The Lexington dispatch. [volume] (Lexington, South Carolina) 1870-1917, 1896-04-29

vice to Women and Otner Ose1ul 1n-
formation" 23.
his rough path would end at defoliagcd
tree without one leaf and with only two
branches, bearing fruit Of such bitter
ness as no human lips had ever tasted.
Oh, what an exile-starting in all in
fancy without any cradle and ending in
assassination! Thirst without any water.
Day without any sunlight. The doom of
desperate for more than angelic excel
lence. Fer what that expatriation and
that exile? Worldly good sometimes
comes from worldly evil. The acciden-
tai glance of sharp blade from razor
grinder wheel put out the eye of Gam
BETA and excited sympathies which
gained him an education and started
him on a career that made his name
more majestic among Frenchihen than
any other name III the last 20 years.
Hawthorne, turned out of the Office
of collector at Salem, went home in de-
spair. His wife touched him on the
shoulder end said, "Now is the time to
write your book and his famous
"Scarlet Letter" was the brilliant con-
sequence. Worldly good sometimes
comes from worldly evil Then be not
unbelieving when tell you that from
the greatest crime Of all eternity and Of
the whole universe, the murder Of the
Son of God, there shall come results
which. shall eclipse all the grandeurs Of
eternity past and eternity to come.
Christ, an exile from heaven opening
the way for the deportation toward
heaven and to heaven cf all those who
will accept the proffer. Atonement,
ship large enough to take all the passen-
gers that will come aboard it.
The Open Gates.
For this royal exile bespeak the love
and service of all the exiles here pres
ent, and in one sense or the other that
includes Ill Of Us. The gates Of this
continent have been so widely opened
that there are here many voluntary ex-
lies from other lands. Some Ct you are
Scotchmen. see it in your high cheek
bones and IN the color that illumines
your face when I mention the land Of
your nativity. Bonny Scotland! Dear
old kirk! Some Of your ancestors sleep
ing in Greyfriars churchyard, or by the
deep lochs filed out of the pitchers Of
heaven, or under the heather, sometimes
80 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 Of their own arms
opened for that purpose. How every
fiber of your nature thrills as mention
the names of Robert Bruce and the
Campbells and Cochrane! I bespeak for
this royal exile Of my text the love and
the service Of all Scotch exiles Some Of
you are Englishmen. Your ancestry
served the Lord Have I not read of the
s1fferings Of the Haymarket, and have
not seen in Oxford the very spot where
Ridley and Latimer mounted the red
chariot? Some of your ancestors heard
George Whiteield thunder, or heard
Charles Wesley sing, CT heard John
Bunyan tell his dream of the celestial
city, and the cathedrals under the shad-
ow of which some Of you were born had
in their grandest organ roll the name of
the Messiah.
! bespeak for the royal exile CT my ser
mon the love and the service OF all
English exiles. Yes, some Of you came
from the island of distress over which
hunger, on throne Of human skeletons,
sat queen. All efforts at amelioration
halted by massacre. Procession of fam
ines, procession of martyrdoms march
Ing from northern channel to Cape
Clear and from the Irish sea across to
the Atlantic. An island not bounded as
georaphers tell US, but, as every phi
lanthropist knows, bounded Oh the north
and the south and the east and the west
by woe which 10 human politics can al
leviate ard only Almighty God can as
suage. Land of Goldsmith's rhythm,
and Sheridan's wit, and O'CoDnell's
elcouence, and Edmund Burke's states
manship, and O'Brien's sacrifice. An
other Patmos with its apocalypse Of
blood. Yet you cannot think of it tcday
without having your eyes blinded with
emotion, for there your ancestors sleep
in graves, some Of which they entered
for lack Of bread. For this royal exile of
my sermon I bespeak the love and the
service of ell Irish exiles. Yes, some Of
you are from Germany, the land Of Lu-
ther, 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 mightics Ct the glorious
reformation. Some Of you are descend
ants of the Puritans, and they were
exiles, and some of you are descendants
of the Haguenots, and they were exiles,
and some Of you arc descendants Of the
Holland refugees, and they were exiles
"Going Home"
Some Of you were born OH the banks
of the Yazoo CT the Savannah, and you
are now living in this latitude. Some
of you on the banks of the Kennebec, or
at the foot of the Green Mountains, and
you are here now Some Of you Oh the
prairies Of the west, or the tablelands,
and you are here now. Oh, how many
Of us far away from home. All Of us
exiles. This is not our hcme. Heaven
is our home Oh, I 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 exclamation
Of the majority of Christians. have
seen many Christians die. think line