The Londonderry sifter. (South Londonderry, Vt.) 1883-19??, 1893-03-03

...n. wg H.. ..
b, ar WM, rn
warmli.
Many yea. H= n- Ha taa.
down on the ic. 5n
great efforts were ma, A. 1- Ha
Twice he got hold of plas rr a
him and twice he slipped away a.
because that end Of the plank was CO
cred with ice, and he cried out, For
Gods sake, give me the wooden end Of
the plank this time" and this done he
was hauled to shore. The troubles that
in our efforts to save the soul there is
too much GOODNESS and icy formality,
and so the imperiled one slips off and
floats down. Give it the other end of the
warmth of sympathy, warmth of
kindly association, warmth of genial sur
roundings
The world declines to give it, and in
many cases has no power to give it, and
here is where Christ comes in, and, as on
cold day, the rain beating and the at
mosphere fr.u of sleet, the hen clucks
her chickens under her wings, and the
warmth of her own breast puts warmth
into the wet feathers and the chilled feet
of the infant group. of the barnyard, so
Christ says to those sick and frosted and
disguised and frozen of the world, Come
in out of the March winds of the worlds
criticism; come in out of the sleet of the
worlds assault; come in out of a world
that does not understand you and does
not want to understood you. | will COM
fort and | will soothe and l will be your
warmth, "as a hen gathereth her chick
ems under her wing" Oh, the warm
heart of God is ready for all those to
whom the world has given the cold
shoulder.
SACRIFICE UNTO DEATH.
But notice that some one must take
the storm for the chickens All! the hen
takes the storm | have watched her
under the pclting rain. have seen her
in the pinching frosts almost frozen to
death or almost strangled in the waters,
and what fight she makes for the young
under wing if a dog or a hawk or man
comes too near! And so the brooding
Christ takes the storm for us. What
food Of anguish and tears that did not
dash upon his holy soul! What beak Of
torture did not pierce his vitals! What
barking Cerberus of hell was not let out
What he endured, oh, who can tell
To save our souls from death and hell!
Yes, the hen took the storm for the
chickens, and Christ takes the storm for
us. Once the tempest rose SO suddenly
the hen could not get with her young
back from the new ground to the barn,
and there she is under the fence half
dead. And now the rain. turns to snow,
and it is an awful night, and in the morn
Ing the whiteness about the gills and the
beak down in the mud show that the
mother is dead, and the young ones come
out and cannot understand why the
mother does not scratch for them some
thing to eat, and they walk over her
wings and call with their tiny voices,
but there is no answering cluck. She
took the storm for others and persisted
Poor thing! Self sacrificing even unto
death!
And does it not make you think of him
who endured all for us? So the wings
under which we come for spiritual safety
are blood spattered wings, are night shat
tered wings, are tempest torn wings.
In the Isle of Wight saw tile grave of
Princess Elizabeth, who died while a
prisoner at Carisbrook castle, her finger
on an open Bible and pointing to the
words, Come unto me all ye that labor
and are heavy laden, and will give you
rest" Oh, come under the wings!
But now the summer day is almost
passed, and the shadows of the house
and barn and wagon shed have length
ened. The farmer, with scythe or hoe
on shoulder. is returning from the fields.
The oxen are unyoked. The horses are
crunching tie oats at the full bin. The
air is bewitched of honeysuckle and wild
brier. The milkman, pail in hand, is
approaching the barnyard. The fowls,
keeping early hours, are collecting their
young, "Cluck" "Cluck!" "Cluck!" and
soon all the eyes of that feathered nursery
are closed
The bachelors of the winged tribe have
assembled to their perch, but the hens, n
motherhood divinely appointed, take
all the risk of slumber on the ground,
and all night long the wings will stay
outspread, Id the little ones will not
utter sound. Thus at shutdown, low
ingly, safely, completely, the hen broods
her young. So, if we are the Lords, the
evening of our life will come. The heats
of the day will have passed. There will
be shadows, and we cannot see as far
The work of life will be about ended.
The hawks of temptation that lowered
in the sky will have gone to the woods
and folded their wings. Sweet silences
will come down. The air will be redo
lent with the breath of whole arbors of
promises sweeter than jasmine or even
ing primrose. The air may be little
chill, but Christ will call us, and we will
know the voice and heed the call, and we
will come under the wings for the night
the strong wings, the soft wings, the
warm wings-and without fear and in
full sense of safety, and then we will
rest from shutdown to sunrise, 'sas hen
gathereth her chickens under her wing. "
Dear me, how many souls the Lord hath
thus brooded!
Mothers, after watching over sick era
dies and then watching afterward over
wayward sons and daughters, at last
themselves taken care of by motherly
God. Business men, after a lifetime
struggling with the uncertainties of
money markets. and the change of tariffs,
and the underselling of men who be-
cause of their dishonesties can afford to
undersell, and years of disappointment
and struggle. at last under wings whera
nothing can perturb them any more than
a bird of prey which is 10 miles off dis
TURKS chick at midnight brooded in a
barnyard.
TRUSTING IN DIVINE SHELTER.
My text has its strongest application
COUGHING LADS To CONSUMPTION
kemp's Balsam stops the cough at once.