The Globe-republican., 1893-11-17
fers to the work Of those who worship

fers 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 PEN
ciled, or toy ship your child hewed
out, or recite the noble deed yo.r child
accomplished, and God never was jeal-
Gus of Joshua, never was Jealous OF
Paul, never was jealous OF a Frances
Havergal. never was jealous of a man
or woman who tried to heal wounds
or wipe away tears and lift burdens
and save souls, and while all IS of grace.
and your self-abnegating utterance
will be: Not unto US, not unto us, but
unto Thy name. Oh. Lord, give glory.
you shall always feel a heavenly
satisfaction in every good thing you
did on earth, and if iconoclasIn, borne
from beneath, should break through
the gates Of Heaven and efface one
record of your earthly fidelity, methiaks
Christ would take one OF the nails OF
his own cross and write somewhere on
the crystal Of the amethyst or the
jacinth or the chrysopasus your mama.
and just under it the inscription or M
text: The righteous shall be held IN
everlasting remembrance" Oh, this
character building. You and are every
moment busy in that tremendous oc-
cupation. You are making me better
or worse, and am making you better
| or worse, and we shall through all
eternity bear the mark OF this
benediction or blasting. Oh. this char
acter building, The structure lasting
independent OF crumbling mausoleums.
| independent OF the whole planetary
system 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 railway trains. and all
| the wheels of consultations and gal
| axies should stop and go down into
| one chasm of immensely. all the suns
and moons and stars should tumble
| like the midnight express at Ashta bula.
| that would not touch us, and would rot
| hurt God. for God is spirit. and char
| acter and memory are immortal. and
| over that grave OF wrecked material
| universe might truthfully be written:
THE righteous shall be held in ever
| lasting remembrance.
There is another and more complete
| defeat for oblivion. and that is in the
| heart OF God himself You have seen
sailor roll up his sleeve and show you
his arm tattooed with the figure OF a
| favorite ship perhaps the first one in
/ IL,
soldier roll up his sleeve show you his
arm tattooed with the figure OF fort
ress wh-re he was garrisoned or the
| face OF Il great general under whom he
| fought Iou have seen many hand
! tattooed with the face OF loved one
| before or after marriage. This tattoo
| ing is almost as old as the world. 1t is
| some colored liquid punctured into the
flesh so indelibly that nothing can wash
it out 1t may have been there; fifty years
| but when the man goes into his coffin
| that picture will GO with him on hand
| or arm Now. God says that He has
| tattooed US upon His hands. There
can be no other meaning in the Forty
| ninth chapter of Isaiah. where God
says: behold, have craven thee on
the palms OF my hands" 1t was as
| much as to say. Il cannot open my
| hand TO help but l think of you. l
| cannot spread abroad my hands to
! bless. but think OF you Wherever l
go up and down the Heavens l take
these two pictures OF you with me.
| They are so inwrought into my being
| that | cannot lose them. As long as
| nv hands last. the memory OF you will
| last. Not on the back of my hands as
| though to announce you to others, but
| on the palms OF my hands Tor my
self to look at and study and love.
Not on the palm of one hand alone,
| but on the palms OF both hands, for
| while | am looking upon one hand and
| thin king OF you. must have the other
hand free to protect you. free to strike
| back your enemy, free to lift if you
| fall Palms of my hands indclibly tat
| toed. And though hold the winds in
my fist. no cyclone shall uproot the in
scription of your name and your face.
and though / hold the ocean in the
ocean in the hollow of my hand. its
billowing shall not wash out the rec
ord of my remembrance. Behold /
have craven thee on the palms of my
hands, What JOY. what honor can
there be comparable to that of being
remembered by the mightiest and
kindest and most affectionate being in
the universe. Think of it, to hold an
everlasting place in the heart of God.
The heart of God! The most beautiful
| palace in the universe.
Oh, where is Oblivion now? From
the dark and overshadowing word that
it seemed when began, it has become
something which no man or woman or
child who loves the Lord need ever fear.
| Oblivion defeated. Oblivion dead. OBJ
| livion sepulchred But must 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 trum-
pet over them when once oblivion has
snapped them down. Not one Of them
rises Blow again. Not stir amid all
the pardoned iniquities of lifetime.
Blow again! Not one of them
moves in the deep grave trenches.
But to this powerful resurrec-