The Lexington dispatch. [volume] (Lexington, South Carolina) 1870-1917, 1896-08-12

i lie Only Ills w IdAS VIII ALVIN N~A~~k
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he is making. When a man is pleading
iu the courts, it is his duty to think Of
the interests of his clients. When a
clerk is adding up his accounts. it is his
duty to keep his mind upon the column
of figures He who fills up his life with
thoughts of death is far from being the
highest style of Christian. l knew a
man who used to often say at night, Il
wish I might die before morning. He
became an infdcl.
From Timc to Eternity.
But there are times when we can and
ought to give ourselves to the contem-
plation Of that solemn moment when to
the soul time ends and eternity begins
We must go through that one pass
There is 10 roundabout wsy, no bypath,
no circuitors route. Die we must; and
it will be to us shameful occurrence
or time Of admirable behavior. Our
friends may stretch out their hands to
keep US back, but no imploraticn on
their Fart can binder Us. They might
offer large retainers, but death would
not take the fee. The breath will fail,
and the eyes will close, and the heart
will stop. You may hang the couch
with gorgeous tapestry. but what does
death care for beautiful curtains? You
may hang the room with the finest
works of art, but what does death care
for pictures? You may fill the house
with the wailings of widowhood and
orphanage; does death mind weeping!
This ought not to be depressing
theme. Who wants to live here forever:
The world has always treated me well,
and every day l feel less and less like
scoldirg and complaining. But yet l
would not want to make this my eternal
residence. / love to watch the clouds
and bathe my soul in the blue sea OF
heaven, but l expect when the firma-
ment is rolled away as scroll to see a
new heaven, grapder, higher and more
glorious. You ought to be willing to
exchange your body that has headaches
and sideackes and weaknesses innumer-
able, that limps with the stone bruise or
testers with the thorn CT flames on the
funeral pyre of fevers for an incorrupt-
ihle body and an eye that blinks not be.
fore the jasper gates end the great
white thrcne. But between that and
this there is an hour about which no
man should be reckless or foolhardy. l
doubt net your courage, bat l tell you
l.. x,,11 oOrooothTn0 hpff6r
than a strong arm, a good aim and a
trusty sword when you come to your
last battle. You will need better robe
than any you have in your wardrobe to
keep you warm in that place.
The Gathering Night.
Circumstances do not make so much
difference. Il may be o bright day when
you push off from the planet, or 1t may
be dark night and while the owl is
hooting from. the forest. 1t may be
spring, and your soul may go out among
the blossoms, apple orchards swinging
their censers in the way. It may be
winter and tie earth i'll a snow shroud.
1t may be autumn and the forests set
Oh fire by the retreating year-dead ma
ture laid out in state. 1t may be with
your wife's hand in your hand, or you
make be in strange hotel with a serv-
ant faithful to the last. 1t may be in
the rail train, shot off the switch and
tumbling in long reverberation down
the cmbankment-crash, crash! know
not the time, | know not the mode, but
the days of our life arc being subtracted
away and we shall come down to the
time when we have but ten days left,
then nine days. then eight days, then
seven days, six days, five days, four
days, three days, two days, one day.
Then hours-three hours. two hours,
ore hour. Then only minutes left-hve
minutes four minutes, three minutes,
two minutes, one minute. Then only
seconds left-four seconds. three Sec
ends, two seconds, one second. Gone!
The chapter Of life ended. The book
closed. The pulses at rest. The feet
through with the journey. The hands
closed from all work. No word on the
lips. No breath in the ncstrils. Hair
comhed back to lie unGisheveled by any
human hands. The muscles still. The
nerves still. The lungs still. The tongue
still. All still. You might put the steth-
csccre to the breast and hear no sound.
You might put a speaking trumpet to
the ear, but you could rot wake the
deafness. No motion, no throb, no life.
Still, still!
So death comes to the disciple! What
if the sun Of life is about to set? Jesus
is the day spring from on high, the per-
petual morning Of every ransomed spirit.
What if the darkness comes? Jesus is
the light Of the world and Of heaven.
What though this earthly house does
crulubIe? Jesus has prepared house OF
many mansions. Jesus is the anchor
that always holds. Jesus is the light
that is never eclipsed. Jesus is the
fountain that is never exhausted. Jesus
is tho evening star, hung up amid the
gloom of the gathering night.
You are almost through with the
abuse and back biting of enemies They
will call you no more by evil names.
Your good deeds will DO longer be mis-
interpreted nor your honor filched. The
troubles Of earth will end in the felici-
tics Toward evening! The bereave-
ments of earth will soon be lifted. You
will not much longer stand pouring
your grief in the tomb, like Rachel
weeping for her children or David
mourning for Absalom. Broken hearts
bound up. Wounds healed. Tears wiped
away. Sorrows terminated. No more
sounding of the dead march. Toward
evening! Death will come, sweet az
slumber to the eyelids of the babe, as
full rations to starving soldier, as
evening hour to the exhausted workman.
The sky will take Oh its sunset glow,
every cloud fire psalm, every lake
CLASSY mirror, the forests transfgured,
delicate mists clint bing the air. Your
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