The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1900-04-04
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before him. and he sings with his soul.
He huns his grandchild asleep with the
same tune he sang forty years ago in the
old country meeting house. Some day the
choir sings a tune so old that the young
people do not know it, but it starts the
tears down the cheek Of the aged man,
| for it reminds him Of the revival scene in
| which he participated and Of the radiant
| faces that long since went to dust and Of
| the gray haired minister leaning over the
pulpit and sounding the good things Of
! great JOY.
| / was one Thanksgiving day III my pull
| pit in Syracuse, and Rev. Daniel Waldo
at 9S years of age, stood beside me. The
| choir sang tune. | said, Il am sorry
| they sang that new tune; nobody seems
to know it, BLESS you, my son." said
the old man, Il heard that seventy years
| ago"
There was song to-day that touched
the life Of the aged with holy fire and
kindled glory on their vision that your
younger eyesight cannot see. 1t was the
song OF saivation--Jesus, who fed them
all their lives long; Jesus, who: wiped
away their tears; Jesus, who stood by
them when all else failed; Jesus, in whose
name their marriage was consecrated and
whose resurrection has poured light upon
the graves of their departed. DO you
know me?" said the wife to her aged hus-
band who was dying, his mind already
| having gone out. He said, NO" And
the son said Father, do you know me?'
/ He said, No The daughter said,
| Father, do you know me?' He said,
no" The minister of the gospel stand
/ ing by said, do you know Jesus!' ''Oh,
yes" he said, Il know him. chief among
| 10000, the one altogether lovely:" Bless
ed the Bible in which specialized old age
| reads the promise, Il will never leave
you, never forsake your Blessed the
staff on which the wornout pilgrim tot
| ters on toward the welcome of his Re-
deemer! Blessed the hymn book in which
the faltering tongue and the failing eyes
| find Jesus, the old mans song. When
my mother had been put away for the
resurrection, we, the children, came to
the old homestead, and each one wanted
to take away q memento of her who had
loved us so long and loved us so WELL L
think l took away the best of all the
mementoes; it was the old-fashoned,
round glass spectacles through which she
but they were too old for me, and L
could not see across the room. But
through them I could see back to child
hood and forward to the hills of heaven,
where the ankles that were stiff with age
have become timber again, and the spirit,
with restored eyesight. stands in rapt ex-
ultation, crying, This is heayen"
Words of Peace.
/ speak TO you again of Jesus as the
night song. JOB speaks of him who Civ
eth 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 insthe night L want
to sing the praise Of Jesus and to get
down and pray. Then l 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 an
other 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
borrow the fold from another midnight to
wrap itself in more undesirable darkness,
but Christ has spoken peace 20 your
heart and you sing:
Jesus, lover Of my Sonl,
Let me to thy bosom fly.
While the pillows near me roll,
While the tempest still is high.
Hide me. 0 my Savior Hide
Till 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 cheerful word. Yet songs in the
night. For the poor, who freeze in the
winters cold and sweter in the summers
heat and MUNICH the hard crusts that
bleed the sore gums and shiver under
blankets that cannot any longer be patch
ed 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 fam
ished ones, ooh. my God, flour has gone
up. Let songs III TIC night. songs IN
the night! For the widow who goes to
get the back pay Of her husband, slain by
the ''sharpshooters," and knows it is the
last help she will have, moving out of
comfortable home in desolaton, 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 SOL
der 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
grooming of others poured into his own
groan, the blasphemy of others blowing
up his own spirit, the condensed bitter
ness of dying away from home among
strangers. Yet songs in the night: Songs
in the night. "Ah," said one dying sol
der. "tell my mother that last night
there was not one cloud between my soul
and Jesus" Songs in the night. Songs
in the night!
Jesus Everywhere.
This Sabbath day came. From the al
tars Of 10000 churches has smoked up