The Pickens sentinel. [volume] (Pickens, S.C.) 1871-1903, 1891-07-16

the time of Job, eff you cannot under
stand one drop Of rain, do no be SUP
prlsed if my dealings with you are mex
plicable." Why does that aged man,
dccrepit, beggarcd, vicious, sick of the
World and the world sick of him, live on,
while here is man in mid life, consecra-
ted to God, hard working, useful in
every respect, who dies? Why does that
OLD gossip, gadding along the street
about everybody's business but her own.
have such good health, while the Chris
tan mother, with flock # little ones
about her whom she is preparing for
usefulness and tor hcavcn--thc mother
who you think could not be spared an
hour from that houschnld--why does
She lie down and die with cancer:
Why docs that man, selfish to the
core, 90 OH adding fortune to fortune,
consuming everything on himself, con-
tlnue to prospper. while that man. who
mas been giving ten per cent, OF all his
income TO God and the church, GOES INTO
bankruptcy? Before VIC make stark
tools OF ourselves, let us stop pressing
this everlasting "why." Let us worship
where VIC cannot understand. Let Il
man take that one question, ''Why:"
and follow it far enough, and push it, and
he will land in wretchcdncss and pcrdi-
tion. We want in our theology fewer
Interrogation marks and more eXclama-
ton points. Heaven Is the place for
explanation. Earth is the place for
trust. If you cannot understand SO
minute thing as ralndrOp. how can
you expect TO understand Gods deal
ings? "IIath the rain father"
Again. my text makes me think that
the rain of tears is OF divine origin.
Great clouds of trouble sometimes hover
over us. They are black, and they are
gOrRed. and they are thunderous. They
are more portentous than Salvador or
Claude ever painted--clouds of poverty,
or persecution, or bereavement. They
hover over us, and they get darker and
blacl1er, and after awhile a tear starts,
and we think by an extra pressure of
the eyelid TO stop it. Others follow,
and after awhile there is a shower of
fearful emotion. Yea, there is rain
of tears. "IIath that rain a father"
GOD SEES OUR TEARS
"Oh," you say, ga tear is nothing but
drop OF limpid fluid secreted b! the
lachrymal gland-it is only d sign OF
weak eyes" Great mistake. 1t is one
of the Lords richest benedictions to
the world. There are people in Black
wells Island insane asylum, and at
Utica, and at all the asylums of this
land, who were dementel by the fact
that they could not cry at the right
time. Said a maniac in one of our
public institutions, uuder Gospel ser
mon that started the tears: "Do you
see that tear? that is the first have
wept for twelve years. | think it Will
help my brain"
There are great many in the grave
who could not stand any longer under
the glancier Of trouble. If that glacier
had only melted into weeping they
could have endured it, There have
been times in your life when you would
have given the world, if you had pos
sessed it, for one tear. You could
shrek, you could blaspheme, but you
could not cry. Have you never seen a
man holding the hand of Il dead wife,
who had been all the world to him ,
The temples livid with excitement, the
eye dry and frantic, no moisture on the
upper or lower lid. You saw there
were bolts Of anger in the cloud, but
no rain. TO your Christian comfort,
he said. "Don't talk TO me about God;
there is no God, or if there is | hate
him; don't talk to me about God; would
he have left me and these motherless
children?"
But few hours or days after, COM
ing across some lead pencil that she
owned in life, or some letters which she
wrote when he was away from home,
with an outcry that appals. there bursts
the fountain Of tears, and as the sun
light Of Gods consolation strikes that
fountain of tears. you find out that 1T
is tender hearted, merciful, pitiful and
all compassionate God who was the
father Of that rain. "Oh," you say, lit
Is absurd to think that God is going to
watch over tears" No, my friends.
There are three or four kinds of them
that God counts, bottles and eterniZes.
First, there are all parental tears, and
there are more Of these than of any
other kind, because the most Of the race
die in infancy, and that keeps parents
mourning all around the world. They
never get over it. They may live TO
shout and sing afterward, but there is
always a corridor in the soul that is
silent, though it once reSounded.
My parents never mentioned the
death OF IL child who died fifty years be-
tore without Il tremOr in Tie voice and
Il sigh, on, how deep fetched. 1t was
better she should die. 1t was mercy
she should die. She would have Uecn a
lifelong invalid. But you cannot argue
away parents grief. How often you
hear the moan, son, my child, my child"
Then there are the iilial tears. Little
children soon get over the loss of par
ents. They are easily diverted with a
new toy. But where is the man that
has come to thirty or forty or fifty
years of age, who can think of the old
people without having all the fountains
of his soul stirred up? You may have
had TO take care of her Il good many
years, but you never can forget how
she used to take care Of you.
There have been many sea captains
converted in our church. and the pecu-
llarity of them was that they were
nearly all prayed ashore by their
though the mothers went into
the dust soon after they went to sea.
Have you never heard an old man in
delirium of some sickness call for his
mother? The fact is we get so used to
calling for her the first ten years Of our
life we never get over it. and when she
goes away from us it makes deep Sor-
row. You sometimes, perhaps, in days
of trouble and darkness. when the
world would say, "You ought to be
able 10 take care of yOurSal won