The Bolivar bulletin. (Bolivar, Tenn.) 1888-1946, 1893-08-18
said. nEven 80. Father. sor SO

IL Seemeth good IN Thy sight
But / must come on down to your
later sorrow. What was it? Perhaps
il was sickness The child's tread ON
the stair or the tick of the watch on
the stand disturb you. Through the
long, weary days you counted the fig
ures in the carpet or the flowers in the
wall paper. Oh, the WEAKNESS and ex-
hanstionl Oh, the burning pangsi
Would God it were morning, would
God it were night, was your frequent
cry But you are better, perhaps even
well. Have you thanked God that to-
day you can come out in the fresh air;
that you are in this place to hear Gods
name, and to sing Gods praise, and to
implore Gods help, and to ask Gods
forgiveness? Bless the Lord who
healeth all our diseases, and redeemeth
our lives from destruction.
Perhaps your last sorrow was a finan-
cial embarrassment. l congratulate
some of you on your lucrative profess
sion or occupation, on ornate apparel,
on a commodious residence-every-
thing you put your hand to seems to
turn to gold. But there are others of
You who are like the ship on which
Paul sailed where two seas met, and
you are broken by the violence of the
waves. BY an unadvised Endorsement,
or by a conjunction of unforeseen
events, or by fire or storm, or a sense
less panic, you have been flung head
long, and where you once dispensed
great charities now you have hard
work to make the two ends meet
Have you forgotten to thank God for
your DAYS of prosperity, and that
through your trials some of you have
made investments which will continue
after the last bank of this world has
exploded and the silver and gold are
molten in fires of burning world?
Have you, amid all your losses and dis
couragements, forgot that there was
bread on your table this morning and
that there shall be a shelter for your
head from the storm, and there is air
for Your lungs, and blood for your
heart, and light FOR your eye, and a
glad and glorious and triumphant re-
ligion for your soul?
Perhaps your last trouble was a be-
reavement That heart which in
childhood was your refuge, the parental
heart, and which has been source of
the quickest sympathy ever since, has
suddenly become silent forever. And
now sometimes. whenever in sudden
annoyance and without elaboration
you say, 81 will go and tell MOTHER"
the thought flashes on you: Il have no
mother" Or the father, with voice
less tender, but at heart as earnest and
loving-watchful of all our ways,
exultant over your success without
saying much, although the old people
do talk it over by themselves-is taken
away forever.
Or there was your companion in life,
sharer of your joys and sorrows, taken,
leaving the heart an old ruin, where
the i'll winds blow over a wide wilder
ness of desolation. the sands of the
desert driving across the place which
once bloomed like the garden of God.
And Abraham mourns for Sarah at the
cave of Machpelah. Going along your
path in life, suddenly, right before YOU
was an open grave.
People looked down, and they saw
that it was only few feet deep and a
/ few feet wide, but to you it was a chasm
down which went all your hopes aud
all your expectations.
But cheer up in the name of the Lcrd
Jesus Christ, the Comforter He is not
going to forsake you. Did the Lord
take that child out of your arms? Why
He is going to shelter it better than
you could. He is going to array it in a
white robe, and give it a palm branch,
and have it all ready to greet you at
your coming home. Blessed the broken
/ heart that Jesus heals. Blessed the
importunate cry that Jesus compassion
ates. Blessed the weeping eye from
which the soft hand of Jesus wipes
away the tear.
Some years ago l was sailing down
the St. John river, which is the Rhine
and the Hudson commingled in one
scene of beauty and grandeur, and
while / was on the deck of the steamer
a gentleman pointed out to me the
places of interest, and he said: "All
this is interval land, and it is the rich
est land in all the provinces of New
Brunswick and Nova Scotia"
sWhat," said ], 'sdo you mean by in
terval land?" 'Wel,' he said, s.this
land is submerged for part of the
year; spring freshets come down and
all these plains are overfowed with
the water, and the water leaves rich
deposit, and when the waters are gone
the harvest springs up, and there is the
grandest harvest that was ever reaped,"
and | instantly thought: cit is not the
heights of the church and it is not the
| heights of this world that are the
scenes of the greatest prosperity, but
the soul over which the floods of sor-
row have gone, the soul over which the
| freshets of tribulation have torn their
way, that vie Ids the greatest fruits of
righteousness, and the largest harvest
for time, and the richest harvest for
eternity" Bless God that your soul is
| eterval land.
But these "reminiscences reach only
to this morning. There is one more
point of tremendous "Reminiscences, and
| that is the last hour of life, when we
have to look over all our past ex-
istence. What a moment that will bel
place Napoleon's dying remi-
niscence on st. Helena beside
Mrs. Judson's dying "reminiscences
in the harbor of st. Helena, the
same island, twenty years after
Napoleon's dying "Reminiscences was one
of delirium-as he exclaimed: Head
of the army!'' Mrs. Judson's dying
Renaissance, as she came home from
her missionary toll and her life of self
sacrifice for God, diving in the cabin OF
the ship in the harbor of st. Helena,
was: Il always did love the Lord Jesus
Christ And then, the historian ssys,
/ che fell into q S<,,,1d sIoen for a N hor1r