Baxter Springs news. [volume] (Baxter Springs, Kan.) 1882-1919, 1892-09-03

Earthly power goes from hand to
hand, from Henry /. to Henry ii. and
Henry ILL.,, from Charles ]. to Charles
H., from Louis /. to Louis H. and Louis
ILL.,, but from everlasting to everlasting
is God. God the first, God the last, God
the only. He has one telescope with
which he sees everything: his ON
niscience. He has one bridge with
which he crosses everything: his omni-
presence. He has one hammer with
which he builds everything: his omnip-
otence. Put two tablespoonfuls of
water in the palm of your hand and it
will overflow; but Isaiah indicates that
God puts the Atlantic and the Pacific
and the Arctic and the Antarctic and
the Mediterranean and the Black sea
and all the waters of the earth in the
hollow of his hand; the fingers the
beach on one side, the wrist the beach
on the other. ale holdeth the water
in the hollow of his hand"
Another seraphic posture in the text.
The seraph must not always stand still.
He must move, and it must be without
clumsiness. There must be celebrity and
beauty in the movement. with twain
he did fly." Correction, eXhilaration.
Correction Mt our slow gait, for we only
crawl in the service when we ought to
fly at the divine bidding. EXhilaration
in the fact that the soul has wings as
the seraphs have wings What is a
wing? An instrument of locomotion.
They may not be like seraph's wings,
they may not be like birds wing, but
the soul has wings. God says so. 'He
shall mount up on wings as eagles "
We are made in the divine image, and
God has wings. The Bible says so.
Healing in His wings" Under the
shadow of His wings" ''Under whose
wings thou hast come to trust" We
have folded wing now, wounded wing,
broken wing, bleeding wing, Gagged
wing. Aye. l have it now. Gagged
within bars of bone and under curtains
of flesh, but one day to be free. l hear
the rustic of pinions in Seagrave's
poem which we often sing:
Rise. my soul. and stretch thy wings.
hear the rustic of pinions in Alex
ander Pope's stanza, which says:
lmount, l fly,
odeath. where is thy victory:
A dying Christian not long ago cried
out, "Wings, wings, wings" The air
is full of them, coming and going, COM
ing and going. You have seen how the
dull, sluggish chrysalid becomes the
bright butterfly: the dull and the STU
pid and the lethargic turned into the
alert and the beautiful. Well, my
friends. in this world we are in the
chrysalid state Death will unfurl the
wings. o. if we could only realize
what grand thing it will be to get rid
of this old clod of the body and mount
the heavens, neither seagull nor lark
nor albatross. nor falcon, nor condor
pitching from highest range Of Andes
so bnoyant or so majestic of stroke.
See that eagle in the mountain nest.
1t looks SO sick, so ragged feathered. so
worn out and so half asleep. Is that
eagle dying? No. The ornithologist
will tell you it is molting season with
that bird. Not dying. but melting.
You see that Christian sick and weary
and worn out and seemingly about to
expire on what is called his death bed.
The world says he is dying. ! say it is
the melting season for his soul-the
body dropping away, the celestial pin
ions coming on. Not dying, but moult-
ing. Melting out of darkness and sin
and struggle into glory and into Cad.
Why do You not shout? Why do you
sit shivering at the thought of death
and trying to hold back and wishing
you could stay here forever. and
speak of departure as though the
subject were filed with skeletons and
the varnish of collins as though you
preferred lame foot to swift wing? o
people of God, let lis stop playing the
fool and prepare for rapturous fight.
When your soul stands on the verge of
this life and there are vast precipices be-
meath and sapphircd domes above,
which way will you fly? viii you
swoop or will you soar? VIII you fly
downward or will you fly upward?
Everything on the wing this morning
bidding us aspire. Holy Spirit on the
wing. Angel OF the new covenant on
the wing. Time on the wing, flying
away from us. Eternity on the wing,
flying toward us. Wings, wings, wings!
Live so near to Christ that when you
are dead people standing by your
lifeless body will not soliloquize,
saying: ''What disappointment life
was to him; how averse he was
to departure; what pity it was he had
to die; what an awful calamity" Rath-
er standing there may they see a sign
more vivid on your still face than the
vestiges of pains, something that will
indicate that it was happy exit-the
clearance from oppressive quarantine,
the cast off chrysalid, the melting of
the faded and useless, and the ascent
from malarial valleys to bright, shining
mountain tops, and be led to say, as