Milford chronicle. [volume] (Milford, Del.) 1878-1974, 1902-02-28


court that denounced him! Stranger
than all, there are John Calvin and
James Arminius! Who would have
thought that they would sit so lovingly
together? There are George Whitefeld
and the ministers who would not let
him come into their pulpits because
they thought him a fanatic. There are
the sweet singers Toplady, Montgom-
cry, Charles Wesley, Isaac Watts and
Mrs. SigOurney. If heaven had had
no music before they went up, they
would have started the singing. And
there the band Of missionaries-Davi
Abeel, talking of China redeemed; and
John Scudder, of India saved; and Da-
vid Brainerd, of the aborigines evan
gelized; and Mrs. Adoniram Judson.
whose prayers for Burma took heaven
by violence All these Christians are
looking into the arena. Our struggle is
nothing to theirsi Do we in Christ's
cause suffer from the cold? They walk
ed Greenland's icy mountains. Do we
suffer from the heat? They sweltered
in tropics. Do we get fatigued? They
tainted, with none to care for them but
cannibals. Are we prosecuted? They
were mathematical. And as they look
from their gallery and see us falter in
the presence of the lions seem to hear
Isaac Watts addressing us in his old
hymn, only little changed:
Must you be carried to the skies
On fiowery beds of ease
While others fought to win the prize
Or sailed through bloody seas?
Toplady shouts in his old hymn:
Your harps ye trembling saints,
Down from the willows take;
Loud to the praise Of love divine
Bid every string awake.
While Charles Wesley, the Method
list, breaks forth in words a little va
ried:
A charge to keep you have,
God to glorify,
never dying soul to save
And fit it for the sky!
look again, and | see the gallery of
our departed. Many of those in the
other galleries we have heard of. but
these we knew. Oh, how familiar their
faces! They sat at our tables. and we
walked 10 the house of God in COM
pany. Have they forgotten us? Those
fathers and mothers started us on the
road Of life. Are they careless as to
what becomes of us? And those chill
dren-dO they look with stolid indiffer-
ence as to whether we win or lose this
battle Of life? They remember the day
they left u.s. They remember the agony
of the last farewell. Though years in
heaven, they know our faces. They
remember our sorrows. They speak
our names. They watch this fight for
heaven. Nay. l see them rise up and
lean over and wave before us their
recognition and encouragement. That
gallery is not full. They are keeping
places for us. After we have slain the
lion they expect the King to call us,
saying, Come up higherw Between
the hot struggles in the arena l wine
the sweat from my brow and stand on
uptoe, reaching up my right hand to
clasp theirs in rapturOus handshaking,
while their voices come ringing down
from the gallery. crying, "Be thou
faithful unto death, and you shall have
CROWN
The Gaze of the Universe.
But here l pause. overwhelmed with
the majesty and the joy of the scene!
Gallery of the King! Gallery of an
gels! Gallery of prophets and apostles!
Gallery of martyrs! Gallery of saints!
Gallery of friends and kindred! o
majestic circles of light and love!
Throngs, thrOngs throngs! How shall
we stand the gaze of the universe?
Myriads of eyes beaming on us! Myr-
lads of hearts beating in sympathy for
us! How shallwe ever dare to sin again?
How shall we ever become discouraged
again? How shall we ever feel lonely
again? With God for us and angels
for us and prophets and apostles for
US and the great souls of the ages for
US and our glorifed kindred for US
shall we give up the fight and die?
No, Son of God, who didst die to save
us! No, We angels, whose wings are
spread forth to shelter us! No, We
prophets and apostles, whose warnings
startle us! No, We loved ones. whose
arms are Outstretched to receive US!
B ANOf w W III lANNNL buIIGuuGIs
Sure must fight if I would reign,
Be faithful to my Lord,
And bear the cross, endure the pain,
Supported by thy word.
Thy saints in all this glorious war
Shall conquer though they die;
They see the triumph from afar
And seize it with their eye.
When that illustrious day shall rise
And all thine armies shine
In robes of victory through the skies,
! The glory shall be thine
My hearers, shall we die in the arena
or rise to join our friends in the gal
lery? Through Christ we may come
off more than conquerors. A soldier
dying in the hospital rose up in bed the
last moment and cried, Here, herew
His attendants put him back on his pill
low and asked him why he shouted
"Here" "Oh, l heard the roll call Of
heaven, and 1 was only answering to
my namew 1 wonder whether after
this battle of this life is over our
names will be called in the muster roll
of the pardOned and glorifed and, with
the joy of heaven breaking upon our
souls, shall cry, Here, herep'
copyright, 1902. Louis Klopsch, N. VI