Fisherman & farmer. [volume] (Edenton, N.C.) 1887-19??, 1894-09-07

| SudE65 Oh lUo Vdluo III d city "uOSO
streets are gold, whose harps are gold,
| whose crowns are gold. You have real
| of the crusaders-how that many thou
| sands of them went OF TO conquer the
| holy sepulcher. ask you to join g. grander
| crusade. not for the purpose OF conquering
| the sepulcher of a dead Christ, but for the
| purpose of reaohing the throne OF living
| Jesus. When an army Is to be made up, the
| recruiting officer examines the vol
| nnteers. He tests their eyeslght, he sounds
| their lungs, he measures their stature. They
| must be Just right or they are rejected. But
| there shall be no partiality In m aklng up
| this army of Christ. Whatever your moral
| or physical stature, whatever your dlss1pa-
| tions, whatever your weakness, nave
| commission from the Lord Almighty to make
| up this regiment of redeems1 souls, and
cry, "Arise ye and depart, for this Is not
your rest"
Many of you have lately joined this com
pany, and my desire Is that you may all join
1t. Why not? You know In your own hearts
experience that what have said about this
world Is tr1e-that it Is no place to rest in.
There are hundreds here wearv-oh, how
weary weary with sin, weary with trouble,
weary with bereavement. Some of you nave
been pierced through and through. You
carry the scars of thousand conflicts, In
which you have ble1 at every pore, and you
sigh, ooh, that had the wings OF dove,
that L might fly away and be at rest You
have taken the cup of this worlds pleasures
/
claws at your tongue, and the fever strikes
to your brain. You have chased pleasure
through every valley, by every stream, amid
every brightness and under every shadow,
but Just at the moment when you were ready
to put your hand upon the rosy, laughing
sylph Of the wood she turned upon you with
the glare of a f1end and the eye of a satyr,
her locks adders and her breath the chill
damp of a grave. Out OF Jesus Christ no
rest. No voice to silence the storm. NO
light to kndle the darkness. No dry DOCK
to repair the split bulwark.
Thank God, can tell you something bet
ter. If there Is no rest on earth, there IS
rest in heaven, Oh, ye who are worn out
with work, your hands caiLousea, your oacks
bent, your eyes half put out, your fingers
worn with the needle that in this world you
NAV never lay down. ye discouraged ones
who have been waging hand dght tor
bread, ye to whom the night brings little
rest and the morning more drudgery-oh,
We Of the weary hand, and of the weary
side. and the weary foot, hear me talk ABOUT
rest
Look at that company Of enthroned ones.
Look at their hands look at their feet
look at their eyes. 1t cannot be that those
bright ones ever toiled2 Yes, yes These
packed the Chinese teaboxes, and through
missionary instruction escaped into glory.
These sweltered on Southern plantations,
and one night after the cotton picking went
up as white as If they had never been black
factories. and these in Manchester mills.
Those helped build the pyramids, and these
broke away from work on the day Christ
was bounded out Of Jerusalem. NO more
towers to build heaven Is done. No more
garments to weave the robes are hnlshed.
No more harvests to raise the garners are
full Oh, sons and daughters of toll, arise
ye and depart, for that Is your rest
ScoviI McCallum, boy Of my sunday
school, while dying said to his mother,
"Don't cry, but sing, sing
.sThere is rest for the weary,
There is rest for the weary
Then, putting his wasted ha2d over his
heart, said, "There is rest for me.
Oh, ye whose locks are wet With the dews
of the night of grief; ye whose hearts are
heavy because those we'll known footsteps
sound no more at the doorway, yonder IS
YOUR rest There is David triumphant. but
once he bemoaned Absalom. There Is Abra-
ham enthroned, but once he wept for S 'rah.
There is Paul exultant, but he once sat with
his feet in the stocks. There is Payson
radiant with immortal health, but on earth
he was always sick. No toll, no tears, no
partings, no strife, no agOnizlng cough to-
night No storm to ruff1e the crystal sea-
No alarm to strike from the cathedral
towers No dirge throbbing from seraphtc
harps. No tremor in the everlasting song,
but rest-perfect rest-unending rest.
Into that rest how many of our loved ones
have gone! The little children had been
gathered up Into the bosom Oh Chrlst. One
of them went out Of the arms of a widowed
mother, following its father, who died few
weeks before. In its last n 0ment 1t seemed
to see the departed father, for it said, look
ing upward with frightened co untenance,
"Papa, take me up =!
Others put down the work OF mid life, eel
Ing they could hardly be spared fro m the Of
fee or store or shop for day, but are to be
spared from it forever. Your moth er went.
Having lived a life of Christian consistency
here, ever busy with kindness for her chill
dren, her heart full of that meek and quiet
spirit that is in the sight of God great price,
suddenly her countenance was TRANSPORTED,
and the gate was opened, and she took her
place amid that great cloud of witnesses that
hover about the throne.
Glorious consolation They are not dead.
You cannot make me believe they are dead
They have only moved on. With more love
than that with which they greet US on earth,
they watch US from their high place, and
their voices cheer US in our struggles forthe
sky. Fail, spirits blessed now that ye have
passed the flood and won the crown With
weary feet we press up the shining way, un-
til in everlasting reunion we shall meet
again. Oh. won't 1t be grand when, our
conflicts done and our partings over, we
shall clasp hands and cry out, 'This Is
heaven"