The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1898-03-18

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cort It? What gate will open to re-
ceive 1t? What cloud will be cleft for
its pathway? After 1t has got beyond
the light of our sun, will there be
torches lighted for it the rest of the
way? Will the soul have to travel
through long deserts before it reaches
the good landP II we should lose our
pathway, will there be castle at
whose gate we may ask the way to the
city? oh, this mysterious spirit with
in us! 1t has two wings, but IL Is In a
cage now. 1t is locked fast to keep it,
but let the door of this cage opon the
least, and that soul is off. Eagles
wing could not catch il. The light
nings are not swift enough to take up
with It, When the soul leaves the
body 1t takes 80 worlds at bound
And have | no anxiety about 1t? Have
you no anxiety about It?
do not care what you do with my
body when my soul is gone, or whether
| you believe in cremation or inhuma-
ton. l shall sleep just as we'll in a
wrapping Of saeltcloth as in satin lined
with eagles down. But my soluble
fore this day passes. / will find out
| "hViC ~ Will uuHh pOu lOI
the intimation of my text, that when
we die Jesus takes us. That answers
all questions for me- What though
there were massive bars between here
and the city of light, Jesus could re-
move them. What though there were
great Saharas of darkness, Jesus could
illume them. What though get weary
of the way, Christ could lift me on II is
omnipotent shoulder. What though
there were chasms to cross, His hand
could transport me. Then let Stephens
prayer be my dying litany; Lord
Jesus, receive my spirit" 1t may be
that in that hour we will be too fee
BILE to say long prayer. 1t may be
in that hour we will not be able to say
the Lords Prayer for it has seven
petitions Perhaps we may be too fee
BILE even to say the infant prayer our
mothers taught us, which j ohm Quincy
Adams, 10 years of age, said every
night when he put his head upon his
| pillow:
Now lay me down to sleep
| pray the Lord my soul to keep.
| We may be too feeble to employ
either of these familiar forms; but this
prayer of Stephen is so short, is so con.
else, is so earnest, Is so comprehensive,
we surely will be able to say that:
Lord Jesus receive my spirit" Oh,
II that prayer is answered, how sweet
1t will be to diel This world Is clever
enough to us. Perhaps it has treated
us great deal better than we deserve
to be treated; but il on the dying pill
low there should break the light of
that better world we shall have no
more regret about leaving a small,
dark, damp house for one large, beau
tiful and capacious. That dying min
lister in Philadelphia, some years ago,
beautifully depicted it, when in the
last moment he threw up his hands
and cried out: III move into the lightw
Pass on now and will show you one
more picture, and that is Stephen
asleep With pathos and simplicity
peculiar to the scriptures, the text
says of Stephen: He fell asleep"
"Oh," you say, what place that was
to sleep! A hard rock under him,
stones falling down upon him, the
blood streaming, the mob bowling.
What a place 1t was to Sleep" And
yet my text takes that symbol of slum-
Der to describe his departure, so sweet
was 1t, so contented was it, so peaceful
was it. Stephen had lived a very la
borious life, his chief work had been
to care for the poor How many loaves
of bread he distributed, how many bare
feet he had sandled, how many cots OF
sickness and distress he blessed with
ministries of kindness and love, / do
not know; but from the way he lived,
and the way he preached, and the way
he died, | know he was a laborious
| Christian. But that is all over now.
He has pressed the cup to the last
fainting lip He has taken the last
insult from his enemies The last
stone to whose crushing weight he is
susceptible 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 counte-
nance of him who had lived for the
poor and died for the truth.
| have not the faculty TO tell the
weather, can never tell by the set.
ting sun whether there will be a
drought or not. / cannot tell by the
blowing of the wind whether it will
be fair weather or foul on the morrow.
But can prophesy, and l will
prophesy what weather it will be when
you, the Christian, come to die You
may have it very rough now. 1t may be
this week one annoyance, the next
another annoyance. II 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 a scuttle Of coal or 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 hanging
garden will repala Won soul and nj