The Bossier banner., 1894-02-15


days ago right before our express train
on the Louisville & Nashville railroad
the preceding train had gone down
through a broken bridge, twelve cars
falling hundred feet and then con-
sumed. l saw that one span of the
bridge was down and all tho
other spans were standing. Plan n
good bridge of morals for your sons and
daughters, but have the first span Of
ten years defective, and through that
they will crash down, though all the
an! if you have preserved your integ-
rity and are really Christian, you have
first of all to thank God, and | think
next you have to thank your mother.
The most impressive thing at the in
auguration of James A. Garfield as
president of the United States was
that after he had taken the oath of Of
flee he turned around, and in the pres
ence of the supreme court and the
senate of the United States, kissed
his old mother. If l had time
to take statistics out of this au-
dience, and l could ask what proper
ton of you who are Christians owe
your salvation under God to maternal
fidelity, | think about three-fourths of
you would spring to your feet "Ha!
ha.' said the soldiers of the regiment
to Charlie, one of their comrades,
what has made the change in you?
You used to like sin as well as any of
u.s." Pulling from his pocket his
g 1o%+ 81 Al
of some comforts she had sent him, she
concluded: "We are all praying for you,
Charlie, that you may be a Chistian,"
he said: ''Boys that's the sentence"
How many disappointed mothers
waiting at the window. Perhaps the
panes of the window are not great
glass plate, bevel-edged and hovered
over by exquisite ambrequin, but the
window is made of small panes, l
should 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 or home
ly repairs, when she looks
up, and sees coming across the
bridge of the meadow brook
the window. He lifts and drops the
heavy knocker of the farm house door,
Come inn' is the response. He gives
his name, and says: Il have come on
sad errand." 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 can not get well. l hate to tell
you all 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 theer' That is the
ending of all her cares, and anxieties,
and counsels for that boy. That is her
pay for her self-sacrifces 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 moth
ers sit.
but" says some one. "are you not
mistaken about my glorifed mother
hearing of my evil doings since she
went away" Says some one else: ''Are
you not mistaken about my glorifed
mother hearing of my self-sacrifce
and moral bravery and struggle to do
right?" No! Heaven and earth are
in constant communication. There
are trains running every five
minutes-trains of immortals ascend
ing and descending-spirits going from
earth to Heaven to live there. Spirits
descending from Heaven to earth to
minister and help. They hear from us
many times every day. Do they hear
good news or bad news from this bat
tie, this Sedan, this Thermopyln, this
Austerlitz, in which every one of us is
| fighting on the right side or the wrong
side. Oh God! whose | am, and whom
l am trying to serve, as result of
| this sermon, roll over on all mothers
new sense of their responsibility, and
upon all children, whether still in the
nursery or out on the tremendous
esdraelon of middle or old age, the fact
that their victories or defeats sound
clear out, clear up to the windows of
oy lii CSA III OlI3 uOU lulS
the minute when the cloud of blessing
! filed with the exhaled tears of anxious
mothers shall burst in showers of mercy
on this audience?
There is one thought that is almost
too tender for utterance. | almost fear
to start it lest have not enough con-
troll of my emotion to conclude it. AS
when we were children we so often
came in from play or from hurt or
from some childish injustice practiced
apon us, and as soon as the door was
opened we cried: where's mother?"
and she said: "Here I am" and we
buried our weeping faces in her
lap; SO after awhile 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 question 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