The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1900-04-06

lamb safely anyhow, whether you have
been faithful or unfaithful, but would
it not have been pleasanter if you could
have heard from those lips he praises
of Christ? | never read anything more
beautiful than this about a child's de-
parture: The account sad "She fold
ed her hands, kissed her mother good
by, sang her hymn, turned her face to
the wall, said her little prayer and then
died"
Oh If | 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 doxologiesl 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 eyeld she thought it
was evening and time to go to bed and
so she said: Good night, papa! Good
night, mammal" and then she was
| gone! IL was n 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. I can think of no cradle song
more beautiful than Jesus.
next speak Of Christ as the old
mans song. Quick music loses it's
charm for the aged ear. The school
girl asks for schottish or a glee but
her grandmother asks for a "Balerma"
orthe Portuguese Hymn" Fifty years
of trouble have tanned the spirit, and
the keys of the music board must have
n solemn tread. Though the voice may
be tremulous. so that grandfather will
not trust il in church, still he has the
psalm book open before him, and he
sings with his soul. He huns his
grandchild 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-
pie do not know it. but il starts the
tears down the cheeks of the aged man.
for it reminds him of the revival sceae
in which he Participated and of the ra-
diant faces that long since went to
dust and of the gray-haired minister
leaning over the pulpit and sounding
the good tidings of great joy.
speak to you again of Jesus as the
night song. Job speaks of him who
giveth songs in the night. John
WEIGH, the old Scotch minister. used
to put a plaid across his bed on cold
nights, and some one asked him why
he put that there. He said: sob,
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 Dor
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 fy
While the pillows near me roll,
While the tempest still is high.
Hide me- o my Saviour! 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 tho
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 shivcr
under blankets that cannot any long
err 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, flour
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 a
comfortable home in desolation. death
turning back from the eNhausting
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 grooming of others poured into
his own gToan, the blasphemy %
others blowing up his own spirit, tuc
dane