The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1902-04-24
NO. g..

to make plaster large enough to heal
all your wounds? When child is hurt,
the mother is very apt to say to it:
''Now, it will soon feel better.'' And
that is what God says when he embos-
oms all our trouble in the hush of this
great promise: Weeping may endure
for night, but joy cometh in the
morning You may leave your pocket
handkerchief sopping wet with tears
on your death pillow, but you will go
up absolutely sorrowless. They will
wear black, you will wear white;
expresses for them, palms for you.
You will say: "Is it possible that I
am here? Is this Heaven? Am / so
pure now / will never do anything
wrong? Am so well that I will never
again be sick? Are these companion
ships SO firm that they will never again
be broken? Is that Mary? Is that
John? Is that my loved one put away
into darkness? Can it be that these
are the faces of those who lay SO wan
and emaciated in the back room that
awful night dying? Oh, how radiant
they are! Look at them! How radi-
ant they are! Why, how unlike this
place is from what I thought when
l left the world below. Ministers drew
pictures of this land, but how tame
compared with the reality! They told
me on earth that death was sunset.
No, no! 1t is sunrise! Glorious sun
rise! 1 see the light now purpling the
al ho
coming day"
Then the gates of Heaven will be
opened, and the entranced soul, with
the acuteness and power of the celes-
tial vision, will look thousands of miles
down upon the hammered procession, a
river of shimmering splendor, and will
cry out: "Who are they?" And the
angel of God, standing close by, will
say: "Do you not know who they
are?' NO." says the entranced soul.
81 cannot guess who they are" The
angel will say: 81 will tell you, then,
who they are. These are they who
came out of great tribulation, or
thrashing, and had their robes washed
and made white in the blood of the
lamb" ~
Would that could administer some
of these drops ofrelestial anodyne to
these nervous and excited souls. If
yon would take enough of it, it would
cure all your pangs. The thought that
you are going to get through with this
after awhile, all this sorrow and all
this trouble. We shall have a great
many grand days in Heaven, but l will
tell you which will be the grandest day
of all the million ages Of Heaven. You
say: "Are you sure that you can tell
me?" Yes, 1 can. 1t will be the day we
get there. Some say Heaven is growing
more glorious. I suppose it is, but
now is good enough for me.
History has no more gratulatory
scene than the breaking in of the Eng
lish army upon Lucknow, India. Afew
weeks before a massacre had occurred
at Cawnpur, and 260 women and chill
dren had been put into room. Then
five professional butchers went in and
slew them. Then the bodies Of the
slain were taken out and thrown into
a well. AS the English army came into
Cawnpur they went into the room, and,
oh, what horrid scene! Sword
strokes on the wall near the floor,
showing that the poor things had
crouched when they died, and they saw
also the floor was ankle deep in blood.
The soldiers walked on their heels
across it, lest their shoes be submerged
of the carnage. And on that floor of
blood there were flowing locks of hair
and fragments of dresses.
Out in Lucknow they had heard Of
the massacre, and the women were
waiting for the same awful death, wait
ing amid anguish untold, waiting in
pain and starvation, but waiting hero
ically, when, one day, Havelock and
Outram and Norman and Sir David
Baird and Peel, the heroes of the Eng
lish army-huzza for them!--broke in
on that horrid scene, and while yet the
guns were sounding, and while cheers
were issuing from the starving, dying
people on the one side and from the
travel worn and powder blackened sol
diers on the other, right there, in front
of the kings palace, there was sueha
scene of handshaking and embracing
and boisterous joy as would utterly
confound the pen Of the poet and the
pencil Of the painter. And no wonder,
when these emaciated woman, whohad
suffered so herocially for Christ's sake,
marched out from their incarceration,
one wounded English soldier got up in
his fatigue and wounds and leaned
against the wall and threw his cap up
and shouted: Three cheers, my boys,
for the bIc-ss women!" Yes, that was
an exciting scene. But gladder and
more triumphant scene will 1t be when
you come up into Heavenfrom the con-
f1icts and incarceration of this worln.
streaming with the wounds of battle
and wan with hunger, and while the
hosts of God are cheering their great
hosanna you will strike hands of con
graduation and eternal deliverance in
the presence Of the throne. On that
night there will be bonfres on every
hill of Heaven, and there will be illu-