The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1897-04-15

Church Of God, our Jerusalem, which
we love just as much as Nehemiah
loved his Jerusalem. The fact is that
you love the Church OF God so much
that there is no spot on earth so sacred,
unless it be your own freside. The
church has been to you so much COM
fort and illumination that there is
nothing that makes you so irate as to
have it talked against. If there have
been times when you have been carried
into captivity by sickness, you longed
for the Church, our holy Jerusalem,
Just as much as Nehemiah longed for
his Jerusalem, and the first day you
came out you came to the house OF.
the, Lord. When the Temple was in
ruins, like Nehemiah, you walked
around and looked at it, and in the
moonlight you stood listening if you
could not hear the voice of the dead
organ, the psalm of the expired Sab
baths. What Jerusalem was to Nehe-
miah, the Church of God is to you.
sceptics and infdels may scott at the
Church as an obsolete affair, as a relic
OF the dark ages, as a convention OF
goody-goody people, but all the impress
sion they have ever made on your mind
against the Church of God is abso-
lutely nothing. You would make more
sacrifices for it to-day than any other
institution, and if it were needful you
would die in it's defence. You can take
the words of the kingly poet as he
said: If I forgot thee, o Jerusalem,
let my right hand forget her cunning.
You understand in your own experience
the pathos, the inconsistencies, the
courage, the holy enthusiasm of Nehe-
miah in his midnight moonlight ride
around the ruins of his beloved Jeru-
SALEM -F -.
Again. My subject gives me speci-
men OF busy and triumphant sadness.
1t there was any. man in the world
who had right to NOPE and give up
everything as lost, it was Nehemiah.
You say, HE was cup-bearer in the
palace of Shushan, and it was a grand
place. So it was The hall of that
palace was two hundred feet square,
and the roof lowered over thirty-six
marble pillars, each pillar sixty feet
high; and the intense blue of the sky,
and the deep green of the forest fol-
iage, and the white Of the driven snow,
all hung trembling in the upholstery.
But, my friends, you know very we'll
that fine architecture will not put
down inconsistencies. Yet Nehemiah
did not give up. Then when you see
streets, and by these dismantled tow
ers, and by the torn-up' grave of his
father, you would suppose that he
would have been disheartened, and
that he would have dismounted from
his horse and gone to his room and
said: "Woe is me! My fathers grave
is torn up. The temple is dishonored.
The walls are broken down. I have
no money with which to rebuild. 1
wish I had never been born. wish
I were dead" Not so says Nehemiah.
Although he had a grief so intense that
yet that penniless, expatriated Nehe-
miah rouses himself up to rebuild the
city. He gets his permission of alb
sence. He gets his passports. He has
tens away to Jerusalem. BY night on
horseback he rides through the ruins
sition. He arouses the piety and pa
triotism of the people, and in less
than two months, namely, fifty-two
days, Jerusalem was rebuilt. That's
what I call busy and triumphant sad
ness.
My friends, the whole temptation is
with you when you have trouble, to
do just the opposite to the behavior OF
Nehemiah, and that is to give up. You
say: II have lost my child and can
never smile again" You say, II have
lost my property, and I never can re.
pair my fortunes" You say, II have
fallen into sin, and I never can start
again for a new life" If Satan can
make you form that resolution, and
make you keep it, he has ruined you
Trouble is not sent to crush you, but
to arouse you, to animate you, to pro.
pei you. The blacksmith does moi
| thrust the iron into the forge, and then
blow away with the bellows, and Their
bring the hot iron out on the anvil
and beat with stroke after stroke tt
ruin the iron, but to prepare it for 6
better use. Oh that the Lord God Of
Nehemiah would rouse up all broken.
hearted people to rebuild. Whipped
betrayed, ship-wrecked, imprisoned
Paul went right on. The Italian mar
tyr Algerius sits in his dungeon writ
ing a letter, and he dates it, "Fron
the delectable orchard of the Leonint
prison." That is what call trium
plant sadness. I knew a mother wht
buried her babe on Friday and on Sab
bath appeared in the house of God ant
said: Give me a class; give me Z
Sabbath school class. have no child
now left me, and would like to have
a class of little children. Give mt
real poor children. Give me class of
the back street. That, say, is beau
t1ful. That is triumphant sadness. A
three o'clock every Sabbath afternoon
for years, in beautiful parlor in Phil