The Bolivar bulletin. (Bolivar, Tenn.) 1888-1946, 1900-04-06

been faithful or unfaithful, but would
it not have been pleasanter if you could
have heard from those lips the praises
of Christ? never read anything more
beautiful than this about child's de-
parture: The account said: 'She fold
ed her hands, kissed her mother good
by, sang her hymn, turned her face to
the wall, said her little prayer and then
died"
Oh, il l could gather up in one para
graph the last words of the little
ones who have gone out from these
Christian circles, and l could picture
the calm looks and the folded hands
and sweet departure, methinks it would
be grand and beautiful as one of Heav-
ems great dONologies! In my parish in
| Philadelphia little child was depart
ing. She had been sick all her days and
a cripple. 1t was MONDAY when she
went, and. as the shadow of death
gathered on her eyelid she thought it
was evening and time TO go to bed, and
so she said: Good night. papa! Good
/ night, mammal" and then she was
gone! 1t was n goodnight" to pain
| and goodnight" to tears and good
night" TO death and goodnight to
earth, but it was "good-morning'' to
Jesus it was 'good-morning" to
| Heaven. ] can think of no cradle song
more beautiful than Jesus.
1 next speak of Christ as the old
mans song. Quick music loses its
charm for the aged ear. The school
girl asks for Il schottish or glee, but
her grandmother asks for "Balerma"
or the Portuguese Hymn" Fifty years
of trouble have tanned the spirit, and
the keys of the music board must have
a solemn tread. Though the voice may
be tremulOus, so that grandfather will
not trust il in church, still he has the
psalm book open before him, and he
sings with his soul. He huns his
grandchild asleep with the same tune
he sang 20 years ago in the old country
meeting house. Some day the choir
sings tune so old that the young peO-
pie do not know it, but it starts the
tears down the cheeks of the aged man.
for it reminds him of the revival scene
in which he participated and of the Ta
diant faces that long since went to
dust and Of the gray-haired minister
leaning over the pulpit and sounding
the good tidings of great JOY.
1 speak to you again of Jesus as the
night song. Job speaks of him who
giveth songs in the night. John
WeIch, the old Scotch minister, used
to put a plaid across his bed on cold
nights, and some one asked him why
he put that there. He said: "Oh,
sometimes in the night | want to sing
the praise of Jesus and to get down
and pray. Then I just take that plaid
and wrap it around me to keep my
self from the cold" Songs in the
night! Night of trouble has come
down upon many of YOU. Commercial
losses put out one star, slanderOus
abuse puts out another star. domestic |
bereavement has put ont 1000 lights, |
and gloom has been added to gloom |
and chill to chill and sting to sting, |
and one midnight has seemed to bor- |
row the fold from another midnight |
to wrap itself in more unbearable |
darkness, but Christ has spoken peace |
TO your heart, and you sing:
Jesus, lover OF my soul,
Let me to thy bosom fly,
While the pillows near me roll.
Hide me, my Saviour! Hide
Till the storm of life is past,
Safe into the haven guide;
oh. receive my soul a last.
Songs in the night! Songs in the
night! For the sick, who have no one
to turn the hot pillow, no one to put
the taper on the stand, no one to put
ice on the temples or pour out the
soothing anOdyne or utter one cheer
full word. Yet songs in the night!
For the poor. who freeze in the win
tcr's cold and swelter in the sum
mer's heat and munich the hard crusts
that bleed the sore gums and shivcr
under blankets that cannot any long
er be patched and tremble because
rent day is come and they may be
set out on the sidewalk and looking
into the starved face of the child and
seeing famine there and death there.
coming home from the bakery and
saying in the presence of the little
famished ones: "Oh, my God, flour
has gone up" Yet songs in the
night! Songs in the night! For the
widow who goes to get the back pay
OF her husband. slain by the sharp
shooters" and knows it is the last
help she will have, moving out of a
home in desolation. death
turning back from the exhausting |
cough and the pale cheek and the
usterless eye and refusing all relief
Yet songs in the night! Songs in
The night! For the soldier in The |
ield hospital, no surgeon to bind up
he gunshOt fracture, no water for
he hot lips, no kind hand to brush ]
,way the flies from the fresh wound.
10 one to take the loving farewell,
he groaning of others poured into
his own gTOan, the blasphemy of ;
'thers blowing up his own spirit, the {
condensed bitterness of dying away {
rom home among strangers. Yet !
Ongs in the night! Songs in the {
light! ''Ah!" said one dying soldier.
tell my mother that last night there {
vas not one cloud between nv soul i
nd Jesus!" Songs in the night! {
songs in the night! a
This Sabbath day came. From the a
liars of 10000 churches has smoked t
p the SAVIOR of sacrifice. Ministers c
f the gospel preached in plain Eng
ish, in broad Scotch, in flowing Ital- t
an, in harsh Choctaw. Gods people c
ssembled in Hindoo temple and Mo- h
avian church and Quaker meeting S
OuSe and sailors bethel and kings s
hapel and high-towered cathedral.
hey sang, and the song fioated off n
mid the spice groves or struck the t
,ebergs or fioated off into the west +
rn pines or was drowned in the c
lamor of the great cities. Lumber b