The Globe-republican. [volume] (Dodge City, Kan.) 1889-1910, 1892-09-16
'HailI sons and

they give and CRY, Aau! sons ano
daughters of the tire.''
look again, and see another gallery
that of eminent Christians. What
strikes me strangely is the mixing IL
companionship Of those who on earth
could not agree. There is Albert Barnes,
and around him the presbvtery who
tried him for heterodoxy! Yonder is
Lyman Beecher, and the church court
that denounced him! Stranger than all.
there is John Calvin and James Arminius.
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 because they thought him q
fanatic. There are the sweet singers.
Toplady, Montgomery, Charles Wesley.
Isaac Watts, and Mrs. Sigourney. II
Heaven had had no music before they
went up they would have started the
singing.
And there the band Of missionaries
David Abeei. talking Of China redeemed,
and John Scudder, of India saved, and
David Brainard. of the aborigines evan.
gelized, and Mrs. Adoniram Judson.
whose prayers for Burmah took Heaven
by violence. All these Christians are
looking into the arena. Our struggle is
nothing to theirs. Do we in Christ's
cause suffer from the cold? They walked
Greenland's icy mountains. Do We suf
fer from the heat? They sweitered lie
the tropics Do we get fatigued' They
tainted with none to care for them but
cannibals. Are we prosecuted? They
were mathematical. And as they look
fa iY
the presence of the lions, l seem to hear
Isaac Watts addressing us in his ole
hymn, only a little changed:
Must you be carried to the skies
On fowery beds Of ease,
While others fought to win the prize
Or sailed through bloody seas?
look again and l see the gallery OF
our departed. Many of those in the
other galleries We have heard Of, bui
these we knew. Oh, how familiar their
faces! They sat at oar tables, and We
walked to the house Of God in company.
Have they forgotten rs? Those fathers
and mothers started US on the road OF
life. Are they careless as to what be-
comes of US? And those children-dc
they look on with stolid indifference as
to whether we win or lose this battle for
eternity? Nay; see that child running
its hand over your brow and saying,
Father, do not fret" Mother, no not
worry"
They remember the day they left us.
They remember the agony of the fare.
we'll. 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 be-
fore us their recognition and encourage.
ment 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 higher.'
Betw cen the hot struggles in the arena
wipe the sweat from my brow and stand
on tiptoe, reaching up my right hand to
clasp theirs in rapturous handshaking,
while their voices come ringing down
from the gallery CRYING. "Be thou faith.
full unto death and you shall have q
crown"
But here pause. overwhelmed with
the majesty and the JOY Of the scene!
Gallery Of the King. Gallery of the an
gels! Gallery Of prophets and apostles!
Gallery Of martyrs! Gallery of saints!
Gallery Of friends and kindred! Oh,
majestic circles of light and love
Throngs! Throngs. Throngs! How
shall we stand the gaze of the universe?
Myriads OF eyes beaming on US! Myriads
OF hearts beating in sympathy for US!
How shall we ever dare to sin again!
How shall We ever become discouraged
again! How shall We ever feel lonely
again!
With God for us, and angels for US,
and prophets and apostles for US, and
the great souls Of the ages for US, and
our giorified kindred for us-shall we
give up the fight and die? MOI Son OF
God, VINO didst die to save Us. No! ye an
gels, whose wings are spread forth to
shelter US. No! We prophets and apos-
ties, whose warnings startle US. No! We
loved ones, whose arms are outstretched
to receive US. No! we will never sur
render!
Ny hearers, shall we die in the arena
or rise to Join our friends in the gallery?
Through Christ We may come of more
than conquerors. A soldier. dying iE
the hospital. rose up in bed the last mo.
ment and cried, Here, Here.' His at
tendants put him back on his pillow and
asked him why he shouted "Here!:'
'Oh. l heard the roll call of Heaven and
l was only answering to my name!' l
wonder whether, after this battle Of lite
is over. our names will be called in the
muster roll Of the pardoned and glorihed,
and with the JOY Of Heaven breaking
upon our souls we shall cry, Here!
Here"