Democratic messenger., 1892-09-10

DH NlOitIlCG. All tlltSC SHl lStldliS ulS
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, !
seem to hear Isaac Watts addressing
us in his old hymn. only 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 i'll his old hymn:
Your harps. yc trembling saints.
Down from the willows take;
Loud to the praise of love divine,
Bid every string awake.
While Charles Wesley, the Methodist.
breaks fort. in his favorite words, lit
tie varied:
\ charge to keep you have.
\ God to giorify;
\ never dying soul to save.
And fit ii for the sky!
OUR DEPARTED FRIENDS.
look again and l see the gallery of
our departed. Many of those in the
other galleries we have heard of, but
these we knew. Oh, how familiar their
faces. They sat ut 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 OF
life. Are they careless as TO what be-
comes Of Us: And those children-do
they look on with stolid indifference rs
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" "Mothcr, do not
worry"
They remember the day they left us.
They remember the agony of the last
farewell. Though years in heaven they
know our faces. They remember our
sorrows. They speal, 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 to
call us, saving. Come up higherw Be
tween the hot struggles in the arena l
wipe the sweat from my brow and stand
on tiptoe, reaching rp my right hand to
clasp theirs in rapturous han ishaking.
while their voices come ringing down
from the gallery, crying. BE thou
faithful unto death, and you shall have
/. crown"
But here pause, overwhelmed with
the majesty and the joy of the scene!
Gallery of the King. Gallery Of angels.
Gallery of prophets and apostles! Gal
lery of martyrs! Gallery of saints! Gal
iery of friends and kindred: Oh, ma
iestic circles of light and love! Throngsi
Throngs! Throngs. How shall we
stand the gaze 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 discouraged again.
How shall we ever 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
glorified kindred for us shall we give
up the fight and die? No! Son of God,
who didst die to save us. No. We angels,
whose wings are spread forth to shelter
us. No. We prophets and apostles, whose
warnings startle us. No! ye loved ones,
whose arms are outstretched to receive
us. No. we will never surrender!
Sure must fight IL 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.
Ny 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. \ soldier dying in
the hospital rose up in bed the last mo-
ment and cried. Here. Here 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 name"
wonder whethcr, after this battle of life
is over, our names will be called in the
muster roll of the pardoned and glori-
fed. and with the joy of heaven break
ing upon our souls we shall cry, Here.
Here.''