The Jasper weekly courier. [volume] (Jasper, Ind.) 1858-1922, 1893-01-06

tho other, an hold EN- up afore my
hearers an describe EN- in everyday
talk. ! don't spend the hull week cut
TN big cords QUITO the dictionary TO
hold ny Sunday sermon together.
An now. my friends, that's all the
claim make TO bein' preacher, an
as ! said afore, my style o. talk may
not sound good in corral o. this high
quality, thar'fore Ill cut IL short an
make as few bad breaks as kin.
do you know, my friends, that cow
boys make better Christians than you
city people do. Some o. you look like
that pinches yer ears. but it's dead
squar' fact, an Ill tell you why. The
boy out on the range a ridin' after
stock is with God all the time. lie
lives right in the bosom O nature, in a
country yet as God made il, not
despoilcd by the hand o man. an he
has nobody but God to talk to- Wen
he sees the beautiful flowers a-noddin'
him graceful good mornin' from
their grassy beds beside the trail. he
knows that God put EN- thar and his
heart throbs with thanks fur the pleas
ure his eyes have enjoyed.
wen the little birds see him accom-
in an git near the trail an sing in
music no human throat could produce.
he knows they sing the Masters praise
an his glad soul echoes the ripplin
melody. Wen he comes to a crystal
brook that dances over the rocks an
sparkles back tinklipg laughter to the
ticklin' rays o. sunshine an gifts down
of his horse to qucnch his thirst, he
realizes that God caused that water to
burst forth from the earth fur the use o.
man an beast. an his heart breathes
thanks as he quaffs the rcfreshin
draught.
If the clouds bun ch up an heavens
tears fall upon the cart h. he don't look
through lace curtains as you folks do
an growl at the weat her cause it's
goin' to keep you away from theater
or social blowout, but he unties Ills
slicker from his saddle, puts it on an
says: This rain is godsend. The
grass IL push right out o the ground
an stock III get hog fat
"An' see him wen he camps fur the
night. He pulls off his saddle an stakes
his horse out to Craze, singin' the
songs o heaven. an, after his plain
lunch, spreads his blankets on the grass
Then he kncels down beside that
blanket bed an prays. Thar's nobody
thar but God an him. an he finds it
the easiest thing in the world to whis-
per his thanks an his desires into the
ever-listenin' ear. lie prays fur the
rope o. salvation to circle over the boys
yit begged in sin an fur the Almighty
hand to stiddy them that's Jest bin
pulled out o. the mud. an his prayer is
sincere. lie knows he is all alone. far
from human habitation. whar' deadly
reptiles lark an wild beast prowl at
night, an he asks God to keep an eve
on him, az guard him from peril. Then
he rolls up in his blankets and laws
gain up at the shinin' jewels set in
the crown o heaven. an his reverence
fur the Great King increases as he sees
the wonderful work o. His hands
Countless thousands o. shinin' o-bs
meet his view-worlds like our own,
their paths through space with the pre-
cision o. soldiers at drill. while through
them. like a great captain, the moon
silently plows its way. He knows
that the beautiful gem gar den war
planted by the hand o. God aforc the be-
wildered gaze o. the first man rested |
on its twinklin' loneliness, afore the |
birth o. humanity. an he feels wat |
blessed privilege it is to serve the |
Master whose hand could stud the |
heavens with such brilliant glories.
wen ut last his eyes are softly |
closed by the finger o. the angel o.
sleep an he floats from the shores o. |
consciousness out onto the tranquil sea |
o slumber. his sleep is untroubled an
he rests as calmly as babe upon its |
mothers bosom.
"Now. my friends. how does your |
side o. the picter show up? Some OF |
you look sort o narvous an uncom- |
Portable. jest us a calf looks wen it |
sees hot brandin' iron comm, an
you think Id better not foller the |
trail I'm on too fur. Thank yon. grand
ma. A good oil Christian woman down |
thar, with the calm o Heaven on her
dear oil face an che light o. Gods love |
know her nod meant Give il TO 'em.
Bill, fur most Of EN- deserve it,
'How many of you ar everyday
Christians? Wat mean is: How
many of you live right clost up to God |
every day in the week? Hol up yer
hands, Lcss'n dozen. That's n |
mighty poor shown o. fat stock in
sich big herd. know you are all |
Sunday Christians; that wen in yer
grasps fur wealth an fur the pleasures
o life you run up agin Saturday night
you ask the devil to excuse you fur a
day. an spend sunday a-kickin' the
rocks out o the trail to Heaven that
you've allowed to roll in durin' the
week.
Gwen some o. you go home to-day
you'll find grand dinner ready fur
you do you ever think o. catin' cold
Sunday dinner an allowin' yer cooks
TO spend an hour with God?--an' you'll
set down to that dinner, an the wom-
en'll talk about how the other women
war dressed at church. an the mcn'll
talk about the business witch they feel
they've sighted by layin' off day,
an will one thought go lords God ut