The Bolivar bulletin. (Bolivar, Tenn.) 1888-1946, 1894-08-31

CLUES the cart JOstle5 the hearSes
and there Is mirth, and glad.
ness, and indifference as the weep
ing procession goes by. In this
city Of Main, it w&5 common thing to
have trouble and bereavement and
death. Christ saw it every day there.
Perhaps that very hour there were
others being carried out; but this fire.
quency of trouble did not harden
Christ's heart at all. He stepped right
out, and He saw this mourner, and He
had compassion on her and He said:
"Weep not
Now, have to tell you, o bruised
souls, and there are many everywhere
4 (have you ever looked over any great
audience and noticed how many shad-
ows of sorrow there are?). 1 come to
and He has compassion on you, and He
says Weep not" Perhaps with some
it is financial trouble. ''Oh," you sag,
1T is such a silly thing for man to
cry over lost money" Is it? Suppose
you had large fortune, and all luxu-
ries brought to your table, and your
wardrobe was full, and your home
was beautifed by music and sculpture
and painting and thronged by the
! elegant and educated, and then some
rough misfortune should strike you in
the face and trample your treasures,
and taunt your children for their faded
dress, and send you into commercial
circles and undermining where once you
waved scepter of gold, do you think
| you would cry then? think you would.
/ But Christ comes and meets all such
! to-day. He sees all the straits in
which you have been thrust.
He observes the sheer of that
walk in your shadow and glad to get
your help. He sees the protested note,
the uncanceled Judgment, the fore
closed mortgage, the heart-breaxing
evaporation, and he says: Weep not,
l own the cattle on thousand hills.
/ will never let you starve. From my
hand the fowls of Heaven peck all their
food. And will / let you starve? Never
no, my child, never"
Or perhaps this tramp at the gate of
Main has an echo in your own bereft
spirit. You went out to the grave, and
you felt you never could come back
again. You left your heart there. The
white snow of death covered all the
garden. You listen for the speaking
of voices that will never be heard again,
and the sounding of feet that will never
move in your dwelling again. and there
is a heavy, leaden pressure on your
heart. God has dashed out the light of
your eyes, and the heavy spirit that
that woman carried out of the gate of
-
you open the door, but he comes not
in. And you enter the nursery, but
she is not there And you sit at the
table, but there is vacant chair next
to you. And the sun does not shine
as brightly as it used to. and
the voices of affection do not
strike you with so quick q thrill,
and your cheek has not so healthy
a hue, and your eye has not SO deep
fire. Do I. not know? Do we not all
know? There is an uplifted woe on
your heart. You have been out carry
ing your loved one beyond the gate of
the city of Main. But look yonder.
Some One stands watching. He seems
waiting for you. AS you come up He
stretches out His hand of help. His
voice is full of tenderness, yet thrills
with eternal strength. Who is it?
The very One who accosted the
mourner at the gate of Main, and He
says: Weep not
Perhaps it was a worse grief than
that. 1t may be a living home trouble
that you can not speak about to your
best friend. 1t may be some domestic
unhappiness. 1t may be an evil suspi-
cion. 1t may be the disgrace follow
ing in the footsteps of a son that
is hayward, or companion
who is cruel, or a father that
will not do right; and for
years there may have been a vu1-
ture striking its beak into the vitals of
your soul, and you sit there to-day
feeling it is worse that death. And
there is relief. Though the night may
be the blacklist, though the voices of
hell may tell you to curse God and die, |
look up and hear the voice that &C.
costed the woman of the text as it says: |
"Weep not"
Earth hath no sorrow
That Heaven can not cure.
/ learn, again, from all this that |
Christ is the master of the grave Just |
outside the gate of the city, death and |
Christ measured lances; and when the |
young man rose, death dropped. Now, |
we are sure of our resurrection. Oh, |
what a scene it was when that young /
man came back! The mother never |
expected to hear him speak again. She |
never thought that he would kiss her
again. How the tears started, and |
how her heart throbbed, as she said:
'Oh, my son, my son!' And that scene
is going to be repeated. 1t is going to
be repeated ten thousand times. These
broken family circles have got to come
together. These extinguished house
hold lights have got to be rekindled.
There will be a stir in the family lot in
the cemetery, and there will be a rush
of life at the command. Young man,
say unto thee, arise!'' As the child
shakes off the dust of the tomb and
comes forth fresh and fair and beauti-
full, and you throw your arms around
it and press it to your heart, angel to
angel will repeat the story of Main:
He delivered him to his mother"
Did you notice that passage in
the text as I read it? HE de-
livered him to his mother" o,
We troubled soulsl o, We who have
lived to see every prospect blasted,
peeled, scattered, consumed! wait
little. The seed-time of tears will be-
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