Highland recorder. (Monterey, Highland County, Va.) 1877-1972, 1893-09-08

clivities for dissipation.
speak cheering word. God heard every
counsel you ever offered Him. God has
known all the sleepless nights you have
passed. God has seen every sinking Of your
depressed spirit. God remembers your
prayers. Hs keeps eternal record of your
anxeties. andin His acknowledgement such
as stood in an ancient tomb, but in one that
glows and glitters besides the throne OF God
holds all those exhaustinQ tears.
The grass may be rank upon your graves
and the letters upon your tombstones de-
faced with the elements before the divine
response will come, but He who hath de-
clared, 81 will be God 10 thee and TO thy
seed after thee" will not forget, and some
day in heaven while you are ranging the
fields of light the gates Of pearl will swing
back, and garlanded with glory that long
hayward one will rush into your out
stretched arms OF welcome and triumph. The
hills may depart, and the earth may burn,
and the stars fall, and time perish, but God
will break His oath and trample upon His
promises-never never
Again, God keeps perpetual remembrance
of oil bereavements. These are the trials
thu cleave the soul and throw the red hearts
Of men to be crushed in the wine press.
Troubles at the store you may leave at tho
store. Misrepresentation and abuse or the
world you may leave on the street where you
found them. The lawsuit that would swallow
your honest accumulations may be left in the
courtroom. Rut bereavements are home
troubles, and there is no escape from them.
You will SEQ that vacant chair. Your eye
will catch at the suggestive picture.
You cannot fly in the presence of such ills.
You go to Switzerland to get clear of them (;
but, more sure footed than the mule that
takes you up the Alps, your troubles climb
kOf bo into CIT
ciers. You may cross the seas. but they can
outsail the swiftest steamer. You may take
caravan and put out across the Arabian des-
ert, but they follow you like O simeon,
armed with suffocation. You plunge into
the Mammoth cave, but they hang like sta
Iactites from the roof of the great cavern.
They stand behind with skeleton fingers to
push you ahead. They stand before you to
throw you back. They run upon YOU like
reckless horsemen. They charge upon you
with cleaning spear. They seem to come
haphazard, scattering shots from the gun OF
q careless sportsman, But not so. 1t Is good
aim that sends them just right, for God is
the archer.
This summer many of you will especially
feel your grief as you go to places where once
you were accompanied by those who are
gone now. Your troubles will follow you to
the seashore and will keep up with the light
ming express in which you speed away. Or,
tarrying at home, they will sit beside you by
day and whisper oyeryour pillow night after
hight. l want to assure YOU that you are
not left alone and that your weeping is heard
in heaven.
You will wander among the hills and say,
Cup this hill last year our boy climbed with
great glee and waved his cap from the top"
or "This is the place where our little girl put
flowers IN her hair and looked up in Der
mothers face" until every drop of blood in
your heart tingleo with gladness, and you
thanked God with thrill of rapture and you
look around Us much as to say: "Who
dashed out that light? Who filled this cup
with gall? What blast froze up these foun-
tains of the hearth"
Some Of you have lost your parents within
the last Twelve months. Their prayers for
you gro ended. You take up their picture
and try to call back the kindness that once
looked out from those old, wrinkled faces
and spoke in such tremulOus voice, and
YOU say il is good picture, but all the while
YOU feel that, after all. it does not do justice,
and you would give almost anythiDg-you
would cross the sea you would walk the
earth over-to hear just one word from those
lips that few months ago used to call you
by your first name, though so long you your
self have been parent
grief. You smile when you do not feel like
it. But though you may deceive the world,
God knows. He looks down upon the
empty cradle, upon the desolated nursery,
upon the stricken home and upon the
broken heart, and says: "This is the way
l thrash the wheat this is the way scou1
NY Jewels Cast thy burden on My arm,
and l will sustain you. All those tears
have gathered into My bottle"
But what is the use of having SO many
tears in Gods lachrymatory? In that great
casket or vase, why does God preserve all
your troubles? Through all the ages OF
eternity, what use Of great collection OF
tears do not know but that in some dis
tant age OF heaven an angel Of God may look
into the bottle and fin1 it as empty OF tears
as the la;nrymals OF earthenware dug up
from the ancient city. Where have the tears
gone? What sprite of hell hath been invad-
ing Gods palace and hath robbed the lachry-
matories? None. These were sanctified
sorrows, and those tears were changed into
pearls that are now set in the crowns and
robes OF the ransOmed.
walk up to examine this heavenly cor
onet, cleaning brighter than the sun, and
cry, From what river depths OF heaven were
those gems gathered?" and a thousand voices
reply, "These are transmitted tears from
Gods bottle" I see scepters of light
stretched down from the throne OF those who
on earth were trod on of men, and in every
scepter point and inlaid in every ivory stan
OF golden throne l behold an indescrlbable
richness and luster and cry, 'From whence
this streaming light-these flashing pecrlsT
and the voices OF the elders before the throne,
and OF the martyrs under the altar, and OF
the hundred and forty and four thousand
radiant on the CLASSY sea exclaim, "Trans-
muted tears from Gods bottle"
Let the ages of heaven roll on-the story
of earth's pomp and pride long ago ended
the kohinOor diamonds that make kings
proud, the precious stones that adorned Per-
sian tiara and famed in the robes of Baby
lonian professions forgotten the Golconda
mines charred in the last conhagration, but
firm as the everlasting hills and pure as the
light that streams from the throne, and
bright as the river that flows from the eternal
rock, shall CLEAN, shall sparkle, shall fame
forever these transmitted tears OF Gods
bottle.
Meanwhile let the empty lachrymatory of
heaven stand for ever. Let no hand touch 1t.
Let no wing strike it. Let no collision crack
it. Purer than bcryl or chrysoprasss. Let
it stand on the step of Jehovah's throne and
under the arch of the unfading rainbow.
Passing down the corridors of the palace,
the redeemed of earth shall glance at it and
think of all the earthly troubles from which
they were delivered and say, each to each:
"That is what we heard OF on earth." "That
is what the psalmist spoke Of" "There once
were put our tears" "That is Gods bot
tle" And while standing there inspecting
this richest inlaid vase of heaven the towers
of the palace dome strike up this silvery
chime: "God hath wiped away all tears
from all faces. Wherefore comfort one an
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