Connecticut western news., 1892-09-08


 David Brainard, of the aborigines evan gelized; and Mrs. Adoniram Judson whose prayers for Burmah took heaven by violencel All these Christians art 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 suffer from the heat? They swell tered in the tropics. Do we get fatigued? They tainted, with none to care for them but cannibals. Are we perse- cuted? They were mathematical. And as they look from their gallery and see us falter in the presence of the lions, l seem to hear Isaac Watts addressing us in his old hymn, only a little changed:
 Must you be carried to the skies
 On fiowery beds of ease,
 While others fought to win the prize
 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 Methodist breaks forth in his favorite words, a lit tie varied:
 A charge to keep you have,
 A God to glorify;
 A never dying soul to save,
 And fit 1t for the sky!
 OUR DEPARTED FRIENDS.
 Hook 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 thei, faces! They sat at our tables, and we walked to the house of God in company Have they forgotten us? Those fathers and mothers started us on the road O: life. Are they careless as to what be- comes of us2 And those children-do they look on with stolid indifference as to whether we win or lose this battle for eternity? Nay; see that child running it's hand over your brow and saying. Father, do not fret" Mother, do not worry"
 They remember the day they left us. They remember the agony of the lasi 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 ard encour agement. That gallery is not full. They are keeping places for us. After we have slain the lion they expect the King t. call us, saying, "Come up higherr Be tween the hot struggles in the arena l wipe the sweat from my brow and stand on tiptoe, reaching I'D my right hand to clasp theirs in rapturous han lshaking, while their voices come ringing down from the gallery, crying, Be thou faithful unto death, and you shall have s crown!'
 But here I pause, overwhelmed with the majesty and the joy of the scene! Gallery of the Kingl Gallery of angels! Gallery of prophets and apostles! Gal- lery of martyrs! Gallery of saintsl Gal 1ery of friends and kindred. Oh, ma jestic circles of light and lovel Throngsl Throngs! Throngs How shall we stand the gaze of the universcl Myriads of eyes beaming on usl Myriads of hearts beating in sympathy for usl How shall we ever dare to sin again! How shall we ever become discouraged againi How shall we eyer 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 glorifed kindred for us-shall we give up the fight and die? No! Son of God, who didst die to save us. Nol ys angels, whose wings are spread forth to shelter us. No! ye prophets and apostles, whose warnings startle us. No! ye loved ones, whose arms are outstretched to receive us. No! we will never surrenderl
 Sure must fight if I would reign
 Be faithful to my Lord;
 And bear the Cross, endure the pain,
 Supported by thy Word.
 Thy saints in all this glorious war
 Shall conquer, though they die;
 They see the triumph from afar
 And seize it with their eye.
 When that illustrious day shall rise,
 And all thine armies shine
 In robes of victory through the skies,
 The glory shall be thine.
 My hearers, shall we die in the arena or rise to join our friends in the gallery? Through Christ we may come off more than conquerors. A soldier dying in the hospital rose up in bed the last mo- ment and cried, "Herel Herer' His at tendants put him back on his pillow and asked him why he shouted "Herer' "Oh, heard the roll call of heaven and was only answering to my namer' I wonder whether, after this battle of life is over, our names will be called in the muster roll of the pardoned and glori- fled, and with the joy of heaven break ing upon our souls we shall cry, "Here! Herep'