 among old
manuscripts of the British Museum un-
til he found that hymn in ancient SPELL
ing, parts of which we have in muti1at-
ed form in our modern hymn books, but
the quaint power of which we do not
get in our modern versions:
Hierusalem, my happy homel
When shall come to thee?
When shall my sorrows have an end?
Thy joyes when shall l see%
Noe dampish mist is seen in thee,
Noe colde nor darksome night;
There everie soule shines as the sunne,
There God himselfe gives light.
The walls are made of precious stones,
Thy bulwarks DIAMONDS square;
Thy gates are of right Srient pearle,
Exceeding richie and rare.
Thy turrettes and thy pinnacles
With carbuncles doe shine;
Thy verrie streets are paved with gould,
Surpassinge cleare and fine.
Thy houses are of yvorie,
Thy windows crystal cleare;
Thy tyles are made of beaten gould,
0, God! that were there.
Our sweete is MKT with bitter gaule,
Our pleasure is but paine;
Our joyes scarce last the lookeing on,
Our sorrows stille rename
But there they lived in such delight,
Such pleasure and such play,
As that to them a thousand years
Doth seem as yesterday.
Thy garden and thy gallant wakes
Continually are greene;
There grow such sweets and pleasant
flowers
As nowhere else are scene.
There trees for eVermore beare fruite
And evermore doe syringe;
There evermore the angels sit,
And evermore doe SINCE.
Heru al IN my happy home!
WOI Id iod were in theel
Would GOD my woes were at an end,
Thy ioyes that might see.