The Bolivar bulletin. (Bolivar, Tenn.) 1888-1946, 1891-12-18

mists travel up hill, above hill, mountain
above emountain, until slxy-lost The
forests are full of chirp. and buzz. and
song. Trees leaf and birds wing fut-
ter with gladness- Honeymalxers in the
log, and bea< against the bark. and
squirrels chattering on the rail, and the
call of the hawk out of a clear sky,
make you feel glad. The sun, which
kindles CONGREGATIONS among the cat
ties of cloud. and sets minaret and
dome afame, stoops to paint the lily
white. and the buttercup yellow, and
the for-get-me-not blue. What can re-
sist the sun? Light for the voyager
over the deepi Light for the shepherd
guarding the flocks afieldl Light for the
poor who have no lamps to burnt Light
for the downcast and the lowlyl Light
for aching eyes, and burning brain
and wasted captivel Light for the
smooth brow of childhood, and for the
for queens coronet, and for sew
ing girls needlel Let there be
light! Whose morning is this? My
morning. Your morning. Our Fa-
Their gave us the picture and
hung it on the sky in loops of fire. 1t
is the heirloom of our family. And so
the night 1t is the full moon. The
mists from shore to shore CLEAN like
shattered mirrors; and the ocean, under
her glance, comes up with great tides,
painting upon the beach; mingling as it
were, foam and fire. The poor man
blesses God for throwing such cheap
| light through the broken window pane
into his cabin, and to the sick it seems
light from the other shore which
| bounds this great deep human pain and
woe. If the sun seem like a song full
and poured from brazen instruments
that fill Heaven and earth with great
harmonies, the moon is plaintive and
| mild. standing beneath the throne of
God, sending up her soft, sweet voice of
| praise, while the stars listen, and the
sea. No mother ever more sweetly
guarded the sick cradle than all night
long this pale watcher of the sky bends
over the weary heart-sicl1, slumbering
earth. Whose is the blaclx-framed,
blacl1-tasseled picture of the night? 1t
I, is the heirloom of our family. Ours.
the grandeur of spring. the crystals of
the snow, the coral of the beach, the
odors of the garden, the harmonies of
the air.
You can not see large estate in one
morning. You must take several walks
around it. The family property of this
Royal House of Jesus is so great that
we must take several walks to get any
idea of its extent. All these valleys,
the harvests that wave in them, and
the cattle that pasture them-all these
mountains, and the precious things hid
den beneath them, and the crown of
glacier they cast at the feet of the AL
pine hurricane-all these lakes, these
islands, these continents, are ours. In
the second walk, go among the street
lamps of Heaven, and see stretching off
ON every side wilderness of worlds.
For us they shine. For us they sang at
Saviour's nativity. For us they will
wheel into line, and with their flaming
torches add to splendor of our tri-
umph on the day for which all other
days were made. In the third walk,
go around the Eternal city. AS we
come near it, bark to the rush of its
chariots and the wedding-peal of its
great towers. The bell of Heaven has
struck twelve. 1t is high noon. We
look off upon the chaplets which never
fade, the eyes that never weep, the
temples that never close, the loved ones
that never part, the procession that
never halts, the trees that never wither,
the walls that never can be captured,
the sun that never sets, until we can
no longer gaze, and we hide our eyes
l. l.
ear heard, neither have entered into
the heart of man, the things which God
lath prepared for them that love HIM.
As these tides of glory rise, we have to
retreat, and hold fast lest we be swept
off and drowned in the emotions of
gladness. and thanksgiving and tri-
umph.
What think you of the family prop
erty? 1t is considered an'honor 10 marry
into family where there is great
wealth. The Lord, the bridegroom of
Garth and Heaven, offers you His heart
and His hand, saying, in the words of
the Canticles: Rise up, my love, my
fair one, and come away" and once
having put on thy hand the signet-ring
of His love, you will be endowed with
all the wealth of earth, and all the
honors of Heaven.
Almost every family looks back to
homestead-scme country place where
you grew up. You sat on the door-sill.
You heard the footstep of the rain on
the garret-roof. You swung on the
gate. You ransacked the barn. You
waded into the brook. You threshed
the orchard for apples, and the neigh
boring wood for nuts; and everything
around the old homestead is of interest
to you. / tell you of the old home
stead of eternity. In my Fathers house
are many mansions. When we talk of
mansions, we think of Chatsworth, and
its park, nine miles in circumference,
and its conservatory, that astonishes
the world; its galleries OF art, that con-
tain the triumphs of Chantrey, Canova
and Thorwaldsen; of the kings and
queens who had walked it's stately
halls, or, flying over the heather, have
hunted the grouse. But all the dwell
ing-places of dukes, and princes, and
queens are as nothing to the family
mansion that is already awaiting our
arrival The hand of the Lord Jesus
lifted the pillars and swung the doors,
and planted the parks. Angels were
there, and the good of all ages. The
poorest man in that house is a million
tamest word he speaks is an anthem,
and the shortest life an eternity.
1t took Paxton to build for Chats