The Londonderry sifter. (South Londonderry, Vt.) 1883-19??, 1893-06-16

the Christian has almost as much use IN
the organ for the stop tremulant ms he
has for the trumpet, But after awhile
he win put the last dirge into the portfo-
lilo forever. So much of us as is wheat
will be separated from so much as is
chaff, and there will be no more need of
pounding.
They never cry in heaven because
they have nothing to cry about. There
are no tears of bereavement, for you
shall have Your friends all round about
you. There are no tears of poverty be-
cause each one sits at the kings table
and has his own chariot of salvation
and free access TO the wardrobe where
princes get their array. No tears of
sickness, for there are no pneumonias on
the air, and no malarial exhalations from
the rolling river of life, and no crutch
for the lame limb, and no splint for the
broken arm, but the pulses throbbing
with the health of the eternal God in n
climate like our June before the bios
SONS fall, or our gorgeous October be-
fore the leaves scatter.
In that land the souls will talk over
the different modes of thrashing. Oh,
the story of the staff that struck the
fitches, and the rod that beat the cum
min, and the iron wheel that went over
the corn Daniel will describe the lions,
and Jonah leviathans, and Paul the elm
wood whips with which he was scourged
and Eve will tell how aromatic Eden
was the day she left it, and John Rogers
will tell of the smart of the flame, and
Elijah of the fiery team that wheeled
him up the sky sleeps, and Christ of the
numbness and paroxysm and hemor-
rhages of the awful crucifxion There
they are before the throne of God. On
one elevation all those. who We're struck
of the staff. On higher elevation all
those who We're struck Of the rod. On
highest elevation, and amid the highest
attitudes of heaven, all those who were
under the wheel. He will not ever be
thrashing it.
Oh, my hearers, is there not enough
salve in this text to make plaster LARGE
enough to heal all your wounds? WI 4
child is hurt, the mother is very apt %
say to it, "Now, it will soon feel better"
And that is what God says when he TN
bosoms all the trouble in the hush of this
great promise, Weeping may endure
for a night, but joy cometh in the morn
ing" You may leave your pocket hand
kerchief sopping wet with tears on your
death pillow, but you will go up abso-
lutely sorrowless They will wear black;
you will wear white. Expresses for
them; palms for you.
You will say: SIS it possible that am
here? Is this heaven? Am 1 SO pure now
Twill never do anything wrong? Am
so well that l will never again be sick?
Are these companionships so firm that
they will never again be broken? Is that
Mary? Is that John? Is that my loved
one l put away into darkness? Can it be
that these a. the faces of those who lay
so wan and emaciated in the back room
on that awful night dying? Oh, how "a
diant they arr! Look at them! How ra-
diant they are!
"Why, how unlike this place is from
what l thought when l left the world
below Ministers drew pictures of this
land, but how tame compared with the
reality! They told me on earth that
death was sunset. No, no! 1t is sunrise!
Glorious sunrise! | see the light now
purpling the hills, and the clouds fame
with the coming day"
Then the gates of heaven will be
opened, and the entranced soul, with the
acuteness and power Of the celestial vi
sion, will look ten thousands of miles
down upon the hammered procession--a
river of shimmering splendor-and will
cry out, WHO are they?' And the an
gel of God standing close by will say,
Don't you know who they are?" No."
says the entranced soul, II cannot guess
who they are" The angel will say: 81
will tell yon then, who they are. These
are they who came out of great tribula-
ton, or thrashing, and had their robes
washed and made white in the blood of
the Lamb"
DROPS or CELESTIAL ANoDYNE.
Oh, that l could administer some of
these drops of celestial anodyne to those
nervous and excited souls. If you would
take enough Of it, it would cure all your
pangs. The thought that you are going
to get through with this after awhile
all this sorrow and all this trouble. We
shall have great many grand days in
heaven, but / will tell you which will be
the grandest day Of all the million ages
of heaven. You say, Are you sure you
can tell me?' Yes, can. 1t will be the
day we get there. Some say heaven is
growing more glorious. suppose it is,
but / do not care much about that.
Heaven now is good enough for me.
History has no more gratulatory
scene than the breaking in Of the Eng
fish army upon Lucknow, India. A
few weeks before massacre had occur
red at Cawnpore, and 200 women and
children had been put in room. Then
five professional butchers went in and
slew them. Then the bodies of the
slain were taken out and thrown into a
well. As the English army came into
Cawnpore they went into the room, and,
oh, what a horrid scene! Sword strokes
on the wall near the floor, showing that
the poor things had crouched when they
died, and they saw also that the floor
was ankle deep in blood The soldiers
walked on their heels across it lest their
shoes be submerged of the carnage.
And on that floor of blood there were
flowing locks of hair and fragments of
dresses.
Out in Lucknow they had heard of
the massacre, and the women were wait
ing for the same awful death, waiting
amid anguish untold, waiting in pain
and starvation, but waiting heroically,
when one dag IIavelock and Outram and
Norman and Sir David Baird and Peel,
the heroes of the English army-huzza
for them!-broke in on that horrid scene,
and while yet the guns were sounding,
and while cheers were issuing from the
starving, dying people on the one side
and from the travel worn and powder
blackened soldiers on the other, right
there in front of the kings palace there
was such scene of handwriting and
embracing and boisterous joy as would
utterly confound the pen of the poet and