The semi-weekly messenger. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1897-1908, 1900-06-22

staff and began to let IL fsn slowly
through between the finger and the
thumb, n he said: oh, thou i'm
penitent, thou art falling now-faIling
.now-falling from life, falling away
from heaven, falling as Certainly as
falling certainly, though perhaps
falling slowly" And the cane kept on
falling through John Livingston's
hand. The religious emotion in the
audience was overpowering, and men
saw a type Of their doom as the cane
kept falling n falling, until the knob
of the cane struck Mr.. L~ivingston's
hand, and he clasped ii stoutly and
said: But the grace of God can stop
you as I stopped that cane" and then
there was gladness all through the
house at the fact of pardon and peace
n salvation. WELL" said the peo-
pie after the service, II guess YOU had
making the revival worse" Oh. for
gales from heaven to sweep all the
continentsi The danger of the church
Of God is not in r~evivals.
CALMING THE STORM.
Again, my subject impressed me
with the fact that Jesus was God and
man in the same being. Here he is in
the back part of the boat. Oh, nov
tired he looks, What sad dreams he
must nave. LOCh DIT Ills tO~unlenanCS,
he must be thinking of the cross to
come. Look at him; he is a man-hone
of our bone, flesh of our flesh. Tired,
he falls asleep; he is a man. But then
I find Christ at the Prov of the boat;
I hear him say, Peace, be STILL" and
1 see the storm kneeling at his feet
and the tempests folding their wings
in his presence; he is a God. If I have
sorrow and trouble and want sympa-
thy, / go and kneel down at the back
part of the boat and say: 80 Christ,
weary One of Gennesaret, sympathiZe
with all my sorrowi Man of Nazareth,
Ian of the Cross!" "A Man, a Man
But if 1 want to q my spiritual
foes, if / want to get the victory over
sin, death and hell, 1 com to the front
of the boat, and I kneel down. and I
say, 80 ord Jesus Christ, thou who
didst hush the tempest, hush all my
grief, hush all my temptation. hush all
my SIM"
/ learn once more from this subject
that Christ can lush a tempest. 1t
did seem as if everything must go to
ruin. The disciples had given up the
idea of managing the ship; the crew
were entirely demoralized; yet Christ
rises, and the storm crouches at his
feet. Oh, yes, Christ can hush the
tempest! You have had trouble. Per-
haps it was the little child taken away
from you-the sweetest child of the
household, the one who asked the most
curious questions n stood around
you with h greatest fondness. and
the spade cut down through your
bleeding heart. Perhaps it was an only
son, and your heart has ever since
been like a desolated castle; the owls
of the night hooting among the fallen
arches and the crumbling stairways.
Or all your property swept away, you
said: Il had so much bank stock; I
a so many government securities;
I had so many houses; 1 had so many
farms-all gone, all gone" Why, sir,
all the storms that ever trampled with
their thunders, all the shipwrecks,
have not been worse thai this to you.
Yet you have not been completely
overthrown. Why? Christ says: 81
have that little n in my keeping. I
can care for him as we'll as you can
better than you can, o bereaved moth
err" flushing the tempest. When
your property went away, God said,
EThere are treasures in heaven in
banks that never break" Jesus hush
ing the tempest.
There is n storm into which we will
all have to run. The when we
let go of this world and try to take
hold of the next, We will want all the
grace possible. Yonder I see a Chris
tan soul rocking on the SurgeS of
death. All the powers of darkness
seem let out against that Soul-the
Swirling wave, the thunder of the sky,
the Shrek of the wind, all seem to
unite together. But that soul is not
troubled. There is no signing, there
are no tears; plenty of tears in the
room at the departure, but he weepS
no ~tears-calm, satisfied and peaceful;
all is well. By the flash of the storm
you see the harbor just ahead, and you
are making for hat harbor. All shall
he we'll Iac1lS haioO orr pi1ot
Into the harbor of heaven now we
glide;
We're home at last, home at last.
Softly we drift on the bright, silv'ry
tide;
We're home at last.
Glory to God, we will shout evermore,
We stand secure On the glorified
Shorei
Glory to God, we will shout evermare,
We're home at last.
copyrighted, 1900, by Louis Klopsch.)