The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1898-08-04
NO.. 25.
and through. You carry the scars OF

sigh: "Oh, that l had the wings
of a dove, that l might fly away
and be at rest" You have taken the
it to the drcgS. and still the thirst
claws at your tongue and the fever
strikes to your brain. You have chased
Pleasure through every valley, by every
stream, amid every brightness, and
under every shadow: but just at the
moment when you were all ready to
put your hand upon the rose, laughing
sylph of the wood, she turned upon
you with the glare of a tiend and the
eye of a satyr, her locks adders and her
breath the chill damp of grave. Out
of Jesus Christ no rest. No voice to
silence the storm. No light to llindie
the darkness. No dry dock to repair
the split bulwark.
Thank God, | can tell you something
better. If there is no rest on earth,
there is rest in Heaven. Ca, We who
are worn out with your work, your
hands calloused, your back bent, your
eyes half put out, your fingers worn
with the needle, that in this world you
may never lay down; We discouraged
ones, who have been waging Il hand
to-hand fight for bread: We to whon
the night brings little rest and the
night more drudgery-oh,. ye of the
weary hand, and the weary side, and
the weary foot, hear me talk about
rest.
Look at that company Of enthroned
ones. 1t can not be that those bright
| ones ever toiled? Yes! yes! These
packed the Chinese tea boxes. and
through missionary instruction es-
capped into glory. These sweltcred on
southern plantations, and one night,
| after the cotton picking, went up as
| white as if 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 garners
are full. Oh, sons and daughters Of
toll! arise yc and depart, for that is
your rest.
Scovi'l McCallum. a boy of my Sun
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 heartbreal1s and no
graves are dug. Where are your IA
ther and mother? The most of you are
orphans. l look around, and where |
see one man who has parents living |
see ten who are orphans. Where arc
your children? Where | see one fam
ily circle that is unbrOken | 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 bright light put out, and
there another. and Wonder anoth-
Ter. With such griefs, how are
you to rest? Will there ever be
power that can attunc 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 Gem 1tery to hear
, no sound but the tire of the hcarse
} wheel, or the tap of the bell at the
gate. as the long professions come Ill
y with their awful burdens OF grief? Is
, the bottom OF the grave gravel, and the
t top dust? No. no, no. The tomb Is
l only place where we wrap our robes
about us for u pleasant nap on our
=? way home The swelIings Of Jordan
5: will only was, off the dust of the way
t From the top Of the grave we catch Il
Il glimpse of the towers glintcd with the
I sun that never sets.
i Oh. We whose locks are wet with the
p dews of the night Of grief; yc who's
;, hearts are heavy. because those we'll
e known footsteps sound no more at the
, doorway, yOnder is your rest. There
e is David triumphant. but once lie be
d moaued Absalom There is Abraham
II enthroned; but once he wcpt for Sarah
n There is Paul exuItiut but he once sat
g with his feet in the stocks. There l.
e Payson ia liant with immortal health
'e but on earth he was always Sick. N
If toll, no tears, or partings, no strife, n'
l. agonizing cough, no night. No storm
le to ruffle the crystal sea No alarm t
a strike from the cathedral tower. "
II dirge throbbing from seraphic harps
d No tremor in the evcrla sting song; bu
g rest-perfect rest-unending rest.
n Bv the thrones Of your departed kin
z dred by their gentle hearts, and tn
IS tenderness and love with which the.
); now call you from the skies, l beg yo
st start on the highrold to Heaven. l
1t the everlasting rest may we all meet
lg One Of the old writers wished L
er could have seen three things: Rome
t. it's prosperity; Paul prea:llns; Chris
ur in the body. have three wishe
| First-To see Christ in glory, SD
rd rounded by His redeemed. Second
us To see Christ in glory, surrounded
y: His redeemed. Third-ro see Christ
lot glory, surrounded by His rcdemad
,ly When on my new feisel wings rise
is To tread those shores beyond the ShleS,