Baxter Springs news. [volume] (Baxter Springs, Kan.) 1882-1919, 1893-06-17


ever threshing it." Blessed be God fol-
that! Pound away, o fail! Turn on,
o wheel! Your work will soon be done.
"He will not be ever threshing it."
Now the Christian has almost as much
use in the organ for the stop tremulant
rs he has for the trumpet But after
awhile he will put the last dirge into
the portfolio forever. So much of us as
is wheat will be separated from so
much as is chaff, and there will be no
more need of pounding.
They never cry in Heaven, because
they have nothing to cry about. There
are no tears of bereavement, for You
shall have your friends all round
about you. There are no tears OF pow
erty, because each one sits Mt the Kings
table and has his own chariot OF saliva
ton and free access to the wardrobe
where princes get their array. No tears
of sickness, for there are no pneumonias
on the air and no malarial exhalations
from the rolling river of life, and no
crutch for the lame limb and no splint
for the broken arm, but the pulses
throbbing with the health OF the
eternal God in climate like our June
before the blossoms fall or our gorgeous
October before the leaves scatter.
Oh! my hearers, is there not enough
salve in this text to make plaster
large enough to heal all your wounds?
When child is hurt, the mother is very
apt to say to it: "Now, twill soon feel
better" And that is what God says
when He unbosoms all the trouble in
the hush of this great promise: Weep
ing may endure for u night, but joy
cometh in the morning."
You will say: us it possible l am
here? Is this Heaven? Am / so pure
now I will never do anything wrong?
Am so well that l will never again be
sick? Are these comprehensive so
firm that they will never again be
broken? Is that Mary? Is that John?
Is that my loved one put away into
darkness? Can it be that these are
the faces of those who lay so wan and
emaciated in the back room on that
awful night dying? oh, how radiant
they are. Look ut them. How radiant
they are.
"Why. how unlike this place is from
what thought when left the world
below. Ministers drew pictures of this
land. but how tame compared with the
reality! They told Inc on earth that
death was sunset. No, no! 1t is sun
rise. Glorious sunrise! Isee the light
now purpling the hills, and the clouds
afame with the coming day."
Then the gates of Heaven will be
opened. and the entranced soul. with
the acuteness and the power of the ce-
lestial vision, will look ten thousands
of miles down upon the hammered pro-
cession-a river of shimmering splendor
and will cry out: WHO are they?"
And the angel of God, standing close
by. will say: Don't you know who
they are?' NO" says the entranced
soul. II cannot guess who they are"
The angel will say: Il will tell You,
then, who they are. These are they
who come out of great tribulation, or
threshing. and had their robes washed
and made white in the blood of the
Lamb"
History has no more gratulatory scene
than the breaking in of the English
army upon Lucknow, India. A few
weeks before a massacre had occurred
ut Cawnpore and $50 women and chill
dren had been put in room. Then
five professional butchers went in and
slew them. Then the bodies of the
slain were taken out and thrown into
a well. AS the English army came into
Cawnpore they went into the room,
and, oh, what horrid scene. Sword
strokes on the wall near the floor,
showing that the poor things had
crouched when they died; and they also
saw that the floor was ankle deep in
blood. The soldiers walked on their
heels across it, lest their shoes be sub
merged of the carnage. And on that
floor of blood there were flowing locks
of hair and fragments of dresses.
Out in Lucknow they had heard OF
the massacre and the women were
waiting for the same awful death;
waiting amid anguish untold; waiting
in pain and starvation, but waiting he
roically-when, one day, Havelock and
Outram and Norman and Sir David
Beard and Peel, the heroes of the En-
glish army, broke in on that horrid
scene: and while yet the guns were
soundinp and while cheers were issuing
from the starving, dying people on
the one side and from the travel-worn
and powder blackened soldiers on the
other-right there, in front of the
kings palace, there was such scene
of handshaking and embracing and
boisterous joy as would utterly con-
found the pen Of the poet and the PEN
Gil of the painter. And no wonder,
when these emanciated women. who
had suffered so heroioally for Christ's
sake, marched out from their incarcera-
+;o,, 0na tvouudad English soldier OOt