Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1900-08-27

of one ought to be the sorrow of all.
Is one prosecuted? All are prosecuted.
Does one suffer loss? We all suffer
loss Is one bereaved? We are all
bereaved.
Their streaming eyes together flow
For human guilt and mortal woe.
If you rejoice at another's misfor-
tune, you are not one of the sheep, but
one of the goats; and the vulture Of sin
hath alighted on your soul, and not the
Dove of the Spirit
A Precious Heirloom.
Next, L notice the family property.
After q man Of large estate dies, the
relatives assemble to hear the will
read. So much of the property is
willed to his sons, and so much to his
daughters, and so much to benevolent
societies. Our Lord Jesus hath died,
and we are assembled today to hear
the will read. He says, my peace [
give unto you" Through his apostle
he says, "AI things are yours" What,
everything? Yes, everything! This
world and the next. In distinguished
families there are old pictures hang
ing on the wall. They are called the
"heirlooms'' of the estate. They are
generation to generation. So I look
upon all the beauties of the natural
world as the heirlooms of our royal
family. The morning breaks from
the east. The mists travel up, hill
above hill, mountain above mountain,
until sky lost. The forests are full of
chirp and buzz, and song. Trees leaf
and birds wing f1utter with gladness.
Honey makers in the log, and beak
against the bark, and squirrels chat
tering on the rail, and the call Of the
hawk out of a clear sky make you
feel glad.
The sun, which kindles conf1a grations
among the castles of cloud and sets
minaret and dome af1ame, stoOpS to
paint the lily white, and the buttercup
yellow, and the fOrgetmenOt blue.
What can resist the sun? Light for the
voyager over the deep! Light for the
shepherd guarding the f1ocks afield!
Light for the poor who have no lamps
to burnt Light for the downcast and
the lowly! Light for aching eyes and
burning brain and wasted captive!
Light for the smooth brow of child
hood and for the dim vision of the
octogenarian. Light for queens cor
onet and for sewing girls needle! Let
there be light! Whose morning is this?
My morning. Your morning. Our
Father gave us the picture and hung
it on the sky in loops of fire. 1t is the
heirloom of our family. And so the
night. 1t is the full moon. The mists
from shore to shore CLEAN like shatter
ed mirrors, and the ocean under her
glance cones up with great tides,
painting upon the beach, mingling, as
it were. foam and fire. The poor man
blesses God for throwing such q cheap
light through the broken window pane
into his cabin, and to the sick it seems
q light from the other shore which
bounds this great deep of human pain
and woe. If the sun seem like a song
full and poured from brazen instru-
ments that fill heaven and earth with
great harmonies, the moon is plaintive
and mild, standing beneath the throne
of God. sending up her soft, sweet
voice Of praise, while the stars listen,
and the sea. No mother ever more
sweetly guarded the sick cradle than
ell night long this pale watcher of the
sky bends over the weary, heartsick,
slumbering earth. Whose is this
black framed, black tasseled picture
of the night? It is the heirloom of our
family. Ours the grandeur of the
spring, the crystals of the snow, the
coral of the beach, the odors of the
garden, tie h3rmOnies Of the air.
You cannot see large estate in one
morning. You must take several walks
around it. The family property of this
royal house of Jesus issso great that we
must take several walks to get any
idea of it's extent. Let the first walk
be around this earth. All these val
legs, the harvests that wave in them.
and the cattle that pasture them-an
these mountains, and the precious
things hidden beneath them, and the
crown of glacier they cast at the feet
of the alpine hurricane-all these
lakes. these islands, these continents,
are ours. In the second walk go
among the street lamps of heaven, and
see stretching off on every side a
wilderness of worlds. For us they
shine. For US they sang at a Saviour's
nativity. For us they will wheel into
line, and with their flaming torches
add to the splendor Of our triumph on
the day for which all other days were
made. IL the third walk, go around
the eternal city. AS we come near it,
bark to the rush Of it's chariots, and the
wedding peal Of its great towers. The
bell of heaven has struck II. It is
high noon. We look off upon the chap
lets which never fade, the eyes that
never weep, the temples that never
close, the loved ones that never part,
the procession that never halts, the
trees that never wither, the walls that
never can be captured, the sun that