The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1895-10-02

SABBATH morning he addresses Cnrlsten-
dom. Paul, the apostle, stood on Mars
hill addressing handful Of philosophers
who knew not so much about science as a
the millions of Christendom about the won
ders Of justification and the glories OF the
resurrection. John Wesley was howled
down by the mob to whom he preached, and
they threw bricks at him, and they de,
nounced him. and they jostled him, ana
they spat upon him, and yet to-day, IN all
lands, he is admitted to be the great father
OF Methodism. Booths bullet vacated the
Presidential chair, but from that spot OF
coagulated blood on the floor In the box or
Ford's Theatre there spran6 up. the new nle
OF Nation. Stephen stoned, Dut stepnen
alive.
Pass on now and see Stephen in his dying
prayer. His first thought was not how the
stones hurt his head. nor what would De-
come of his body. His first thought was
about his spirit. "Lord Jesus receive my
spirit" The murderer standing on the trap
door, the black cap being drawn over MS
head before the execution, may gr1mace
about the future, but you and have no
shame in confessing some anxiety apous
where We are going to come out. You are
not all body. There is within you soul:
I see it gleam from your eyes to-day, ana
see it irradiating your countenance. some
times 7 am abashed before an audience,
not because I come under your physical
eyesight, but because I realize the truth
that stand before so many Immortal
spirits. The probability Is that your BODY
will at last find sepulcher in some OF the
cemeteries that surround this city. There IS
no doubt that your obsequies will be decent
and respectful. and you will be ableto pillow
your head under the maple, or the Norway
spruce, or the cypress, or the blossomlng n.,
but this spirit about which Stephen prayeo,
what direction will that take2 What guide
will escort it2 What gate will open to re-
ceiveit? What cloud will be clett for us
pathway? After II has got beyond the Light
of our sun will there be torches Lighted 1or
it the rest Of the way2
Will the soul have to travel through long
deserts before 1t reaches the good land2 II
we should lose our pathway will there be
castle at whose gate we may ask the way TO
the city2 Oh, this mysterious spirit within
us! It has two wings. but II Is In cage now.
1t is locked fast to keep it, but let the door
of this cage open the least, and that soul 1s
off. Eagles wing could not catch 1t. Inc
lightnings are not swift enough to come up
with 1t. When the soul leaves the body It
takes fifty worlds Mt bound. And have
no anxiety about It? Have you no anxiety
about itf
I do not care what you do with my body
when my soul Is gone. or whether you be-
lieye in cremation or inhumation. I shall
sleep Just as we'll in a wrapping OF sackcloth
as in satin lined with eagles down. But my
soul-before close this discourse will find
out where it will land. Thank God for the
intimation of my text that when We die
Jesus takes US. That answers all questions
for me. What though there were massive
bars between here and the City OF Light,
Jesus could remove them. What
though there were great Saharas OF
darkness, Jesus could illume them:
What though get weary on the way, Christ
could lift me on His omnipotent shoulder.
What though there were chasms to cross,
His hand could transport me. Then let
Stephens prayer be my dying litany. Lord
Jesus. receive my spirit" 1t may be In that
hour we will be too feeble to say long
prayer. 1t may be in that hour we will not
be able to say the Lords Prayer. for 1t has
seven petitions. Perhaps We may be too fee-
BILE even to say the infant prayer our mothers
taught us, which John Quincy Adams. sew
enty years Of age, said every night when he
put his head upon his pillow:
Now lay me down to sleep,
Ipray the Lord my soul to keep.
We may be too feeble to employ either OF
these familiar forms, but this prayer Of
Stephen Is 30 short, Is so concise, Is so earn
est. is so comprehensive, we surely will be
able to say that, "Lord Jesus, receive my
spirit" Oh, II that prayer Is answered, how
sweet it will be to die! This world is clever
enough to US. Perhaps 1t has treated US a
great deal better than we deserved to be
treated. but II on the dying pillow there shall
break the light Of that better world we shall
= $hnf, oh
small, dark, damp house for one large, beau
tiful and capacious. That dying minister in
Philadelphia, some years ago, beautifully
depicted It when, in the last moment, he
threw up his hands and cried out, ~ move
into the ught!'
Pass on now, and will show you one
more picture, and that Is Stephen asleep.
With pathos and simplicity peculiar to the
Scriptures the text says Of Stephen, HE fell
asleep" "Oh," you say. "what place that
was to sleep! A hard rock under him,
stones falling down upon him. the blood
streaming, the mob bowling. What place
it was to sleep" And yet my text takes that
symbol of slumber to describe his departure,
so sweet was it, so contented was 1t, so
peaceful was it. Stephen had lived very
iaborious life. His chief work had been to
care for the poor. How many loaves OF
bread he had distributed, how many bare
feet he had sandaled, how many cots OF sick
ness and distress he had blessed with minis
tries of kindness and love, do not know.
Yet from the way he lived, and the way he
preached, and the way he died, know ne
was a laborious Christian. But that is all
over now. He has pressed the cup to the
last fainting lip. He has taken the last in
suit from his enemies. The last stone to
whose crushing weight he IS susceptible has
been hurled. Stephen is dead! The dis
ciples come. They take him up. They wash
away the blood from the wounds. They
straighten out the bruised limbs. They
brush back the tangled hair from the brow,
and then they pass around to look upon the
calm countenance of him who had lived for
the DOOR and died for the truth. Stephen
asleep!
have seen the sea driven with the hurri-
cane until the tangled foam caught in the
rigging, and wave rising above wave seemed
as II about to storm the heavens, and then
have seen the tempest drop, and the waves
crouch, and everything become smooth and
FURNISHED as though camping place Tor the
glories OF heaven. So l have seen man
whose life has been tossed and driven com
ing down at last to an infinite calm in which
Stephen asleep!
I saw such a one. He fought all his days
against poverty and against abuse. They
traduced his name. They ratified at the
doorlnob while he was dying with duns for
DEBTS he could not pay. Yet the peace OF
God Erooded over his pillow, and while the
world faded heaven dawned. and the deep
enlng twilight of earth's night was only the
opening twilight Of heavens morn. Not
sigh. Not tear. Not struggle. Hush!
Stephen asleep.
Ihave not the faculty as many have to tell
the weather. can never tell by the setting
sun whether there will be drought or not.
cannot tell by the blowing Of the wind
whether it will be fair weather or foul on the
morrow. But I can prophesy and will
prophesy what weather It will be when you,