Highland recorder. (Monterey, Highland County, Va.) 1877-1972, 1901-10-04
,vrecu the drenchfnG rain and the sharp

| Florence Nightingale!
It is not half as we'll on earth known
| that Christopher Wren planned and built
81. Paul's as it will be known in all heaven
that Won were the fundamentally of
building a temple for the sky. We teach
a Sabbath class, or put Christian tract
in the hand of passer-by, or testify for
Christ in prayer meeting, or preach
sermon and 20 home discouraged. as
though nothing had been accomplished,
when we had been character building with
a material that no frost or earthquake or
rolling of the centuries can damage or
bring down. go
Another defeat of Oblivion will be
found in the character Of those whom we
rescue. uplift or save. Character IS eter,
nal. Suppose by right influence we aid
in Transforming bad man into good
man, dolorous man into happy man,
dsheartened man into courageous man,
every stroke of that work done will be I'M
mortalized. There may never be so much
as one line in a newspaper regarding IT, OF
no mortal tongue may ever whisper 1t INTO
human ear, but wherever that soul shall
go Jour work upon it shall go, wherever
that soul rises your work on 1T Will rise,
and so long as that soul will last your
work on it will last. Do YOU suppose
there will ever come such an idiotic lapse
in the history of that soul in heaven that
it shall forget that YOU invited him to
work, turned him round from the wrong
way to the right way? No such insanity
will ever smte a heavenly citizen.
Oh, this character building! The struc.
ture lasting independent of passing CEN
turtles, independent of crumbling mauso-
leums, independent Of the whole planetary
system. Aye, if the material universe,
which seems all bound together like one
piece of machinery. should some day meet
with an accident that should send worlds
crashing into each other like telescoped
railway trains. and all the wheels of con-
stellations and galaxies should stop. and
suns and moons and stars should tumble
like the midnight express at Ashtabula,
that would not touch us and would not
hurt God, for God is a spirit and charac'
ter and memory are immortal, and over
that grave of wrecked material universe
might truthfully be written, 'The righte
Gus shall be held in everlasting remem-
brance." time, we defy thee! O death,
we stamp thee in the dust of thine own
sepulchers! o eternity. roll on till the last
star has stopped rotating and the last sun
is extinguished on the sapphire pathway,
and the last moon has ilumined the last
all the scribes that ever took pen could
describe by as many figures as they could
write in all the centuries of all time, but
thou shalt have no power to efface from
any soul in glory the memory of anything
we have done to bring it to God and
heaven!
There is another and more complete
defeat for oblivion. and that is in the
heart of God Himself. You have seen a
sailor roll up his sleeve and show you his
arm tattooed with the figure of favoritc
ship, perhaps the first one in which he
ever sailed. You have seen soldier roll
up his sleeve and show his arm tattooed
with the figure of fortress where he was
under whom he fought. You have seen
many hand tattooed with the face of a
loved one before OF after marriage. This
custom of tattooing is almost as old as the
world. 1t is some colored liquid pune
tured into the flesh so indelibly that moth
ing 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 hand or arm. Now. God says that
He has tattooed us upon His hands There
can be no other meaning in the forty-ninth
chapter of Isaiah where God says, BE.
hold. l have craven thee on the palms of |
Il cannot open My hand to help but L |
think of you. | cannot spread abroad My |
hands to bless but I think of you. Wher- |
ever 1 60 up or down the heavens l take
these two pictures of you with Me. They |!
are so inwrought into My being that / |
cannot lose them. As long as My hands ]
last the memory of you will last. Not on |
the back of Ny hands. as though to an
nounce you to others, but on. the palms
of My hands for Myself to look at and |
study and love. Though I hold the winds
in My fist, no cyclone shall uproot the in.
scription of your name and your face. and
Ny hand its billowing shall not wash out |
the record of Ny remembrance. Behold, |
| have craven thee on the palms of My |
hands,"
What joy what honor, can there be
to that of being remembered
by the mightiest and most affectionate
being in the universe? Think of ito
hold an everlasting place in the heart Of
God! The heart of God! The most beau
tiful palace in the universe. Let the arch
angel build some palace as grand as that
if he can. Let him crumble up all the
stars Of yasternight and tomorrow night
and put them together as mosaics for such
4 palace floor. Let him take all the sun
,uroras of all the nights and hang them
rs upholstery at its windows. Let him
lake all the rivers and all the lakes and
I'll the oceans and toss them into the foun
aims of this palace court.
Oh, where is oblivion now? From the
lark and overshadowing word that it
seemed when began it has become some.
hing which no man or woman or child
who loves the Lord need ever fear. OBJ
ivion defeated. Oblivion dead. Oblivion
jepulchered. But | must not be so hard
IN that devouring monster, for into its
grave 60 all our sins when the Lord for
Christ's sake has forgiven them. just
blow resurrection trumpet over them
lown. Not one of them rises. Blow
gain. Not stir amid all the pardoned
niquites of lifetime. Blow again! Not
me of them moves in the deep grave
renches. But to this powerless resurrec-
ion trumpet a voice responds half hui
nan, half divine, and it must be part man
md part God saying, Their sins and
heir iniquities will remember no more"
Thank God for this blessed oblivion. So
'ou see ] did not invite you down into
ellar, but up on throne; not into the
graveyard to which all materialism is des-
ined, but into a garden all abloom with
ny first text has become the kiss of the
econd text. Annihilation has become
cremation. The wringing hands of a
reat agony have become the clapping
lands Of great Joy. The requiem with
which we began has become the grand
march with which we close. The tear of
adness that rolled down cur cheek has
truck the lip on which sits the laughter
{ eternal triumph.