Connecticut western news., 1897-01-28

man before the thrcne of God never meet those souls brought to Christ through his instrumentality? Oh, of course he will know theml I remember one Sabbath afternoon, borne down with the sense of my sins and knowing not God, I took up Doddridge's ''Rise and Progress v Oh, what dark afternoon it was, and read the chapters, and read the prayers, and I tried to make the prayers my own. Oh, I must see Philip Doddridgei A glorious old book he wrotel It is out of fashion now.
 There is a mother before the throne of God. You say her joy is full. Is 1t? You say there can be no augmentation of it. Cannot there be? Her son was wanderer and vagabond on the earth when that good mother died. He broke her old heart. She died, leaving him in the wilderness of sin. She is before the throne of God now. Years pass, and that son repents of his crimes and gives his heart to God and becomes useful Christian and dies and enters the gates of heaven. You tell me that that moth CTS joy cannot be augmented Let them
 
 mother "Oh, she says to the angels of God, rejoice with mel The dead is alive again, and the lost is found Hanelu- iah, I never expected to see this lost one come back" :" The Bible says nations are to be born in day When China comes to God, will it not know Dr. Aheel? When India comes, will it not know Dr. John Scudder? When the Indians come to God, will they not know David Brainerd?
 I see soul entering heaven at last with covered face at the idea that it has done so little for Christ and feeling borne down with unworthiness, and it says to itself, ''I have no right to be here" A voice from a throne says: "Oh, you forget that Sunday school class you invited to Christi was one of them" And another voice says: You forget that poor man to whom you gave a loaf of bread and told of the heavenly bread. was that man" And another says: You forget that sick one to whom you gave medicine for the body and the soul. I was that one, And then Christ, from throne overlapping all the rest, will say, "Inasmueh as ye did it to one of the least of these, you did 1t to me-" And then the seraphs will take their harps from the side of the throne and cry, What song shall it be?" And Christ, bending over the harpers, shall say, "It shall be the Harvest Home"
 Theory Confrmed by the Dying.
 One more reason why I am disposed AI ISc l<a .f fx~k. ton is that so many in their last hour on earth have confirmed this theory. I speak not of persons who have been de- lirious in their last moment and knew not what they were about, but of per sons who died in calmness and placidity, and who were not naturally supersti- tious. Often the glories of heaven have struck the dying pillow, and the depart ing man has said he saw and heard those who had gone away from him. How often 1t Is in the dying moments parents see their departed children and children see their departed parentsl I came down to the banks of the Mohawk river. It was evening, and wanted to go over the river, and so I waved my hat and shouted, and after awhile saw soms, one waving on the opposite bank, and 1 heard him shout, and the boat came across, and got in and was trans ported And 80 I suppose 1t will be in the evening of our life. We will come down to the river of death and give signal to our friends on the other shore, and they will give a signal back to us, and the boat comes, and our departed kindred are the oarsmen. the fires of the setting day tingeing the tops of the pad dies.
 Oh, have you never sat by such deathbed? In that hour you hear the de- parting soul cry: "Harkl Lookr You hearkened, and you looked. A little child pining away because of the death l of it's mother, getting weaker and weak CT every day, was taken into the room where hung the picture of her mother. She seemed to enjoy looking at 1t, and then she was taken away, and after | awhile died. In the last moment that wan and wasted little one lifted her hands, while her face lighted up with the glory of the next world and cried out, "Motherp' Do you tell me she did not see her mother? She did So inmy | first settlement at Relleville plain man said to me: "What do you think heard last nightp Twas in the room where one l of my neighbors was dying. He was a good man, and he said he heard the an- gels of God singing before the throne. haven't much poetry about me, but lis l tened, and I heard then. toe" :" Said I, 1T have no doubt of it. Why, we are I To ha ta1< ff, hAa hxvx istering spirits. Who are they to be? Souls that went up from Madras or An tioch or Jerusalem? Oh, no, our glori- fled kinted are going to troop around us.
 Heaven is not 8 stately, formal place, as sometimes hear 1t described, very frigidity of splendor, where people stand on cold formalities and go roundabout with heavy crowns of gold on their heads. No, that is not my idea of heav- en. My idea of heaven is more like this:
 You are seated in the eveningtide by the fireplace, your whole family there, or nearly all of them there. While your arc seated, talking and enjoying the even- ing hour, there is knock at the door, and the door opens, and there comes in brother that has been long absent He has been absent, for years you have not seen him, and no sooner do you make up your mind that it is certainly he than you leap up, and the question is who shall give him the first embrace
 That is my idea of heaven-a great
 home circle where they are waiting for
 us. Oh, will you not know your moth er's voice there? She who always called you by your first name long after others
 had given you the formal "Misterf'
 You were never anything but James or
 John or George or Thomas or Mary or
 Florence to her. Will you not know
 your child voice-she of the bright eye
 and the ruddy cheek and the quiet step.