St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1900-05-05
the wall, sand her little prayer and then


Oh. il could gather up in one para.
graph the last words of the little
ones who have gone out from these
Christian circles, and / 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 doXologies! In my parish in
Philadelphia little child was depart
ing. She had been sick all her days and
cripple. 1t was MONDAY when she
went, and. as the shadow of death
gathered on her eyelid she thought it
5 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 a 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. 1 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 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 it in church, still he has the
psalm book open before him, and he
sings with his soul. He huns his
lgrandchild asleep with the same tune
he sang 40 years ago in the old country
meeting house. Some day the choir
sings tune so old that the young peo-
Iple 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 ra-
diant faces that long since went =
dust and of the gray-haired minister
leaning over the pulpit and sounding
the good tidings of great joy.
| l speak to you again of Jesus as the
| night song. Job speaks of him who
giveth songs in the night. John
Welch, the old Scotch minister, used
to put 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 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 out 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 billows near me roll,
While the tempest still is high.
Hide me, o my Saviour! Hide
Tin the storm of life is past,
Safe into the haven guide:
oh, receive my soul at 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-
ter's cold and swelter in the sum-
mer's heat and MUNICH the hard crusts
that bleed the sore gums and shiver
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, -four
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
home in desolation. death
turning back from the exhausting
cough and the pale cheek and the
lusterless eye and refusing all relief.
Yet songs in the night! Songs in
the night! For the soldier in the
field hospital, no surgeon to bind up
the gunshot fracture, no water for
the hot lips, no kind hand to brush
away the flies from the fresh wound.
no one to take the loving farewell,
the groaning of others poured into
his own groan. the blasphemy Of
others plowing up his own spirit, the
bitterness of dying away
from home among strangers. Yet
songs in the night! Songs in the
night! "Ah!" said one dying soldier,
tell my mother that last night there
was not one cloud between my soul
md Jesus!" Songs in the night! Q
Songs in the night!
This Sabbath day came. From the I
Jtars of 10000 churches has smoked i
Up the SAVIOR of sacrifice. Ministers y
II the gospel preached in plain Eng a
ish, in broad Scotch, in flowing Ital- I
an. in harsh Choctaw. Gods people b
assembled in Hindoo temple and Mo-
avian church and Quaker meeting n
.ouse and sailors bethel and kings I
'hapel and high-towered cathedral. il
they sang, and the song foated OF c
mid the spice groves or struck the a
cebergs or foated off into the west e
IN pines or was drowned in the e
lamor of the great cities. Lumber n
nen sang it and the factory girls and
he children in the Sabbath class and
he trained choirs in great assem- c.
'lages. Trappers. with the same II
dice with which they shouted yester- 6
ay in the stag hunt, and mariners a
nth -throats that only few days ago a
ounded in the hoarse blast of the sea q
they sang it. One theme c.
Or the sermons. One burden for the L
ong. Jesus for the invocation. II
esus for the Scripture lesson. Jesus c'
or the baptismal font. Jesus for the h
cup. Jesus for the bene- 81
ictiOn. But the dav has Uone II 81