Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1893-08-23
REV. Dir. TALMAGE,
The Brooklyn Divine's
Sunday Sermon.
Subject :-''Fireside Musing."
TEXT: "WhHe 7 toas ulusi1q ne A..

contemplation. And 1t would be we'll Tor va
10 take the same posture often, closing the
door against the world while we sit doyyn An
sweet solitude to contemplate
In n small island of the coast once nnseo,
sabbath in delightful solitude for had
resolved that l would have one day OF entJro
plct before | entered upon autumnal work
thought to have spent the day in having out
Jlans for Christian work, but instead of ,hot
Il became n day of tender reminiscence.
reviewed my pastOrate. shook hands with
an old departed irlend, whom 1 shall greet
again when the curtains of life are hfted
The days Of my boyhood came back. and 7
was 10 years OF age, and was s, and I was
8. There was but one house on the island
and yet from Sabbath duybreak, when the
bird chant woke me, until the evening melted
into the bay, from shore to shore there were
10 900 memories and the groves were a-hurn
with voices that had long ago ceased.
Youth IS apt too much to spend all its tims
IN looking forward. Old age is apt too mucn
to spend all its time in looking backward.
People in midlifc and on the apex look both
ways. Il would be well for US, think, how
ever, to spend more time in reminiscence
By tho constitution OF our nature We spend
most OF the time looking forward And tire
vast maj jOrity Of people live not so much in
the pres nj aS in the future. find that Won
mean 10 make n reputation. You mean 10
establish yourself, and the advantages that
you expect to achieve absorb a great deal
OF your time. But | see no harm in this il
Il does not make you discontended with the
present or disqualify you fer existing duties
1t is useful thing sometimes to look back
and to see the dangers we have escaped, and
to see the sorrows we have suffered. and the
trials and wanderlngs of our earthly pill
Grlmace, and TO sum up our enjoyments I
mean to-day, so far as God may help me- TO
stir up your memory of the past, so that in
the review you may be encouraged and hum
bled and urged to pray.
There is u chapel in Florence with a tresco
by Guido. 1t was covered up with two
inches OF stucco until our American and
European artists vent there and after long
toll removed the covering and retraced the
frescu. And am aware that the memory of
the past. with many Of you, is oil covered up
with 10, 900 obliterations, and L propose this
morning, so far as the Lord may help me, TO
take away the covering, that the old picture
may shine out again.
want 10 bind in one sheat all your past
advantages, and want to bind in another
sheaf all your past adversities. Il is n prec-
lOus harvest, and I must be cautious how [
swing the scythe.
Among the greatest advantages OF your
past life was an early home and its surround-
hgs. The bad men of the day, for the most
part, dip their heated passions out of tho
boiling spring OF an unhappy home. We
are not surprised that Byron's heart was "A
concentration of sin when we hear that his
mother was abandoned and that she mGdo
sport OF his inarmity and often called him
''the lame brat" He who has vicious parents
has to ilght every inch Of his way IL he
would maintain his integrity and at last
reachthe home Of the good in heaven.
Perhaps your early home was In the city.
II may have been IN the days when Canal
street, New York, was far up town. That Old
house in the city may have been demolished
or changed into stores, and 1t seemed like
sacrtege TO you, for there was more meaning
In that plain house, in that small house, than
khprp Ia n q urauifa mansion q trrrntaI
cathedral. Looking back this morning, you
Bee It as though 1t were yesterday-the sit
ting room, where the loved ones sat by the
plain lamplight, the mother at the evening
stand, the brothers and sisters, perhaps long
ago gathered into the skies, then plotting
mischief on the floor or underline table your
father with firm voice commanding silence,
that lasted half minute.
Oh, those were good days II you had
your foot hurt, your mother always had
soothing salve to heal it. Ii you were
wronged in the street, your father was always
ready TO protect you. The year was one
round Of frolic and mirth. Your greatest
trouble WAS an April shower, more sunshine
than shower. The heart had not been ran
sacked by troubles, nor had sickness broken
It, and no lamb had warmer sheepfold
than the home In which your childhood
nestled.
Perhaps you were brought up In the coun-
try. You stand now to-day in memory under
the old tree. You dubbed il for fruit that
was not quite ripe because you could not
wait any longer. You hear the brook rumb-
ling along over the pebbles You step again
into the furrow where your father in his
shirt sleeves shouted to the lazy oxen. You
trighten the swallows from the rafters Of the
barn and take just one egg and silence your
conscience by saying they will not miss 1t.
You take a drink again out OF the very bucket
that the old well fetched up. You so for tho
cows at night and find them waGginS their
heads through the bars. Outlines In the
dusty and busy streets you wish you wera
home again on that cool grass or In the hall
OF the farmhouse, through which there was
the breath OF new mown hay or the blossom
OF buckwhest.
You may have in your windows now beautt-
full plants and flowers brought from across
the seas, but not one OF them stirs in your
soul so much charm and memory as the old
ivy and the yellow sunilOwer that stood
sentinel along the garden walk and the for
getmenOts playing hide and seek mid the
long grass The father, who used to come
In sunburned from the fields and sit down on
the doOrsill and wipe the sweat from his
brow, may have gone to his everlasting rest.
The mother who used to sit at the door
little bent over cap and spectacles on, her
face mellowing with the vicissitudes OF many
years, may have put down her gray head on
the pillow in the valley, but forget that home
you never will.
Have you thanked God for it2 Have you
rehearsed all these blessed "reminiscences!
Oh, thank God for a Christian father. Thank
God for Il Christian mother. Thank God Tor
an early Christian altar at which you were
taught to kneel. Thank God for an early
Christian home
l bring to mind another passage In the his
tory OF your life. The day came when you
set up your own houshOld. The days passed
along in quiet blessedness. Your twain sat at
the table morning and night and talked over
your plans for the future. The most signlh,
cant affair in your life became the subject OF
mutual consultation and advisement. You
were so happy you felt you never couIu 10
any happier.
One day a dark cloud hovered over your
dwelling and it got darker and darker. But
out OF that cloud the shining messenger OF
God descended to incarnate an 1mnorta
spirit. Two little feet started on an eternai
Journey, and you were to lead them a BeIh
10 flash in heavens coronet, and you 10
polish 1t. Eternal ages of light and uark-
ness watching the starting out OF newly
created being.
You reJoiced and you trembled at the re-
spOnsibility that In your possession an I'M,
mortal treasure was placed. You prayed anu
rejoiced and wept and wondered, and prayed
and rejoiced, and wept and wondered lou
were earnest in supplication that you niS.'
lead It through life into the kingdom OF you
There was @ tremor in your earnestness.
There was a double interest about that nome
There was an additional interest why you
should stay there and be faithful, and Wheh
In a few months your house was hlleu VII" VIZ
the music of the chiId's laughter you were
struck through with the fact that you mad d
stupendous mission.
Have you kept that vow2 Have you ne
elected any Of these duties7 Isyour home aE
much TO you as 1t used to be? Have tnoss ~
snticipatlons been grstlfed? God help 70.
to-day in your solemn "reminiscences anu r
His mercy fall upon your soul If your KIND
ness has been I'll requitedl God have mercs @
on the parent on the wrinkles OF whose Go1 5.ot
Is written the story of a child's sin Coz
have mercy on the mother who IN addit,
her own pangs has the panS OF chlld VI,
tquityi Oh, there are many, many , so
sounds In this sad world, but the sidli,s ots !
sound that Is ever heard is the breaking o.
mothers heart - Are there any mere WIZ io