The Portland daily press., 1892-12-17

cast man off God, our Mother, comes
to the rescue. God.leaps to take charge
Of a bad case. After all the other doc
tors. have, got through the heavenly
Physician comes III. Human sympathy
at such time does not amount to much.
Even the sympathyof the church, am
sorry to say, often does not amount to
much. | have seen the most harsh and
bitter treatment on the part of those who
professed faith in Christ toward those
who were wavering and erring. They
tried on the wanderer sarcasm and bill
ingsgate and caricature, and they tried
little tattle. There was one thing they
did not try, and that was forgiveness.
A soldier in England was brought by
sergeant tothe colonel. "What, says
the colonel, bringing the man here
again We have tried verything with
him." "oh, no." says the sergeant;
'.there is one thing you have not tried.
would like you to try that "What is
thatY said the colonel. Said the man,
forgiveness" The case had not gone
SO far but that it might take that turn,
and so the colonel said: "Well, young
man, you have done so and SO. WHAT'S
your excuse? Il have no excuse, but I
am very sorry said the man.,
"We have made up our minds to for
give YOU" said the colonel. The tears
started. He had never been accosted in
that way before. His life was reformed,
and that was the starting point for a
positively Christian life. Q church of
God, quit your sarcasm when a man
falls!, Quit your irony, quit your little
tattle, and try forgiveness. God, your
Mother, tries it all the time. A mans
sin may be like continent, but Gods
forgiveness is like the Atlantic and Pa
cifc oceans, bounding it on both sides.
THE DIVINE HAND.
The Bible often talks about Gods
hand. | wonder how it looks. You re-
member distinctly how your mothers
hand looked, though thirty years ago it
withered away. 1t was different from
your fathers hand. When you we're to
be chastised you had rather have mother
punish you than father. 1t did not hurt
so much. And fathers hand was diff
ferent from mothers, partly because it
had outdoor toll, and partly because
God intended it to be different. The
knuckles were more firmly set, and the
palm was calloused.
But mothers hand was more delicate.
There were blue veins running through
the back of it. Though the fingers, some
of them, We're picked with a needle, the
palm of it was soft. Oh. it was very
soft! Was there ever any poultice like
that to take pain out of a wound? So
Gods hand is mothers hand. What it
touches it heals. If it smite you it does
not hurt as if it were another hand. Oh,
you poor wandering soul in sin, it is not
bailiff's hand that seizes you today! 1t
is not hard hand. 1t is not an unsym-
pathetic hand. It is not a cold hand. It
is not an enemy's hand. No. It is
gentle hand, loving hand, a sympa-
thetic hand, a soft hand, a mothers
hand. cas- one whom his mother COM
forteth, so will I comfort YOU"
want to say finally that God has a
mothers way of putting a child to sleep.
You know there is no cradle song like
mothers. After the excitement of the
evening it is almost impossible to get the
child to sleep. If the rocking chair stop
a moment the eyes are wide open; but
the mothers patience and the mothers
soothing manner keep ON until after
awhile the angel of slumber puts his
wing over. the pillow. Well, my dear
brothers and sisters in Christ, the time
will come when we will be wanting to
be put to sleep. The day of our life will
be done, and the shadows of the night of
death will be gathering around us.
Then we want God to soothe us, to hush
us to sleep.
Let the music at our going not be the
dirge Of the organ, or the l5nell of the
church tower, or the drumming of a
s'dead march," but let it be the hush of
a mothers lullaby. Oh, the cradle of the
grave will be soft with the pillow Of all
the promises! When we are being rocked
into that last slumber want this to be
the cradle song s.As one whom another
comforteth, SO will ] comfort YOU"
Asleep in Jesus Far from thee
Thy kindred and their graves may be;
But thine is still q blessed sleep
From which none ever wake to weep.
A Scotchman was dying. His daughter
Nellie sat by the bedside. It was Sun
day evening, and the bell of the church
was ringing, calling the people to
church. The good old man, in his dying
dream, thought that he was on the way
to church, as he used to be when he
went in the sleigh across the river, and
as the evening bell struck up in his
dying dream he thought it was the call
to church.
He said, ''Hark, children, the bells are
we shall be late; we must make
the mare step out ,quickp' He shivered,
and then said: Pull the buffalo robe up
closer, my lass It is cold crossing the
river, but we will soon be there, Nellie;
we will soon be there" And he smiled
and said, "Just there now" No wonder
he smiled. The good old man had got
to church. Not the old country church,
but the temple in the skies. just across.
the river. How comfortably did God
hot DII fo c1a Az