Connecticut western news., 1893-08-31

y seous drafts and at the bottles of dis tasteful tonic that stand on the shelf, re- member that there is larger bottle than these, which is filled with no mixture by earthly apothecaries, but 1t is Gods bot tie, in which he hath gathered all our tears.
 THE SORROWS OF POVERTY.
 Again, God remembers all the sorrows of poverty. There Is much want that never comes to inspection. The deacons of the church never see it. The comp trollers of almshouses never report it. II comes not to church, for it has no apprs priate apparel. It makes no appeal fol help, but chooses rather to suffer than expose it's bitterness. Fathers who fail to gain a livelihood, so that they and their children submit to constant priva tion; sewing women, who cannot ply the needle quick enough to earn them shelter and bread.
 But whether reported or uncomplain. ing, whether in seemingly comfortable parlor, or in damp cellar, or in hot gar ret, Gods angels of mercy are on the watch. This moment those griefs are being collected. Down on the back streets, in all the alleys, amid shanties and log cabins, the work goes on. Tears of want-seething in summers heat o1 freezing in winters cold-they fall not unheeded. They are jewels for heaven. casket. They are pledges of divine sym. pathy. They are tears for Gods bottle.
 Again, the Lord preserves the remem. brance of all paternal anxieties. You see man from the most infamous sur. roundings step out into the kingdom of God He has heard no sermon. He has received no startling providential warn. ing. What brought him to this new mind? This is the secret-God looked over the bottle in which he gathers the tears of his people, and he saw paren. tai tear in that bottle which has been for 40 years unanswered. He said, "Gc to, now, and let me answer that teari' and forthwith the wanderer Is brought home to God.
 Oh, this work of training children foi God! It is tremendous work. Some people think it easy. They have never tried it. A child is placed in the arms of the young parent. It Is a beautiful plaything. You look into the laughing
 
 feet. You wonder at it's exquisite or ganism. Beautiful playthingl But on some nightfall as you sit rocking that little one voice seems to fall straight from the throne of God, saying: "That child is immortall The stars shall die, but that is an immortall Suns shall grow old with age and perish, but that is an immortalp' #ass#
 GOD UNDERSTANDS YOUR HEART.
 Now, know with many of you this Is the chief anxiety. You earnestly wish your children to grow up rightly, but you find 1t hard work to make them do as you wish. You check their temper. You correct their waywardness, in the midnight your pillow is wet with weep ing. You have wrestled with God in agony for the salvation of your children. You ask me if all that anxiety has beer intellectual. answer, No. God un- derstands your heart. He understands how hard you have tried to make that daughter do right, though she is so very petulant and reckless, and what pains you have bestowed in teaching that son to walk in the path of uprightness, though he has such strong proclivities for dissipation.
 I speak cheering word. God heard every counsel you ever offered him. God has known all the sleepless nights you have passed. God has seen every sink ing of your depressed spirit. God re- members your prayers. He keeps eter nal record of your anxieties, and in his achrymatory-not such as stood in an cient tomb, but in one that glows and glitters beside the throne of God-he holds all those exhausting tears.
 The grass may be rank upon your graves and the letters upon your tomb stones defaced with the clements before the divine response will come, but he who hath declared, s'I will be God to thee and to thy seed after thee," will not, forget, and some day In heaven while you are ranging the fields of light the gates of pearl will swing back, and gar landed with glory that long wayward one will rush into your outstretched arms of welcome and triumph. The hills may depart, and the earth may burn, and the stars fall, and time perish, but God will break his oath and trample upon his promises-neverl neverl
 Again, God keeps perpetual remem- brance of all bereavements. These are the trials that cleave the soul and throw the red hearts of men to be crushed in the wine press. Troubles at the store you may leave at the store. Misrepre- sentation and abuse of the world you may leave on the street where you found them. The lawsuit that would swallow your honest accumulations may be left in the courtroom. But bereavements are home troubles, and there is no escape from them. You will see that vacant chair. Your eye will catch at the sug- gestive picture. g. You cannot fly the presence of such ills. You go to Switzerland to get clear ofthem; but, more sure footed than the mule that takes you up the Alps, your troubles climb to the tiptop and sit shiv- ering on the glaciers. You may cross sthe seas, but they can outsail the swift est steamer. You may take caravan and put out across the Arabian desert, but they follow you like a simoom, armed with suffocation. You plunge into the Mammoth cave, but they hang like sta- lactites from the roof of the great cav. eth. They stand behind with skeleton fingers to push you ahead. They stand before you to throw you back. They run upon you like reckless horsemen. They charge upon you with gleaming spear. They seem to come haphazard. scattering shots from the gun of 8 care less sportsman. But not so. It is good aim that sends them just right, for God is the archer.
 This summer many of you will espe- cially feel your grief as you go to places where once you were accompanied by those who are gone now. Your trou- bles will follow you to the seashore and will keep up with the lightning express in which you speed away. Or, tarrying at home, they will sit beside you by day and whisper over your pillow night after night. I want to assure you that 1oe4 Il