The weekly intelligencer. [volume] (Lexington, Mo.) 1891-1901, 1893-03-04

the clouds were being convoked for a
full diapa son. A whole park of artil-
lery went rolling down the heavens
and the blinds Of the windows in the
sky were closed. But the sounds above
We're not more certain than the sounds
beneath. The cattle came to the bars
and moaned for them to be let
down that they might come home
to shelter, and the fowl, whether
Brahma or Hamburg or Leghorn
or Dominick, began to call to its
young, "Clucky' 'Cluckl' ''Cluck!' and
take them under the wagon house or
shed, and had them all hid under the
soft feathers by the time that the first
plash of rain struck the roof. So there
are sudden tempests for our souls, and,
OH! how dark it gets, and threatening
clouds of bankruptcy or sickness or
persecution or bereavement gather and
thicken and blacken, and some IL for
shelter to n bank, but it is poor shell
ter, and others run to friendly advisers
and they fail to help, and others fly no
where, simply because they know not
where to go, and they perish in the
blast; but others hear a divine call
saying: Come, for all things are now
ready" ''The spirit and the bride say,
come" And while the heavens are
laundering terror, the divine voice
proffers mercy and the soul comes un-
der the brooding care of the Almighty
las a hen gathereth her chickens under
her wing"
The wings of my text suggest warmth,
and that is what most folks want. The
fact is that this is a cold world, whether
you take it literally or figuratively.
The worlds extremities are cold all the
time. Forget not that it is colder at
the south pole than at the north pole,
and that the Arctic is not so destructive
as the Antarctic. Once in awhile the
Arctic will let explorers come back, but
the Antarctic hardly ever. When at the
south pole, a ship sails in, the door of
ice is almost sure to be shut against
it's return. So life to many mil
lions of people at the south and
many millions of people at the north
is a prolonged shiver. But when
1 say that this is a cold world, I chiefly
mean figuratively. If you want to
know what is the meaning of the ordi-
nary term of receiving the 'cold Shout
DER get out of money and try to bor-
row. The conversation may have been
almost tropical for luxuriance of
thought and speech, but suggest your
necessities and see the thermometer
drop to so degrees below zero, and in
that which, till a moment before, had
been a warm room. Take what is an
unpopular position on some public
-,aef;or arI caa v1,r. f,tan1c Ay No
chaff before a windmill. AS far as my
self is concerned, l have no word of
complaint, but I look off day by day
and see communities freezing out men
and ONE of whom the world is not
worthy. Now it takes after one and
now after another. 1t becomes popular
to depreciate and defame n execrate
and lie about some people. This is the
best world I ever got into, but it is the
meanest world that some people ever
got into. The worst thing that ever
happened to 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 a
man was floating down on the ice of the
Merrimac and great efforts were made
to rescue him. Twice he got hold of a
plank thrown to him, and twice he
slipped away from 1t, because that end
of the plank was covered with ice.
For Gods sake give me the wooden
end of the plank this time;" and this
done, he IA hauled to shore. The
trouble is that in III efforts to ave the
soul there Is too much GOODNESS 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 surround
ings. The world declines to give 1t and
in many cases has no power to give 1t,
and here is where Christ comes in, and
as on a 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
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 ont of the March
winds of the worlds criticism, come in
out of the sleet of the worlds assault,
come in out Of the world that does not
understand you; / will comfort and |
will soothe and L will be your warmth,
''as a hen gathers 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. l have
seen her in the pinching frosts. AL
most frozen to death, or almost
%strangled in the waters, and what a
fight she makes for the young under
wing if a dog, or a hawk, or a nan
come too near. And so the brooding
Christ takes the storm for us. 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 out upon Him from the kennels?
What He endured, o who can tell,
To save our souls from death and hell.
Yes, h hen o the storm for the
chickens 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 now
and it is an awful night, and in the
morning the wilderness 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 their
tiny voices, but there is no answering
cluck. She took the storm for others
and persisted. Poor thing! Self-sacri-
ficing even unto death! And does it
not make you think of Him who en-
dured all for us? So the wings under
which we come for spiritual safety are
blood-spattered wings, are night
Swallowed wings, are tempest-torn
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 honey
suckle and wild briar. The milkman,
pail in hand, is approaching the barn
yard. The fowls, keeping early hours,
are collecting their young; 'cluck!
''cluck!" ''cluckl' 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 u motherhood divinely appointed,
I I A. .,,1r 80 "a la 1Nnt. m tho