The Russellville Democrat., 1890-01-09

Egypt like one of its plaques, and up through Russia like one of it's own icy blasts. Wonder is the grave trench nn- der the shadow of Sebastopcl There are the ruins of Delhi and Allahabad, and wonder are the inhuman Sepoys and the brave regiments under Havelock avenging the insulted flag of Britain; while cut right through the heart of my native land is trench in which there lie one million Northern and Southern dead.
 Oh, the tearsl Oh, the blood! Oh, the long marchesl Oh, the hospital woundsl Oh, the martyrdoml Oh, the deathl But brighter than the light which flashed on all these swords and shields and mus ketry is the light that fell on Bethle- hem, and louder than the bray of the trumpets, and the neighing of the chargers, and the crash of the walls, and the grooming of the dying armies, is the song that unrolls this moment from the sky, sweet as though all the bells of Heaven rung jubilee: Peace on earth, good will toward men" Oh, when will the day come-God hasten itl when the swords shall be turned into blow shares, and the fortresses shall be remodeled into churches, and the men of blood battling for renown shall be- come good soldiers of Jesus Christ, and the cannon now striking down whole columns of death shall thunder the vic tories of the truth?
 When we think of the whole world saved we are apt to think of the few people that now inhabit it. Only very few, compared with the population to come. And what a small part culti- vated. Do you know it has been au- chemically estimated that three-fourths of Europe is yet all barrenness, and that nine hundred and ninety-one-one- thonsandth part of the entire globe is uncultivated? This is all to be culti- vated, all inhabited and all gospelized. Oh, what tears of repentance when nations begin to weep! Oh, what sup plications when continents begin to prayi Oh, what rejoicing when hemis- pheres begin to sing! Churches will worship on the places where this very hour smokes the blood of human sac rifce, and wandering through the snake infested jungles of Africa Christ's heel win bruise tho serpent's head. Oh, when the trumpet of salvation shall be sounded everywhere and the nations are redeemed, light will fall upon every town brighter than that which fell upon Bethlehem, and more overwhelming than tke song which fell on the pasture fields waere the focks fed, there will be song louder than the storm-lifted oceans: ''Glory to God in the highest" and from all nations and kindred and people and tongues will come the re- sponse: And on earth peace, good will toward menr' On this Christmas eve I bring you good tidings of great joy. Pardon for all sin, comfort for all trouble and life for the dead. Shall we now take this Christ into our hearts? The time is passing, This is the clos ing of the year. How the time speeds by. Put your hand on your heart--one, two, three. Three times less it will beat. Life is passing like gazelles over the plain. Sorrows hover like petrels over tho sea. Death swoops like vult-
 
 up to our ears like waves. Heavenly songs fall to us like stars.
 l wish you merry Christmas, not with worldly dissipation, but merry with Gospel gladness, merry with par doned sin, merry with hope of reunion in the skies with all your loved ones who have preceded you. In that grand est and best sense merry Christmas.
 And God grant that in our final mo ment we may have as bright vision as did the dying girl when she said: "Mother, ,"-pointing with her thin white hand through the window
 "Mother, what is that beautiful land out wonder beyond the mountains, the high mountains?"
 "Oh," said the mother, "my darling, there are no mountains within sight of our home"
 "Oh, yes," she said, don't you see them-that beautiful land beyond the mountains out there, just beyond the high mountains?"
 The mother looked down into the face of her dying child and said: My dear, I think that must be Heaven that you see."
 "Well, thon," she said, father, you come. and with your strong arms carry me over those mountains into that beautiful land beyond the high mount ains."
 "No," said the weeping father, ''my darling, I can't go with you"
 Well" she said, clapping her hands, never mind, never. mind; see yonder now, in his strong arms to carry me over the mountains to the beautiful land over the noun tains, over the high mou ntainsw