The Montgomery advertiser., 1902-03-02
h all the anguish. of our heart The Man of Sorrows bore q part


 sword and with his other paw caught his shield. The man took his knife from his girdle and slew the beast. The King. sitting in the gallery. said: That was sword" Other lions were turned out, and the poor victim fell. You cry, shane! shameT at such meanness. But the King in this case Is our brother. and he will see that we have fair play. He win forbid the rushing out of more lions than we can meet. He will not suffer sus to be tempted above that we are able. Thank. God! The King Is in the galleryl His eyes are on us. His heart Is with us. Ills hand will deliver us. Blessed
 The Angels in the Gallery.
 I look again, and see tho angelic gallery. There they are-the angel that swunE the sword at. the gate of Eden, the same that Ezekiel saw upholding the throne of God, and from which look away, for the splendor Is insufferable. Here are the guardian angels. That one watched a patriarch; this one protected a child; that one has been pulling soul out of temptation! All these are messe1- kers of light! Those drove the Spanish armada on the rocks. This turned Sem nacherib's living host into heap or 1S5, 900 corpses. Those wonder chanted the Christmas carol over Bethlehem until the chant awoke shepherds. These at cre- ation stood in the balcony of Heaven
  ped in swaddling clothes of light. And there, holier and mightier than all, is Michael. the archangel. To command an earthly host gives dignity. but this one fs leader of the 20.000 chariots of God and of the ten thousand times ten 'thous- and angels. I think God gives com mand to the archangel. and the arch angel to the seraphim, and the seraphim to the cherubim, until all the lower or, ders of Heaven hear the command and forth on the high beheat.
 Now, bring on your lions! Who can fear? All the spectators in the angelic gallery are our friends. "He shall give in all thy ways. They shall bear thee up in all thy ways. They shall bear thee up in their hands lest thou dash> thy foot against a stone. Thou shalt tread upon the lion and adder; the young lion and foot" foe ~ ''
 Though the arena be crowded with temptations. we shall. with the angelic help, strike them down in the. name Of casses! O bending throng of bright an- gelic faces and swift wings and lightning foot. 1 hail you today from the dust and struggle of the arena!
 I look again, and I see the gallery of the prophets and apostles. Who are those mighty ones up wonder? Hosea and Jeremiah and Daniel and Isaiah and Paul and Peter and John and James. There sits Noah, waiting for all the world to come into the ark. and Moses vide. and Jeremiah, waiting for the Jews to return, and John of the apocalypse. waiting for the swearing of the angel that time shall be no longer. Glorious sprss onss were were .p h9wsS pon a rey been in this fight themselves. and they are all with us. Daniel knows all about lions. Paul fought with beasts at Eph-
 Help From the Prophets.
 In the ancient amphitheater the people got so excited that they would shout sn9 hs fasIss m sssn ]" !Re msa more m % stroke!' sLook out?' sFSli backE' "Huzza! Huzza!' So in that gallery prophetic and apostolic, they cannot keep will deliver thee from the mouth of the Hons!" David exclalms. He will not suffer thy foot to be moved! Isaiah calls out: Fear not! I am with thee! tory through our Lord Jesus Christ!' That throng of prophets and apostles cannot keep still. They make the welkin ring with shouting and halleluiahs.
 I look again. and see the gallery cf mer ne sars enough MaG H He 'Hs Would e not apa ogize for the truth he preached. and so he died. the night before swinging from the bedpost in perfect glee at the thought of emancipation. Who Is that army ol 6.666? They are the Theban legion who died for faith. Here is a larger host in magnificent array, sS4.000. who perished for Christ in the prosecutions of Diocle- tan. Wonder Is a family group, Felcitas of Rome and her children. While they were dying for the faith she stood en. couraging them One son was whipped to death by thorns; another was flung from rock: another was beheaded.l Al last the mother became martyr. There Heaven! Wonder is John Bradford. who said in the fire. We shall have a merry supper with the Lord tonight!' Wonder Is Henry Woes, who exclaimed as he died. If I had ten heads. they should, all fall off for Christi The great throng of the martyrs! They had hot lead poured down their throats: horses were fastened to their hands and other horses to their feet, and thus they were pulled apart they had their tongues pulled out by red hot pinchers; they were sewed up in the skins of animals and then thrown to the dogs; they were daubed with cornbusti- bles and set on fire. If all the martyrs stakes that have been kindled could be set at proper distances, they would make as monday! And now they sit wonder in the martyrs gallery. For them the fires of persecution have gone out; the swords are sheathed and the mob hushed. 4NOW they WdtCH us WLtH dn all OuSci it6 sympathy. They know all the pain. all the hardship. all the anguish, all the in justice, all the privation: They cannot keep still They cry: Courage! The fire will not consume; the floods cannot drown; the lions cannot devour. Courage down there in the arena!
 Some Eminent Spectators.
 What? Are they all looking? This hour we answer back all the salutadon they give and cry, Hail sons and daughters of the fire!''
 I look again. and I see another gallery that of eminent Christians What strikes me strangely is the mixing in companionship of those who on earth could not agree. There is Albert Barnes and around him the presbytery who
 A never dying soul to save
 And fit it for the sky!
 look again, and I 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 to the house of God in company. Have they forg otten us? Those fathers and mothers started us on the road of life Are they careless as to what becomes of us? And those children-do they look with stolid indifference as to whether we win or lose this battle of life? They remember the day they left us. 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, I See them rise ,s,1 lAn nd IIC