The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1898-07-09

tne weary 1Oot, near me tblk ABOUT
rest!
Look at that company of enthroned
ones. 1t can not be that those bright
ones ever toiled? Yesl yes! These
packed the Chinese tea boxes, and
through missionary instruction es-
capped into glory. These sweltered on
southern plantations. and one night.
after the contemplating, went up as
white as IL they had never been black.
Those dead of overtoil in the Lowell
carpet factories, and these In the Man
chester mills; those helped build the
Pyramids, and these broke away from
work on the day Christ was bounded
out of Jerusalem. No more towers to
build; Heaven Is done. No more gar
ments to weave; the robes are finished.
No more harvests to raise; the gamers
are full. Oh, sons and daughters Of
toll! arise we and depart, for that is
your rest.
Scovill McCallum, a boy of my Sum
day school, while dying, said to his
mother: Don't cry, but sing. Sing
There is rest for the weary,
There Is rest for the weary.
Then, putting his wasted hand over
his heart, he said: "There is rest for
me-"
But there are some of you who want
to hear about the land where they
never have any heartbreaks and no
graves are dug. Where are your IA
ther and mother? The most of you are
orphans. L look around, and where l
see one man who has parents living l
see ten who are orphans. Where are
your children? Where l see one fam
lily circle that is unbroken l see three
or four that have been desolated. One
lamb gone out of this fold; one flower
plucked from that garland; one golden
link broken from that chain;
here a bright light put out, and
there another, and wonder anoth-
er. With such griefs, how are
you to rest? viii there ever be
a power that can attune that silent
voice, or kindle the luster of that closed
eye, or put spring and dance into that
little foot? When we bank up the
dust over the dead, is the sod never
to be broken? Is the cemetery to hear
no sound but the tire of the hearse
wheel, or the tap of the bell at the
gate, as the long professions come in
with their awful burdens Of grief? r.
the bottom of the grave gravel, and tho
top dust? No! no! no! The tomb is
only place where we wrap our robes
about us for "a pleasant nap on our
way home. The swellipgs of Jordan
will only wash off the dust of the way.
From the top Of the grave we catch q
glimpse of the towers glinted with the
sun that never sets.
Oh, We whose locks are wet with the
dews of the night of grief; we whose
hearts are heavy, because those we'll
known footsteps sound no more at the
doorway, yonder is your rest. There
is David triumphant, but once he be-
moaned Absalom. There is Abraham
enthroned; but once he wept for Sarah.
There is Paul exultant; but he once sat
with his feet in the stocks. There is
Payson radiant with immortal health;
but on earth he was always sick. No
toll, no tears, or partings, no strife, no
agonizing cough, no night. No storm
to ruffie the crystal sea- No alarm to
strike from the cathedral tower. No
dirge throbbing from seraphic harps.
No tremor in the everlasting song; but
rest-perfect rest--unending rest.
Into that rest how many loved ones
have gone!Some put down the work OF
mid-life, feeling they could hardly be
spared from the store or shop for q
day, but are to be spared from it for
ever Some went in old age. One
to sit at the foot of the pulpit,
his wrinlkled face radiant with
the light that falls from the
throne of God. Another having lived q
life of Christian consistency here. ever
busy with kindnesses for her children,
her heart full of that meek and kind
spirit that is in the sight of God OF
great price, suddenly her countenance
was TRANSPORTED, and the gate was
that great cloud of witnesses that
hover about the throne.
Glorious consolation! They are not
dead. You can not make me believe
they are dead. They have only moved
on. With more love than that with
which they greeted us on earth, they
watch us from their high place, and
their voices cheer US in our strug-
gle for the sky. Hail, spirits blessed!
now that we have passed the food and
won the crown. With weary feet we
pass up the shining way, until in ever
lasting reunion we shall meet again.
Oh! won't it be grand when, our con-
fiicts done and our partings over, we
shall clasp hands, and cry out: This
is Heaven"
BY the thrones of your departed kim
dred, by their gentle hearts, and the
and love with which they
now call you from the skies, beg you
start on the highroad to Heaven. In
the everlasting rest may we all meet.
One of the old writers wished he
could have seen three things: Rome in
It's prosperity; Paul preaching; Christ
in the body. l have three wishes:
First-To see Christ in glory, sur
by His redeemed. Second
To see Christ in glory, surrounded by
His redeemed. Third-To see Christ in
glory, surrounded by His redeemed.
When on my new fiedged wings RISE
To tread those shores beyond the Skies
rin tuh oaiden