The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1893-07-21

! y
, ashamed to be old. The grandes
things in all the universe are old. Ok
mountains, old rivers, old seas, ole
stars and old eternity. Then do not b,
ashamed to be old, unless you are Older
than the mountains and older than the
stars.
How men and women will liel They
say they are 40, but they are 60. They
say they are 20, but they are 80. They
say they are GO, but they are so. How
some people will liel Glorious old age,
if found in the way of righteousness
How beautiful the old age of Jacob,
leaning on the top of his staff; of John
Quincy Adams, falling with the harness
on; of Washington Irving, sitting pen
in hand, amid the scenes himself had
made classical: of John Angel James
to the last proclaiming the gospel to
the masses of Birmingham, of Theodore
Frelinghuysen, down to feebleness and
emaciation, devoting his illustrious
faculties to the kingdom of God. At
eventide it was light
See that you do honor to the aged.
Smooth the way for that mothers feet;
they have not many more steps to take.
Steady those lettering limbs; they will
soon be at rest. Plow not up that face
with any more wrinkles: trouble and
care have marked it full enough.
Thrust no thorn into that old heart: it
will soon cease to beat. 1.-The eye that
moc1eth its father, and refuseth to
| obey its mother, the ravens of the val
ley shall pick it out and the young
eagles shall eat it, ,Ehe bright morn
ing and the hot monday of life
have passed with many. 1t is o'clock!
5 o'clock! o'clock! The shad-
ows fall longer and thicker and
faster. Seven o'clock! s o'clockl The
sun has dipped below the horizon: the
warmth has gone out of the air. Nine
o'clock! 10 o'clock! The heavy dews
are falling; the activities of life's day
are all hushed; it is time to go to bed.
Eleven o'clock! twelve o'clock! The
patriarch sleeps the blessed sleep, the
good sleep, the long sleep. Heavens
messengers of light have kindled bon
fires OF victory all over the heavens at
eventide it is light! Light.
My text shall also find fulfillment in
the latter days of the church. Only a
few missionaries, a few churches, few
good men. compared with the institu-
tions leprous and putrefied.
1t is early yet in the history OF every
thing good. Civilization and Chris
tianity are just getting out of the
cradle. The light of martyr-stakes,
flashing all up and down the sky, is
but the flaming of the morning; but
when the evening of the world shall
come, glory to Gods cOnquering truth,
it shall be light. Wars sword clang-
ing back in the scabbard; intemper-
ance. buried under ten thousand broken
decauters: the worlds impurity, turn
ing its brow heavenward for the bene-
diction. blessed are the pure in heart"
the last vestige of selishness sub
merged in misunderstanding charities;
all China worshiping DIR. Abeers Sa-
viour; all India believing in Henry
Martyrs Bible: aboriginal superstition
acknowledging David Brainerd's piety:
human bondage delivered through
Thomas Clarkson's Christianity. vag-
rancy coming back from its pollution
at the call of Elizabeth Fry Redeemer:
the mountains coming down: the val |
leys going up: holiness" inscribed on |
horses bell, and silkworm's thread and |
brown thrasher's wing, and shells |
tinge, and manufacturers shuttle. and |
chemists laboratory, and kings scep-
ter, and nations magma charta. Not a |
hospital. for there are no wounds: not |
an asylum, for there are no orphans: |
not prison, for there are no criminals: |
not an alms-house, for there are no |
paupers; not a tear, for there are no |
sorrows The long dirge of earth's |
has ended in the triumphal |
march of redeemed empires, the forests |
harping it on vine-strung branches. the |
water chanting it among the gorges, |
the thunders drumming it among the |
hills, the ocean giving it forth with its |
organs, trade winds touching the keys |
and Euroclydon's foot on the pedal.
want to see John Howard when the |
last prisoner is reformed; want to see
Florence Nightingale when the last |
saber wound has stopped hurting; l |
want to see William Penn when the |
last Indian has been civilized; want |
to see John Huss when the last flame of |
persecution has been eXtinguished; l |
want to see John Bunyan after the last |
pilgrim has come to the gate of the |
Celestial city; above all, l want to see |
Jesus after the last saint has his throne |
and begun to sing hallelujah.
You have watched the calmness and
the glory of the evening hour. The |
laborers have come from the field. The |
heavens are glowing with an indescrib-
able effulgence, as though the sun in
departing had forgotten to shut the
gate after it. All the beauty of cloud
and leaf swim in the lake. For star
in the sky, a star in the water: |
heaven above and heaven beneath.
Not a leaf rustling, or a bee
or a grasshopper chirping.
Silence in the meadow; silence among
the hills.
Thus bright and beautiful shall be
the evening of the world. The heats
of earthly conflict are cooled. The
glory of Heaven fills all the scene with
love and joy and peace. At eventime
it is light. light!
Finally, my text shall find fultillment
at the end of the Christians life. You
know how a short winters day is, and
how little work you can do. Now, my
friends. life is short winters day.
The sun rises at eight and sets at four.
The birth-angel and death-angel fly
only little way apart Baptism and
burial are near together. With one
hand the mother rocks the cradle, and
with the other she touches the grave.
| went into the house of one of my
parishioners on Thanksgiving day.