The Montgomery advertiser., 1901-10-06

mensity 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. Tor God Is spirit ana character and memory are inn mortal, and over that grave of a wrecked material universe might truthfully be written. The righteous shall be neld in everlasting remembrance" Time we defy thee! o Death, we stamp thee in Eternity, roll on till the last star has stopped rotating and the last sun Is eX- inguished on the sapphire pathway, and the last moon has tlluminod the last night, and as many years have passed as 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 any thing we have done to bring it to God and heaven!
 Craven on Gods Hands.
 There is another and a 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 a favor ite ship, perhaps the first one In which he ever sailed. You have seen soldier roll up his sleeve and show you his arm tattooed with the figure of fortress where he was garTisoned or the face of a great general under whom he fought. the face of loved one before or after marriage. This custom Of tattooing Is almost as old as the world. It Is some colored liquid punctured into the flesh so indelibly that nothing can wash 1t 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 hand. There can be no othe, meaning in the forty-ninth chapter of Isaiah, where God says, Behold. have graven thee on the palms of my hands, It was as much as to say: cannot you. I cannot spread abroad my hands to bless but I think of you. Wherever l go up and down the heavens l take these two pictures of you with. me. They are not lose them. As long as my hands last the memory of YOU will last. Not Dn the back of my hands. as though to announce you to others hrt on the palms of my hands for myself to look at and study and love. Though hold the winds In my list, 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 blllowing shall not wash out the record of my remembrance. Behold. have graven thee on the palms of my hands, "
 Eternal Remembrance.
 What joy, what honor. can there be comparable to that of being remembered by the hightiest and most anectlonate De, ing in the universe? Think Of ito hold an everlasting place in the heart or God; VI Ilc Ol CTOO- -A-N N' palace in the universe, Let the archan, gel build some palace as grand as that if he can. Let him crumble up all th stars of yesternight and tomorrow nlEht and put them together as mosaics Tor such a palace floor. Let him take all Tn sunrises and sunsets of all the days ami the auroraS of all the nights ana h9he them as upholstery at it's windows L@ him take all the rivers and all the lakes and all the oceans and toss them into tn fountains of this palace court. Let htn' take all the 2 ,ld of all the hi'ls ard han' it in it's chandeliers and all the pearls of all the seas and all the diamonds of Hll the fields and with them arch th" d0nrw9vs of that ralace ard the lhFlt" into all the r'orios that Esther ever s1" at a Persian harnnet or Daniel ever w'lE ed among in Bahvlonier castles or Jo' seph ev ,r witnessed in Pharaons thron" room and then yourself enter ulS F"Stla , of archangetc construction a,d sec TOW poor palace it is compared Wun the greater palNce that some Of vol. haN" a', ready found in the heart of 'nVinE Hn7 pardonng Cod and into whiHh all n serrnonic considerations of this day are irving to i1tr0duce you through the pi"ou of the slain Lamb. -
 Oh. where is oblivion now "Iou tu seemed when T began it has necofns something which no man or WMoIlla M " child who loves the Lord nee. 'He' O,,,i,.' Oblivion defeated Ohl'vtH" o"H" 'p"N ion sepulcharad Put I must no' ne e' hard on th9t d7vourine n1o"s'er, TOT 'nss' ., it's grave go a,l our s'rs when tNe Hri for Christ's sake has forgiven them. Inst hlow a resurrection trumpet oveTr nn .nern when once oblivion has snaTn@H ., In@m rHor, down. Not one of them rlses' ''toW again. Not a stir amid all the rardorea iniqUities of a Iifa-tirre Blow, ar7in. Not one of thern r1ovos. in the dee2 grave trenches But to this poverless r~s'errec- 1t ,s,, tion trun,net voice responds half hu- man. half divine. and it must he part man and part God saving. Iheir slns ana their iniouitfes will remember no more