Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1893-11-16

their work, and time, that takes down ev-
erything, will yet take down that structure
until there shall not be one stone left upon
another.
THE EVERLASTING NOW.
But there is soul in heaven. Through
your instrumentality it was put there. I'm
der Gods grace you are the architect of its
eternal happiness. Your name is written,
not on one corner of it's nature, but in
wrought into its every fiber and energy
Will the storms of winter wash out the
story of what you have wrought upon that
spiritual structuref No. There are no
storms in that land, and there is no winter
Will time wear out the inscription which
shows your fidelityi No. Time is past,
and it is an everlasting now. Built into
the foundation of that imperishable stEuc-
tho heavens / take these two pictures Of
you with me. They are SO inwrought into
my being that cannot lose them. As long
as my hands last the memory of you will
last. Not on the back of my hands, as
though to announce you to others, but on
the palms Of my hands for myself to look
at and study and love. Not on the
palm of one hand alone, but on the
palms of both hands, for while I
am looking upon one hand and thinking of
you, must have the other hand free to pro-
tect you, free to strike back your enemy,
free to lift if you fall. Palms of my hands
indelibly tattooedl And though hold the
winds in my fist no cyclone shall uproot
the inscription of your name and your face,
and though hold the ocean in the hollow
of my hand its billowing shall not wash
out the record of my remembrance. BE
hold, have craven thee on the palms Of my
hands,"
GODS GREAT HEART PALACE.
What joy, what honor can there be COM
parable to that of being remembered by the
mightiest and kindest and loveliest and
tenderest and most affectionate being in
the universe? Think of it, to hold an ever
lasting place in the heart of God. The
heart of Godi The most beautiful palace
in the universe. Let the archangel build
him crumble up all the stars of yesternight
and tomorrow night and put them together
as mosaics for such palace floor. Let him
take all the sunrises and sunsets of all the
days and the auroras Of all the nights and
hang them as upholstery at its windows.
Let him take all the rivers, and all the
lakes, and all the oceans, and toss them
into the fountains of this palace court. Let
him take all the gold of all the hills and
hang it in its chandeliers, and all the pearls
Of all the seas, and all the diamonds of all
the fields, and with them arch the doorways
of that palace, and then invite into it all
the glories that Esther ever saw at Per.
sian banquet, or Daniel ever walked among
in Babylonian castles, or Joseph ever wit
messed in Pharaoh's throneroom, and then
yourself enter this castle of archangelic con-
struction, and see how poor a palace it is
compared with the greater palace that some
of you have already found in the heart of a
loving and pardoning God, and into which
all the music. and all the prayers, and all
the sermonic considerations of this day are
trying to introduce you through the blood
of the slain lamb.
THE DEFEAT OF OBLIVION.
Oh, where is oblivion nowp From the
dark and overshadowing word that it SEEM
ed when began, it has become something
which no man or woman or child who loves
the Lord need ever fear. Oblivion defeat
ed. Oblivion dead. Oblivion sepulchered
But must not be so hard on that devour-
ing monster, for into it's grave go all our
sins when the Lord for Christ's sake has
forgiven them. Just blow resurrection
trumpet over them when once oblivion has
snapped them down. Not one of them
rises. Blow again. Not stir amid all the
pardoned iniquities of lifetime. Blow
again. Not one Of them moves in the deep
grave trenches. But to this powerless res
direction trumpet voice responds, half hui
man, half divine, and it must be part man
and part God, saying, Their sins and their
iniquities will remember no more"
Thank God for this blessed oblivionl So
you see did not invite you down into a
cellar, but upon throne; not into the
graveyard to which all materialism is des-
tined, but into a garden all abloom with
everlasting remembrance. The frown OF
my first text has become the kiss of the
second text. Annihilation has become cor
onation. The wringing hands of great
agony have become the clapping hands of a
great joy. The requiem with which we be-
gan has become the grand march with
which we close. The tear of sadness that
rolled down our cheek has struck the lip
on which sits the laughter Of eternal
triumph.