The Monitor-register., 1896-08-28
THE HARVEST FIELD.
A SHADOW ON THE SPLENDOR OF
A SHUNEM HOME.

and the Power of Childhood-From a
World of Sin and Suffering to a World
of Peace and Joy.
WASHINGTON, Aug. 23.-While the
reapers are busy in many parts of the
land and the harvests are being gathered
the scene brought before US in this sub
ject is especially appropriate. The text
is II Kings iv, IS, 10, 30: "And when
the child was grown it fell on a day
that he went out to his father to the
reapers. And he said unto his father,
my head, my head!' And he said to a
lad, Garry him to his mother And
when he had taken him and brought
him to his mother he sat on her knees
till noon and then died.
There is at least one happy home in
Shunem. To the l~uxuriance and splen-
dor of a great house had been given the
advent of a child. Even when the angel
of life brings a new soul to the poor
mans hut a star of Joy shines over the
manger. Infancy, with its helplessness
and innocence, had passed away. Days
of boyhood had come, days OF laughter
and frolic, days of sunshine and prom
Use, days of strange questions and
curiosity and quick development. l sup
pose among all the treasures OF that
house the brightest was the boy. One
day there is the shout Of reapers heard
afeld. A boys heart always bounds at
the sound of sickle or scythe. No sooner
have the harvesters cut q swath across
n H. I,J Soinc fhan, onI
the swarthy reapers feel young again a.
they look down at that lad, as bright
and beautiful as was Ruth in the harvest
fields of Bethlehem cleaning after the
reapers. But the I'LL was too hot for
him. Congestion of the brain seized on
him.
1 see the swarthy laborers drop their
sicklest and they rush out to see what is
the matter, and they fan him, and they
try to cool his brow, but all is of no
avail. In the instant of consciousness
he puts his hands against his temples
and cries out: "My head, my head!'
And the father said, Garry him to his
mother, " just as any father would have
said, for our hand is too rough, and our
voice is too harsh, and our foot is too
loud to doctor "a sick child if there be
in our home a gentler voice and a gen
tier hand and a stiller footstep. But all
of no avail. While the reapers of
Shunem were busy in the field there
came a stranger reaper that way, with
keener scythe and for a richer harvest.
He reaped only II sheaf; but, oh, what
a golden sheaf that wasl | do not want
to know any more about that heart
breaking scene than what 1 see i'll just
this one pathetic sentence: "He sat on
her knees till noon and then died"
Though hundreds of years have passed
away since that boy skipped to the har-
vest field and then was brought home
and died on his mothers lap, the story
still thrills US. Indeed, childhood has a
charm always and everywhere. 1 shall
now speak to you Of childhood, it's
beauty, its susceptibility to impression,
its power over the parental heart and
it's blissful transition from earth to
heaven.
Beauty of Childhood.
The child's beauty does not depend
upon form or feature or complexion or
apparel. That destitute one that you
saw on the street, bruised with unkind-
ness and in rags, has a charm about her,
even under her destitution. You have
forgotten a great many persons whom
you met, of finely cut features and with
erect posture and with faultless COM
plexion, while you will always remem-
Der the poor girl who, on a cold, moon
light night, as you. were passing late
home, in her thin shawl and barefoot
on the pavement. put out her hand and
said: "Please to give me a penny"
All; how often we have walked on and
said, "Oh, that is nothing but street
vagabondism!' but after we got a block
Or two on we stopped and said, "Ah,
that is not right and we passed up
that same way and dropped a mite into
that suffering hand, as though it were
not a matter of second thought, SC
ashamed were we of our hard hearted
ness.
With what admiration we all look
upon a group of children III the play
ground OF in the school, and we clap
our hands almost involuntarily and say,
'tHow beautifull'' All stiffness and
dignity are gone, and your shout is
heard with theirs, and you trundle their
hoop and fly their kite and strike their
ball, and all your WEAKNESS and anxiety
are gone, as when a child you bounded
over the playground yourself. That
father who stands rigid and unsympa-
thetic amid the sportfulness of children
ought never to have been tempted out
of a crusty and un~redeemable solitari-
ness. The waters leap down the rocks,
but they have not the graceful step of
childhood. The morning comes out of
the gates of the east, throwing its silver
On the lake and its gold on the towers
and its fire on the cloud, but it is not SO
bright and beautiful as the morning of
life. There is no light like that which
is kindled in q child's eye, no color like
that which blooms on a child's cheek,
no music like the sound of a child's
voice. Its face in the poorest picture re-
deems any imperfection in art. When
we are weary with toll, their little
hands pull the burdens off our back.
Oh, what a dull, stale, mean world this
would be without the s~portfulness of
childreni When I find people that do
not like children, I Immediately doubt
their moral and Christian character.
But when the grace of God comes upon
a child, how ~unspeakably attractivel
When Samuel begins to pray and Tim
othy begins to read the Scriptures and
Joseph shows himself invulnerable to
fanpnfafiap hnvu hoon+if.,l 4ho ooorat T
know that parents sometimes get nerv-
GUS when their children become pious,
because they have the idea that good
children always die. The strange ques-
tions about God and eternity and the
dead excite apprehension in the pa
rental MING rather than congratulatlon.
Indeed there are some people that seem
marked for heaven. This world is too
poor a garden for them to bloom in.
The hues of heaven are in the petals.
There is something about their fore
head that makes you think that the
hand of Christ has been on it, saying,
Let this one come to me, and let it
come to me soon" While that one tar
ried in the house you felt there was an
angel in the room, and you thought that
every sickness would be the last. And
when, finally, the winds of death did
scatter the kaves, you were no more
surprised than to see a star come out
above the cloud Oh adark night. for you
had often said to your companion. MY
dear, we shall never raise that child"
But | scout the idea that good children
always die. Samuel the pious boy be-
came Samuel the great prophet. Chris
tian Timothy became a minister at
Ephesus. Young Daniel, consecrated to
God, became primo minister of all the