The Yale expositor., 1900-06-08
SERMON.
COMMON DUTIES AND REWARD
THE SUBJECT
Addressed to the Toilers and StrugGlers
on LIES Difficult Highway Heroes
and Heroines OF Our Times-The He
roes of Heaven.
Copyright, 1000, by Louis Klopsch.l

cage the merits or great military chleI-
tains. We have the full length pof-
traits of the Cronwells, the Washing
tons, the Napoleons and the Yelling
tons of the world. History is not
written in black ink, but red ink Of
human blood. The gods Of human
ambition do not drink from bowls
made out Of silver or gold or precious
stones, but out of the bleached skulls
of the fallen. But am now to unroll
before you a scroll Of heroes that the
world has never neutrality-suspicious.
who faced no guns, blew no bugle
blast, conquered no cities, chained no
captives TO their chariot wheels and
yet in the great day of eternity will
stand higher than some of those whose
names startled the nations, and SER
aph and rapt spirit and archangel viii
tell their deeds to listening universe.
! mean the heroes Of common, every
day life.
In this roll, in the first place, find
all the heroes of the sickroom. When
satan had failed to overcome Job, he
said to God, Put forth thy hand and
touch his bones and his flesh, and he
will curse thee 20 thy face" Satan
had found out that which we have all
found out, that sickness is the great
est test OF ones character. A man
who can stand that can stand any
thing. To be shut In room as fast
as though II were 4 bastile; to be so
nervous you cannot endure the tap
of a child's foot; to have luscious fruit,
which tempts the appetite Of the ro-
bust and healthy, excite our loath!nG
and disgust when it first appears on
the platter; to have the rapier Of pain
strike through the side or across the
temples like razor or to put the
foot into a Wise or throw the whole
body into a blaze Of fever, yet there
have been men and women, but more
women than men, who have cheerful
ly endured this hardness. Through
years of exhausting rheumatisms and
excruciating ncuralgias they have gone
and through bodily distress that
rasped the nerves and tore the muscles
and paled the cheeks and stopped the
shoulders. By the dim light of the
sickroom taper they saw on their wall
the picture of that land where the
inhabitants are never sick. Through
the dead silence of the night they
heard the chorus Of the angels.
Heroes In Sickness.
In this roll | also find the heroes OF
toll who do their work uncorlplaining-
ly. It is mparstively easy to lead
regiment into battle when you know
that the whole nation will applaud the
victory; it is comparatively easy to
doctor the sick when you know that
your skill Will be appreciated by
large company Of friends and rela-
tives; it is comparatively easy to adj
ing eyes and the flushed checks you
know that your sentiments are adopt
ed But to do sewing when you ex-
pect the employer will come and thrust
his thumb through the work to show
how imperfect it is or to have the
whole garment thrown back on you,
to be done over again; to build a wall
and know there will be no one to say
you did it well, but only a swearing
employer bowling across the scaifold;
to work until your eyes are dim and
your back aches and your heart f1irtc,
and to know that If you stop before
night your children will staTve-ah,
the sword has not slain so many as
the needle. The great battlefelds Of
our civil war were not Gettysburg
and Shiloh and South Mountain. The
great battleflelds were in the arserals
and in the shops and in the attics,
where women made army jackets for
a sixpence. They toiled on until they
died They had no funeral eulogium.
but. in the name of my God, this day,
I enroll their names among those OF
whom the world was not worthy.
Heroes OF the needle! Heroes of the
sewing machine Heroes OF the
attic! Heroes OF the cellar! Heroes
and heroines! Bless God for them!
Heroes of Domestic Injustice.
Society to-day is strewn with the
wrecks of men who, under the north
east storm of domestic infelicity, have
been driven on the rocks. There are
tens of thousands of drunkards to-day,
made such by their wives. That is not
poetry; that is prose. But the wrong
is generally in the opposite direction.