Peninsula enterprise. [volume] (Accomac, Va.) 1881-1965, 1895-11-02

6,6G6f Tney are the Theban legion
who died for the faith. Here is larger
host in magnificent array-8S4, 600
who persisted for Christ in the persecu-
lions of Diocletian. Yonder is family
group-Felicita of Rome and her chill
dren. While they were dying for the
faith she stood encouraging them. One
son was whipped to death by thorns,
another was flung from rock, another
was beheaded. At last the mother be-
came a martyr. There they are, togeth-
era family group in heaven Yonder
is John Bradford, who said in the fire,
"We shall have merry supper with
the Lord tonight" Yonder is Henry
Woes, who exclaimed as he died, eff 1
had ten heads, they should all fall off
for Christ" The great throng Of the
martyrsl They had hot lead poured
down their threats, horses were fastened
to their hands and other horses to their
feet, and thus they were pulled apart.
They had their tongues pulled out by
redhot pinchers: they were sewed up in
the skins of animals and then thrown to
the dogs; they were daubed with COM
bustibles and set on firel IF all the mar
tyrs' stakes that have been kindled
could be set at proper distances, they
would make the midnight all the world
over bright as noondayl And now they
sit yonder in the martyrs gallery. For
them the fires Of persecution have gone
out The swords are sheathed and the
mob hushed. Now they watch US with
an all observing sympathy. They know
all the pain, all the hardship, all the
anguish, all the injustice, all the priya-
ton. They cannot keep still. They cry:
Courage The fire will not consume.
The floods cannot drown. The lions can-
not devourl Courage, down there in
the arena ''
All Agree In Heaven.
What. are they all looking? This night
we answer back the salutation they give
and cry, "Hail, sons and daughters Of
the fre!''
look again, and I see another gal
lery, that of eminent Christians What
strikes me strangely is the mixing in
companionship of those who on earth
could not agree. There I see Martin
Luther, and beside him Roman Cath
Ollie who looked beyond the supersti-
lions of his church and is saved. There
is Albert Barnes and around him the
presbytery which tried him for hetero-
doxyl Yonder is Lyman Beecher and
the church court that denounced him |
Stranger than all, there are John Calvin
and James Arminius Who would have
thought they would sit so lovingly to-
gether? There are George Whitefeld and
the bishops who would not let him
come into their pulpits because they
thought him fanatic. There are the
sweet singers-Toplady, Montgomery,
Charles Wesley, Isaac Watts and Mrs.
Sigourney. If heaven had had no music
before they went up, they would have
started the singing. And there the band
of missionaries-David Abeel, talking
of China redeemed, and John Scudder
of India saved, and David Brainerd Of
the aborigines evangelical, and Mrs.
Adoniram Judson, whose prayers for
Burma took heaven by violence All
these Christians are looking into the
arena. Our struggle is nothing to theirs.
Do we, in Christ's cause, suffer from
the cold? They walked Greenland's icy
mountains. Do we suffer from the heat?
They sweltered in the tropics. Do we
get fatigued? They tainted, with none
to care for them but cannibals. Are we
prosecuted? They were mathematical.
And as they look from their gallery and
see US falter in the presence of the lions
1 seem to hear Isaac Watts addressing US
in his old hymn, only little changed:
Must you be carried to the skies
On flowery beds of ease,
While others fought to win tho prizc,
Or sailed through bloody seasG
Toplady shouts in his old hymn
Your harps, ye trembling saints,
Down from the willows take,
Loud to the praise of love divine
Bid every string awake.
While Charles Wesley, the Methodist,
breaks forth in his favorite words, lit
tie varied:
charge to keep you have,
A God to glorify,
a never dying soul to save,
And fit it for the slIyl
I look again, and I see the gallery Of
our departed. Many of those i'll the 9TH
or galleries we have heard of, but these
we knew. Oh, how familiar their faces !
They sat at our tables, and we walked
to the house of God in company. Have
they forgotten US? Those fathers and
mothers started US Oh the road of life.
Are they careless as to what becomes of
US? And those children, do they look
on with stolid indifference as to wheth-
err we win or lose this battle for eter-
nifty? Nay; see that child running his
hand over your brow and saying: GA
Their, do not fret. u Mother, do not
worry" They remember the day they
left us. They remember the agony Of
the last farewell. Though years in heav
On, they know our faces. They remem-
Der our sorrows. They speak our names
They watch this fight for heaven. Nay;
I see them rise up and lean over and
wave before us their recognition and
encouragement. That gallery is not full.
1ney are keeping places for us. after
we have slain the lion they expect the
king to call MS, saying, "Come up high
erl' Between the hot struggles in the
arena 1 wipe the sweat from my brow
and stand on tiptoe, reaching up my
right hand to clasp theirs in rapturous
handshaking, while their voices come
ringing down from the gallery, crying,
"Be thou faithful unto death, and you
shall have q crown ''
Conquerors Through Christ.
But hero 1 pause, overwhelmed with
the majesty and the joy of the scene !
Gallery of the king Gallery of angels