The Banner-Democrat. [volume] (Lake Providence, East Carroll Parish, La.) 1892-current, 1894-04-28

the shedding of blood there is no re
mission" I'm the blood is the atone
ment." But it was not your blood. I
S was His own. Not only enough to red
, den His garments and to redden Hi
horse, but enough to wash away thu
sins OF the world. Oh, the blood OF
His brow. the blood on His hands, the
blood on His feet, the blood on His side
1t seems as if an artery must have beef
J cut.
, There Is fountain filled with blood
Drawn from Emmanuel's veins,
And sinners plunged beneath that flood
Lose all their guilty stains.
Or perhaps the mother fingers Ions
enough to see son get on the wrons
road and his former kindness become.
rough reply when she espresso.
anxiety about him. But she goes
right on, looking carefully after hi.
apparel, remembering his every birth
day with some memento, and when he
is brought home worn out with dissipa
ton. nurses him till he gets well and
starts him again, and hopes, and ex
poets, and prays, and counsels, and
suffers, until her strength gives out
and she fails. She is going, and at,
PENDANTS, bending over her pillow,
ask her If she has any message to
leave, and she makes great effort to
say something, but out of three or four
minutes of indistinct utterance they
can catch but three words: my poor
boy!" The simple fact is she died for
him. Life for life. Substitution!
About thirty-four years ago there
went forth from our homes hundreds
of thousands of men to do battle for
their country. All the poetry of battle
soon vanished and left them nothing
but the terrible prose. They waded
knee-deep in mud. They slept in snow
banks. They marched till their cut
feet tracked the earth. They were
swindled out of their honest rations,
and lived on meal not fit for a
dog. They had jaws all fractured.
and eyes extinguished. and limbs
shot away. Thousands of them cried
for water as they lay dying on the
field the night after the battle, and
got it not. They were homesick, and
received no message for their loved
ones. They died in barns, in bushes,
in bitches, the buzzar1s of the sum-
mer heat the only attendant on
their obsequies No one but the
infinite God who knows every
thing, knows the ten thousandth
part of the length, and breadth, and
depth. height of anguish of the north
ern and southern Rttlefields. Why
did these fathers leave their children
and go to the front, and why did these
young men, postponing the marriage
day, start out into the probabilities of
never coming back! For the country
they died. Life for life. Blood for
blood. Substitution!
But we need not go so far. What is
that monument in Greenwood? 1t is
to the doctors who fell in the southern
epidemics. Why go? Were there not
enough sick to be attended in these
northern attitudes? Oh, yes; but the
doctor puts a few medical books in his
valise, and some walls of medicine,
and leaves his patients here in
the hands of other physicians,
and takes the rail-train. Before he
gets to the infected regions he
passes crowded rail-trains, regular and
extra. taking the flying and affrighted
populations. He arrives in a city
over which great horror is brooding
He goes from couch to couch, feeling
of pulse and studying symptoms, and
prescribing day after day, night after
night, until a fellow physician says:
Doctor, you had better go home and
rest; you look miserabl But he can
not rest while SO many are suffering.
On and on. until some morning finds
home, and then rises and says he must
go and look after those patients. He
is told to lie down; but he fights his
until he falls back, and is |
weaker and weaker, and dies for people |
with whom he had no kinship, aud far |
away from his own family, and is has
tily put away in a strangers tomb, and |
only the fifth part of a newspaper line |
tells us of his sacrifce-his name Just |
mentioned among five. Yet he has |
touched the furthest height of sublim-
ity in that three weeks of humanita- |
rian service. He goes straight as an
arrow to the bosom of Him who said: |
81 was sick and We visited Me-" Life |
for life. Blood for blood. Substitu- |
ton.
Some of our modern theologians who |
want to give God lessons about the |
best way to save the world tell us they |
do not want any blood in their redemp-
ton. They want to take His horse by
the bit and hurl him back on his
launches and tell this rider from Boz
rah to go around some other way.
Look out, lest We fall under the flying
hoof of His horse; lest We go down
under the sword of this Conqueror from
Bozrah. What meant the blood of the
pigeons in the old dispensation? the
blood of the Bullock? the blood of the
heifer? of the lamb? 1t meant to
prophesy the cleansing blood of this
who came from Bozrah,
travelling in the greatness of His
strength" l catch handful of the
red torrent that rushes out from
The heart of the Lord, and now
throw it over this audience.
hoping that one drop of its cleansing
power may come upon your soul. O
Jesus! in that crimson tide wash our
souls! We accept Thy sacrifice! Con.
Iueror of Bozrah, have mercy upon us!
Ne throw or,r Garments IN the xvavi