The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1890-08-29

ID IT -
one round shout over your emancipa-
ton. You say you have it SO hard You
might have it worse. You wonder why
this great cold trouble keeps revolving
'shrough your soul, turning and turning,
with black hand on the crank. Alb,
that Is the grindstone on which you are
to sharpen your sickle. To the fieldsI
Wake up! Take of your green spec
tacles, your black spectacles. Pull up
the corners of your mouth as far as you
pull them down. Take to the fieldsl
Reap! reap!
Again, 1 remark, in grace, as in farm
ing, there is time for threshing. tell
you bluntly that is death. just as a
farmer beats the wheat out OF the straw,
so death beats the soul out of the body.
Every sickness Is stroke of the fail
and the sick bed is the thresbing floor.
What, say you, is death to good man
only taking the wheat out of the
straw? That is all. An aged man has
fallen asleep. Only yesterday you saw
him in the sunny porch playing with
his grandchildren. Calmly he received
the message to leave tails world. He
babe pleasant goodbye to his old
friends. Brush back the gray hairs
from his brow; it will never ache again.
Put him away in the siNmber of the
tomb. He will not be afraid of that
| night. Grandfather was never afraid OF
! any thing. He will rise in the morning
of the resurrection. Grandfather was
always the first to rise. His voice has
already mingled in the doxology Of
Heaven. Grandfather always did sing
in church. Any thing CHASTITY in that?
No. The threshing of the wheat out Of
the straw. That is all.
The Saviour folds lamb in His bosom.
The little child filed all the house with
her music, and her toys are scattered all
up and down the stairs just as she left
them. What il the hand that plucked
four-o' clocks out of the meadow is still?
1t will wave the eternal triumph. What
if the voice that made music in the
home is still? 1t will sing the eternal
hosanna. Put white rose in one hand
and red rose in the other hand and q
wreath of orange blossoms on the brow;
the white flower for the victory, the red
flower for the Saviour's sacrifice, the
orange blossoms for her marriage day.
Any thing CHASTITY about that? o, no.
The sun went down and the flower shut
The wheat threshed out of the straw
Dear Lord, give me Sleep" said dying
boy, the son of one of my elders. "Dear
Lord, give me sleep" And he closed
his eyes and awoke Ia glory. Henry
W. Longfellow, writing letter of con-
dolence to those parents, said: "Thoss
last words were beautifully poetic.
Dear Lord, give me Sleep"
Twas not in cruelty not In wrath
That the reaper came that day;
Twas an angel that visited the earth
.l And took the flower away. H
So it may be with US when our work
is all done. Dear Lord, give me
sleep"
l have one more thought to present
have spoken of the blowing, of the
sowing, of the narrowing, Of the reap
ing, of the threshing. I must now
speak moment of the garnering.
Where is the garner? Need I tell
you? o, no. So many have gone out
from your own circles-yea, from your
own family, that you have had your
eyes on that garner for many year
What a hard time some Of them hadl
In Gethsemanes of suffering, they Sweat
greatdrops of blood. They took the cup
of trembling" and they put it to their
hotlips and they cried: IF it be possible.
let this cup pass from me-" With
tongues of burning agony they cried:
80 Lord, deliver my SOUL" But they
got over it. They all got over it. Gar
nered! Their tears wiped away; their
battles all ended; their burdens lifted.
Garnered! The Lord of the harvest
will not allow those sheaves to perish
in the equinox. Garneredi Some of us
remember, on the farm, that the sheaves
were put on the top of the rack, which
surmounted the wagon, and these
sheayes were piled higher and higher,
and after awhile the horses started for
the barn; and these sheaves swayed to
and fro in the wind, and the old wagon |
creaked and the horses made a struggle
and pulled so hard the harness came up
in loops of leather on their back, and |
when the front wheel struck the ele- |
yated floor of the barn. it seemed as il
the load would go no farther until |
the workmen gave great shout, |
and then, with one last tremulous strain, |
the horses pulled in the load; then they |
were embarrassed, and forkful after |
forkful of grain fell into the NOW. O
my friends, our getting into Heaven |
may be a pull, hard pull, very hard
pull; but these sheaves are bound to go |
in The Lord of the harvest has |
promised it. i see the load at last COM
ing in the door of the Heavenly garnery. |
The sheaves of the Christian soul sway |
to and fro in the wind of death. and tbs |
old body breaks under the load, and as
the load strikes the floor Of the celestial |
garner, it seems as if it can go NO farther. |
1t is the last struggle, until the voices
of angels and the voices of our departed |
kindred and the welcoming voice of God |
shall send the harvest rolling into the |
eternal triumph. while all up and down
the sky the cry is heard Harvest
home! Harvest home!"
Cheap Jams and .yellies.
The retail prices of many jams and
jellieS on the market mast suggest the
fact to purchasers that they are made |
of spurious Ingredients What they
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