Connecticut western news., 1898-03-17
Now l lay me down to sleep.

ther 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, if that prayer is answered, how sweet 1t will be to diei This world is clever enough to us. Perhaps it has treated us a great deal better than we deserve to
 be treated. but if on the dying pillow
 there should break the light of that bet ter world we shall have no more regret about leaving small, dark, damp house for one large, beautiful and capa
 oious. That dying minister in Philadel- phia, some years ago, beautifully de- picted it when in the last moment he
 threw up his hands and cried out, "I
 move into the light"
 A Working Christian.
 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 place 1t was to sleepp And yet my text takes that
 symbol of slumber to describe his de- parture, so sweet was it, so contented was it, so peaceful was 1t. Stephen had lived a very laborious life. His chief work had been to care for the poor. How many loaves of bread he distribut- ed, how many bare feet he had sandal ed, how many cots of sickness and dis tress he blessed with ministries of kind ness and love, do not know, but from the way he lived, and the way he preached, and the way he died know he was 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 stra;ghten out the bruised limbs. They brush back the they pass around to look upon the calm oountenance of him who had lived for the poor and died for the truth. Stephen asleep
 l have seen the sea driven with the hurricane until the tangled foam caught in the rigging, and wave rising above wave seemed as if about to storm the heavens, and then have seen the tempest drop, and the waves crouch, and every thing become smooth and furnished
 as though camping place for the glories of heaven. So have seen a man whose life has been tossed and driven coming down at last to an infinite calm in which there was the hush of heaven s lullaby.
 Stephen asleepl I saw such one. He fought all his days against poverty and against abuse. They traduced his
 name. They rattled at the doorknob while he was dying with duns for debts he could not pay, yet the peace of God brooded over his pillow, and while the world faded heaven dawned. and the
 deepening twilight of earth's night was only the opening twilight of heavens
 morn. Not sigh; not a tear not a struggle. Hush Stephen asleepl At the Last.
 I have not the faculty to tell the weather. I can never tell by the setting sun whether there will be drought or not. cannot tell by the blowing of the
 wind whether it will be fair weather or foul on the morrow. But can prophecy.
 and I will prophecy. what weather it will be when you, the Christian, come to die. You may have it very rough
 now. It may be this week one annoy anoe, the next another annoyance. It
 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 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 God s hanging garden will reRale 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 up, no more struggle with "the world, the u66u anu tue u6Vll, Dub pcaCe-lOuBp deep, everlasting peace. Stephen asleep l Asleep in Jesusl Blessed sleep.
 From which none ever wake to weepi A calm and undisturbed repose,
 Uninjured by the Inst of foes.
 Asleep in Jesusl Far from thee
 Thy kindred and their graves may be. But there is still blessed sleep
 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.
 Therefore we stop, having seen this
 cluster of divine Raphaels - Stephen
 gazing into heaven. Stephen looking at Christ, Stephen stoned, Stephen in his dying prayer, Stephen asleep.