Shenandoah herald. [volume] (Woodstock, Va.) 1865-1974, 1895-11-01

ana cnar ed acfOTniDylV, -
lied, the nign6 before swinging fro1a
the bedpost in perfect glee at the thought
Of emancipation. Who are that army Of
6,666? They are the Theban legion
who died for the faith. Here is larger
host in magnificent array-S84, COO
who perished for Christ in the persecu-
tions Of Diocletian. Yonder is a family
group-Felicitas 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 a 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 a merry supper with
the Lord tonight" " Yonder is Henry
Woes, who exclaimed as he died, "If
had ten heads, they should all fall of
for Christ" The great throng Of the
martyrs! They had hot lead poured
down their throats, 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 fire 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 MONDAY 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 priva-
tion. They cannot keep still. They cry:
Courage! The fire will not consume.
The floods cannot drown. The lions can
not deyourl 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 fire ~
1 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 1 see Martin
Luther, and beside him a Roman Cath
olic who looked beyond the supersti-
tions of his church and is saved. There
is Albert Barnes and around him. the
presbytery which tried him for hetero-
doxy Yonder is Lyman Beecher and
the church court that denounced himf
Stranger than all, there are John Calvin
and James Arminius Who would hayo
thought they would sit so lovingly to-
gether? There are George Whitefcld and
the bishops who would hot let Linn
come into their pulpits because they
thought him a fanatic. There are the
sweet singers-Toplady, Montgomery,
Charles Wesley, Isaac Watts and Ms.
Sigourney. If heaven had had 10 music
before they went up, they would have
started the singing And there the band
of missionaries-Dayid 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 tho
arena. Our struggle is nothing to theirs.
Do we, in Christ's cause, suffer frCm
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 wo
prosecuted? They were mathematical.
And as they look from their gallery and
see us falter in the presence Of the lions
l seem to hear Isaac Watts addressingus
in his old hymn, only little changed;
Must you be carried to the skies
On 1owery beds Of ease,
While others fought 20 win the prize,
Or sailed through bloody seas:
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 10 glorify,
A never dying soul TO save,
And fit it for the skyl
look again, and 1 see the gallery Of
our departed. Many Of those in the 9TH
er galleries we have heard Of, but these
we knew. Oh, how familiar their facesl
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
Oh with stolid indifference rs to wheth-
er we win OF lose this battle for etor-
nifty? Nay; see that child running his
hand over your brow and saying ia
ther. do not fret" Mother, do not
worry" They remember the day they
left Us. They remember the agony Of
the last farewell. Though years in heay-
en-. they know our faces. They remem-
Der our sorrows They speak our names
They watch this fight for heaven. Nay;
| see them rise up and lean over and
wave before us their recognition and
Encouragement. That gallery is not full
They are keeping places for US. After
we have slain the lion they expect the
king TO call us, saying, Come up high
err" Between the hot struggles in tho
arena | wipe the sweat from my brow
and stand on tiptoe, reaching up my
right hand TO clasp theirs in rapturous
handshaking, while their voices como
ringing down from the gallery, crying,
"Be thou faithful unto death, and you
shall have a crownP'
Conquerors Through Christ.
But here 1 pause, overwhelmed with
the majesty and the joy Of the scenel
nollo.,- 90 tla l,iuof Gallarv of anoQlgl