The Bolivar bulletin. (Bolivar, Tenn.) 1888-1946, 1899-01-27

little while in silence and then they
threw up their hands and cried: 1--WE
are the men! We are the men!" The
LJrd Jesus Christ calls you 10 His serv-
ice. | do not promise you an easy time
in this world. You may have persecu-
tions, and trials, and misreprescnta
tions, but afterward there comes an
eternal weight Of glory, and you can
bear the wounds, and the bruises, and
the misrepresentation, if you have the
reward afterward. Have you not
enough enthusiasm to cry out: I'VE are
the men! We are the men!"
I learn also from this subj the dan
ger of worldly elevation. This Eglon
was what the world called great man.
There were hundreds of people who
would have considered it. the greatest
honor of their life just to have him
speak to them, yet, although he is so
high up in worldly position, he is not
beyond the reach of Ehud's dagger. |
see great many people trying to climb
up in social position, having an idea
that there is a safe place somewhere
far above, not knowing that the noun
tain of fame has top like Mont Blanc,
covered with perpetual snow.
We laugh at the children OF Shinar
for trying to build tower that could
reach to the heavens. but think if our
eyesight were only good enough we
could see a Babel in many a dooryard.
Oh, the struggle is fierce! 1t is store
against store, house against house.
street against street, nation against ma
ton. The goal for which men are run
ming is chairs and chandeliers and mir
rors and houses and lands and presi-
Dental equipments. If they get what
they anticipate, what have they? Men
are not safe from calumny while they
live, and worse than that, they are not
safe after they are dead, for | have seen
swine root up graveyards. One day
man goes up into publicity, and the
world does him honor, and people climb
up into sycamore trees TO watch him as
he passes, and as he goes along on the
shoulders of the people there is wav-
ing of hats and wild huzza. To-mor-
row the same man is caught between
the jaws of the printing press and
mangled and bruised, and the very
same persons who aPplauded him be-
fore cry: Down with the traitor!
down with him!"
Belshazzar sits at the feast, the
mighty men Of Babylon sitting all
around him. Wit sparkles like the wine
and the wine like the wit. Music rolls
up among the chandeliers; the chan
deliers flash down on the decauters.
The breath of hanging gardens floats
in on the night air. The voice of revelry
floats out. Amid wreaths and tapestry
and folded banners finger writes. The
march of a host is heard on the stairs.
Laughter catches in the throat. A
thousand hearts stop beating. The
blow is struck. The blood on the floor
is richer hued than the wine on the
table. The kingdom has departed. Bel
shazZer was no worse perhaps than
hundreds of people in Babylon, but
his position slew him. Oh, be content
with just such a position as God has
placed you in! 1t may not be said of us:
"He was great general" or lie was
an honored chieftain," or "He was
mighty in worldly attainments," but
this thing may be said of you and of
me: "He was a good citizen, a faithful
Christian, friend of Jesus" And that
in the last day will be the highest of all
eulogiums.
Ilearn further from this subject that
death comes 10 the summer house. Egg
Ion did not expect to die in that fine
place. Amid all the flower leaves that
drifted like summer snow ITO the win
dow, in the tinkle and dash of the foun-
tains, in the sound of thousand leaves
futing on one tree branch, in the cool
breeze that came up to shake feverish
trouble out Of the kings locks-there
was nothing that spake of death, but
there he died! In the winter, when the
snow is shroud, aid when the wind is
a dirge, it is easy to think of our NOR
tality, but when the weather is pleas
ant and all our surroundings are agree
able, how difficult it is for us to appre-
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 foun-
tains. 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 that little child-cold, and sick,
and hungry. 1t has never heard the
name of God but in blasphemy. Pa
rents intoxicated, staggering around
its straw bed. Oh, death. there is a
mark for thee! Up with it into the
light! Before those little feet stumble
On life's pathway give them rest.
Here 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 quickly" Oh, death, there is
mark for thee! Take from him the staff
and give him the scepter! Up with
him into the light. where eyes never
grow dim. and the hair whitens not
through the long years of eternity. Ah!
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 summer house. What doest thou
,here. thou bory, 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 mother
stand at the side of the room looking
on, enjoying their glee. 1t does not
seem possible that the wolf should ever
break into that fold and carry off
lamb. Meanwhile an old archer stands
looking through the thicket. He points
his arrow at the brightest of the group
ba ;s, s1rro workmanship bow