Connecticut western news., 1900-10-11


 see a new heaven, grander, higher and more glorious. You ought to be willing to exchange your body that has head aches and sideaches and weaknesses innumerable, that limps with the stone bruise or testers with the thorn or flames on the funeral pyre of levers, for an incorruptible body and an eye that blinks not before the jasper gates and the great white throne. But be- tween that and this there Is an hour about which no man should be reckless or foolhardy. I doubt not your courage, but tell you that you will want some thing better than strong arm, 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.
 Shortening Days.
 Circumstances do not make so much difference. It may be bright day when you push off from the planet, or 1t may be dark night and while the owl is hooting from the forest. It 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 snow shroud. 1t may be autumn and the forests set on fire by the retreating year-dead nature laid out in state. It may be with your wife's hand in your hand, or you may be In strange hotel, with a servant faithful to the last. 1t may be in the rail train, shot off the switch and tumbling in long reverbera- ton down the northumberland, crash! I 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-fve minutes, four min utes, three minutes, two minutes, one minute. Then only seconds left-four seconds, three seconds, two seconds, one second. Gonel The chapter of life ended! The book closed! The pulses at restl The feet through with the journey! The hands closed from all work! No word on the lips! No breath in the nostrils! 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 stethoscope to breast and hear no sound. You might put speaking trumpet to the ear, but you could not wake the deafness. No motion. No throb. No life. Still! Still! 4 The Happiest Hour.
 On earth with many of you the even ing is the happiest part of the A 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 you thrill with the thought that 1t is toward evening. 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? Je- sus has prepared a house of many mansions. Jesus Is the anchor that al- ways holds. Jesus is the fountain that is never exhausted. Jesus is the even- ing star hung up amid the gloom of the gathering night.
 You are almost through with the abuse and backbiting of enemies. They will call you no more by evil names. Your good deeds will not longer be mis- interpreted or your honor f1lched. The troubles of earth will end in the felici- ties of heaven. Toward evening! The bereavements of earth will soon be lifted. You will not much longer stand pouring your grief in the tomb like RA- chel weeping for her children or David mourning for Absalom. Broken hearts bound up. Wounds healed. Tears wiped away. Sorrows terminated. No more sounding of the dead march. To as slumber to the eyelids of the babe, as full rations to a starving soldier, as evening hour to the exhausted, work man. The sky will take on its sunset glow, every cloud a fire psalm, every lake glassy mirror, the forests trans figured, delicate mists climbing the air. Your friends will announce 1t, your pulses will beat 1t, your joys will ring 1t, your lips will whisper 1t. Toward evening"" .r...
 Copyright. 1soo by Louis Klopsch.l