Republican news item. [volume] (Laport, Pa.) 1896-19??, 1899-02-23

tuluuiCuts pub ShlS lubs 40 Sdlu VI you ana
me. "He was good citizen, faithful
Christian, friend to Jesus" And that in
the last day will be the highest of all eulo-
gums.
1 learn further from this subject that
death comes to the summer house. Eglon
did not expect to die in that fine place.
Amid all the flower leaves that drifted like
summer snow into the window, in the
tinkle and dash of fountains, 10 the sound
Of thousand leaves fluting on one tree
branch, In the cocl breeze that came up
to shake the feverish trouble out of tho
kings iocks-there was nothing that spake
OF death, but there he diedl In the winter,
when the snow Is shrond, and when the
wind is a dirge. it is easy to think of our
mortality, but when the weather Is
pleasant and all our surroundings are
agreeable, how difficult it is for us to
appreciate the truth that we are mortal!
And yet my text teaches that death does
sometimes come to the summer house. He
Is blind and cannot see the leaves. He is
deaf and cannot hear the fountains. Oh,
If 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 at tho
little child-cold, and sick, and hungry.
1t has never heard the name of God but in
blasphemy. Parents intoxicated, stag
gering around it's straw bed. Oh. death,
there is mark for thee! Up with it into
tue llBut! BelOfe tnOSb llttlo IeoC stumble
Oh life's pathway give them rest.
Hero is an aged man. He has done his
work. He has done it gloriously The
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. Come, Lord, Jesus, come quicklyl'
Oh, death, there is mark for thee! 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 wbitens
not through the long years of eternity.
All, 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
thou bony, ghastly monster, amid this
waving grass and under this sun
light sitting through the tree
branches? Children are at play.
How quickly their feet go and their
locks toss in the wind. Father and moth-
on, enjoying their glee. 1t does not seem
possible that the wolf should ever break
into that fold and carry off lamb. Mean
while an old archar stands looking
through the thicket. He points his arrow
at the brightest Of the group-he is sure
marksman-the bow bends. the arrow
speeds! Hush now. The quick feet have
stopped and the locks toss no more in the
wind. Laughter has gone out OF the hall.
Death In the summer house!
Here is father in midlife. His coming
home at 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
and sacrifices on the altar morning and
night. You look in that household and
say, 81 cannot think of anything happier.
do not really believe the world is so sad
a place as some people describe it to be-"
The ohnnuac Fnfh 10 cd
doors must be kept shut. The deathwatch
chirps dolefully on the hearth. The chill
dren whisper and walk softly where once
they romped. Passing the house late at
night, you see the quick glancng of lights
from room to room. It IL all overl Death
in the summer house!
Here is an aged mother-aged, but not
infirm. You think you will have the Joy OF
caring for her wants q good while yet. As
she goes from house to house, to children
and grandchildren, her coming is drop.
ping of sunlight in the dwelling. Your
and they cry, "Grandmother's comel"
Care for you bas marked upon her face
with many deep wrinkle, and her back
stoops with carrying your burdens. Some
day she Is very quiet. She saws she Is not
sick, but something tells you you will not
much longer have q mother. She will sit
with you no more at the table nor at the
hearth. Her soul goes out so gently you
do not exactly know the moment of its GO
ing. Fold the hands 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 the 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, he does not stop to look at the
architecture Of the house before he comes
In, nor, entering, does he wait to ex-
anime the pictures We have gathered
pillow. he does I not Stop % to 'see 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? 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 re-
demption. stamp on the bottom of
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
gerous 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 voy-
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 the shoulder of southern
gale and puts its warm hand upon the
earth, and in its palm there comes the
grass, and there comes 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 hereafterl II you have been on
the sea, you know, as the ship passes In the
night, there Is piosphorescent track left
behind 1t, and as the water rolls up they
toss with unimaginable splendor. Well,
ncross this great ocean of human troubles
J Jesus walks. oh, that in the phospores-
cent track OF His feet we might all follow
and be illumined!
There was gentleman in rail car who
'aw In that same car three passengers of
very different circumstances. The first
was maniac. He was carefully guarded
by his attendants. His mind like ship
lismasted, was beating against dark,
iesolate coast, from which no help could
come, The train StOpDed md the m mn vaa