The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1897-03-01

instrument of locomotion. They may not
be like seraph's wing, they may not be
like birds wing, but the soul has wings
God says so. He shall mount up on
wings as eagles" We are made in the
divine image, and God has wings. The
Bible says So Healing in his wings"
Under the shadow Of his wings. Under
whose wings hast thou come to trust2''
The sodl with folded wing now, wounded
wing, broken wing, bleeding wing, Gagged
wing. Aye! 1 have 1t now Gagged within
bars of bone and under curtains of flesh,
but one day to be free. l hear the rus
tie of pinions in Seagraves poem, which
we sometimes sing:
Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings.
hear the rustic of pinions in Alexander
Pope's stanza. where he says:
/ mount, / fly.
o Death, where is thy victory?
A dying Christian not long ago cried
out wings wings, wings" The air is
fun of them, coming and going, coming
and going. You have seen how the dun,
sluggish chrysalid becomes the bright
BUTTERFLY the duh and the stupid
and the lethargic turned into the alert
and the beautiful. Well. my friends,
in this world we are in the chrysalid
state. Death will unfurl the wings. On,
If we could only realize what a grand
thing it will be to get rid of this
old clod of the body and mount the
batross nor falcon, nor condor pitching
from the highest range Of Andes so buoy
ant or so majestic of stroke.
See that eagle in the mountain nest. It
looks so SICK so ragged-feathered, so
WORKOUT and so half asleep. Is that eagle
dying? No. The ornithologist will tell
you it is the moulting season with that
bird. Not dying, but moulting. You
see that Christian sick and weary and
worn-out and seeming about to expire on
what is called his death-bed. The world
says he is dying. ] say it is the moulting
season for his soul-the body dropping
away, the celestial pinions coming on.
Not dying, but moulting. Moulting out of
darkness and sin and struggle into glory
and into God. Why do you not shout?
Why do you sit shivering at the thought
of death and trying to hold back and
wishing you could stay here forever and
speak of departure as though the subject
were filed with skeletons and the varnish
of collins, and as though you preferred
lame foot to swift wing?
O people of God, let us stop playing the
fool and prepare for rapturous flight.
When your soul stands on the verge of
this life and there are vast precipices be-
meath, and sapphired domes above, which
way will you fly? VIII you swoop or will
you soar? VIII you fly downward or will
you fly upward2 Everything on the wing
this day bidding us aspire Holp Spirit
on the wing. Angel of the New Covenant
on the wing. Time on the wing. flying
away from u.s. Eternity on the wing. fly
ing toward us. Wings, wings. wings!
Live so near to Christ that when you
are dead, people standing by your lifeless
body will not soliloquize saying: What
a disappointment life was to him; how
aVerse he was to departure; what pity
it was he had to die; what an awful
calamity" Rather standing there may
they see a sign more vivid on your still
face than the vestiges of pain, something
that will Indicate that it was happy exit
the clearance from oppressive quaran-
tine, the cast-off chrysalid, the moulting
of the faded and the useless, and the as
cent from malarial valleys to bright, shin
ing mountain-tops, and be led to say, as
they stand there contemplating your hui
mility and your reverence in life, and your
happiness in death with twain he COW
cred the feet. with twain he covered the
face. with twain he did fly" Wings!
Wings! Wings