Shenandoah herald. [volume] (Woodstock, Va.) 1865-1974, 1896-08-28
THE HARVEST FIELD.
A SHADOW ON THE sPLENDOR OF
A SHUNEM HOME.


Rev. DR.. Talmage on the Susceptibility
and the Power of Chiidhood-From =
World Of Sin and Suffering to = 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, 20: "And when
the child was grown it fell on a day
that he went ont to his father to the
reapers And he said unto his father,
My head, my headp 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 luxuriance and splen-
dor of a great house had been given the
advent Of 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
ise, days of strange questions and
curiosity and quick development ! sup
pose among all the treasures OF that
house the brightest was the boy. One
day there is the shout Of reapers heard
afield. A boys heart always bounds at
the sound of sickle or scythe. No sooner
have the harvesters cut swath across
the field than the lad joins them, and
the swarthy reapers feel young again as
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 sun was too hot for
him. Congestion Of the brain seized on
him.
see the swarthy laborers drop their
sickles, and they rush out to see what is
the matter, and they fan him, and they
try 10 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 gentler voice and gem
tier band and 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 richer harvest
He reaped only one sheaf; but, oh, what
2 golden sheaf that wasl l do not want
TO know any more about that heart
breaking scene than what l see in 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. l shall
now speak to you Of childhood, its
beauty, its susceptibility to impression,
its power over tho parental heart and
its 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 charm about her,
even under her destitution. You have
forgotten great many persons whom
YOU met, Of finely cut features and with
erect posture and with faultless COM
plexion, while you will always remem-
ber the poor girl who, on a cold, moon
light night as you were passing late
home. in her thin shawl and barefoot
Oh the pavement, put out her hand and
said: "Please to give me penny. "
Ah. how often we have walked on and
said, "Oh, that is nothing but street
vagabondisml" but after we got block
or two on we stopped and said, "Ah,
that is not rightp and we passed up
that same way and dropped mite into
that suffering hand, as though it were
not matter Of second thought, so
ashamed were we of our hard hearted
ness.
With what admiration we all look
upon a group of children on the play
ground or in the school, and we clap
our hands almost involuntarily and say,
"How beautiful 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 " hen a child you bounded
over the playground yourself. That
father who stands rigid and unsympa-
thetic amid the sportfulness Of children
I ought never to have been tempted out
of a crusty and unredeemable solitari'
ness The waters leap down the rocks,
but they have not the graceful step OF
childhood. The morning comes out oi
the gates OF the east, tnhOnAhB Aeo SAA'N-
ON the lake and its gold on the towers
and its fire on the cloud, but it is not SC
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 dali, stale, mean world TIM
would be without the sportfulness Of
children! When find people that dc
not like children, l Immediately doub'
their moral and Christian character
But when the grace Of God comes upor
a child, how unspeakably attractive
When Samuel begins to pray and Tim
othy begins to read the Scriptures ane
Joseph shows himself invulnerable .
temptation, how beautiful the soenei
know that parents sometimes get nerV
ous when their children become pious
because they have the idea that gooC
children always die. The strange ques
tions about God and eternity and eh'
dead excite apprehension in the pa
rental mind rather than congratulanon'