The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1900-10-24


nnuucbanpeable. nut nee But you see that life i:
ehhing. and the grave will soon hide hel
from Tcur sight. You sit quiet; yoI feel
heavy hearted. The light is fading from
the Sky; the air is chill. 1t is toward
evening.
You mad a considerable estate and felt
independent. In five minutes on one fair
balance sheet you could see just how you
stood with the world. But there came
complications. Something that you i'm
agined impossible happened. The best
friend you had proved traitor to your IN
terests. A sudden crash OF national mis-
fortune Frustrated your credit. You may
to-day be going on in business, but you
feel anxious about where you are stand
ing, and fear that the next turn OF the
commercial wheel will bring you prostrate.
You foresee what you consider certain
defalcation; you think of the anguish OF
telling your friends that you are not
worth a dollar; you know not how you
will eve- bring your children home from
school,; you wonder how you will STAND
the selling of your library oi :he moving
into palmer house, The mlstortunes OF OF
life have accumulated. You wonder what
makes the sky so dark. 1t is toward
evening.
Trouble is an apothecary that mixes 2
great many drafts, bitter and sour ana
nauseous, and you must drink some one
of them. Trouble puts up great maI4
packs, and you must carry some one o,
them. There is no sandal so thick ana
well adjusted but some thorn will str1ks
through it; there is no sound so sweet but
the undertaker's screw-driver CRATES
through it. In this swift shuttle OF the
heart some of the threads must break.
The Journey from Jerusalem to Emmaus
will soon be ended. Our Bible, our COM
mon sense, our observation, reiterate IN
tones that We cannot mistake and ought
not to di4egard-it is toward evening.
The words of the text are pertinent to
US all from the fact that we are nearing
the evening of death. l have heard 1T
said that we ought to live as though each
moment were to be our last. l do not be-
lieve that theory. AS far as preparation
is concerned we ought always to be ready,
but we, cannot always be thinking or
de&hx for we have duties in Life that de-
maf1dsour attention. -.
When al man is selling goods it is his
business to think of the bargain ne IS
making; when a man is pleading in the
courts, it is his duty to think of the IN
terests of his clients; when a clerk is add.
ing up accounts it is his duty to keep his
mind upon the column of figures. He VINO
fills I'D his life with thoughts of death ls
far from being the highest style Of Chris
tian. I knew a man who used often to
saw at night, "I wish l might die before
morning!" He is now an intidel. :,
But there are times when we can and
ought to give ourselves to the contempia-
ton of that solemn moment when to the
soul time ends and eternity begins. Wemust
20 through that one pass, There ls no
roundabout way, no bypath, no circuitous
route. Die we must, and it will be to us
a Shameful occurrence or time of admir-
able behavior. Our friends may stretch
out their hands to keep us back, but no
impioratlon on their part can hinder us.
They might offer large retalners, but
death would not take the fee: The breath
will fail, and the. eyes will close, and the
heart will stop. You may hang the couch
with gorgeous tapestry, but what does
death care for bed curtains? You may
hans the room with the finest works OF
art. but what does death care for pictures!
You may fill the house with the wailings
of widowhood and orphanase. Does death
mind weeping?
Listen to Paul's battle shout with mis-.
fortune, hark to mounting Latlmer's hre
song; look at the glory that hath reft the
dungeon and filled the earth and heavens
with the crash of the falling .manacles of
despotism and then look at those who
have tried to cure themselves by human
attempting to heal gan
creme with patch of court plaster and to
stop the plague of dying empires with the
uuackery of earthly wisdom. Nothing can
speak peace to the SOU, nothing can un-,
strap our crushing burdens, nothing can
overcome our spiritual foes, nothing can
open our eyes to see the surrounding
horses and chariotS OF salvation that MI
all the mountains but the voice and com.
mand of Him who stopped one night at
Emmaus. 49,
You ought to be willing to exchange
YOUR body that has headaches and side
aches and weaknesses innumerable, that
limps with the stone bruise or testers with
the thorn or flames on the funeral pyre
of fevers. for an incorruptible body and an
eve that blinks not before the jasper gates
and the great white throne. But between
that and this there is an hour about which
no man should be reckless or toolhardy.
I doubt not your courage, but l tell you
that you will want something better than
a strong arm, good aim and a trusty
sword when YOU come to your last battle.
You will need better robe than any you
have in your wardrobe to keep you warm
in that place.
Circumstances do not make so much dif-
ference 1t may be bright day when you
push off from the planet, or it 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. 1t may be winter and the earth
in a snow shroud. It may be autumn and
the forests set on fire by the retreatlng
year-dead nature laid out in state. 1t
may be with your wife's hand in your
hand, or you may le in strange hotel,
with servant faithful to the last. 1t
may be in the rail train, shot OF the
switch and tumbling in long reverberatlon
down the embankment-crash, crash!
I know not the time, know not the
mode, but the days of our life are being
subtracted away, and we, shall come down
to the time when we. have but ten days
left, then nine days, then eight days, then
seven days, six days, FIVE days., four days,
three days, two days, one day. Then
hours,-three hours, two houls, one hour.
Then only minutes left-tive minutes, four
minutes, three minutes, two mlnute9 one
minute. Then only seconds left-four Sec
onds, three seconds, two seconds, one sec.
ond. Gone! The chapter of life ended!
The book closed! The pulses at rest! 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
et;lI All still You might. nut the steth-
oscope to breast and hear no sound. You
might put speaking trumpet to the ear
but YOU could not wake the deafness. No
motion. No throb. No life. Still! Still!
On earth with many of you the evening
L. laaa;nrt MORT of the twen tu.fnmr