The Bossier banner., 1893-10-05

| 1iouoleS ana bhere is no escape from
them. You will see that vacant chair.
Your eye will catch at the sugges-
! tive picture. You can not fly the
presence of such ills. You ge to Swift
zerland to get clear Of them, but more
sure-footed than the mule that takes
you up the Alps, your troubles climb to
the tip-top and sit shivering on the
| glaciers. You may cross the seas, but
they can outsail the swiftest steamer.
You may take caravan, and put out
across the Arabian desert, but they fol-
low you like a simeon, armed with
! suffocation. You plunge into the Mann
moth cave, but they hang like stal.
actites from the roof of the cavern.
They stand behind with skeleton fin
gers 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 care.
less sportsman. But not so. It is good
aim that sendsrthem just right; for God
is the archer. This summer many OF
you will especially feel your grief as
you go to places where once you were
accompanied by those who are gone
now. Your troubles 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.
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: Cup this
hill, 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
look ed up in her mothers face" until
every drop of blood in your heart
tingled with gladness, and you thanked
God with thrill of rapture, and You
look around as much as to say: "Who
dashed out that light? Who filled
this cup with gall? What blast
froze up these fountains of
the heart?" Some of you have
lost your parents within the last twelve
months. Their prayers for you are
ended. Yoa 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 yourself
have been parent. Now, you have
done your best with 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, and says: "This
is the way thresh the wheat, this is
the way scour my jewels! Cast thy
burden upon my arm and 1 will sus-
tain you. All these tears have gath
cred into my bottler'
But what is the use of having so
many tears in Gods lachrymatory? In
that great casket or vase, why does
God preserve all your troubles?
Through all the ages of eternity,
what use of a great collection of tears?
do not know that they will be kept
there forever. 1 do not know but that
in some distant age of Heaven an angel
of God may look into the bottle and
find it as empty of tears as the Zachary
mails of earthenware dugup from the an
clent city? Where have the tears gone to?
| What sprite of hell hath been invading
Gods palace, and hath robbed the
| 1achfyriiatories? None. These are
sat1ctified sorrows, and those tears were
changed into pearls that are now set
in the crowns and robes of the ran
| somed. | walk up to examine this
| heavenly coronet, cleaning brighter
than the sum- and cry: From what
| river depths of Heaven were those gems
| gathered?" and a thousand voices
| reply: ''These are transmitted
tears from Gods bottle" l see
scepters of light stretched down
from the throne of those who
on earth were trod on of men, and in
every scepter-point and inlaid in every
ivory stair of golden throne I behold
an indescribable richness and luster,
! and cry, From whence this streaming
light-these flashing pearls?" and the
voice of the elders beneath the throne,
and Of the martyrs under the altar,
| and of the hundred and forty and four
thousand radiant on the CLASSY sea ex-
claim: Transmitted tears from Gods
BOTTLE"
Let the ages of Heaven roll on-the
story of earth's pomp and pride long
ago ended: the Koh-i-noor diamonds
that make kings proud, the precious
stones that adorned Persian tiara and
famed in the robes of Babylonian pro.
cessions, forgotten; the Golconda mines
charred in the last confagration; brt
firm as the everlasting hills, and pure
as the light that streams from the
throne, and bright as the river that
flows from the eternal rock, shall
CLEAN, shall sparkle, shall flame for
ever, these transmitted tears of Gods
hotS1a