Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1893-03-02

and women OF whom the worlds not Wor
thy. Now it takes after one and now aftel
another 1t becomes popular TO depreciats
and defame and execrate and lie about some
people. This Is the best world ever got
into, but it is the meanest world that some
people ever got into. The worst thing that
ever happened 10 them was their cradle
and the best thing that will ever happen to
them will be their grave. What people want
is warmth.
Many years ago man was floating down
on the ice Of the MerTimac, and great ef-
forts were made to rescue him. Twice he
got hold Of plank thrown 70 him, and
twice he slipped away from it because that
end Of the plank WAS covered with ice, and
he cried out, For Coils sake, give me the
wooden end of the plank this time" and
this done be was hauled to shore.
The trouble is that in our efforts to save
the soul there is too much coldness and
icy formality, and so the imperiled one slips
off and floats down. Give it the other end
Of the plank-warmth of sympathy,
warmth Of kindly association, warmth OF
genial surroundings. The world declines
to give it, and in many cases has no power
to give it, 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 hsr own breast puts warmth
into the wet feathers and the chilled feet
Of the infant group Of the barnyard, 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 crit
icism; come in out OF the sleet Of the world s
assault; come in out of world that does
not understand you and does not want to
understand you. / will comfort, and will
soothe, and | will be your warmth, "as a
hen gathereth her chickens under her
wing" Oh, the warm heart Of God is
ready for all those to whom the world has
given the cold shoulder.
But notice that some one must take the
storm for the chickens. All, the hen takes
the storm. have watched her under the
pelting rain. have seen her in the pinch
ing frosts almost frozen to death or al
most strangled in the waters, and what a
fight she makes for the young under wing.
If dog, or a hawk, or man come too
near And so the brooding Christ takes the
storm for u.s. What flood of anguish and
tears that did not dash upon his holy SOUL
What beak of torture did not pierce his
vitals! What barking Cerberus of hell was
not let ont upon him from the kennels
What he endured oh, who can tell
To save our souls from death and hell
CHRIST TAKES THE STORM FOR US.
Yes the hen took the storm for the chick
ems, and Christ takes the storm for us
Once the tempest rose no suddenly the hen.
aOI1l1 mt with I,a hool- bo
new ground to tie barn, and there she is
under the fence half dead And now the
rain turns to snow, and it 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 under
stand why the mother does not scratch for
them something to eat, and they walk over
her wings and call with their tiny voices,
but there is no answering cluck She took
the storm for others and perished. Poor
thing! Self sacrificing even unto death,
And does it not make you think of him
who endured all for usp So the wings un-
der which we come for spiritual safety are
blood spattered wings, are night shadowed
wings, are tempest torn wings. In the Isle
of Wight saw the grave of Princess Eliza.
beth, who died while prisoner at CARTS
brook castle, her finger on an open Bible
and pointing to the words, Come unto me,
all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and
will give you rest" Oh, come under the
wings!
But now the summer day is almost past,
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. The oxen are
unyoked. The horses are crunching the
oats at the full bin. The air is bewitched
of honeysuckle and wild brier The milk
man, pail in hand, is approaching the barn
yard. The fowls, keeping early hours, are.
collecting their young. 'Cluckp' "Cluck!n'
"CluckF' and soon all the eyes Of that
feathered nursery are closed.
The bachelors of the winged tribe have
assembled to their perch, but the hens, in a
motherhood divinely appointed, take all
the risk of a sfumber on the ground, and
all night long the wings will stay out
spread and the little ones will not utter a
sound Thus at sundown, lovingly, safely,
completely, 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, and we
cannot see as 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 silences will
come down. The air will be redolent with
the breath of whole arhors of promises
sweeter than jasmine or evening primrose.
The air NAV he n little chill hut Christ will