Fisherman & farmer. [volume] (Edenton, N.C.) 1887-19??, 1893-03-10

preciate and defans and execrate ana lie
about some people. This Is the best world
ever got into, bat il is the maan9st world
that some people ever got into. The worst
thing that ever happenei to tnen was toeir
cradle, and the best thing that wilt ever
happen TO them will be their grave. VIVA.
people want Is warmth.
Many years go n man was Dating down
on the Ice OF the Aerrimac, and great eff 0rts
were made ID rescue him. Twice 2 got no!i
OF plank thrown % him and twice he
slipped away from it, because that end OF the
plank was covered with ice, and he cried out
For Gods sake, give me the wooden end OF
the plank this time" and this done ne was
hauled to shore. The trouble Is tn &C in our
efforts 20 save the soul there is too rnucl
GOODNESS AMI icy fOrmaiity, and SO the i'm
periled one slips off and floats down. Give
it the other end Of the piank-warmtd OF
sympathy, warmth OF kindly association,
warmth OF genial surroundings.
The world declines 70 give Ii, and in many
cases has no power Co give 1t, and here is
where Christ comes in, and, as on cold day,
the rain beating and the atmosphere full of
sleet, the hen clucks her chickens under her
wings, and the warmth OF her own breast
puts warmth INTO the wet feathers and the
chilled feet of the infant group of the barn.
yard, so Christ says to those sick and frosted
and disguised and frozen Of the world, Come
in out of the March winds OF the worlds
criticism; come in out of the sleet of the
worlds assault; come in out OF a world that
to understand you; will comfort and
will soothe and | Will be your warmth, las
a hen gathereth her chickens under heI
wing" Oh, the warm heart OF God Is ready
for all those to whom the world has giver
the cold shoulder.
But notice that SOME one must take the
storm for the chickens. All! the hen takes
the storm. I have watched her under the
pelting rain. l have seen her in the pinch
ing frosts almost frozen to death OF almost
IL -, nd hot fr~kNt
she makes for the young under wing if
dog or hawk or a man comes too near! And
so the brooding Christ takes the storm for
us. What food of anguish and tears that
did not dash upon His holy soul! What
heak Of torture did not pierce His vitaIs,
What barking Cerberus Of hell was not LEI
out upon Him from the kennels
What He endured, on, who can tel.
To save our souls from death and hell!
Yes, the hen took the storm for the chicbo
ems, and Christ takes the storm for us. Once
the tempest rose so suddenly the hen could
not get with her young back from the new
ground to the barn, and there she is under
the fence half dead. And now the rain turns
TO snow, and 1t Is an awful night, and in the
morning the whiteness about the gills and
the beak down in the mud show that the
mother is dead, and the young ones come
out and cannot understand why the mother
does not scratch for them something to eat,
and they walk over her wings and call with
CuS1 lily VOICES, OuU G0eT0 Is no answering
cluck. She took the storm for others and
persisted. Poor thing! Self sacrificing even
unto death!
And does it not make YOU think Of Him
who endured all for US? So the wings under
which we come for spiritual safety are blood
spattered wings, night shattered wings,
are tempest torn wings. In the Isle of
Wight saw the grave of Princess Eliza
beth, who died while a prisoner at Carts
brook castle, her finger on an open Bible
f0 IA pf1 No
all We that labor and are heavy laden, and [
will give you rest" Oh, come under the
wings!
But now the summer day is almost passed,
and the shadows of the house and barn and
wagon shed have heightened. The farmer,
with scythe or hoe on shoulder, is returning
from the fields. Toe oxen are unyoked.
The horses are crunching the oats at the full
bin; The air is bewiUche1 of honeysuckle
and wild brier. The milk1nan, pail in hand,
is approaching the barnyard. The fowls.
keeping early hours, ara collecting their
young, "Clucx!" "Cluckw "Cluck" and
soon all the eyes Of that feathered nursery
The bachelors of the winged tribe have
assembled to their perch, but the hens, in
motherhood divinely appointed, take all the
risk of a slum Der on the ground, and all
night long the ings will stay outspread,
Thus at sundown lovingly, safely com.
pletely, the hen broods her young. SO, if
we are the Lords the evening of our life
will come. The heats of the day will have
passed. There will be shadows ard we can.
not see far. The work Of life will be about
ended
The hawks of temptation that lowered IN
the sky will have gone to the woods and
folded their wings. Sweet silencsS will come
down. The air will be redolent with the
breath Of whole arDors of promises sweeter
than Jasmine or evening primrose. The air
may be little Chill, but Christ will call US
and we will know the voice and heed the
call and we will come under the wings for
the n1ght-the strong wings, the soft wings,
the warm wings-and without fear and in
full sense of safety, and then we will rest
from shutdown to sunrise, 'as hen gather
eth her chickens under her wing" Dear
me, how many souls the Lord hath thus
broodedI
Mothers, after watching over sick cradles
and then watching afterwar over award
sons and daughters at last themselves taken
care of by motherly God. Business men,
after lifetime struggling with the uncer-
families of money markets, and She change
OF tariffs, and the underSeIing Of men who
because of their diShonesties can afford to
undersel, and years of disappointment and
struggle at last under wings where nothing
can perturb them any more than a bird OF
prey which is ten miles off disturbs chick
at midnight brooded in a barnyard
My text has its strongest application for
people who were born in the country,
wherever you may now live, and that is the
majority of you. You cannot hear my text
without having all the rustic scenes of the
old farmhouse come back to you Good old
days they were. You knew nothing much
OF the world, Tor you had not seen the
world.