St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1899-02-25


ness In the eye or intelligence in the
brow. But what of that? Must We
stand forever mourning among the
graves Of our dead? No! No! The
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 redemption.
stamp on the bottom of the grave, and
it breaks through into the light and
the glory of Heaven. The ancients used
10 think that the straits entering the
led sea were very dangerous places.
and they supposed that every ship that
went through those straits would be
destroyed, and they were in the habit
of putting on weeds of mourning for
those who had gone on that voyage, as
though they were actually dead. Do
you know what they called those
straits? They called them the "Gate
Of Tears" l stand at the gate OF tears
through which many Of your loved ones
have gone, and want TO tell you that
all are not shipwrecked that have gone
through those straits into the. great
ocean stretching out beyond. The
sound that comes from that other shore
on still nights when we are wrapped
in prayer makes me think that the de-
parted are not dead. We are the dead
we who toll, we who weep, we who sin
we are the dead. How my heart aches
ing hearts that l hear all about me. this
last look of faces that never will
brighten again. this last kiss Of lips that
never will speak again, this widowhood
and orphanage! Oh. when will the day
Of sorrow be gone!
After the sharpest winter the spring
dismounts from the shoulder of a south
ern gale and puts its warm hand upon
the earth, and in its palm there comes
the grass, and there come the flowers.
and God reads over the poetry of bird
and brook and bloom and pronounces 1t
very good. What, my friends. If every
winter had not its spring, and every
night its day. and every gloom its glow.
and every bitter now its sweet here
after! II you have been on the sea,
you know. as the ship passes in the
night, there is a phospborescentt track
left behind it, and as the waters roll
up they toss with unimaginable splen
dor. Well. across this great ocean of
human trouble Jesus walks. oh, that
in the phosphorescentt track Of His feet
we might all follow and be illumined!
There was a gentleman in rail car
who saw in that same car three passen-
gers OF very different circumstances.
The first was maniac. He was care
fully guarded by his attendants. His
mind, like ship dismasted, was beat
ing against dark, desolate coast, from
which no help could come. The train
stopped and the man was taken out into
the asylum, to waste away perhaps
through years of gloom. The second
passenger was culprit. The outraged
law had seized on him. As the cars
jolted the chains ratified. On his face
were crime, depravity and despair. The
train halted and he was taken out to
the penitentiary. to which he had been
condemned. There was the third pas
senger, under far different circum-
stances. She was bride. Every hour
was gay as a marriage bell. Life gilt
tered and beckoned. Her companion
was taking her to his fathers house.
The train halted. The old man was
there to welcome her to her new home,
and his white locks showed down upon
her as he sealed his word With fathers
kiss. Quickly we fly toward eternity
We will soon be there. Some leave this
life condemned culprits. and they re-
fuse . pardon. Oh. may it be with us
that. leaving this feeting life for the
next, we may find our Father ready to
greet us to our new home with Him for
ever! That will be a marriage banquet!
Fathers welcomed! Fathers bosom!
Fathers kiss! Heaven! Heaven!