The Bolivar bulletin. (Bolivar, Tenn.) 1888-1946, 1898-03-25
SUBSCRIPTION: sl.O0 Per Year.

in some of the cemeteries that surround
your town or city There is no doubt
but that your obsequies will be decent
and respectful, and you will be able to
pillow your head under the maple or
the Norway spruce, or the cypress or
the blossoming fir; but this spirit about
which Stephen prayed, what direction
Will that take? What guide will escort
it? What gate will open to receive it?
What cloud will be cleft for its path
way? After it has got beyond
the light of our sun, will there be
torches lighted for it the rest of
the way? VIII tie soul have to travel
through long deserts before it reaches
the good land? If we should lose our
pathway, will there be a castle at
whose gate we may ask the
way to the city? 1t has two wings,
but it is in cage now. 1t is locked
fast to keep it; but let the door of this
cage open the least, and that soul is off.
Eagles wing could not catch it. The
lightnings are not swift enough to
take up with it. When the soul leaves
the body it takes fifty worlds at
bound. And have | no anxiety about
it? Have you no anxiety about it?
l do not care what you do with my
body when my soul is gone, or whether
you believe in cremation or inhuma-
tion. l shall sleep just as well in
wrapping of saclxcloth as in satin lined
with eagles down. But my soul, be-
fore this day passes, L will find out
where it will land Thank God for the
intimation of my text that when we
die Jesus takes US. That answers ali
questions for me. What though there
were massive bars between here and
the City of Light, Jesus could remove
them. What though there were great
Saharas of darkness, Jesus could
illume them. What though l get wea-
ry of the way, Christ could lift me on
His omnipotent shoulder. What though
there were chasms to cross, His hand
could transport me. Then let Ste
phens prayer be my dying litany:
'Lord Jesus, receive my spirit" 1t may
be that in that hour we will be too
feeble to say a 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
feeble even to say the infant prayer
our mothers taught us, which John
Quincy Adams, 20 years of age, said
every night when he put his head upon
his pillow:
Now 1 lay me down to sleep,
pray the Lord my soul to keep.
We may be too feeble to employ eth
er 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
it will be to die! This world is clever
enough to us. Perhaps it as treateA
us great deal better than we deserve
to be treated; but if 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: Il move into the Light"
| 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 tho
tempest drop, and the waves crouch,
and everything become smooth and
FURNISHED as though camping place
for the glories of Heaven. So l have
seen man, whose life has been tossed
and driven, coming down at last to an
infinite calm, in which there was the
hush of Heavens lullaby.
Stephen asleep! l saw such an one.
He fought all his days against poverty
and against abuse They traduced his
name. They ratified at the door knob
while he was dying, with duns for
debts he could not pay; Jet 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
tear. Not a struggle! Hush! Ste
phen aslcep
| have not the faculty to tell the
weather. l can never tell by the set
ting sun whether there will be a
drought or not l can not tell by the
blowing Of the wind whether it will
be fair weather or foul on the NOR
row. But L can phrophesy, and
/ will phrophesy what weather
it will be when you, the Chris
tian. cone to die You may have it
very rough now 1t may be this week
one annoyance, the next another an
noyance 1t may be this year one be-
reavement, the next another bereave-
ment. Before this year has passed You
may have to beg for bread, or for
scuttle of coal or pair of shoes; but
at the last Christ will come in and dark
ness 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
reoale your soul, and at your bedside
will halt the chariots of the King. No
more rents to pay. no more agony be-
cause flour has gone up, no more strug.
gle with 1.-The world, the flesh and ths
devil;'' but peace-long, deep, everlast-
ing peace. stephen asleep!
Asleep in Jesus, blessed sleep,
From which noae ever wa 1e ID weep;
A calm AMI unlisturbei rep1s9,
Uninjurel by the last OF foes.
Asleep ia Jesus flT fxnrn thee
Thy kin1red and their graves may be;
But there is still a blessed sleep,
From which none ever wake toweap~
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 al
Christ; Stephen stoned; Stephen in his
dying prayer, Stephen asleep.