Peninsula enterprise. [volume] (Accomac, Va.) 1881-1965, 1896-04-25

IL W., 4O"V
Charles Wesley sing, or 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.
bespeall for the royal exile of my SER
mon the love and the service of all
English exiies Yes, some Of you came
from the island of distress over which
hunger, on a 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
geographers tell US, but, as every phi
lanthropist knows, bounded on the north
and the south and the east and the west
by woe which no human politics can al
leviate and only Almighty God can as
suage. Land of Goldsmith's rhythm,
and Sheridan's wit, and O'Connell's
elouuence, 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 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 1 bespeak the love and the
service of all Irish exiles. Yes, some of
you are from Germany, the land of Lu-
Their, 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 mighties of the glorious
reformation. Some of you are descend
ants of the Puritans, and they were
exiles, and some of you arc descendants
of the Huguenots, and they were exiles,
and some of you are descendants Of the
Holland refugees, and they were exiles
"Golng Home"
Some of you were born OIL the banks
of the Yazoo or 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 home. 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. I think nine
out of ten of them in the last moment
say, "Going home" Going home out of
punishment and sin and sorrow and sad
ness. Going home to join i'll the hilari-
ties of our parents and our dear children
who have already departed. Going home
to Christ Going home to God Going
home to stay. Where are your loved
ones that died in Christ? You pity
them. All, they ought to pity you! You
are All exile far from home. They are
homcl Oh, what time it will be for
you when the gatekeeper of heaven
shall say: "Take off that rough sandal,
the journeys ended. Put down that
saber, the battles won. Put off that
iron coat of mail and put on the robe of
conqueror. At that gate of triumph 1
leave you today, only reading three
tender cantos translated from the Ital-
ian. If you ever heard anything sweet
er, never did, although cannot adopt
all its theology:
Twas whispered one morning IN heaven
How the little child angel May
In the shade of the great white portal.
Sat Borrowing night and day:
How sho said to the stately warden,
He of the key and bar:
"Oh, angel sweet angel, pray you
Set the beautiful gates aiar,
Only little, pray you,
Set the beautiful gates ajar.
at can hear my mother weeping.
She Is lonely she cannot see
A glimmer Of light in the darkness
When the gates shut after me.
Oh, turn me the key, sweet angel
The splendor will shine so far.
But the warden answered. ~ dare not
Set the beautiful gates MAR.
Spoke low and answered, ~ dare not
Set the beautiful gates ajar
Then up rose Mary, the blessed,
Sweet Mary. the mother Of Christ.
Her hand on the hand Of the angel
She laid, and her touch sufficed.
'urned was the key in the portal.
Fell ringing the golden bar,
And, 10, in the little child's fingers
Stood the beautiful gates ajar,
In the little childs angel fingers
Stood the beautiful gates ajar.