The semi-weekly messenger. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1897-1908, 1901-05-21

ing the full sorrows Of an orphan child
oh, her countenance haunts me today.
like some sweet face looking upon Us
through q horrid dream. On the other
side Of the pulpit were the men who hza
destroyed him. There they sat, hard vi
aged, some OF them pale from exhaustir
disease, some OF them flushed until
seemed as il the fires OF iniquity flame
through the cheek and cracked the Lip
They were the men who had done Il,
work. They were the men who hai
bound him hand and foot. They had XII
died the fires. They had poured Il
NORWOOD and gall into that orphan
up. Did they weep? No. Did the
sigh ~repentingly? No. Did they 50:
What a pity that such q brave ms
should be slain?" No, no; not one bloa
ed hand was lifted to wipe away a tea
from q bloated cheek. They sat al
looked at the coffin like vultures gain
at the carcass Of a lamb whose hear
they had ripped cut. I cried in their ear
as plainly as I could, There are a Goo
and a judgment day." Did they tremble,
Oh, no, no. They went back from the
house Of God. and that night, though
their victim lay in lakewood cemetery, !
was told that they blasphemed, and they
drank, and they gambled, and there wa
not one less customer in all the houses OF
iniquity. This destroyed man was o
Samson in physical strength, but Delilah
sheared him, and the Philistines of evil
companionship dug his eyes out and threw
him into the prison Of evil habits. But in
the hour of his death he rose up and took
hold Of the two pillared curses of God
against drunkenness and uncleanness
nnd fhrnD- hs1~1 E--- --At "
upon him and his companions there came
the thunders of an eternal catastrophe.
Delight In the Home Life.
Again, any amusement that gives you q
dlstaste for domestic life is bad. How
many bright domestic circles have been
broken up by sinful amusements. The
father went off, the mother went off, the
child went off. There are today the
fragments before me of blasted house
holds. Oh, if you have wandered away.
l would Xix to charm you back by the
sound of that one word, "home." Do
you not know that you have but little
more time to give to domestic welfare:
Do you not see, father, that your chill,
dren are soon to so out into the world.
and all the influence for good you are to
have over them you must have now
Death will break in On your conjugal re-
~lations, and alas if you have to stand
over the grave of one who persisted from
your neglect!
l saw a hayward husband standing at
the deathbed of his Christian wife, and
saw her point to a ring on her finger and
heard her say to her husband, "Do you
see that ring?" He replied, Yes. 1 see
it." WELL" said she, "do you remem-
Der who put it there?" YES" said he,
81 put it there" And all the past seem
ed to rush upon him. By the memory of
that day when, in the presence of men
and angels, you promised to be faithful
in joy and sorrow and in sickness and in
health; by the memory of those pleasant
hours when you sat together in your new
home talking Of a bright future; by the
cradle and the joyful hour When one life
was spared and another given; by thai,
sickbed, when the little one lifted W
the hands and called for help, and you
knew he must die, and he put one arm
around each Of your necks and brought
you very near together in that dying kiss;
by the little grave in the cemetery that
you never think of without a rush Of
tears; by the family Bible, where, amid
stories of heavenly love, is the brief but
expressive record Of births and deaths;
by the neglect of the past and by the
agonies Of the future; by a judgment day,
when husbands and wives, parents and
children, in immortal groups, will stand
to be caught up in shining array or to
shrink down into darkness-by all that
I beg you give to home your best af-
fections.
All, my friends, there is an hour com
ing when our past life will probably pass
before us in review. 1t will be our last
hour. If from our death pillow we have
to look back and see Il life spent in sin
full amusement, there will be a dart that
will strike through our soul sharper than
the dagger with which Virginius slew his
child. The memory of the past will maxi
us quake like Macbeth. The iniquities
and rioting through which we have pass
ed will come upon us. weird and skeleton
as Meg Merrilies. Death, the old Shy
lock, will demand and take the remaining
pound Of flesh and the remaining drop of
blood, and pom our last opportunity for
repentance and our last chance for heav
en- the curtain will forever drop.
copyright. 1901, by Louis Klopsch. N. u