The semi-weekly messenger. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1897-1908, 1900-10-19

my eternal residence. ! love to watch
the clouds and to battle my sou. in the
blue sea of heaven, put / eXpecc when
the armament is rolled away as a scroll
to see a new heaven, grander, higher
and more glorious. You oughE to be
willing to exchange your body that has
headaches and side aches and weak
nesses innumerable, that limps with
the stone bruise Of testers with the
thorn or flames on the funeral pyre of
fevers, for an fncorruptible body and
an eye that blinks not before the jas
per gates and h great white throne.
But between that and this there is an
hour about which no man should be
reckless or ~foolhardy. / doubt not your
courage, but / tell you that you will
a something better than a strong
arm, a good aim and a trusty
when you come TO your last battle.
You will need a better robe than you
ave in your wardrobe to keep you
warm in that place.
Circumstances do not max so much
difference. 1t 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. 1t may be
spring, and your soul may go out
among the blossoms, apple orchards
swinging their censers in the way. Il
may be winter and the earth in a snow
shroud. 1t may be autumn n the tor
ests set on fire by the ~retreating year;
dead nature laid out in state. 1t may
be with our wife's hand in your hand
or you may be in a strange hotel with
a ervan faithful to the last. 1t may
be IN the rail train, shot off the switch
and tumbling in long reverberation
down the northumberland, crash
I know not the time; 1 know not the
mode, but the days Of our life are be-
ing subtracted away, and we shall
com down to the time when we have
but ten days left, then nine days, then
eight days, then " days, six days,
five days, four days, three days, two
days, one day. hen hours, three
hours, two hours, n hour. Then only
minutes left, five minutes, four minutes
three minutes, two minutes, one min
ute. Then only seconds, four seconds,
three seconds, two seconds, one second.
Cone The chapter of life ended, 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 a speaking
trumpet to the ear, but you could not
wake the deafness. No motion. No
throb. No life. Still! Still!
THE EVENING SHADOWS.
On earth with many of you the even
ing is the happieSt part of the "a hours.
You gather about the stan 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 is
is towar d~evening. So death m 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 n of heaven. What though
this earthly house does crumble? Jesus
has prepared a house Of many man
sions. Jesus is the anchor that always
holds. Jesus is the fountain that is
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 fllched. The
troubles of earth will end in the felici-
Ties OIL heaven. LOWdTQ evening. LIE
bereavements Of earth will % be lift
ed! You will not much longer stand
pouring you 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 lead march! To-
ward evening. Death will come, sweet
as slumber to the eyelids of the babe,
as full rations to 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 a CLASSY mirror; the forests
transfigured; delicate mists climbing
| the air. Your friends will announce it;
your pulses will beat it; our joys will
ring it; your lips will whisper it: To
ward evening"
| Copyright, 1900, by Louis Klopsch.)