The Bolivar bulletin. (Bolivar, Tenn.) 1888-1946, 1896-10-30

1
and that harrow went down Wal
street, and up Wall street, down Third
street, and up Third street, down State
street, and up State street, dowr
Pennsylvania avenue, and up Penn
/ sylvania avenue, until the whole LAND
was torn to pieces as it had never beer
before. What followed the harrow;
A pgreat awakening in which there
were 100000 souls brought into the
/ kingdom of our Lord. No harrow, nc
crop.
Again, remark, in grace as in the
farm there must be a reaping. Many
Christians speak of religion as though
it were a matter of economics or in.
surance. They expect to reap in the
next world. Oh, no! Now is the time
to reap. Gather up the joy of the
Christian religion this morning, this
afternoon, this night. If you have
not as much grace as you would
| like to have, thank God for
what you have, and pray for more.
! You are not worse euslaved than
| Joseph, no worse troubled than was
David, no worse scourged than was
Paul. Yet, amid the rafting of fet-
tiers, and amid the gloom of dungeons,
and amid the horror of shipwreck, they
triumphed in the grace of God. The
weakest man in the house to-day has
500 acres of spiritual joy all ripe. Why
do you not go and reap it? You have
been grooming over your infrm-
tiles for 30 years. Now give ono
round shout over your emaneipa-
ton. You say you have it so hard;
You might have it worse. You won
der why this great cold trouble keeps
revolving through your soul, turning
and turning with black hand on the
crank. All, that trouble is the grin1-
stone on which you are to sharpen
your sickle. To the fields! Wake upl
Take off your green spectacles, your
blue spectacles, your black spectacles.
Pull up the corners of your mouth as
far as you pull them down. To the
feldsl Reap! reap!
Again, remark, in grace as in farm
ing there is time for threshing. i
tell you bluntly that is death. Just
as the farmer with a fail beats the
wheat out of the straw, so death beats
the soul out of the body Every sick
ness is a stroke of the fail, and the
sick-bed is the threshing floor. What,
say you, is death to good man only
taking the wheat out of the straw?
That is all. An aged man has fallen
asleep Only yesterday you saw him
in the sunny porch playing with his
grandchildren. Calmly he received his
message to leave the world. He babe
a pleasant good-by to his old friends.
The telegraph carries the tidings
and on swift rail-trains the kindred
come, wanting once more to look on
the face of dear old grandfather. Brush
back the gray hairs from his brow; it
will never ache again. Put him away
in the slumber of the tomb. He will
not be afraid of that night. Grand
father was never afraid of anything.
He will rise in the morning of the res
direction. Grandfather was always
the first to rise. His voice has already
mingled in the dOxology of Heaven.
Grandfather always did sing in church.
Anything CHASTITY in that? No. The
threshing of the wheat out of the
straw. That is all.
The Saviour folds lamb in His
bosom. The little child filled all the
scattered all up and down the stairs
just as she left them. What if the
hand that plucl1ed four o'clocks
out of the meadow is still? It will
wave in the eternal triumph. What if
the voice that made music in the home
is still? 1t will sing the eternal
hosanna. Put a white rose in one
hand, a fred rose in the other hand,
and wreath of orange blossoms on
the brow; the white flower for the
victor, the red flower for the Saw
ior's sacrifice, the orange blossoms for
her marriage day. Anything CHASTITY
about that? Oh, mol The sun went
down and the flower shut. The wheat
threshed out of the straw. Dear Lord,
give me Sleep" said a dying boy, the
son of one of my elders, dear Lord, give
me sleep" And he closed his eyes and
awoke in glory. Henry w. Longfel-
low, writing letter of coincidence to
those parents, said: "Those last words
were beautifully poetic" And Mr..
Dear Lord, give me sleep"
Twas not in cruelty, not in wrath,
That the reaper came that day;
Twas an angel that visited the earth
And took the flower away.
So may it be with us when our work |
is all done. Dear Lord, give me
sleep"
have one more thought to present. |
I have spken of the blowing, of the
sowing, of the narrowing, of the reap |
ing of the threshing. l must now |
speak moment of the garnering.
Where is the garner? Need l tell |
you? Oh, no. So many have gone out |
from your own circles-Vea, from your |
own family, that you have had your |
eyes on that garner for many year. |
What hard time some of them hadi |
In Gethsemanes of suffering, they |
sweat great drops of blood. They |
took the "cup of trembling" and |
they put it to their hot lips and |
they cried: IF it be possible, let |
this cup pass from me" With |
tongue of burning agony they cried,
''Oh, Lord, deliver my soulr' But they |
got over it. They all got over it. Gar
nered! Their tears wiped away; their
battles all ended; their burdens lifted.
GarneredI The Lord of the harvest /
will not allow those sheaves to perish
in the equinox. Garnered! Some of us
Der, on the farm, that the sheaves
were put on the top of the rack which
the wagon, and these
sheaves were piled higher and higher,
and after awhile the horses started for
the barn; and these sheaves swayed to
and fro in the wind, and the old
wagon creaked, and the horses made
struggle, and pulled SO hard that the