The Calhoun chronicle. [volume] (Grantsville, W. Va.) 1883-1984, 1901-11-26

Samaritan with medicamsnt of oil and
wine and free ride TO the hostclry? Have
the English soldiers who went up TO God
from the Crimean battle6elds forgotten
Florence Nightingale?
IL is not half "a well on earth known
that Christopher Wren planned and built
ST. PauPs as it will be known in all heaven
that YOU were the fundamentally of
building temple for the sky. We teach
a Sabbath class, or put n Christian tract
IN the hand OF a passer-by, or testify for
Christ in a prayer meeting, or preach
sermon and go 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.
Another defeat of Oblivion will be
found in the character of those whom we
nal. Suppose by right influence we aid
in transforming a bad man into a good
man, n dolorous man into a happy man, a
disheartenod man into n courageous man.
every stroke of that work done will be inn
mortalizcd. There may never be so much
as one line in a newspaper regarding il or
no mortal tongue may ever whisper it into
human ear, but wherever that soul shall
go your work upon il shall 60. wherever
that soul rises your work on nc will rise,
and so long as that soul will last your
work on it will last Do YOU suppose
thGre will ever come such an idiotic lapse
in the history of that soul in heaven that
1t shall forget that you invited him to
Christ; that YOU, by prayer or gospel
work. turned him round from the wrong
way TO the right way? No such insanity
will ever smite a heavenly citizen.
Oh, this character building! The struc.
ture lasting independent of passing cen
turies, Independent of crumbling mauso-
leums, independent of the whole planetary
system. Ave, If the material universe,
Nyh oil 4 To-
piece of machinery. should some day meet
with an accident that should send worlds
crashing into each other like teescoped
railway trains. and all the wheels of con-
stellatlons and CalaXies should stop. and
down into one chasm of immensity all the
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 n spirit and charac-
ter and memory are immortal. and over
that grave Of a wrecked material universe
might truthfully be written. The riChte-
GUS shall be held in everlasting remcm-
brance." O time, we defy theel death
we stamp thee in the dust of thine own
ScpulchcrS! O eternity roll on till the last
star has stopped rotating and the last sun
is distinguished on the sapphire pathway,
and the last moon has illumined the last
night, and rs many years have passed as
all the ecribes that ever took pen could
describe by as many figures as they could
write in oil the centuries of ell time, but
thou shalt have no power to cfface from
any soul in glory the memory OF anything
we have done to bring it to God and
heaven!
There is another and a more complete
defeat for oblivion, and that is in the
heart OF God Himself. You have seen n
sailor roll up his sleeve and show YOU his
arm tattooed with the figure of a favorite
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 a fortress where he was
garrisoned or the face of a great general
under whom he fought. You have seen
many a hand tattooed with the face of a
loved one before or 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 car. wash 1t out. 1T may have been
there fifty years. but when the man goes
into his coffin that picture will 60 with
him on hand or arm. Now. God says that
lie has tattooed us upon His hands. There
can be no other meaning in the forty-ninth
chapter of Isaiah. where God says, "Be-
hold; have craven thee on the palms of
My hands" 1t was as much as to say
Il cannot open Ny hand to help but
think OF You. | cannot spread abroad MY
hands to bless but | think of you. Wher-
ever i go up or down the heavens / take
these two pictures of you with Me. They
cannot lose them. AS long as Ny 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 / hold the winds
in My fist no cyclone shall upToot the in
scription of your name and your face, and
though ] hold the ocean in the hollow of
My hand its billowing shall not wash out
the record of Nv remembrance. Behold,
I how ho. . e
hands
What Joy, what honor. can there be
comparable 70 chat 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
tltul 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 yesternight and tomorrow night
and put them together as mosaics for such
a. palace floor. Let him take all the sun
rises and sunsets of all the days and the
Euroras OF all the nights and hang them
as upholstery at its windows. Let him
take all the rivers and all the lakes and
all the oceans and toss them into the foun-
tains of this palace court.
On, where is oblivion now? From the
dark and overshadowing word that it
seemed when l began it has become some
thing which no man or woman or child
who loves the Lord need ever fear. Oh.
livion defeated. Oblivion dead. Oblivion
sepuchered. But l must not be so hard
on that devouring monster, for into its
grave go all our sins when the Lord for
Christs sake has forgiven them. just
blow q resurrection trumpet over them
Rhen once oblivion has snapped them
blown. Not one of them rises Blow
again. Not a stir amid all the pardoned
1niquities of lifetime. Blow again. Not
one of them moves in the deep grave
trenches. But to this powerlcss resurrec-
ton trumpet a voice responds half hui
man, half divine, and it must be part man
and part God, saying, Their sins and
their inlquties will remember no more"
Thank God for this blessed oblivion. So
you see ! did not invite you down into a
cellar, but up on a throne; not into the
graveyard to which all materialism IL des-
tined, but into a garden all abloom with
everlasting remembrance. The frown Of
my first text has become the kiss of the
second text. Annihilation has become
coronation. The wringing hands of a
great agony have become TIE clappinQ
hands OF great JOY. The requiem with
which we began has become the grand
tmarch with which we close The tear Of
sadness that rolled down our cheek has
struck the lip on which sits the laughter
Of eternal triumph,