The semi-weekly messenger. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1897-1908, 1901-10-01

heart Of God himself You have seen Z
sailor roll up his sleeve and show you
his arm tattooed with the figure of q
fayorite ship, perhaps the FIRST one IN
which he ever sailed. You have seen n
soldier roll up his sleeve and show you
his arm tattooed with the figure of n
fortress where he was garrissned or the
face Of a dead general under whom he
fought You have seen many a hand
tattooed with the face OF q loved one be-
fore or after marriage This custom Of
tattooing is almost as old as the world.
1t is some colored liquid punctured into
the flesh so indelibly that nothing can
wash It out 1t may have been there fifty
years, but when the man goes into his
coffin that picture Will go with him on
hard or arm. Now, God says that he
has tattooed Us upon his hands. There
car be no other meaning in the forty
ninth chapter Of Isaiah, where God says,
Behold, l have craven thee on the
PAINS Of my hands," 1t was as much as
to say: L cannot open my hand to help.
but L think Of you. 1 cannot spread
abroad my hands to bless, but 1 think OF
yor. Wherever / go up and down the
heavens l TAKE these two pictures of you
with me. They are so i~nwrought into
my being that I cannot lose them. As
loIs as my hands last the memory Of
you will last. Not on the back of my
hands, as though to you to 9TH
ers, but on the palms Of my hands for
myself to look at and study and love.
Though / hold the winds in my fist, no
cyclone shall uproot the inscription Of
your name and your face, and though I
hold the ocean in the hollow of my hand
its billowing shall mo- wash out the rec
ord OF my remembrance. Behold, / have
craven thee on the palms Of my hands!"
What JOY, what honor, a there be
comparable to that Of being remembered
by the mightiest and most affectionate
being in the universe? Think of it, to
hold an everlasting place in the heart Of
God! The heart Of God! The most beau
tiful palace in the universe. Let the
archangel build some palace as grand as
that if he can. Let him crumble up all
the stars of yesternight and tomorrow
night and put them together as mosaics
for such a palace floor. Let him take all
the sunrises and sunsets of all the days
and the auroras Of all the nights and
hang them up as upholstery at its win
dows. Let him take all the rivers and all
the lakes and all the oceans and toss
them into the fountains of this palace
court. Let him take all the gold of all
the hills and hang it in it's chandeliers
and all the pearls Of the seas and all the
diamonds of all the fields and with them
arch the doorways Of that palace and
then invite into all the glories that Es-
Their ever saw at q Persian banquet or
Daniel ever walked among in Baby
lonian castles or Joseph ever witnessed
in Pharaoh's throneroom and then your
self enter this palace of ~archangelic con-
struction and see how poor a palace it is
compared with the greater palace that
some Of you have already found in the
heart Of a loving and pardoning God and
into which all the music and all the
prayers and all the sermonic considera-
tions of this day are trying to introduce
you through the blood of the slain Lamb.
Oh, where is oblivion now? From the
dark n overshadowing word that it
seemed when | began it has become
something which no man or woman or
child who loves the Lord need ever fear.
Oblivion defeated. Oblivion dead. Obli-
WON sepulchered. But l must not be SO
hard on that ~dcvouring monster, for into
its grave so all u sir when the Lord
for Christ's sake has forgiven them.
Just blow q resurrection trumpet over
them when once oblivion has snapped
them down. Not one OF them rises. Blow
again. Not q stir amid all the %pardoned
iniquities Of a lifetime. Blow again. Not
one Of them moves in the deep grave
trenches. But to this powerless resurrec-
ton trumpet q voice responds, half hui
man, half d~evine, and it must be part
man and part God, saying, Their sins
and their iniquities will l remember no
more" Thank God for this blessed OBJ
livion. So you see I did not invite you
down into a cellar, but up IN a throne;
not into the graveyard to which all ma
terialism is destined, but into a garden
all a-bloom with everlasting remem-
brance. The frown of my first text has
become the kiss of the second text. An
Inhalation has become coronation. The
w%ringing hands of a great agony have
become the ~clappinG hands Of a great
joy. The requiem with which We began
has become the grand march with which
we close. The tear of sadness that rolled
down our cheek has struck the lip on
which sits the laughter Of eternal tri.
umph.
TCopyricht. 1901. Louis Elopsch, n. VI