The Globe-republican., 1899-01-19


stranger in that household. but q she
found ont he had come on . divine
mission, he was cordially welcomed.
We have q great many books In our
day about the hardships of ministers
and the trials Of Christian ministers.
I wish somebody would write book
about the joys of the Christian min
iste1 about the sympathies all around
about him. about the kindness, about
the genial considerations of him. Does
sorrow come to our home, and is there
a shadow on the cradle, there are hun
dreds OF hands to help. and many who
weary not through the night watch
ing. and hundreds OF prayers going up
that God would restore the sick. Is
there burning, trimming cup OF
calamity placed on the pastors table;
are there not many to help him drink
OF that cup and who will not be COM
forted because he is stricken? Oh! Tor
somebody to write book about the
rewards of tue Christian ministry
about his surroundings Of Christian
sympathy. This woman Of the text
was only type of thousands OF men
and women who come down from man
sion and from cot to do kindness to
the Lords servants. l could tell you
of something that you might think
romance. A young man graduated
from New Brunswick Theological
Seminary was called to village
church. He had not the means 10
furnish the parsonage. After three or
four weeks of preaching committee
of the officers of the church waited on
him and told him he looked tired ana
thought he had better take a vacation
Of few days. The young pastor TOOK
it as an intimation that his work was
done or not acceptable. He took the
vacation, and at the end Of few days
came back. when an old elder said:
Here is the key Of the parsonage.
We have been cleaning 1t up. You
had better go up and look at it." So
the young pastor took the key, went up
to the parsonage. opened the door.
and 10! it was carpeted, and there was
the hat-rack all ready for the canes
and the umbrellas and the overcoats,
and on the left hand of the hall was
the parlor, sofaed. chaired, pictured.
He passed on to the other side OF the
hall, and there was the study-table In
the center of the floor with stationery
Ill h,,f1$
of new volumes far beyond the reach
of the means of the young pastor,
many of these volumes. The young
pastor went upstairs, and found all
the sleeping apartments furnished;
came downstairs and entered the
pantry, and there were the spices and
the cOffees and the sugars. and the
groceries for six months. He went
down into the cellar. and there was the
coal for all the coming winter. He
went into the dining-hall, and there
was the table already set-the glass
and the silverware He went into the
kitchen. and there were all the cult
nary implements and great stove.
The young pastor lifted one lid Of the
stove and he found the fuel all ready
for ignition. Putting back. the cover
of the stove, he saw in another part
of it a lucifer match, and all that
young man lad to do in starting to
keep house was to strike the match.
Where are the feet that have not
been blistered on the hot sands Of this
great Sahara? Where are the soldiers
that have not bent under the burden
Of grief? Where is the ship sailing
over CLASSY sea that has not after
awhile been caught in a cyclone?
Where is the garden of earthly COM
fort but trouble hath hitched up its
fiery and painting team. and gone
through it with burning plowshare OF
disaster? Under the pelting of ages
of suffering the great heart OF the
world has burst with woe. Navigators
tell us about the rivers, and the ANA
zon, and the Danube, and the Missis-
sippi have been explored; but who can
tell the depth or the length Of the
great river of sorrow. made up OF
tears and blood, rolling through all
lands and all ages, bearing the wreck
of families, and of communities, and
of empires, foaming, writhing. boiling
with agonies of six thousand years.
Etna, Cotopaxi and Vesuvius have
been described. but who has ever
sketched the volcano of suffering
retching up from its depths the lava
and scoria, and pouring them down
the sides to whelm the nations? Oh.
il l could gather all the heartstrings.
the broken heartstrings. into a harp,
l would play on it dirge such as was
never sounded. Mythologists tell us
of Gorgon and Centaur and Titan, and
biologists tell us of extinct species OF
monsters; but greater than Gorgon or
Megatherium, and not belonging to the
realm of fable. and not an extinct
species, a monster with an iron Jaw
and hundred iron hoofs has walked
across the nations, and history and
poetry and sculpture. in their attempt
to sketch it and describe it, have
90 - II