The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1892-09-26

! We go forth again for more trophies and
into one sheef we gather all the scepteri
| Of the earth. of all royalties and domin-
/ ions, and then we bring the shsaf OF
scepters and put it down at the feet OF
Jesus, and say. Thou art king of kings
and these thou hast conquered" And then
we go forth again to gather more trophies,
and we Did the redeemed OF all ages, the
sons and daughters of the Lord Almighty,
TO come. We ask them to come and offer
their thanksgivings, and the hosts Of heaven
bring crown. and palm, and scepter, and
here by these bleeding feet and by this riven
sids, and by this wounded heart, cry
blessing, and honor and glory, and power
be unto him that sitteth upon the throne
and unto the lamb forever and forever %
Tell me Of a teAr that he did not weep, OF a
burden that he did not carry, OF q battle
that he did not fight, Of q victory that he
did not achieve. "All in ali is Jesus" in
the great plan of redemption.
/ remark again, Christ is everything to
the Christian IN time of trouble. Who has
escaped troubled We must all stoop down
and drink out Of the bitter lake. The moss
has no time to grow on the buckets that
come up out of the hearts well, dripping
with tears Great trials are upon our track
as certain as greyhound pack on the scent
Of deer. From oUr hearts in every direction
there are thousand chords reaching out
binding as TO loved ones, and ever and anon
some OF these tendrils snap. The winds that
GROSS Is sea OF life are not all abafU. The
clouds that cross our sky are not feathery
and afsr, straying like focks OF sheep on
heavenly pastures: but wrathtul and
sombre, and cleaning with terror, they
wrap the mountains in fire, and come
down baying with their thunders through
every gorge. The richest fruits OF bless
ing have a prickly shell. Life here is not
LIT u 1, Sh.a.si
is not sleeping in soldiers tent with our
arms stacked il is q bayonet-charRe. We
stumble over grAve-stones, and we drive on
with our wheel deep 10 the old rut OF graves.
Trouble has wrinkled your brow, and 1t has
frosted your head. Falling in this battle Of
life, is there no angel 70 bind our woundsl
Hath God made this world with 80 many
things to hurt and none TO heall For this
snsks,blte Of sorrow. is there no herb
growing by all the brooks to heal the poisonl
Blessed be God that in the gospel we find
the antidote! Christ has bottled an ocean
Of tears. How many thorns he hath plucked
out Of human agony OF he knows too
we'll what 1t is TO carry a Cross not to help
US carry ours. He knows too we'll what it
is to climb the mountain, not to help US up
the steep. He knows too well what it is to
be prosecuted, not to help those who
are imposed upon. He knows TOO
we'll what 1t is to be sick, not
to help those who suffer. Ay, he knows too
well what it is to die, not to hello US in our
last extremity. Blessed Jesus, thou knowest
10 all. Seeing thy wounded side and thy
wounded hand, and thy wounded feet, and
thy wounded brow, we are sure thou
knowest 1t all. o whom those into whose
bosom we used to breathe our sorrows are
snatched from US, blessed be God the heart
OF Jesus still beats; and when all other
lights go out and the world gets dark, then
we see coming out from behind a cloud
something SO bright and cheering, we know
tt to be the morning star OF the souls de-
liverance. The hand OF care may make you
stagger. or the hand Of persecution may
beat you down. or the hand of dlsappoint-
ment msy beat you back; but there is a
hand. and il is so kind, and it is so gentle,
that IL wipeth all tears from all faces.