The weekly intelligencer. [volume] (Lexington, Mo.) 1891-1901, 1896-08-29
DIR. SERMON.
Spoke on the Subject: ga Shadow
on the Harvest Field"
Parents Appealed To to Guard Well the
Spiritual as Well as the Phys
IcaI Being of Their
Children.

Chiiurens
In n recent Washington sermon Rev.
T. De Witt Talmage spoke on "A subject
especially appropr. ate at this season,
when the rcapers are tusy in many
par s of the land and the bar
vests are being uathcre J.. The text
i, = kings. iv:lS-I9-2G. And wh-n the
chill | was grown, it fell or a day that
le vcIt out to his father to h reap
ers. And he said unto his father, my
head. my head! And he said to a lad,
carry him to his mother. And when he
Lad taken him and brought him to his
mother. he sat on her knees till noon,
and then died" In discussing this text
DR.. Talmage said:
There is at least one happy home in
Shunem. To the luxuriance and
spiendor of a great house had been
gwen the advent of a child. Even when
the angel of life brings a new soul to
the poor mans hut a star of joy shines
over the manager. Infancy, with It's
helplessness and innocence, had passed
away. Days of boyhood had come
days of laughter and frolic, days of
sunshine and promise, days of strange
questions and curiousity and quick de-
velopment. / suppose among all the
treasures of that house the brightest
was the boy. Ono 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 a swath across the field
than the lad joins them, and IL
swarthy reapers feel young again as
they look down at that lad, as bright
and beautiful as was Ruth in the har-
vest 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
s~iclSles, and they rush out to see what
is the matter, and they fan him and
they try TO cool his brow; but all is of
no avail. In the instant of conscious
ness, he puts his hands against his
temples and cries out: "My head! my
headr' 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 a Rentler
hand and a stiller footstep. But all of
no avail. While the reapers of Shunem
were busy in the field, there came n
stronger reaper that way, with keener
scythe, and for u richer har-
vest. He reaped only one sheaf, but
o, what a golden sheaf was that! 1 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 harvest field and hen
was brought home n died on his
mothers lap, the story still thrills us.
Indeed, childhood has a charm always
and everywhere. 1 shall now speak to
you of Childhood; it's beauty, its sus-
%ceptibility to impression, its power
over the parental heart and its blissful
transition from earth to Heaven.
The child's beauty does not depend
upon form or feature or complexion or
apparel. That destitute one hat you
saw on the street, bruised with un-
kindness and in rags, has a charm
about her, even under her restitution.
You nave forgotten a great many per-
sons whom you met, of finely cut fea-
lures and with erect posture and with
faultless complexion, while you will
always remember the poor girl who,
on a cold, moonlight night, as you
were passing late home, in her thin
shawl and barefoot on the pavement,
put out her hand and said: Please to
give me a penny" All! how often we
have walked on and said: 80, tina is
nothing but street vagabondism;" but
after we got a block or two on, we
stopped and said: "Ah, that is not
right" and we passed up that same
way and dropped a mite n that suf-
fering hand, as though it were not a
matter of second thought, SO ashamed
were we of our hard-heartedness.
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 voluntarily, and say:
How beautiful" All stiffness and
dignity are gone, and your shout is
heard with theirs and you trundle
hoop, and fly their kite, and strike
their ball, and all your WEAKNESS and
anxiety are gone as when n child you
bounded ove the playground yourself.
That father who stands rigid and un-
sympathetic amid the sportfulness of
children, ought never to have beer
tempted out of a crust and unredeem-
able solitariness. The waters leap
down the rocks, but they AVE not the
graceful step of childhood. The morn
ing comes out of the gates of
the east, throwing it's silver OF
the lake and it's gold on the
towers and it's fire on clouds;
but it is not SO bright and beautiful
as the morning of lifel There is no
light like hat which is kindled in a
child's eye; no color like that which
blooms on u child's cheek; no music
like the sound OF a child's voice. Its
face in the poorest picture redeems any
imperfection in art. When we are
weary with toll, their little hands pull
the burdens off our back. o, what n
dull, stale, mean world this would be
without the sportfulness of children.
When l find people that do not like
children, 1 Immediately doubt their
moral and Christian character. But
when the grace of God comes upon a
child, how unspeakably attractive.
When Samuel begins to pray, and Tim
othy begins to read the Scriptures, and
Joseph shows himself invulnerable to
temptation-how beautiful the scene!
I know that parents sometime get
nervous when their children become
piOuS, they have the idea That
good children always die.
The strange questions about God
and eternity and the dead, excite APP
~prehension in the parental mind rather
than congratulation. Indeed, there
are some people that seem marked for
Heaven. This world is too poor a gar
den for them to bloom in. The hues
of Heaven are in the petals. There is
something about their foreheads that
makes you think that the hand of
Christ has been ON it, saying Let
this one come to Me, and let it come to
Me soon" While that one tarried in
the house, you felt there was an angel
in the room, and you thought that
every sickness would be the last; and
when, finally, the winds of death did
scatter the leaves, you were no more
surprised than to see a star come out
above the cloud on "a dark night; for
you had often said to your companion:
my dear, we shall never raise that
child" But l scout the idea that
good children always die. Samuel
the pious boy, became Samuel the
great prophet. Christian Timothy be-