The Yale expositor. (Yale, St. Clair County, Mich.) 1894-current, 1899-05-12
TALMAGE' s Sc RIM ON.
'R E raj MISC ENCE S." SUBJECT
FOR LAST SUNDAY.
From the Text; "whne Was Musing,
the Fire BuTned'-Pssim 80; 3. Ben
eft of AN Occasional Look backward
The Father aud Mother.

forefinger of his right hand against
his temple, the door shut against the
world, engaged in contemplation. And
it would be well for us to take the
same posture often, closing the door
against the world, while we sit down
in sweet solitude to contemplate.
In a small island off the coast or
Nova Scotia l once passed a Sabbath
in delightful solitude, for | had re-
solved that l would have one day OF
entire quiet before | entered upon au-
tumnal work. l thought to have spent
the day in laying out plans for Chris
tian work; but instead of that it be-
came a day OF tender Renaissance. l
reviewed my pastorate; ! shook hands
with an old departed friend, whom ]
shall greet again when the curtains OF
life are lifted. The days of my boy
hood came back, and l was ten years
of age, and l was eight, and l was
five. There was but one house on the
island, and yet from Sabbath day
break, when the bird-chant woke me,
until the evening melted into the Bay
of Fundy, from shore to shore there
were ten thousand memories, and the
groves were ahum with voices that
had long ago ceased.
Youth is apt too much to spend all
its time in looking forward. Old age
is apt too much to spend all its time
in looking backward. People in mid
life and on the apex look both ways.
1t would be we'll for as, | think, how
ever, to spend more time in reminis-
cence. By the constitution Of our ma
ture we spend most Of the time in
looking forward And The vast major
ity Of this audience live not so much
in the present as in the future. | find
that you mean to make a reputation,
you mean to establish yourself and
the advantages that you expect to
achieve absorb a great deal of your
time. But | see no harm in this,
il it does not make you disconnected
with the present, or disqualify you for
existing duties.
Perhaps you were brought up in the
country You stand now today in
memory under the old tree. You
dubbed its fruit that was not quite
ripe, because you couldn't wait any
longer. You hear the brook rumblinS
along over the pebbles. You step
again into the furrow where your
father in his shirt sleeves shouted to
the lazy oxen. You frighten the swal-
lows from the rafters of the barn, and
take just one egg, and silence your
conscience by saying they won't miss
it. You take drink again out OF the
very bucket that the old we'll fetched
up. You go for the COWS at night, and
find them wagging their heads through
the bars. Outlines in the dusty and
busy streets you wish you were home
again on that cool grass, or in the
wheat-carpeted hall of the farmhouse.
through which there was the breath OF
new-mown hay or the blossom of
buckwheat.
You may have in your windows now
beautiful plants and flowers brought
from across the seas, but not one of
them stirs in your soul so much charm
and memory as the old ivy and the
yellow sunfower that stood sentinel
along the garden walk, ard the for
get-me-nots playing hide and seek
mid the long grass. The father who
used to come in sunburnt from the
fields, and sit down on the door sill
and wipe the sweat from his brow
may have gone to his everlasting rest
The mother, who used to sit at the
door little bent over, cap and spec
tacles on, her face mellowing with the
vicissitudes of many years, may have
put down her gray head on the pill
low in the valley; but forget that home
you never will
Have you thanked God for It? Have
you rehearsed all these blessed rem
iniscences? Oh, thank God for
Christian father; thank God for a
Christian mother thank God for an
early Christian altar at which you
were taught to kneel; thank God for
an early Christian home.
/ find another point in your life his
tory. You found one day you were
in the wrong road; you couldn't sleep
at night; there was just one word that
seemed to sob through your banking
house, or through your office. or shop,
or your bedroom, and that word was
Eternity" You said, I'm not ready
for 1t. o God, have mercy" The Lord
heard. Peace came to your heart. In
the breath of the rill and the water
falls dash you heard the voice OF Gods
love; the clouds and the trees hailed
you with gladness; you came into the
house of God.
You remember how your hand trem-
bled as you took up the cup of the
communion. You remember the old
minister who consecrated IT, and you
remember the church officials who car
ried 1t through the aisle; you remem-
Der the old people who at the close
OF the service took your hand in
theirs in congratulating sympathy as
much as to say, Welcome home, you
lost prodigalw And though those
hands be all withered away, that com
munion Sabbath is resurrected today;
II is resurrected with all its prayers.
and songs. and tears, and sermons.
and TRANSFORMATION Have Won kent