The Progress., 1894-01-20

DN the lltlle ones When theF get nurt
and come in crying with the pain:
Where's mother" It is asked by
those who have seen some grand sight
or heard some good new, or received
some beautiful gift: Where's
mother" She sometimes feel wearied
by the question, for they all ask it and
keep asking il all the time She is not
only the first 10 hear every case of per-
plcxIty. but she is the Judge in every
court of domestic appeal. That IS what
puts the premature wrinkles on so many
maternal faces. and powders white
so many maternal forcheads. You see
it is a question that keeps on for all
the wears of childhood. 1t comes from
the nursery and from the evening
stand where the boys and girls are
learning their school lesson, and from
the starting out in the morning, when
the tippet or hat or slate or book or
ovcrshOe is lost, until at night all out
of breath the youngsters come in and
shout until You can hear them from
cellar to garret, and from front door
to the back fence of the back ysyd
I where's mother?'
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 lambrequin, but the window
is made of small panes, l would
say about six or eight of them, in sum
mer wreathed with trailing vine, and
in winter pictured by the Raphaels of
! the frost, a real country window. The
mother sits there knitting, or busy
,nth her needle of hOmely repairs
when she looks up and sees coming
across the bridge of the meadow brooh
a stranger who dismounts in front of
| the window. He lifts and drops the
| heavy knoclier of the farm house door.
| Come in" 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. ''Ies." he says, your son
got into n unfortunate encounter with
"a young man in liquor saloon last
night, and is badly hurt. The fact is
he cannot get well. 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 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 self-sacrifces in his
behalf. That is the bad news from
>Se tattle 80 the tidings of Gerelict
or Christian sons travel to the windows
of earth, or the windows Of heaven at
which mothers sit.
But" says some one, ''are you not
mistaken about my glorified mother
hearing of my evil doings since she
went away?" Says some one else:
"Are you not mistaken about my glori-
fed 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 ascending and de-
scending-Spirits going from earth to
heaven to live there. Spirits descend
ing 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 battle.
this Sedan, this Thermopyl@, this
Austerlitz, in which every one of us Is
fighting on the right side or the wrong
side? Oh God. whose l 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 Is
draelon of mid-life or old age, the fact
that their victories or defeats sound
clear out, clear up to the windows oi
sympathetic maternity. Oh, is not this
the minute when the cloud Of blessing
, filled with the exhaled tears ofanxiou,
mothers shall burst in showers Of
mercy on this audience
There is one thought that is almost
too tender for utterance. | almos,
fear to start it lest have not enough
. control of my emotion to conclude it
. As when we were children we so otter
came in from play or from a burt ol
from some childish injustice practiced
, upon us, and as soon as the door wa:
. opened we cried: where's MOTHER
! and she said: Here / am" and we
buried our weeping faces in her lap
so after a while, when we get through
with the pleasures and hurts OF thii
! life, we will, by the pardOnine
, mercy of Christ, enter the heavenly
, home, and among the first ques
. tions, not the first, but among
/, the first, will be the old question
, that we used to ask, the ques ton tha
, is being asked in thousands Of places
at this very moment-the question
, where's mother?" And it will no
, take long for US to find her or for hel
!. to find US, for she will have been watch
ing at the window for our coming, anC
with the other children of our house
hold of earth we will again gathel
round her, and she will say: "Nell
3 how did you get through the battle
of life? / have often heard from
others about you, but now
Z | % . cnaIl le