Connecticut western news., 1892-09-01

of earthly manipulation compared with the balances that Isaiah saw suspended when he saw God putting into the scales the Alps, and the Apennines, and Mount Washington, and the Sierra Nevadasp
 You see the earth had to be ballasted. It would not do to have too much weight in Europe, or too much weight in Asia, or too much weight in Africa, or in America; so when God made the mountains he weighed them. The Bible distinctly says so. God knows the weight of the great ranges that cross the continents-the tons, the pounds avoirdupois, the ounces, the grains, the milligrams-just how much they weighed then, and just how much they weigh now. "He weighed the noun tains in scales and the hills in bal ance." Oh, what God to run against; oh, what God to disobey; oh, what God to dishonor; oh, what God to defyI The brightest, the mightiest an- gel takes no familiarity with God. The wings of reverence are lifted. "With twain he covered the face"
 Another seraphic posture in the text. The seraph must not always stand still. He must move and it must be without clumsiness. There must be celerity and beauty in the movement. with twain he did fy." Correction, exhilaration. Correction at our slow gate, for we only crawl in the service when we ought to fly at the divine bidding. Exhilaration in the fact that the soul has wings as the seraphs have wings. What is wing? An instrument of locomotion. They may not be like seraph's wing, they may not be like birds wing, but the soul has wings. God says so. "He shall mount up on wings as eagles" We are made in the divine image, and God has wings. The Bible says so. Healing in his wings" "Under the shadow of his wings" "Under whose wings thou hast come to trust" We have folded wing now, wounded wing, broken wing, bleeding wing, caged wing. Aye! I have it now. Gagged within bars of bone and under curtains of flesh, but one day to be free hear the rustic of pinions in Seagrave's poem, which we often sing:
 Rise, my soul. and stretch thy wings.
 I hear the rustic of pinions in Alexan- der Pope's stanza, which says:
 mount, I fly;
 OD Death. where is thy victoryf
 A dying Christian not long ago cried out, Wings, wings, wingsl' The air is full of them, coming and going, coming and going. You have seen how the dull, sluggish chrysalid becomes the bright butterfly; the dull, a1d the stupid, and the lethargic turned into the alert and the beautiful. Well, my friends, in this world we are in the chrysalid state. Death will unfurl the wings. Oh, if we could only realize what a grand thing it will be to get rid of this old clod of a body and mount the heavens, neither seagull nor lark nor albatross nor falcon nor condor pitching from highest range of Andes, so buoyant or so majestic of stroke.
 SORROW GOETH BEFORE FORGIVENESS.
 See that eagle in the mountain nest It looks so sick, so ragged feathered, so worn out and so half asleep. Is that eagle dying? No. The ornithologist will tell you it is melting season with that bird. Not dying, but molting You see that Christian sick and weary and worn out and seeming about to ex- pire on what is called his deathbed. The world says he is dying. say it is the molting season for his soul-the body dropping away, the celestial pinions coming on. Not dying, but melting. Molting out of darkness and sfz and struggle into glory and into God. Why do you not shout2 Why do you sit shiv- ering at the thought of death and trying to hold back and wishing you could stay here forever, and speak of departure as though the subject were filled with skel- etons and the varnish of cofins, and as though you preferred lame foot to swift wing2
 O people of God, let us stop playing the fool and prepare for rapturous flight. When your soul stands on the verge of this life and there are vast precipices beneath and sapphired domes above, which way will you fly? Will you swoop or will you soar? Will you fly downward or will you fly upwardi Everything on the wing this morning bidding us aspire. Holy Spirit on the wing. Angel of the new covenant or the wing. Time on the wing, flying away frow us. Eternity on the wing l flying toward us. Wings, wings, wings Live so near to Christ that when you are dead people standing by your life less body will not soliloquize, saying | "What disappointment life was to him; how averse he was to departure what pity it was he had to die; what an awful calamity" Rather standing there may they see sign more vivid or | your still face than the vestiges of pain something that will indicate that it was & happy exit-the clearance from op pressive quarantine, the castof chrysa lid, the melting of the faded and use less and the ascent from malarial val leys to bright, shining mountain tops and be led to say as they stand there contemplating your humility and youl reverence in life and your happiness il death, "With twain he covered the feet
 with twain he covered the face, witt twain he did fy." Wingsi Wings
 Wings!
 Young Englishmen Wear a Fringe.
 There is no doubt that the fringe across the forehead that is now So uni
 versal is exceedingly becoming to tht male; we notice it imparts just tha
 touch of delicate softness to the contoul