The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1892-09-21
And now they sit Won Ter in tbs msrtyr's

And now they sit yon Ter in tbs martyrs
gallery. For them ths fires OF persecution
have gone out. The sworis ara sheathed
and the mob hushei. Now they watch US
with an all observing sympathy. Taey
know all the pain, all tle hardships all the
| anguish, all the injustice. all the privation.
| They cannot keep still. They cry: "Cour-
age! The fire will not consume. The foo1s
| cannot drown. The lions cannot devour!
| Courage! down tn ire in the arena"
What, are they all looking? Tais night
we answer back the salutation thsy give, and
CRY, "Hail! sons and daughters of tas fire"
Hook again and see another gallery, that
of eminent Christians. What strikes me
strangely is the mixing in co conpanionship OF
those who on earth could not agree. There
is Albert Barnes, and around him the pres.
bytery who tried him for heterodo1y!
Yonder is Lyman Bsecher and the church
court that denounced him! Stranger than
all, tbera is Johu Calvin ant jams Armln-
ius! Who would have thought that thsy
would sit so lovingly gather? There IS
George Whitehall AMI the ministers who
would not let hiu: come into tdeir pulpits be-
cause they thou sht him fanatic. There
are the swest singers Toplady, montgomery,
Charles Wesley, Isaac Watts and Mrs. sig
Quincy. If heaven had had no music De,
fore they went up, they would have started
the singing.
And there this band os missionaries--David
Abeel, talking of China redeemed; and
John Scudder, of India saved; and DAVID
Brainard, Of the aborigines evangellzed, 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
walked Greenland's icy mountains. Do we
suffer from the heatf They sweltered in
the tropics. Do we get fatigueda They
tainted, with none to care for them but can
nibals. Are We prosecuted? They were
anathematized. And as they look from their
gallery and see US falter in the presence of
the lions. I seem to hear. Isaac Watts address,
ing US in his old hymn, only a little changed
Must Won be carried to the skles
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 Methodist.
varied:
A charge to keep You have.
A never dying soul to save,
auu IL u IOt LUG
L look again and see the gallery Of our
departed. Many Of those iu 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 us9 Those fathers and mothers
careless as to what becomes OF US? And
those chill 1ren-do 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" "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
speak our names. They watch this fight for
heaven. Nay, see them rise up and lean
over and wave before us< heir recognition
and encouragement. TN; 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 higherm 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: "Be thou faithful unto death, and
you shall have crown"
But here / p ause, overwhelmed with tho
majesty and joy OF the scene! Gallery of
ths King! Gallery of angelsl Gallery Of
Gallery of saints Gallery OF friends and
kindredl Oh, ma jestic circles Of light and
love! ThrongsI Throngs! Throngs! How
shall we stand the gazs 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 discourage again! How
shall we ever feel lonely again!
With God for as, and angels for US, and
prophets and apostles for NJ, and the great
souls Of the ages for U.s. and our glorified
kindred for us-shall we give up the fight
and die? No! Sor Of God, who didst die to
save us. No! ys angels, whose wings are
spread forth to shelter US. No! ye prophets
and apostles, whose warnings startle US. No!
We loved ones, whose arms are outstretched
to receive US. No! we will never surrender!
Sure must aght II would reign
Be faithful to my Lord;
And bear the Cross, endure the pain,
Supported by Thy Wo.d.
Thy saints in all this glorious war
Shall conquer, though they die;
They see the triumph from afas
And seize 1t with their eye.
When that illustrious day shall rise,
And all Thine armies shine
In ropes OF victory through the skies,
The glory shall be Thine.
My hearer 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 moment and
cried, "Here Here~ His attendants put
him back on his pillow and asked him why
he shouted "Here" "Oh, 1 heard the roll
call OF heaven and was only answering to
my name" I wonder whether, after this
battle of life is over, our name will be called
in the muster role OF the pardoned and glori-
fed, and with the joy Of heaven breaking
upon our souls, we cry, "Here! Herep