Connecticut western news., 1890-07-23

ness ana glory you are cOmnE,, to WnaC life, to what riches, to what royalty. Hearers, pleased to fascination with this world, gather up your souls for one appreciative look upon riches that never fly away, upon health that never upon scepters that never break, upon expectations that are never disappointed. Look in and see if there are not enough crowns to pay us for all our battles, enough rest to relieve all our fatigues, enough living fountains to quench all our thirst, enough glory to dash out for ever and ever all earth's signing and restlessness and darkness. Battles ended, tears wiped away, thorns plucked from the bosoms, stabs healed, the tomb riven- what scene to look upon!
 WE MAY ENTER HEAVEN THROUGH IT.
 Again, the door of heaven stands open for the Christians final entrance. Death to the righteous is not climbing high walls or fording deep rivers, but it Is entering an open door. If you ever visit the old homestead where you were born, and while father and mother are yet alive, as you go up the lane in front of the farm house, and put your hand on the door and lift the latch, do you shudder with fear? No, you are glad to enter. So your last sickness will be only the lane in front of your Fathers house, from which you hear the voice of singing before you reach the door, And death, that is the lifting of the latch before you enter, the greetings and embraces of the innumerable family of the righteous. Nay, there is no latch, for John says the door is already open. What a company of spirits have already entered those portals, bright and shin ing. Souls released from the earthly prison house, how they shouted as they went through Spirits that sped up from the flames of martyrdom, making heaven richer as they went in, pouring their notes into the celestial harmony.
 And that door has not begun to shut. If redeemed by grace we all shall enter it. This side of it we have wept, but on the other side of 1t we shall never weep. On this side we may have grown sick with weariness, but on the other side of it we shall be without fatigue. On this side we bleed with the war rior's wounds, on the other side we shall have the victor's palm. When you think of dying what makes your brow contract, what makes you breathe so deep and sigh9 What makes you gloomy in passing grave yard2 Fol lower of Christ, you have been think ing that death is something terrible, the measuring of lances with a power full antagonist, the closing in of a con flict which may be your everlasting de- feat. You do not want much to think of dying. The step beyond this life seems so mysterious you dread the talk ing of it. Why, who taught you this lesson of horrors2 Heavens door is wide open, and you step out of your sick room into those portals.
 Not as long as minute will elapse . between your departure and your ar rival there Not half so long as the twinkling of an eye. Not the millionth part of an instant. There is no stum- bling into darkness. There is no plung- ing down into mysterious depths. The door is open. This instant you are here, the next you are there. When a vessel struck the rocks of the French coast while the crew were clambering up the beach cage of birds in the ships cabin, awakened, began to sing most sweetly, and when the last man left the vessel they were singing yet. Even so in the last hour of our dissolu- ton, when driven on the coast of the other world, may our disembarkation from this rough, tossing life be amid the eternal singing of a thousand prom ises of deiverance and victory!
 NO RELIEVING ONE WILL BE TURNED
 AWAY.
 For all repenting and believing souls the door of heaven is now wide open, the door of mercy, the door of comfort, fest, for the outlaw as we'll as for the moralist, for Chinese coolie as well as his emperor, for the Russian -boor as we'll as the czar, for the Turk as well as the sultan Richer than all wealth, more refreshing than all fountains, deeper than all depths, higher than all heights and broader than all breadths is the salvation of Jesus Christ which I press upon your consideration. Come, all ye travellers of the desert, under these palm trees. Oh, if could gather before you that tremendous future upon which you are invited to enter-domin- ions and municipalities, day without night. martyrs under the throne, and the efour.and-twenty elders falling before it, stretching off in great distances the hundred and forty and four thou sand, and thousands of thousands, host beside host. rank beyond rank, in infinite distance; nations of the saved beyond nations of the saved, until an gelic visions cease to catch anything more than the faint outline of whole empires yet outstretching beyond the capacity of any vision save the eye ot God Almighty. Then, after I had fin ished the sketch, would like to ask you if that place is not grand enough and high enough and if anything could be added, any purity to the whitenesi of the robes, any power to the ac claiming thunders of it's worship. An6 all that may be yours.
 Unconsecrated Ground.
 When Moliere died in Paris in 1873 the rchbishop obstinately refused per