The Red Cloud chief., 1892-11-11

VI MUSIC Aiter aWn1lc mozart anne
and began TO play and he had a blank
piece Of paper before him and the king
Familiarity looked over his shoulder and
said: What are you playing? 1 sec no
music before you" And Mozart put
his hand on his brow, as much as TO
say. II am improvising." It was very
we'll for him, but o my friends, we can.
not ~extemporize Heaven. II we do not
get prepared in this world we will never
take part In the orchestral harmonies
OF the saved. o that we were rs wise
as the crane and the stork, flying away,
flying away from the tempest
Some of you have felt the pinchinQ
frost Of sin. You feel II to-day. You
are not happy. I look into your faces,
and l know you are not happy. There
are voices within your soul that will not
be silenced, telling you that you are
sinners, and that without the pardon Of
Goo you are undonc forever. What are
you to do, my friends, with the accu-
INFLATED transgressions of this life.
time? Will you stand still and let the
avalanche tumble over you? o that
you would go away into the warm heart
OF Gods mercy. The southern grove,
redolent with magnolia and cactus,
never waited for northern hocks rs
God has waited for you, saying: 81
have loved thee with IN everlasting
love. Come unto me, all ye who are
weary and heavy laden. and I will give
you rest"
Another frost Is bidding you away-it
Is the frost Of sorrow. Where do YOU
live now? go" you say, 81 have
moved" Why did you move? You say,
II don't want as large IA house now as
formerly" Why do you not want as
large a house? You say, my family Is
so large" Where have they gone
To-? Eternity" Your mind goes back
through that last sickness and through
the almost supernatural effort to save
life, and through those prayers that
seemed u%navailing and through that
kiss which received no response because
the lips were l~ifeless, and l hear the
bells tolling and l hear the hearts
breaking-while / speak I hear them
break. A heart! Another hearti
Alone! alone! alone! This world,
which In your girlhood and boyhood
was sunshine, is cold now, and OF
weary dove, You fly around this world
as though you would like TO stay, when
the wind and the frost and the black
ening clouds would bid you away into
the heart of an oil comforting God. o,
have noticed again and again what q
botch this world makes of it when it
tries to comfort q soul in trouble! 1t
says: Don't cry!" How can we help
crying when the hearts treasures are
scattered, and father Is gone, and
mother Is gone, and companions are
gone, and the child Is gone, and every
thing seems gone. 1t is no comfort to
tell a man not to cry. The world comes
up and says: 20, 1t Is only the body Of
your loved n hat You have put
in the ground!" But there is no comfort
In that That body is precious Shall
VIC put our hand in that hand
again, and shall we never see that
sweet face again? Away, with your
heartlessness, o world! But come,
Jesus! and tell us that when the tears
fall they fall into Gods bottle; that the
dear bodies Of our loved ones shall MISC
radiant in the rc%surrection; and all the
breakiugs down here shall be lifted up
there, and they shall hunger no more,
neither thirst no more, neither shall
the sun light on them nor any heat, for
the Lamb which is in the midst OF tho
throne shall lead them to living fount-
aims OF water, and God shall wipe all
tears from their eyes"
You may have noticed that when the
chafinch or the stork or the crane
starts on its migration, 1t calls all those
OF Its kind to come too. The tree tops
are full Of chirp and whistle and carol
and the long roll call. The bird does
not start of alone. II gathers all Of its
kind. o, that you might be as wise in
this migration to Heaven, and that you
might gather all your families and your
friends with you! / would that Han
nah might take Samuel by the hand,
and Abraham might take Isaac, and
Hagar might take Ishmael.
Start for Heaven yourself and take
your children with yon. Come thou
and all thy house into the ark. Tell
your little ones that there are realms
Of balm and sweetness for all those who
fly in the right direction. Swifter than
eagles stroke put out for Heaven. Like
the crane or the stork, stop not night
or day until you find the right place for
stopping.
To-day the Saviour calls,
Ye wanderers come.
o, ye benighted souls,
Why longer roam?