The Union times. [volume] (Union, S.C.) 1894-1918, 1899-02-03

1t my net be said Of us, "He was a great
general" or HE was an honored chief
tainment," but this may he said of YOU and
me. He was good citizen, u faithful
Christafn, friend to Jesus" And that I'm
the last day will be the highest OF ali eulo-
glums.
learn further from this subject that
death comes to the summer house. Eylon
did not expect to die in that ane place.
| Amid all the flower leaves that drifted like
summer snow into the window in the
tiukle and dash OF fountains, In the sound
OF thousand leaves flutins on one tree
| branch, In the cool breeze that came up
to shake the feverish trouble out of the
| Kings iocks-there was nothing that spake
or death, but there he died! In the winter
| when the snow is u shrond, and when the
| WIND is q dtrSe, II is easy to think OF our
! mortality, but when the weather is
| Pheasant and oil our surroundings are
! agreeable, how difficult it is for us to
| And yet my text teaches that death does
sometimes come to the summer house. He
Is blind and cannot see the leaves. He is
dear and cannot hear the fountains oh.
II death would ask us for victims We
could point him to hundreds OF people who
would rejoice to have him come. Push
back the door Of that hovel. Look Mt the
little chtld-cold, and sick, and hungry
It has never heard the name OF God but in
blasphemy. Parents intoxicated, stag
gering around its straw bed. Oh. death.
there Is a mark for theel Up with it into
the light! Before those little feet stumble
on llfe's pathway give them rest.
Here Is an aged man. He has done his
companions OF his youth all gone, his
children dead, he longs to be at rest, and
wearily the days and the nights pass. He
says: says Come. Lord, Jesus, come quickly'
On. death, there Is a mark for theei Take
from him the staff and give him the scep-
ter! Up with him into the light, where
eyes never grow dim, and the hair whitens
not through the long years OF eternity
An, Death will not do that. Death turns
back from the straw bed and from the aged
man ready for the skies and comes to the
summer house. What doest thou here,
thou bony, ghastly monster, amid this
waving grass and under this sun
branches? Children are at play.
How quickly their feet go and their
locks toss In the wind. Father and moth
er stand at the side Of tho room looking
on, enjoying their glee. 1t does not seem
possible that the wolf should ever break
| into that fold and carry Off a lamb. Mean
| whilo an old archer stands looking
through the thicket. He points his arrow
at the brightest OF the group-he is suro
speeds! Hush now. The quick feet have
stopped and tho locks toss no more in tho
wind; Laughter has gone out OF the hall.
| Death in the summer house!
|
homo ut night Is the signal for mirth The
children rush to the door and there are
| books on the evening stand, and the hours
| pass away on glad feet. There is nothing
wanting In that home. Religion is there
AID sacrifices on the altar morning and
| night. You look in that household and
say, II cannot think OF anything happier
do not really believe the world is so sad
place rs some people describe it to be-"
! Tho scene changes. Father is sick The
doors must be kept shut. Tho deuthwatch
chirps doiefully on the hearth. The chill
| dren whisper aud walk softly where oucs
they romped. Passing the house late at
night, you see the quick glancing OF lights
| in the summer house!
Here Is an aged mother aged but not
intirm. You think you will have the joy OF
| caring Tor her wants good while yot. As
| she goes from house to house. to children
and grandchildren, her coming is n drop.
| ping OF sunlight in the dwelling. Your
childre see her coming through the lane
| and they cry. observation-disclosures concv'
Caro- for you has marked upon her face
with many dcep wrinkle, and her back
stoops with carrying your burdens. Somo
day she Is very quiet. She saws she is not
sick, but something tells you you will not
mmca longer have mother. She will sit
| with you no more at the table nor Mt the
hearth. Her soul goes out so gently you
| do not exactly know the moment OF its 60
| ing. Fold the bands that have done so
many kindnesses for you right over the
heart that has beat with love toward you
since before You were born. Let tho pill
grim rest. She is weary. Death in the
| summer house!
Gather about us what we will OF comfort
and luxury. When the pale messenger
comes, ne do:s not stop to look at the
architecture OF the house before ne comes
In, nor, entering, does he wait to OK
anime the pictures we have gathered
on, the wall, or, bending over your
pillow. he docs not stop to see
whether there is color In the cheek or
| gentleness in the eye or Intelligence In
the brow. But what OF that? Must We
stand forever mourning among the
graves OF our dead? Mol No! TIE people
In Bengal bring cages OF birds to the graves
Of their dead, and then they open the cages
and the birds go singing heavenward. SO
| would bring to the graves OF your dead
all bright thoughts and congratulations
and bid them sing OF victory and re-
the grave, and it breaks through into
the light and the glory Of heaven. The
| ancients used to think that the straits
entering the Red sea were very dan
gorons places. and they supposed that the
wrecked that have gone through those
straits would be destroyed, and they were
In the habit OF putting on weeds OF mourn
ing for those who had gone on that yoy-
age, as though they were actually dead.
Do you know what they called those
| straits? They called them the "Gate OF
! Tears"
After the sharpest winter the spring dis
mounts from tho shoulder OF a southern
gale and puts Its warm hand upon the
earth, and In Its palm there comes tho
grass, and there comes the flowers, and
God reads over tho poetry OF bird and brook
and bloom and pronounces 1t very good.
| What, my friends II every winter had not
It's spring and every night it's day, and
every gloom its glow, and every bitter now
It's sweet hereafter! you havo been on