The weekly intelligencer. [volume] (Lexington, Mo.) 1891-1901, 1899-01-28

ing through tue lane, z Tue! CITY
.'Grandmotheris comet" Care for you
has marked up her face with may a
dsep wrinkle, aud her back stoops with
carrying your burdens. Some day she
Is very quiet She says she Il not siek.
but something tells you you viii not
much longer have a mother. She viii
sit with you no more III the table noF at
the hearth. Her soul goes out 80 gently
you do no, exactly know the moment
OF its going. Fold the hands that have
done 50 many klndnexses for you right
over the heart that has beat with love
toward You since before you were borp.
let the pilgrim rest She is weary.
Death In the summer house.
Gather about us what we will Of com
fort and luxury. When the pale mssSen-
ger comes be does not stop to look at
the architecture Of the house before be
comes in. uor. entering, does be wait
10 examine the pictures We have gath
cred on the wall. OF, bending over your
pillow, he does not stop 10 see whether
there Is color In the cheek or gentle
ness in the eye OF Intelligence In the
brow. But what Of thats Must we
stand forever mourning among the
graves OF our dead? mol mol The
people in Bengal bring cages Of birds
10 the graves OF their dead. and then
they open the cages. and the birds 30
singing hesvenward. So | would bring
10 the graves Of your dead all bright
thoughts and congratulations and bid
them sing of victory aud redemption.
stamp on the bottom Of the grave, and
1t breaks through into the Light and
the glory Of Heaven. The a~ncients used
10 think that the straits entering the
Red 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 oiyoW 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 sim 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 heartaches
for human sorrow-this SQUAD Of break
ing hearts that / hear all about me, this
last look Of faces that never will
brighten again, this lastkiss Of lips that
never will speak again. this widowhood
and o~rphAnAgel Oh, when will the day
of sorrow be gonel
After the sharpest winter the spring
dismounts fron the shoulder Of q south
ern gale aud 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 pronouncesit
Yery good. What my friends II every
winter had not It's 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 yea,
you know, as the ship passes In the
night, there Is q phosphorescent track
left behind II, 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 phosphoreScent track OF His iesI
we might all follow and be illumlsedi
There was a gentleman 10 a rail- car
who saw In that same car three passen'
gers Of very different circumstances
Ths first was q maniac. He was care
fully guarded by his attendants. His
mind. like q ship dismasted. was beat
ing against a dark. desolate coast. trou
which no help could come. The trail
+ stspF4aand the man was takeu,o out int
the asylum, 10 waste away perhaps
through years OF gloom. The'second
passenger wal a culprit The outraged