The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1898-03-24

1t will be to die! This world is clever
enough to us. Perhaps 1t has treated
us great deal better than we deserve
to be treated; but II on the dying pillow
there should break the light of that
better world, we shall have no more re-
greet about leaving small, dark, damp
house for one large, beautiful and ca
pacious. That dying minister in Phil
adelphia, some years ago, beautifully
depicted 1t. when in the last moment.
he threw UP shis hands and cried out:
I move into the light"
Pass on now and I will show you
one more picture, and that is Stephen
asleep. With a pathos and simplicity
peculiar TO the Scriptures, the text
says of Stephen: He fell asleep"
Oh you say, what a place that was
to sleep! A hard rock under him,
stones falling down upon him, the
blood streaming, the mob bowling.
What a place it was to sleep!" And
yet my text takes that symbol of slum-
Der to describe his departure, so sweet
was it, so contented was it, so peace
full was it. Stephen had lived very
laborious life. His chief work had
been to s. care for the poor.
How many loaves of bread he
, distributed, how many bare feet
he had sandaled, how many cots
of sickness and distress he blessed with
ministries of kindness and love, 1 do
not know; but from the way he lived,
and the way he preached, and the way
he died. I know he was a laborious
Christian. But that is all over now.
He has pressed the cup to the last
fa1nting lip. He has taken the last in
suit from his enemies. The last stone
to whose crushing weight he is suscep-
tible has been hurled. Stephen is dead!
The disciples come. They take him up.
They wash away the blood from the
wounds. They straighten out the
bruised limbs. They brush back the
tangled hair from the brow, and then
they pass around to look upon the calm
countenance of him who had lived for
the poor and died for the truth. Steph-
en- asleep! s-
I have not the faculty to tell the
weather. I can never tell by the set
ting sun whether there will be a
drought or not. I cannot tell by the
blowing of the wind whether it will be
fair weather or foul on the morrow.
But can prophesy, and I will prophe-
sy what weather it will be when you;
the Christian, come to die. You may
have it very rough now. 1t may be
fh1
another annoyance. 1t may be this
year one bereavement, the next another
bereavement. Before this year has
passed you may have to beg for bread,
or ask for scuttle of coal or a pair
of shoes: but at the last Christ will
come in and darkness will go out And
though there may be no hand to close
your eyes. and no breast on which to
rest your dying head, and no candle to
lift the night, the odors of Gods hang;
ing garden will regale your soul, and
at your bedside will halt the chariots
OF the King No more rents to pay. no
more agony because -four has gone I'D,
no more struggle with "the world, the
flesh, and the devil'; but peace-long,
deep, everlasting peace. :, Stephen
asleep! '~.tt~ - f&t RI ,.st - &aF'2h
-. .-.~. il g.
Asleep in Jesus. blessed sleep, 49,.
From which none ever wake to weep; i
A calm and undisturbed repose, in.
Uninjured by the last of foes.
Asleep in Jesus, far from thee
Thy kindred and their graves may be;
But there is still blessed sleep, .;.,d
From which none ever wake to weep.
You have seen enough for one morn
ing. No one can successfully examine
more than five pictures in day. There
fore we stop, having seen this cluster
Of Divine. Raphaels- Stephen gazing
into heaven; Stephen looking at Christi
Stephen stoned; Stephen in his dying
prayer; Stephen asleep. ~ Ia