Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1900-04-05

Jesus for the bcnediCtiun. But the day |
has gone. IT rolled away on swift wheels |
of light and LOVE-. Again the churches |
are lighted. Tides Of people again setting |
down the streets Whole families COM
ing up the church aisle. We must have |
one more service. What shall we preach? |
What shall we read? Let it be Jesus, |
everybody says let it he Jesus We must |
have one more song. What shall il be, !
children? Aged men and women, what
shall it be? Young men and mnidcns,
what shall it be? If you dared to break
the silence Of this auditory there would
come up thousands of quick and jublant
voices. crying out, Let it be Jesus,
Jesus. Jesus
We sing his birth-the barn that shell
tered him, the mother that nurscd him,
the cattle that fed beside him, the angels
that woke mp the shepherds. shaking light
over the midnight hills. We sing his min
istry-the tears he wiped away from the
eyes of the orphans, the lame men that
forgot their crutches. the damsel who
from the bier bounded out into the sun
light, her locks shaking down over the
flushed cheek, the hungry thousands who
broke the bread as it blossomcd into
larger luaves-that miracle by which a
boy with five loaves and two fishes be-
came the sulcr of whole army. We
sing his sOrrows--his stone bruised feet,
his aching heart, his mountain loneliness,
his desert hunger, his storm pcltcd body,
the eternity of anguish that shot through
his last moments and the Unreasonable
ocean Of torment that heaved up against
his cross in one fOaning, wrathful, ON
nipotent surge, the sun dashed out, and
the dead, shroud wrapped breaking open
their sepulchers and rushing out to see
what was the matter We sing his rcsur-
rcCtion-the guard that could not keep
him. the sorrow of his disciples, the
clouds piling up on either side in pillared
Splcndors as he went through, trcading
the painless air, higher and higher, until
he came to the foot of the throne. and all
heaven kept jubilee at the return of the
conqueror. Oh, is there any song more
appropriate FOR a Sabbath night than this
song of Jesus? Let the pnssers by in the
street hear it, let the angels of God carry
il amidst the thrones. Sound it ont
through the darkness: Jesus the night
song, appropriate for any hour, but espc-
cially sweet and beautiful and blessed
on n Sabbath night
Great Harmony.
say once more Christ is the evcrlast-
ing song. The very best singers some
times get tired. the strongest threats
sometimes get weary, and many who
sang very sweetly do not sing now, but
! hope by the grace of God we will after
awhile 20 up and sing the praises Of
Christ where we will never be weary.
You know there are some songs that are
especially appropriate for the home cir
Gle. They stir the soul, they start the
Al, 81, -, 81 a
keep sounding after the tune has stopped,
like some cathedral bell which, long after
the tap of the brazen tongue has ceased,
keeps throbbing on the air. Well, ii will
be a home song in heaven. all the swccter
because those who sang with us in the
domestic circle on earth shall join that
great harmony.
Jerusalem. my happy home.
Name ever dear to me;
When shall my lahors have end
In Joy and peace in thee?
On earth we sang harvest songs as the
wheat came into the barn and the bar
racks were filled. You know there is no
such time on a farm rs when they get
the crops in, and so in heaven it will be a
harvest song on the part of those who on
earth sowed in tears and reaped in joy.
Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates,
and let the sheaves come in. Angels
shout all through the heavens, and multi
tudes come down the hills crying: "Har-
vest home. Harvest home"
There is nothing more bewitching to
ones ear than the song OF sailors far out
at sea- whether in day or night, as they
pull away at the ropes--not much sense
often in the words they utter, but the
music is thrilling. So the song in heaven
will be a sailors song. They were voy-
ayers once and thought they could never
get to shore, and before they could get
things snug and trim the cyclone struck
them. But now they are safe. Once they
went with damaged rigging, guns of dis
trcss booming through the storm, but the
pilot came aboard, and he brought them
into the harbor Now they sing Of the
breakers past, the lighthouses that show
ed them where to sail, the pilot that took
them through the straits, the eternal
shore on which they landed.
The ChiIdrens Song.
Aye, it will be the children's song. You
know very well that the vast ma jority of
our race die in infancy, and it is cstmat-
ed that sixteen thousand millions of the
little ones are standing before God. When
they shall rise up about the throne to
sing, the millions and the millions of the
little ones-ah. that will be music for you.
These played in the streets of Babylon
and Thebes; these pluckcd lilies from the
foot of Oivet while Christ was preaching
about them; these wadcd in Sloan; these
We're victims of Herod's massacre; these
were thrown to crocodilcs or into the fire;
these came mp from Christian homes, and
these We're foundlinEs on the city com
monS-children everywhere in all that
land children in the towers, children on
the seas of glass, children on the battle
mcnts All, if you do not like children.
DO not go there, They are in vast ma jor-
ity. And what song when they lift it
around about the throne.
The Christian singers and composers
Of all ages will be there to join in that
song. Thomas Hastings will be there.
Lowell Mason will be there. Beethoven
and Mozart will be there. They who
sounded the cymbals and the trumpets in
the ancient temples will be there. The
10000 harpcrS that stood ut the ancient
dedication will be there. ThA 200 singers
that assisted ON that day VIII be there.
Patriarchs who lived amid thrashing
floors shepherds who watched amid
Chaldcan hills, prophets who walked.
with long boards and coarse apparel, pro-
! nOunclng woe against ancient abomina-
tons, will meet the more recent martyrs
who went up with lcapng cohorts of fire;
and some will speak of the Jesus of
whom they prophcsied, and others of the
.IpslIS for whom they died. oh what n