Fisherman & farmer. [volume] (Edenton, N.C.) 1887-19??, 1892-09-16

shouting and haIleuIahS.
/ look again AMI / ses thu gallery OF the
martyrs. Who is that: Hugh Latimer,
sure enough! He would not apologize for
the truth preached and 50 he died the night
before swinging from the bedpost III perfect
glee at the thought Of emanci patton VINO
are that army OF six thousand six hundred
and sixty-six? They are the Theoan legion
who died for the faith. Here is a larger most
in magnificent aFray-sight hundred and
eighty-four thousand-who peTishe1 for
Christ in the prosecutions of Diocetian.
YOnder is a family group. Felicitas. OF
Rome, and her children. While they were
dying for the faith Cha stood encouraging
them. One son was whipped TO death by
tnorns, another was flung from rock, an
other was bebcaded. At last the mother
became martyr. mere Cney are IoS-ta r
"a family group in heaven. TOader Il
John Bradford, who said in the fire, I'VE
shall have a merry supper with the Lord
tO-nightr' Yonder is Henry Woes, Tho ex.
claim ID as he died, eff l hal ten heads they
should all fall off for Christi
The great throng Of the martyrs! They
had hot lead poured down their throats;
horses were fastened to their hands, and
other horses to their feet, and thus they
were pulled apart; they had their tongues
pulled out by red hot pincars; they were
sewed up in the skins III animals and then
thrown to the dogs; thsY were daubsi win
combustiblas and then set on fire! If all
the martyrs stakes that have been kind!ed
could be set at proper distances they would
make the midnight all TIA world over as
bright as noonIay.
And now they sit yon Ter in the martyrs
gallery. For them the fires o.: persecution
have gone out. The swords are sheath9J
and the mob hushed. Now they watch us
with an all observing sympathy. They
know all the pain, all toe hardships, ali TIE
anguish, all the injustice ali the privation.
They cannot keep still. They cry: "Cour-
age! The ire will not consume. The floods
cannot drown. The lions cannot devour!
Courage! down thsre in toe arena"
What, are they all looking? This night
we answer back the saIutation they give, and
cry, "Hail! sons and daughters OF the firep
[ look again and see another gallery, that
of eminent Christians. What strikes me
is the mixing in CO partnership of
those who on earth could not agree. There
is Albert Barnes. and around him the pres
bytery who tried him for heterodoxy
Yonder is Lyman Bsecher and the church
court that denounced him! Stranger than
all, there is John Calvin AMI James Armin-
lusl Who would have thought that they
would sit so lovingly together? There is
George Whitefeld and the ministers who
would not let him come into their pulpits be-
cause they thought him a fanatic. There
are the sweet singers Toplady, Montgomery,
Charles Wesley, Isaac Watts and Mrs. Sig
Quincy. If heaven had had no music be-
fore they went up, they would have started
the singing.
And there the band of missionariss-David
Abeel, talking of China redeemed; and
John Scudder, of India saved; and David
Brainard, of the aborigines evangelical, and
Mrs. Adoniram Judson, whose prayers for
Burmah took heaven by violence! ALI these
Christians are looking into the arena. Our
struggle is nothing to theirs. Do we, in
Chrlsts cause, suffer from the cold? They
walked Greenlant's icy mountains. Do w;
suffer from the heat? They sweltered in
the tropics. Do We get fatigued? Thew
tainted, with none to care for them but can.
nbals. Are We prosecuted? They were
anathematIzed. and as they look from their
gallery ana see US falter in the presence of
the lions, seem to hear Isaac Watts address,
ing Us In his old hymn, only little changed
Must YOU be carried to the skies
on fowery beds OF ease,
While others fought to win the nrizs
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 divine,
Bid every string awake.
While Charles Wesley. the Metbodist
breaks forth in his favorite words a little
varied:
a charge to keep you have,
God to glorifv;
never dying soul to save,
look again and 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 faces! They
sat at our tables, and we walked to the
house OF God in company. Have they for
gotten US? Those fathers and mothers
started US on the road of life. Are they
careless as to what becomes of US? And
those chil1ren-do they look on with stoid
Indifference as to whether we win or lose
this battle for eternity? Nay; I see that
child running its hand over your brow and
saying, 'Father, do not fret" "Motner,
do not worry"
They remember the day they left u.s. 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 fight for
heaven. Nay, | see them rise up and lean
over and wave before us their recognition
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, say ing: Come up higherw Be
tween the hot struggles in the arena [ wipe
the sweat from my brow and stand on tip
toe, reaching up my right hand to clasp
theirs In rapturous handshaking, while their
voices come ringing down from the gallery,
crying: "6e thou faithful unto death, and
you shall have CROWN
But here l p ause, overwhslmed with the
majesty and joy of the scene! Gallery of
the King! Gall cry of angelsl Gallery of
prophets and apo stiles! Gallery of martyrs
Gallery of saints Gallery of friends and
kindredl Oh, ma jestic circles of light and
love! Throngsl Throngsl Throngs! How
shall we stand the gaze of the universe.
Myriads Of eyes beaming on US! Myriads of
hearts beating in sympathy for US! Row
shall we ever dare to sin again! How shall
we ever become discourage againI How
shall we ever feel lonely again!
With God for as, and angels for US, ami
nl.oAr I'D nr,A