The Kinsley graphic. [volume] (Kinsley, Kan.) 1890-1940, 1891-07-10


tary, and q treasurer, and a board of
directors. and SO, 600, 600 of stock, and
then provide weather that will suit all
of US
Ny text also suggests Gods minute
supervision You see the Divine Son
ship in every drop Of rain. The jewels
Of the shower are not flung away by a
spendthrift who knows not how many
he throws or where they fall They are
all shining princes Of Heaven They
all have an eternal lineage They are
all the children of a king. Hath the
rain a father?"
Well, then, say If God takes notice
OF every minute raindrop, He will take
notice of the most insignificant affair Of
my life. 1t is the astronomical view OF
things that bOthers men We look up
into the night heavens, and we say;
Worlds! worIdsP' and how insiguif-
cant we feel! We stand at the foot Of
and we feel that we are only insects,
and then we say to ourselves: Though
the world is SO large. the sun is 1, 400,
600 times larger" 90 we say, cit is
of no use, if God wheels that great ma
chinery through immensely, He will not
take the trouble to look down
on me-" Infdel conclusion Saturn
Mercury and Jupiter are no more
rounded and weighed and swung by the
hand of God than are the glObules on
lilac bush the morning after a shower
God is no more in unagnitudes than he
is in minute If He has scales to weigh
the mountains, He has balances delicate
enough to weigh the intinitesimaL You
can no more see him through the tele-
scope than you can see Him through
the microscope; no more when you
look up than when you look down.
Are not the hairs of your he ad all
numbered? And if HiInalaya has
God, ''hath not the rain a father?"
When the Christian army was be
sieged at Beziers and drunken drum
mer came in at midnight and rang the
alarm bell, not knowing what he was
doing, but waking up the host in time
to fight their enemies that moment ar
irving, was it an accident? When, in
one of the Irish wars, a starving
mother, flying with her starving child,
sank down and tainted on the
rocks in the night and her hand
fell on a warm bottle OF milk. did
that just happen so? God is either in
the affairs OF men or our religion is
worth nothing at all, and you had bet
ter take it away from US, and instead
of this Bible, which teaches the doc
trine, give US a secular book, and let US,
as the famous Mr.. Fox, the member of
parliament, in his last hour, cry out:
Read me the eighth book of Virgil -
o! my friends, let US rouse up to an ap-
probation of the fact that all the affairs
of our life are under a Kings command
and under a Fathers watch Alexan-
der's war horse, Bucephalus. would al
low any body to mount him when he
was embarrassed; but as soon as they
put on that war horse, Bucephalus, the
caddle and the trappings of the con
queror, he would allow no one but
Alexander to touch him. And if a soul
less horse could have so much pride in
his owner, shall not we immortals exult
in the fact that we are owned by a
King? Hath the rain a father?'
Again, my subject teaches me that
Gods dealings with us are inexPlicable.
That was the original force of my text.
The rain was a great mystery to the
ancientS. They could not understand
how the water should get into the
cloud, and getting there, how it should
be suspended, or falling, why it should
come down in drops. Modern science
comes along and says there are two
portions OF air of different temPera-
ture, and they are charged with moist
ure. and the one portion OF air de-
creases in temperature SO the water
may longer be held in vapOr and it falls.
And they tell US that some of the
clouds that look to be only as large as
a mans hand, and to be almost quiet in
the heavens, are great noun tains Of
that they rush miles a minute. But
after all the brilliant experiments Of
DIR. James Hutton and Saussure and
other scientists, there is an indefinite
mystery about the rain There is an
ocean OF the unfathOmable in every
rain drop, and God says to-day, as He
said in the time Of Job: ''If you can not
understand one drop Of rain, do not be
surprised if My dealings with you are
inexplicable."
Why does that aged man, decrepit,
beggared, vicious, sick of the world,
and the world sick of him, live on,
while here is q man in middle life, con
secrated 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 Christian mother, with a flock of
little ones about her whom she is pre-
pairing for usefulness and for Heaven
the mother who you think could not be
snarad aY, ho4rT- from that housaho1d-