The Opelousas courier., 1892-10-15

And now they sit yonder in the martyrs
gallery. For them the fires OF persecution
have gone out. The swords are sheathed
and the mob hushed. Now they watch US
know ali the pain, all the haraships, all the
anguish. all the injustice. all the privation.
They cannot keep still. They cry; "Cour-
apeI The fire will not consume The Hoods
cannot drown The lions cannot devour'
Courage! down thsre In the arena"
What, are they all looking9 This night
we answer back the salutation they give, and
cry. ''Hail' sons and daughters of the freN
Hook again and see another gallery, that
of eminent Christians. What strikes me
strangely is the mixing in coa1panionship OF
those who on earth could not agree. There
is Albert Barnes. and around him the pres"
bytery who tried him for heterodoxys
vnndes ;e LYMAN Raachar and the church
court suar d~vnJuuco1 MN 11rznSer vuoan
all, there is John Calvin and james Armin-
iusl Who would have thought that they
would sit so lovingly together2 There is
George Whitefeld and the ministers who
cause they thought him a fanatic. There
are the sweet singers Toplady, Montgomery,
Charles Wesley, Isaac Watts and Mrs. Sig
Quincy, Il heaven had had no music be.
fore they went up, they would have started
the singing. -,
And there the band of MISUNDERSTANDING
Abeel, talking of China redeemed; n
John Scudder, Of India saved; and David
Brainard, of the aborigines evangelical. and
Mrs. Adoniram Judson, whose prayers Tor
Bnrmah took heaven by violencei All these
Christians are looking into the arena. Our
struggle is nothing to theirs. Do we, IL
ChrIsrs cause, suffer from the cold2 They
walked Greenland's icy mountains. Do We
suffer from the heat? They sweitered in
the tropics. Do we get fatigueda They
tainted, with none to care for them but cam
nibals. Are we prosecuted? They were
mathematical. And as they look from their
gallery and see US falter in the presence of
the lions, I seem to hear Isaac Watts address
ing US in his old hymn, only q little changed
Must you be carried to the skies
On howery beds of ease,
While others fought to win the prizs
Or sailed through bloody seas?
Toplady shouts in his old hymn:
Your harps. ye trembling saints.
Down from the willows take;
Loud to the praise OF love diYlns,
Bid every string awake.
While Charles Wesley, the Methodist,
breaks forth in his favoriBs words, a little
varied:
A charge to keep you have,
A God to glorffy:
Anever dying soul to save,
And fit it for the sky!
/ look again and I see the gallery of our
departed. Many of those in the other
galleries we have heard of; but these we
knew. Oh, how familiar their facesl They
sat at our tables, and we walked to the
house of God in coufSlny. Have they for
gotten us9 Those fathers and mothers
started us on the road Of life. Are they
careless as to what becomes Of US? And
those chill iren-do they LOOK on with stolid
indifference as to whether we win OF lose
this battle for eternity? Nay; I see that
saying, "Father, do not fret" "Motner,
doApt worry"
ley remember the day they left us. They
remember the agony of the last farewell
Though years In heaven they know our
faces. They remember our sorrows. They
speak our names. They watch this f1ghtfor
heswen. Nay, I see them rise up and lean
and encouragement. That gallery is NOT
full. They are keeping places for us. After
we have slain the lion they expect the King
to call Us, saying: "Come up higherw Be
tween the hot struggles in the arena / wipe
the sweat from my brow n stand on tip
toe, reaching up my right hand to clasp
thairs in rapturous handshaking, willis their
voices come ringing own from the gallery,
crying: "3e thou faithful unto death, and
yeu shall have q CROWN!
But here I pause, overwhelmed with the
majesty and joy OF the scene. Gallery of
the Kingi Gallery OF angelsl Gallery of
prophets and apostlesi Gallery of martyrsi
Gallery of saintsi Gallery of friends and
Kindred Oh, majestic circles of light and
love-! Throngs! Throngs! Throngsl How
shall we stand the gaze of the universe
Myriads Of eyes beaming on usi Myriads of
hearts beating in sympathy for usi How
shall we eve dare to sin againi. How shall
we ever become discourage againl How
| shall we ever feel lonely again!
With God for as, and: angels for us, and
prophets and apostles for us, and the great
sous of the ages for us, and our glorified
kindred for us-shalt we give up the fight
and die?: No! Sor of God, who didsk die to
save US. No! We angels, whose wings are
spread forth to shelter us. No! ye prophets
and apostles, whose warnings startls US. No.
We loved ones, whose arms are outstretched
70 receive us. No. we will never surrender
Sure / must fight If / would reign
@F Be faithful TO my Lord;
And bear the Cross, endure the pain,
Supported by Thy Werd.
Thy saints in all this glorious war
Shall conquer, though they die;
They see the triumph from afar
And seize IL with their eye.
When that ilustrioas day shall rise,
And all Thine armies shine
In roDes OF victory through the sktsss
The glory shall be Thine.
Ny hearer, shall we die in the arena Oh
rise to join our friends in the gallery
Through Christ we may come or more
than conquerors. A soldier dying in the
hospital rose I'D in bed the last moment ane
cried, Here! HereF' His attendants put
| him bach On his nillou and asked him why