The Bolivar bulletin. (Bolivar, Tenn.) 1888-1946, 1892-09-16

band of missionaries: David Abeel,
talking of China redeemed; and John
Scudder, of India saved; and David
Brainard, of the aborigines evangelical.
and Mrs. Adoniram Judson, whose
prayers for Burmah took Heaven by
violencel All these Christians are looking
into the arena. Our struggle is moth
ing 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 swelterod
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 Isaai Watts addressing US
in his old hymn, only a little changed:
Must you be carried to the skies
On howery beds of ease,
While others fought 10 win the prize,
Or sailed through bloody seass
Toplady shouts in his old hymn:
Your harps, We trembling saints.
Down from the willows take;
Loud to the praise OF love divine,
Bid every string awake
While Charles Wesley, the Methodist,
breaks forth in his favorite words, a
little varied:
A charge to keep you have,
God to glorffy;
A never-d dying soul to save,
And fit it for the skyi
/ look again and 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 at our tables, and we
walked to the House of God in COM
pany. Have they forgotten us? Those
fathers and mothers started us on the
road of life. Are they careless as to
what becomes of us? And those chill
dren do they look on with stolid indif-
ference 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" Mother, do not worry" They
remember the day they left us. They
remember the agony of the last fare
well. Though years in Heaven, they
know our faces. They remember our
sorrows They speak our names. They
watch this fight for Heaven. Nay; ]
see them rise up and lean over,
and wave before us their recognition
and encouragement The gallery is not
full They are keeping places for us.
After we have slain the lion they ex-
pect the King to call us, saving: Come
up higher!" Between the hot struggles
in the arena wipe the sweat from my
brow, and stand on tiptoe, reaching up
my right hand TO clasp theirs in rap
turous Misunderstanding, 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 martyrsi Gallery of saintsi
Gallery of friends and kindredl Oh,
majestic circles of light and lovel
Throngsi Throngsl Throngs! How
shall we stand the gaze of the uni
verse? Myriads of eyes beaming on
us! Myriads of hearts beating in SYM
pathy for us! How shall we ever dare
to sin again? How shall we everbecome
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 kim
dred for us-shall we give up the fight
and die? No! Son of God, who didst
die to save us. No! We angles, whose
wings are spread forth to shelter u.s.
No! We prophets and apostles, whose
warnings startle us. No! We loved
ones, whose arms are outstretched to
receive us, MOI we will never sur
render.
Sure must fight IL 1 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. thou 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.
MY hearersi 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 sol
der, 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!'
ooh, heard the roll-call of Heaven,
and / was only answering to my name!"
wonder whether, after this battle of
life is over, our names will be called I'M
the muster roll of the pordoned and
glorified, and, with the joy Of Heaven
breaking upon our souls, we shall cry: