Decorah public opinion. (Decorah, Winneshiek County [Iowa]) 1895-1928, 1896-04-28

gates Of tbs continent have been so
widely opened that there are here
many voluntary exiles from other
lands. Some of 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 ma
tivity. Bonnie Scotland! Dear old
kirk! Some OF your ancestors sleeping
in Greyfriars ohurchyard, or by the
deep lochs filed cut of the pitchers Of
heaven, or under the heather sometimes
so deep of color it makes one think
OF tho blood Of the Covenanters who
signed their names for Christ, dipping
their pens into the veins of their own
arms opened fer that purpose. How
every fibre of your nature thrills as
mention the names of Robert Bruce,
nd the Campbells, and Cochrane.
espeak 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
/ not read Of the sufferings of the Hay
market? and lave / not seen in Ok
ford the very spot where Ridley and
Latimer mounted the red chariot?
Some of your ancestors heard George
Whitefield thunder. or heard Charles
Wesley sing, or heard John Bunyan
tell his dream Of the celestial city;
and the cathedrals under the shadow
Oh which some o. you were born had
In their grande5t organ-Toll the name
OF the Messiah. l bespeak for tt royal
exile OF my sermon, the love and the
service of all English exiles. Yes
some OF You came from the island OF
distress over which Hunger, on q
throne Of human skeletons, sat queen
All efforts at amelioration halted by
massacre. Procession of famines, pro-
cession OF martyrd--ls marching from
Northern Channel to Cape Clear and
from tho Irish Sea across to the At
lantic. An island not bounde. as
geographers tell US, but as every phil
anthropist khows--bounded on the
north and the sout,: and the east and
the west by woe which no human poli-
tics can alleviate, and only almighty
God can assuage. Land of Golasm!th's
rhythm, and Eheridan's wit, and
O'Connell's eloGuence, and Edmund
Burke's craftsmanship, and C'6rien's
sacrifice Another Patmcs with its
apocalypse OF blood. Yet you cannot
think of 1t today 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 l 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 u-.e mighties
OF the glorious Reformat,.n. Some of
you are descendants of the Puritans.
any they were exiles: and some of you
are descendants of the Huguenots, 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 liv-
ing 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 on the
prairies of the West, or the table,
lands, and you are here now. Oh!
how many of us far away from home.
All OF us exiles. This is not our home.
HooNpn tc
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 Chris.
tians die. l think nine out of ten O.,
them IN the last moment say. Going
home" Going home out CT Punishment
and sin and sorrow and sadness. Go.
Ing home to join in the hilarities OF
our parents and our dear children who
have already departed. Going home
to Christ. Going home to God. Go.
ing home to stay. Where are your
loved ones that died in Christ? Yoy
pity them. All! they ought to pity
you. You are an exile far from home
They are home! Oh! what time il
will be for you when the gatekeepe,
OF heaven shall say: Take off that
rough sandal; the journeys ended.
Put down that sabre; the battles won.
Put off that iron coat OF mail and
put on the robe of conqueror." 1t
that gate of triumph / leave you to.
day. only reading three tender cantos
translated from the Italian. If you
evei heard anything sweeter / never
did, although / cannot adopt all its
theology:
was whispered one morning in heaye,
now the little child-angei May
IN the shade of the great white portal
sat sorrowing night and day:
no" she said TO the stately warden
lie OF the key and bar
'Oh. angel. sweet angel, / pray you
Set the beautiful gates ajar-
Only little, pray you,
Set the beautiful gates ajar.
II can hear my mother weeping.
She is lonely. she cannot see
glimmer OF light in the darkness
w men the gates shut after me:
Oh, turn me the key. sweet angel
The spiendor will shine so far''
But the warden answered. II dare NOT
Set the beautiful gates ajar."
Spoke low and answered, II dare m
Set the beautiful gates ajar."