Connecticut western news., 1902-03-06
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 them will be their grave.
 What people want Is warmth. Many years ago a man was floating down on the Ice of the Merrimac. and great ef- forts were made to rescue him. Twice he got hold of plank thrown to him and twice he slipped away from 1t. be- cause that end of the plank was cover- ed with ice, and he cried out, For Gods sake, give me the wooden end of the plank this timer' and, this done, he was hauled to shore. The trouble is that in our efforts to save the soul there are too much coldness and icy formality, and so the imperiled one slips of and floats down. Give it the other end of the plank; warmth of sympathy, warmth of kindly associa- ton, warmth of genial surroundings. The world declines to give 1t and In many cases has no power to give 1t, and here Is where Christ comes in, and as on q cold day, the rain beating and the atmosphere full of sleet, the | hen clucks her chickens under her wings, and the warmth of her own | breast puts warmth into the wet feath- CTS and the chilled feet of the infant group of the barnyard. so Christ says to those sick and frosted and disgusted and frozen of the world: Come in out of the March winds of the worlds crit | icism, come in out of the sleet of the | worlds assault. come in out of world l that does not understand you and does not want to understand you. I will | comfort, and I will soothe, and I will | be your warmth, as hen gathereth l her chickens under her wing" Oh, the warm heart of God Is ready for all those to whom the world has given the cold shoulder.
 Christ Takes the Storm.
 But notice that some one must take l the storm for the chickens. An, the hen takes the storm. have watched her under the pelting rain. I have seen her in the pinching frosts- Almost | frozen to death or almost strangled in the waters, and what fight she makes for the young under wing if a dog or a hawk or a man come too near! And so the breeding Christ takes the storm for us. What flood of anguish and tears that did not dash upon his holy | pierce his yitals? What barking Ger berus of hell was not let out upon him | from the kennels? Yes, the hen takes the storm fer the chickens. and Christ takes the storm for us. Once the tenn pest rose so suddenly the hen could not get with her young back from the new ground to the barn. and there she Is under the fence half dead. And now | the rain turns to snow, and 1t Is an awful night, and In the morning the whiteness about the gills and the beak down in the mud show that the mother Is dead. and the young ones come out and cannot understand why the mother | does not scratch for them something to eat, and they walk over her wings and call with their tiny voices, but there Is no answering chuck. She took the storm for others and perished. Poor thingi Self sacrificing even unto deathl And does it not make you think of him who endured all for us? So the wings under which we come for spir- itual safety are blood spattered wings, are night shadowed wings, are tempest torn wings. In the Isle of Wight l saw the grave of Princess Elizabeth, who died while a prisoner at Caris, brook castle, her finger on an open Bi- ble and pointing to the words, Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.s Oh, come under the wings!
 But now the summer day is almost past, and the shadows of the house and barn and wagon shed have heightened. The farmer, with scy6le or hoe on shoulder, is returning from the fields. The oxen are unyoked. The horses are crunching the oats at the full bin. The air is bewitched of honeysuckle and wild brier. The milkman, pail in hand, is approaching the barnyard. The fowls, keeping early hours, are collect Ing their young. "Cluckv' "Cluckw ''Cluckr' And soon all the eyes of that feathered nursery are closed. The bachelors of the winged tribe have as- cended to their perch, but the hens, in a motherhood divinely appointed, take all the risk of slumber on the ground, and all night long the wings will stay outspread, and the little ones will not utter sound. Thus at sundown, loving ly, safely, completely, the hen broods her young. So, if we are the Lord's s, the even- ing of our life will come. The heats of the day will have passed. There will be shadows, and we cannot see as far. The work of life will be about ended. The hawks of temptation that lowered in the sky will have gone to the woods and folded their wings. Sweet silences will come. The air will be redolent with the breath of whole arbors of promises sweeter than Jasmine or even- ing primrose. The air may be little chill, but Christ will call us, and we will know the voice and heed the call, and we will come under the wings for the night, the strong wings, the soft wings, the warm wings, and without fear and in full sense of safety, and then we will rest from sundown to sun- rise, "as hen gathereth her chickens under her wing"
 Dear me! How many souls the Lord hath thus broodedl Mothers, after watching over sick cradles and then watching afterward over wayward sons and daughters, at last themselves taken care of by. a motherly God. Business men. after a lifetime strug- gling with the uncertainties of money markets and the change of tariffs and the underselling of men who because of their dishonesties can afford to un- dersell, and years of disappointment and struggle, at last under wings where nothing can perturb them any more than can a bird of prey which Is ten miles off disturb a chick at mid night brooded in barnyard.
 Under the Divine Wings.
 My text has Its strongest application for people who were born in the coun- try, wherever you may now live, and that is the majority of you. You can not hear my text without having all the rustic scenes of the old farmhouse come back to you. Good old days they