The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1895-07-05

| lists, but men who are willing to take
and give hard knocks. The gates of
GAIA were carried off; the gates Of
Thebes were battered down; the gates
of Babylon were destroyed, and the
gates of hell are going to be Frustrated.
The Christianized printing press will
be rolled up as the chief battering ram.
| Then there will be a long list of
aroused pulpits, which shall be assail-
ing fortresses, and Gods red-hot truth
shall be the flying ammunition of the
contest; and the sappers and the
miners will lay the train under these
foundations of sin, and at just the
right time God, who leads on the fray,
will cry: Down with the gates!" and
! the explosion beneath will be an
swered by all the trumpets of God on
high, celebrating Universal victory.
But there may be one wanderer that
would like to have kind word calling
homeward L have told you that So
ciety has no mercy. Did L hint, at an
earlier point in this subject, that God
will have mercy upon any wanderer
who would like to come back to the
heart of infinite love?
A cold Christmas night in a farm
house. Father comes in from the barn,
knocks the snow from his shoes, and
sits down by the fire. The mother sits
at the stand knitting. She says to him:
do you remember it is the.anniversary
to-night?' The father is angered. He
never wants any allusion to the fact
that one had gone away, and the mere
suggestion that it was the anniversary
of that sad event made him quite rough,
although the tears ran down his cheeks.
The old house dog, that had played
with the wanderer when she was a
child. comes up and puts his head on
the old mans knee, but he roughly re-
pulses the dog. He wants nothing to
remind him of the anniversary day.
A cold winter night in a city church.
1t is Christmas night. They have been
decorating the sanctuary. A lost
wanderer of the street, with thin
shawl about her, attracted by the
warmth and light, comes in and sits
near the door The minister of relig-
ion is preaching of Him who was
wounded for our transgressions and
bruised for our iniquities, and the poor
soul by the door said: why, that
must mean me; mercy for the chief of
sinners; bruised for our iniquities;
wounded for our transgressions"
The music that night in the sanctu-
airy brought back the old hymn which
she used to sing, when, with father
and mother, she worshiped God in the
village church. The service over, the
minister went down the aisle. She
said to him: "Were those words for
me? Wounded for our transgressions.
Was that for me?" The man of God
understood her not. He knew not
how to comfort a shipwrecked soul,
and he passed on and he passed out.
The poor wanderer followed into the
street
what are you doing here, MegF'
said the police. What are you doing
here to-night?" oh she replied, II
was in to warm myself" and then the
rafting cough came, and she held to
the railing until the paroxysm was
over. She passed on down the street,
falling from exhaustion, recovering
herself again, until after while she
3
and passed on into the country
road. 1t seemed so familiar; she
kept on the road. and she saw in
the distance a light in the window.
Ali that light had been cleaning
there every night since she went away.
On that country road she passed
until she came to the garden ga tie.
She opened it and passed up the path
where she played in childhood. She
came to the steps and looked in at the
fire on the hearth. Then she put her
fingers to the latch. Oh, if that door
lSd been locked she would have per-
ished on the threshold, for she was
near to death. But that door had not
been locked since the time she went |
away. She pushed open the door. She !
went in and lay down on the hearth by |
the fire. The old house dog growled |
as he saw her enter, but there was
something in the voice he recognized,
and he frisked about her until he al
most pushed her down in his joy.
In the morning the mother came |
down, and she saw the bundle of rags
on the hearth, but when the face was
uplifted she knew it, and it was no
more old Meg of the street. Throwing
her arms around the returned prodigal
she cried: ''Oh, Maggier' The child
threw her arms around her mothers
neck and said: '0h, motherr' and
while they were thus embraced
rugged form lowered above
them. 1t was the father The
severity all gone out of his face, he
stopped and took her up tenderly and
carried her to mothers room and laid
her down on mothers bed, for she was
dying. Then the lost one, looking up
into her mothers face, said: Wound
ed for our transgressions and bruised
for our iniquitiesr Mother, do you
think that means me?" sob. yes, my
darling" said the mother. 'If mother
is so glad to get you back, don't you
think God is glad to get you back?"
And there she lay dying, and all
their dreams and all their prayers
were filed with the words: Wounded
for our transgressions and bruised for
our iniquities." until, just before the
moment of her departure, her face
lighted up, showing the pardon of God
had dropped upon her soul And there
she slept away on the bosom of par
doning Jesus So the Lord took back
one whom the world rejected.