The Globe-republican. [volume] (Dodge City, Kan.) 1889-1910, 1894-01-19

loneliness of religion and he will be its
advocate and exemplar for all time and
eternity.
The trouble with Sisera's mother
was that while sitting at the window
of my text watching for news of her
son from the battlefield, she had the
two bad qualities of being dissolute
and being fond of personal adornment
What she thinks most of is the bright
colors of the wardrobes to be captured,
and the needlework. ITO Sisera a
prey of divers colors. a prey of divers
colors of needlewOrk, of divers cOlors
of needlework on both sides
Now neither Sisera's mother nor any
one else can say too much in eulogy of
the needle. 1t has made more useful
conquests than the sword Pointed at
one end and with an eye at the other.
whether of bone or ivory. as in earliest
time, or of bronze as in Pliny's time.
or of steel, as in modern time; whether
laboriously fashioned. as formerly, by
one hand, or as now, when a hundred
workmen in factory are employed to
make the different parts of one needle
it is an instrument divinely ordered for
the comfort, for the life. for the health,
for the adornment of the human race.
But there was nothing except vanity
and worldliness and social splash in
what Sisera's mother said about the
needlework she expected her son would
bring home from the battle. God only
knows how many homes have made
shipwreck on the wardrobe. And that
mother who sits at the window watch
ing for vain-glOrious triumph of mil
linery and fine colors, and domestic
pageantry, will, after while, hear as
bad news from her children out in the
battle of life. as Sisera's mother heard
from the struggle at Esdraelon.
But if you still press the question:
''Where's mOther?" / will tell you
where she is not, though once she was
there. Some of you started with her
likeness in your face and her principles
in your soul. But you have cast her
out That hard, grinding, dissipated
look you never got from her. If you
had seen anyone strike her you would
have struck him down without much
care whether the blow was just suffi-
cient or fatal. but my boy, you have
struck her down-struck her innocence
from your face and struck her prin-
ciples from your soul You have struck
her down! The tent pin that Jael
drove three times into the skull of
Sisera was not so cruel as the stab
you have made more than three times
through your mothers heart. But she
is waiting yet, for mothers are slow to
give up their boys-waiting at some
window; it may be a window on earth
or at some window in Heaven. All
others may cast you off. But there are
two persons who do not give up-God
and mother.
How many disappointed mothers
waiting at the window Perhaps the
panes of the window are not great
glass plate, bevel-edged and lowered
over by exquisite lambrequin, but the
window is made of small panes. l
would say about six or eight of them,
in summer wreathed with trailing vine
and in winter pictured by the Raphaels
of the frost, real country window.
The mother sits there knitting, or
busy with her needle of homely repairs,
when she looks up, and sees coming
across the bridge OF. the meadow brook
a stranger who dismounts in front of
heavy knocker of the farm house door.
Come inr' is the response. He gives his
name, and says: Il have come on sad
Grand" There is nothing the matter
of my son in the city, is there?" she
asks "Yes!' he says, your son got into
an unfortunate encounter with young
man in liquor saloon last night and is
badly hurt. The fact is, he cannot get
well. hate to tell you am sorry to
say he is dead" 'Dead.' she cries, as
she totters back. ''Oh, my son! my son!
my son! Would God l had died for
thee!" That is the ending of all her
cares and anxieties and good counsels
for that boy. That is her pay for her
in his behalf. That is the |
bad news from the battle. So the |
tidings of derelict or Christian sons
travel to the windows of earth, or the |
windows of Heaven at which mothers |
sit.
There is one thought that is almost
TOO CcQQer 1Or utCerance. ldinOSC Iedr |
to start it lest have not enough con-
troll of my emotions to conclude it AS
when we were children we SO often
came in from play or from a hurt or
from some childish injustice practiced
upon us, and as soon as the door was
opened we cried: ''Where's mother?"
and she said: Here 1 am" and we
buried our weeping faces in her lap; SO
after a while when we get through
with the pleasures and hurts of this
life. we will, by the pardoning mercy of
Christ, enter the Heavenly Home, and
among the first questions. not the first
but among the first, will be the old
question that we used to ask. the ques-
ton that is being asked in thousands
Of places at this very moment-the
question: ''Where's mother?'' And it
will not take long for us to find her or
for her to find us, for she will have
been watching at the window for our
coming, and with the other children
of our household of earth we will again
II