Fisherman & farmer. [volume] (Edenton, N.C.) 1887-19??, 1893-09-08

ING in winters coId-they fall not UNDECIDED.
They are jewels for heavens casket 1hey
are PLEDGES of divine sympathy. They are
tears for Gods bottle
Aoain. the Lord preserves the remem-
brance of all paternal anxieties. You see
man from the most infamous surroundings
step out into the kingdom OF God he mas
heard no sermon. He has received no
startling providentiai warning; hh mar
brought him to this new mind! This Is the
secret-God looked over Ihe bottle In when
He gathers the tears OF His people. and He
saw parental tear in that bottle which mas
been for 40 years unanswered He sald, Oo
too now, and let Ne answer that tear and
forthwith the wanderer Is brought nome 10
God.
oh. this work OF training children for God!
II is tremendous work. Some people think
il easy. They have never tried ii. A child
is placed in the arms of the young parent. 1t
is a beautiful plaything. You look into the
laughing eyes. You examine the dimples in
the feet You wonder at its exquisite organ
ism. Beautiful plaything But on some
nightfall as you sit rocking that little one
voice seems to fall straight from the throne
of God, saving: THAT child is immortal
The stars shall die. but that is an immortal
Suns shall grow old with age and perish, but
that is an immortal:
Now, 1 know with many Of you this is the
chief anxiety. You earnestly wish your
children to grow up rightly, but you find it
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 weeping. You Fave WrestIec WIN
God in agony for the salvation Of your chill
dren. You ask me if all that anxiety has
been Intellectual. l answer, No. God IN
derstands your Heart. He understands now
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 pro-
clivities for dissipation.
L 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 sinking OF your
depressed spirit. God remembers your
PRAYERS He keeps eternal record OF your
anxieties, and in His lachrymatory such
as stood in an ancient tomb. but IN one that
glOws and glitters besides the throne OF God
holds all thOS@ exhausting tears.
The grass may be rank upon your graves
and the letters upon your tom5stones de-
faced with the elements before the divine
response will come. but He who hath de-
clared, 81 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 garlanded with glory that long
hayward one will rush into your out
stretched 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-never! never!
Again, God keeps perpetual remembrance
of all bereavements. These are the trials
that c1eave 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 Misrepresentation 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 suggestive picture.
You cannot fly in the presence Of such ills.
You go to Switzerland to get clear of them
but, more sure footed than the mule that
takes you up the Alps, your troubles climb
to the tiptop and sit shiverng on the g!a-
ciers. You may cross the seas. but they can
outsail the swiftest steamer. You may take
caravan and put out across the Arabian des-
ert. but they follow you like a simeon,
armed with suffocation. You plunge into
the Mammoth cave, but they hang like sta
lactites from the roof of the great cavern.
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 cleaning spear. They seem to come
haphazard, scattering shots from the gun Of
a careless sportsman. But not so. It is good
aim that sends them just right, for God is
the archer.
This summer many of you will especially
feel your grief as you go to places where ones
you were accompanied by those who are
gone now. Your troubles will follow you to
the seashore and will keep up with the light
ming express in which you speed away. Or,
tarryinS at home, they will sit beside you by
day and whisper over your pillow night after
night [ want to assure YOU that you are
not left alone and that your weeping is heard
in heaven.
You will wander among the hills and say
Sup this mill last year our boy climbed with
great glee and waved his cap from the top"
or ''This is the place where our little girl put
flowers IN her hair and looked up in her
mothers face" until every drop of blood in
| your heart tingled with gladness, and you
| thanked God with a thrill of rapture and you
! look around as much As to say "Who
| dashed out that light? Who flied this cup
with gall? What blast froze up these toun-
| tains of the hearth"
Some Of you have lost your parents within
| the last twelve months. Their prayers for
you are ended. You take up their picture
! and try to call back the kindness that once
| looked out from those old, Wrinkled faces
and spoke in such tremulous voice, and
! YOU say it is a good picture but all the while
| you feel that, after ALL it does not do Justice,
| and you would give almost anything-yOu
| would cross the sea; you would walk the
earth over-to hear just one word from those
| lips that few months ago used to call YOU
| by your first name, though so long you your
| self have been parent.
| Now, you have done your best to hide your
grief. You smile when you do not feel like
| it. But though you may deceive the world,
| God knows. He looks down upon the
empty cradle. upon the desolated nursery.
upon the stricken home and upon the
! broken heart, anu says This is the way
thrash the wheat this is the way I scour
Zoe b1Ir Nv