The Penn's Grove record., 1900-10-12
PENNs GROVE, n. J., FRIDAY, OCTOBER u, 1900. NJ

AAANiAoAh6<0otS ~ 1At 0A ~ tAA9 IA ~
ebbing, and the grave will soon hide her
from your sight. You sit quiet; you feel
heavy hearted. The light Is fading from
the sky; the air is chill. It is toward
evening.
You mad a considerable estate and felt
independent. In five minutes on one fair
balance sheet you could see just how you
complications. Something that you i'm
agined impossible happened. The best
friend you had proved traitor to your in
terests. A sudden crash of national mis-
fortune Frustrated your credit. You may
to-day be going on In business, but you
feel anxious about where you are stand
ing, and fear that the next turn Of the
commercial wheel viii bring you PROSTATE.
You foresee what you consider certain
defalcation; youthink of the anguish of
telling your friends that yon are not
worth a dollar; you know not how you
will ever bring your children home from
school; you wonder how You will stand
the selling of your library or the moving
into a palmer house. The misfortunes Of
makes the sky SO dark. 1t toward
evening.
Trouble is an apothecary that mixes a
great many drafts, bitter and %sour and
nauseous, and you must drink |some one
of them. Trouble puts up a great many
packs, and you must carry SOME one of
them. There is no sandal so thick and
well adjusted but some thorn will strike
through it; there is no sound SO sweet but
the undertaker's screw-dfiver crates
through it. In this swift shuttle Of the
heart some Of the threads must break.
The journey from Jerusalem to- Emmaus
will soon be ended. Our Bible, \ our cOm-
mon sense, our observation, retterate in
tones that we cannot mistake and ought
not to disregard-it is toward evening.
The words of the text are pertinent to
lis all from the fact that we aJe nearing
the evening Of death. | haveI heard it
said that we ought to live as Though each
moment were to be our last. | fo not be-
lieye that theory. As far as preparation
is concerned we ought always to( be ready,
but WI cannot always be thinking Of
death, for we have duties in lifH that de-
mand our attention.
When a man is selling good it is his
business to think Of the bar. ain he is
making; when a man is plead ng in the
courts, it is his duty to think LOT the in
terests Of his clients; when a clerk is add
ing up accounts it is his duty I'd keep his
mind upon the column of figurest He who
fills up his life with thoughts dEdeath is
far from being the highest STYLE Of Chris
tlan. | knew a man who used often to
say at night, Il wish / might die before
morning!" He is now an infidef.
But there are times when vie can and
ought to give ourselves to the eontempla-
ton of that solemn moment when to the
| soul time ends and eternity begiI8E. Wemust
go through that one pass. here is no
roundabout way, no bypath, ND circuitous
route. Die we must, and it will be to us
a shameful occurrence or a time of admir-
able behavior. Our friends MAY stretch
out their hands to keep us back, but no
impioratlon on their part can hinder us.
They might offer large retainers, but
death would not take the fee. The breath
will fail, and the eyes will close, and the
heart will stop. You may hang the couch
with gorgeous tapestry, but what does
death care for bed curtains? You may
hang the room with the finest works of
art, but what does death care for pictures?
You may fill the house with the wailings
of ~widowhood and orphanase. Does death
mind weeping?
Listen to Pauls battle shout with mis-
fortune, bark to mounting Latimerks fire
song; look at the glory that hath reft the
dungeon and filed the earth and hdavens
with the crash of the falling manad es Of
despotism and then Iuok-
have tried to cure themselves by human
prescriptions, attempting to heal gam
creme with patch Of court plaster and to
stop the plague of dying empires with the
quackery of earthly wisdom. Nothing can
speak peace to the soul, nothing can I'M
strap our crushing burdens, nothing can
overcome our spiritual foes, nothing can
open our eyes to see the surrounding
horses and chariots Of salvation that fill
all the mountains but the voice and com-
mand of Him who stopped one night at
Emmaus.
You ought to be willing to exchange
YOU body that has headaches and side
aches and weaknesses innumerable, that
limps with the stone bruise or testers with
the thorn or flames on the funeral pyre
of fevers, for an incorruptible body and an
eye that blinks not before the jasper gates
and the great white throne. But between
that and this there is an hour about which
no man should be reckless or foolhardy.
| doubt not your courage, but ] tell you
that you will want something better than
a strong rm, a good aim and a trusty
sword when you come to your last battle.
You will need a better robe than any you
have in your wardrobe to keep you warm
in that place.
Circumstances do not make so much diff
ference. 1t may be bright day VIXEN you
dark night and while the owl is ,hooting
from the forest. 1t may be spring, and
your soul may go out among the blossoms,
apple orchards swinging their censers in
the way. 1t may be winter and the earth
in a nov shroud. It may be autumn and
the forests set on fire by the retreating
y~ear-dead nature laid out in state. 1t
may be with your wife's hand in your
hand, or you may be in a strange hotel,
with a servant faithful to the last. It
may be in the rail train, shot off the
switch and tumblng in long reverberation
down the northumberland, crash!
l know not the time, / know not the
mode, but the days of our life are being
subtracted away, and we shall come down
to the time when we have but ten days
left, then nine days, then eight days, then
seven days, six days, FIVE days, four days,
three days, two days, one day. Then
hours,-three hours, two hours, one hour.
Then only minutes left-ive minutes, four
minutes, three minutes, two minutes, one
minute. Then only seconds left-four Sec
onds, three seconds, two seconds, one Sec
ond. Gone! The chapter Of life ended!
The book closedi The pulses at rest! The
feet through with the journey! Ths
hands closed from all work! No word on
the lips! No breath in the n~ostrils! Hair;
combed back to lie undisheveled by any
human hands. The muscles still. The
nerves still. The lungs still. The tongue
still. All still. You might put the steth-
oscope to breast and hear no sound. You
might put a speaking trumpet to the ear,
Out you cOuiQ not wake The deafness. No
motion. No .throb. No life. Still! Still!
On earth with many of you the evening
is the happiest part of the twenty-four
hours. You gather about the stand. You
talk and laugh and sing. You recount the
day. You plan for the morrow You
have games and repartees. Amid all the
toll of the day that is the goal for which
you run, and as you take out your watch
or look at the descending sun on thrill
with the thought that it is toward even
ing. So death comes to the disciple.
What if the sun of life is about to set?
Jesus is the dayspring from on high, the
perpetual morning Of every ransomed
spirit. What if the darkness comes?
Jesus is the light Of the world and Of
heaven. What though this earthly house
does crumble? Jesus has prepared a house
of many mansions. Jesus Is the anchor
that always holds. Jesus is the fountain
that is never exhausted. Jesus Is the
evening star hung up amid the gloom Of
the gathering night.
You are almost through with the abuse
and ~backbiting of nemies They viii call
you no more by evil names. Your good
deeds will not longer be misinterpreted or
your honor filched. The troubles of earth
will end in the f~pficifinc 4 fzbcuvon IT,