The Bolivar bulletin. (Bolivar, Tenn.) 1888-1946, 1893-11-24
Of the work with high satisfaction, an.


storms do their work, and time,
that takes down everything, will
yet take down that structure, until
there shall not be one stone left upon
another But there is soul in Heaven.
Through your instrumentality it was
put there. Under Gods grace you are
the architect of its eternal happiness.
Your name is written, not on one cor
ner of its nature, but inwrought into
its every fiber and energy. Will the
storms of winter wash out the story of
what you have wrought upon that
spiritual structure? No There are no
storms in that land and there is no win
ter. Win time wear out the inscription
which shows your fidelity? No.
Time is past, and it is an
Everlasting Now. Built into the
foundation of that imperishable struc-
ture. built into its pillars, built into
its capstone Is your name, either the
name you have on earth or the name
by which celestials shall call you. I
know the Bible says in one place that
God is a jealous God, but that refers to
the work of those who worship some
other god. A true father is not jealous
of his child. With what glee you show
the picture your child penciled, or a
toy ship your child hewed out, or recite
the noble deed your child accom-
plished, and God never was jealous of
a Joshua, never was jealous of a Paul,
never was jealous of a Frances Haver-
gal, never was jealous of a man or
woman who tried to heal wounds and
wipe away tears and lift hsrdens and
save souls, and while all is 81 grace,
and your self-abnegating utterance
will be: Not unto us, not unto
us, but unto Thy name, Oh, Lord.
give glory!" you shall aways feel a
heavenly satisfaction in every good
thing you did on earth, and if icono-
clasm, borne from beneath, should
break through the gates of Heaven
and efface one record of your earthly
fidelity, methinlzs Christ would lake
one of the nails of His own cross and
write somewhere on the crystal of the
amethyst or the jacinth or the chryso-
pasus your name, and just under it the
inscription of my text: THE righteous
shall be held in everlasting remem-
brance." Oh, this character buildingi
You and L are every moment busy
in that tremendous occupation. You
are making me better or worse,
and am making you bet
ter or worse, and we shall.
through all eternity, bear the mark of
this benediction or blasting. Let
others have the thrones of Heaven,
those who have more nightly wrought
for God and the truth, but it will be
Heaven enough for you and me if ever
and anon we meet some radiant soul
on the boulevards of the great city
who shall say: "You helped me once.
You encouraged me when l was in
earthly struggle. / do not know that
l would have reached this shining
place had it not been for you,' and
we will laugh with heavenly glee,
and say, ''Ha! ha! Do you really
remember that talk? Do you re-
member that warning? Doyou remem-
Der that Christian invitation? What q
memory you have? Why, that must
have been down there In Brooklyn or
New Orleans at least ten thousand
million years ago" And the answer
will be: Eyes, it was as long as that,
but / remember it as well as though it
were yesterday" Oh, this character
building! The structure lasting inde-
pendent of crum bling mausoleums, in
dependent of the whole planetary sys-
tenn. Aye, if the material universe,
which seems all bound together like
one piece of machinery, should some
day meet with an accident that
should send worlds crashing into
each other like telescoped rail-
way trains, and all the wheels of
consultations and galaxies should
stop, and go down into one chasm of
immensity all the suns and moons and
stars should tumble like the midnight
express at Ashtabula, that would not
touch us, and would not hurt God, for
God is a spirit, and character and mem
DRY are immortal, and over that grave
of a wrecked material universe might
truthfully be written: 1.-The righteous
shall be held in everlasting remem-
brance." o, Time. we defy thee. Oh,
Death, we stamp thee in the dust of
thine own sepulchres! Oh, Eternity,
roll on till the last star has stopped
rotating and the last sun is extin-
guished on the sapphire pathway, and
the last moon has illumined the last
night, and as many years have passed
as all the scribes that ever took pen
could describe by as many figures as
they could write in all the centuries of
all time, but thou shalt have no power
to efface from any soul in glory the
memory of anything we have done to
bring it to God and Heaven.
oh, where is Oblivion now? From the
dark and overshadowing word that it
seemed when l began, it has become
which no man or woman or
child who loves the Lord need ever
fear. Oblivion defeated. Oblivion
not be SO hard on that devouring
monster, for into its grave go all our
sins when the Lord for Christ's sake
has forgiven them. Just blow
a resurrection trumphet over them
when once Oblivion has sapped them
own. Not one of them rises Blow
again. Not stir amid all the par.
doned iniquities of lifetime Blow
again. Not one of them moves in the
deep grave trenches. But to this pow
erful resurre ction trumpet voice re-
spends half human, half Divine, and
it must be part man and part
@ cd saying: Their sins and their
more" Thank God for this blessed
oblivion! So you see I did not invite
you down into a cellar, but up on
throne. not into the graveyard, to
which all materialism is destined, but
into a garden all a-bloom with ever
lasting remembrance. The frown
of my first text has become the