Evening capital journal. (Salem, Or.) 1888-1893, 1892-12-12

vsr11<
cast a man off God, our Mother, comes
to the rescue. God leaps to take charge
of bad case. After all the other doc
tors have got through the heavenly
Physician comes in. Human sympathy
at such time does not amount to much.
Even the sympathy of the church, l am
sorry to say, often does not amount to
much. / have seen the most harsh and
bitter treatment on the part of those who
professed faith in Christ toward those
who were wavering and erring. They
tried on the wanderer sarcasm and bill
lingsgate and caricature, and they tried
little tattle. There was one thing they
did not try, and that was forgiveness.
A soldier in England was brought by
sergeant to the colonel. "What," says
the colonel, "bringing the man here
againl We have tried everything with
him." "Oh, no." says the sergeant;
"there is one thing you have not tried.
would like you to try that" "What is
thatY' said the colonel. Said the man,
forgiveness" The case had not gone
so far but that it might take that turn,
and so the colonel said: "Well, young
man, you have done so and so. What is
your excuseY' 81 have no excuse, but l
am very sorry" said the man.
1--WE have made up our minds to for
give you," said the colonel. The tears
started. He had never been accosted in
thqt way before. His life was reformed,
ana that was the starting point for a
positively Christian life. o church of
God, quit your sarcasm when a man
falls! Quit your irony, quit your title
tattle, and try forgiveness. God, your
Mother, tries it all the time. A mans
sin may be like continent, but Gods
forgiveness is like the Atlantic and Pa
cific oceans, bounding it on both sides.
THE DIVINE HAND.
The Bible often talks about Gods
hand. | wonder how it looks. You re-
member distinctly how your mothers
hand looked, though thirty years ago it
withered away. 1t was different from
your fathers hand. When you were to
be chastised you had rather have mother
punish you than father. 1t did not hurt
so much. And fathers hand was diff
ferent from mothers, partly because it
had outdoor toll, and partly because
God intended it to be different. The
knuckles were more firmly set, and the
palm was calloused.
But mothers hand was more delicate.
There were blue veins running through
the back of it. Though the fingers, some
Of them, were picked with needle, the
palm of it was soft. On, it was very
soft! Was there ever any poultice like
that to take pain out of wound? So
Gods hand is a mothers hand. What it
touches it heals. If it smite you it does
not hurt as if it were another hand. Oh,
you poor wandering soul in sin, it is not
bailiff's hand that seizes you today! 1t
is not hard hand. 1t is not an unsym-
pathetic hand. 1t is not cold hand. 1t
is not an enemy's hand. No. 1t is
gentle hand, loving hand, a sympa-
thetic hand, soft hand, mothers
hand. GAS one whom his mother COM
forteth, so will comfort you
want to say finally that God has
mothers way of putting child to sleep.
You know there is no cradle song like
mothers. After the excitement of the
evening it is almost impossible to get the
child to sleep. If the rocking chair stop
moment the eyes are wide open; but
the mothers patience and the mothers
soothing manner keep ON until after
awhile the angel of slumber puts his
wing over the pillow. Well, my dear
brothers and sisters in Christ, the time
will come when we will be wanting to
10 ,,f To c1a Tho ,lox, OF 1ifa 1ri11
be done, and the shadows of the night of
death will be gathering around us.
Then we want God to soothe US, to hush
us to sleep.
Let the music at our going not be the
dirge of the organ, or the knell of the
church tower, or the drumming Of
'dead march" but let it be the hush of
a mothers lullaby. Oh, the cradle of the
grave will be soft with the pillow of all
the promises! When we are being rocked
into that last slumber want this to be
the cradle song, CAS- one whom mother
comforteth, so will | comfort YOU"
Asleep in Jesusl Far from thee
Thy kindred and their graves may be-
But thine is still blessed sleep
From which none ever wake TO weep.
A Scotchlnan was dying. His daughter
Nellie sat by the bedside. 1t was Sun
day evening, and the bell of the church
was ringing, calling the people to
church. The good old man, in his dying
dream, thought that he was on the way
to church, as he used to be when he
went in the sleigh across the river, and
as the evening bell struck up in his
dying dream he thought it was the call
to church.
He said, "Hark, children, the bells are
ringing; we shall be late; we must make
the mare step out quickV' He shivered,
and then said: Pull the buffalo robe up
closer, my lass! 1t is cold crossing the
river, but we will soon be there, Nellie;
we will soon be thore." And he smiled
and said, "Just there now." No wonder
he smiled. The good old man had got
to church. Not the old country church,
but the temple in the skies. Just across
the river. How comfortably did God
hush that old man TO sleep! AS one
whom his mother comforteth, so God
comforted him.
The Correct Thing.