The united opinion. [volume] (Bradford, Vt.) 1881-1970, 1895-05-24

saying and believing that ask little Of
men in general try to do much fol
them and to expect nothing in return.
find decided advantage in these terms.
On these terms l defy them to disap
point me- But, my hearers, the day
cometh when your work, which perhaps
no one has noticed or rewarded or hon
ored. will rise to heavenly recognition.
While l have been telling you that the
hand was under the wing of the cheru'
BIN | want you to realize that the wing
was over the hand. Perhaps reward
may not come to you right away. Wash
ington lost more battles than he won,
but he triumphed at the last. Walter
Scott, in boyhood, was called 'tLt
Greek blockhead, but what height 81
renown did he not afterward tread?
Rest For the Toiling.
And promise you victory farther on
and higher up, if not in this world,
then in the next. Oh, the heavenly day
when your lifted hand shall be gloved
with what honors, it's finger enringed
with what jewels, its wrist clasped with
what splendors! Come up and take it,
you Christian woman, who served at the
washtubl Come up and take it, you
Christian shoemaker, who pounded the
shoe last! Come up and take it, you
professional nurse, whose compensation
never fully paid for broken nights and
the whims and struggles of delirious
siclrooms Come up and take it, you
firemen, besweated, far down amid the
greasy machinery of ocean steamers,
and We conductors and engineers on rail
roads, that knew no Sunday, and whose
ringing bells and loud whistle never
warned off your own anxieties
Come up and take it, you mothers,
who rocked and l,Sllabied the family
brood until they took wing for other
nests and never appreciated what you
had done and suffered for them Your
hand was we'll favored when you were
young, and it was a beautiful hand, SO
we'll rounded, SO graceful that many adj
mired and eulogized it, but hard work
calloused it and twisted it, and self
sacrificing toll for others paled it, and
many household griefs thinned it, and
the ring which went ON only with a
push at the marriage altar now is too
large and falls off, and again and again
you have lost it, Poor hand Weary
hand Wornout hand But God will
reconstruct it, reanimate it, readorn it,
and all heaven will know the story of
that hand. What fallen ones it lifted
up! What tears it wiped away What
wounds it bandaged! What lighthouses
it kindled! What storm tossed ships It
brought into the pearl beached harbor!
Oh, am SO glad that in the vision of
my text Ezekiel saw the wing above the
hand. Roll on that everlasting rest for
all the toiling and misunderstood and
suffering and weary children of God,
and know right well that to join your
hand, at last emancipated from the
struggle, will be the soft hand, the gen
tie hand, the triumphant hand, of him
who wipeth away all tears from all
faces. That will be the palace of the
king of which the poet sang in some
what Scotch dialect:
It's bonnie, bonnie warl that we're livin in
the moo,
An sunny is the Ian we aften traivel thro',
But in vain we look for something to which
cor hearts can cling,
For it's beauty is as naething to the palace O
the King.
We see cor fren's await us over yonder at his
gate.
Then let us a be ready, for, we KEN it's gettin
late.
Let COR lamps be BRIGHTLY burnin; let's raise
cor voice and sing.
Soon veil meet, to part nae mair / the palace
of the King.