The Canton times. (Canton, Miss.) 1893-1906, 1896-05-01

voluntary cxiles from other lands.
Some Of you are Scotchmen. 4 see "
| In your high cheelx bones, and in the
color that illumines your face when :
mention the land Of your nativity.
Bonnie Scotland! Dear old kirk! Some
of your ancestors sleeping in Grey
frairs churchyard, or by the deep
lochs filed out. OF the pitchers Of
Heaven, or under the heather some
times so deep Of color It makes one
think Of the blood Of the Covenanters
who signed their names for Christ.
dipping their pens into the veins q
their own arms opened for that pnr-
pose. How every fiber Of your nature
thrills as mention the name OF Rob
ert Bruce, and the Campbells. and
Cochrane. / bespeak for this royal ex-
lie Of my text the love and the service
of all Scotch exiles. Some OF you are
Englishmen. Your ancestry served
the Lord. Have not read OF the
sufferings Of the Haymarket9 and have
/ not seen in Oxford the very spot
where Ridley and Latimer mounted
the red chariot? Some OF your ances-
tors heard George Whitefeld thunder,
or heard Charles Wesley sing, or heard
John Bunyan tell his dream OF the
celestial city; and the cathedrals I'M
der the shadows of which some OF you
were born had in their grandest organ
roll the name of the Messiah. be-
speak for the royal exile OF my SER
mon the love and service OF all En-
glish exiles Yes, some OF you came
from the island of distress over which
Hunger, on throne of human skele-
tons, sat queen. All efforts at ameliora-
ton halted by massacre. Procession OF
famines, procession of martyrdoms
marching from North channel to Cape
Clear, and from the Irish sea across to
the Atlantic. An island not bounded
as geographers tell us, but as every
philanthropist knows-bounded on the
north and the south and the east and
the west by woe which no human poll
tics can alleviate, and only Almighty
God can assuage. Land OF Goldsmiths
rhythm, and Sheridan's wit, and OCon-
nell's eloquence, and Edmund Burke's
craftsmanship. and O'Brien's sacrifice.
Another Patmos with it's apocalypse OF
blood. Yet you can not think OF it to-
day without having your eyes blinded
with emotion, for there your ancestors
sleep in graves some of which th~Y en-
tered for lack of bread.
For this royal exile of my sermon
bespeak the love and the service OF all
Irish exiles Yes, some OF you are
from Germany, the land OF Luther,
and some of you are from Italy, the
land Of Garibaldi, and some OF you are
from France, the land Of John Calvin
one Of the three mighties OF the glori-
GUS Reformation Some OF you are
descendants of the Puritans, and they
were exiles; and some OF you
are descendants of the Hugue-
nots, and they were exiles; and
some of you are descendants OF
the Holland refugees, and they were
exiles. Some Of you were born on the,
banks of the Yazoo or the Savannah'
and you are now living in this latitude.
Some Of you on the banks Of the Ken
nebec, or at the foot OF the Green
mountains, and you are here now.
oh! how many of us far away from
home. All of us exiles This is not
our home. Heaven is our home.
Oh! am so glad when the royal
exile went back He left the gate
ajar, or left it wide open. Going
home!" That is the dying ex-
clamation of the majority of Chris
tians. have seen many Christians
die. i think nine out of ten in the last
moment say, Going home" Going
out Of Punishment and sin and sorrow
and sadness. Going home to join in
the hilaritics of our parents and cur
dear children who have already de-
parted. Going home to Christ. Co
ing home to God. Going home to stay.
Where are your loved ones that died
in Christ? You pity them. All! they
ought to pity you. You are an exile
far from home. They are homel
Oh! what time it will be
for you when the gatekeeper of Heaven
shall say: Take off that rough SAN
dial; the journeys ended. Put down
that saber; the battles won. Put off
that iron coat of mail and put on the
robe Of conqueror. At that gate of
triumph l leave you to-day, only read
! ing three tender cantos translated
from the Italian. If you ever heard
anything sweeter never did. although
l can not adopt all its theology:
| Twas whispered one morning in HEAVIER
| How the little child-angel May,
| In the shade Of the great white portal
Sat sorrowing night and day;
| How she said to the stately warden
| He OF the key and bar
"Ohl angel. sweet angel. pray you
| Set the beautiful gates ajar-
Only little, pray you,
Set the beautiful gates ajar.
IT can hear my mother weeping.
She is lonely. she can not see