Connecticut western news., 1895-09-19
A Peaceful Sleeu.

 more picture, and that is Stephen asleep. With a pathos and simplicity peculiar to the Scriptures. the text says of Ste phen, He fell asleep" "Oh," you say, "what a place that was to sleepl A hard rock under him, stones falling down upon him, thA blood streaming, the mob bowling What place it was to sleep!'' And yet my text takes that symbol of slumber to describe his de- parture, so sweet was it, so contented was it, so peaceful was it. Stephen bad lived very laborious life. His chief work had been to care for the poor. How many loaves of bread he had distribut- ed, how many bare feet he had san daled, how many cots of sickness and distress he had blessed with ministries of kindness and love, do not know. Yet from tho way he lived, and the way he preached, and the way he died, know he 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 insult from his enemies The last stone to whose crushing weight he is susceptible has been hurled. Ste phen is dead The disciples 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 poor and died for the truth. Stephen asleepl
 I have seen the sea driven with the hurricane until the tangled foam caught in the rigging, and wave rising above wave seemed as if about to storm the heavens, and then have seen the tenn pest drop, and the waves crouch, and everything become smooth and bur nished as though camping place for the glories of heaven. So have seen a man whose life has been tossed and driven coming down at last to an inf nite calm in which there was hush of heavens lullaby. Stephen asleepl
 I saw such a one. He fought all his days against poverty and against abuse. They traduced his name. They rattled at the doorknob while he was dying with duns for debts he could not pay. Yet the peace of God bIooded over his pillow, and while the world faded heav- en dawned, and the deepening twilight of earth's night was only the opening twilight of heavens morn. Not a sigh. Not tear. Not struggle. Hush Stephen asleep.
 I have not the faculty as many have to tell the weather. I can never tell by the setting sun whether there will be a drought or not. I cannot tell by the blowing of the wind whether it will be fair weather or foul on the morrow. But can prophecy and will prophecy what weather it will be when you, the Chris tian, come to die. You may have it very | rough now. It may be this week one annoyance, the next another annoyance. It may be this year one bereavement, | the next another bereavement. But at | the last Christ will come in, and dark ness will go out And though there may | be no hand to close your eyes, and no breast on which to rest your dying head, and no candle to lift the night, the | odors of God'k --anging garden will re- gale your soul, and at your bedside will halt the chariots of the king. No more | rents to pay, no more agony because four has gone up, no more struggle with "the world, the flesh and the devil, !" but peace-long, deep, everlasting peace. Stephen asleepl
 | Asleep in Jesus, blessed sleep,
 | From which none ever wake to weep; | A calm and undisturbed repose, | Uninjured by the last of foes.
 | Asleep In Jesus far from thee
 Thy kindred and thy graves may be, But there is still blessed sleep, From which none ever wake to weep.
 You have seen enough for one day | No one can successfully examine more
 than five pictures in day. Therefor' | we stop, having seen this cluster of di vine Raphaels-Stephen gazing int
 heaven, Stephen looking at Christ
 Stephen stoned, Stephen in his dyini
 prayer, Stephen asleep.