Connecticut western news., 1902-02-13

mountains and older than the stars.
 How men and women will lie! They say they are forty, but they are sixty. They say they are twenty, but they are thirty. They say they are sixty, but they are eighty. Glorious old age If found In the way of righteousness! How beautiful the old age of Jacob, leaning on the top of his staff; of John Quincy Adams, falling with the har- ness on; of Washington Irving, sitting, pen In hand, amid the scenes himself had made classical; of John AngeN James, to the last proclaiming the gos- pei to the masses of Birmingham; of Theodore Frelinghuysen, down to fec bleness and cancellation devoting his rlustrious faculties to the Kingdom of God. At eventide 1t was light!
 See that you do honor to the aged. A philosopher stood at the corner of the street day after day, saying to the pessersby: You will be an old man; you will be an old man. You will be an old woman; you will be an old wom- an." People thought that he was crazy. I do not think that he was. Smooth the way for that mothers feet; they have not many more steps to take. Steady those tottering limbs: they will soon be at rest. Flow not up that face with any more wrinkles; trouble and care have marked 1t full enough. Thrust no thorn into that old heart; 1t will soon cease to beat. 'The eye that mocketh its father and refuseth to obey it's mother the ravens of the valley shall pick 1t out, and the young eagles shall eat it." The bright morning and hot monday of life have passed with many It Is o'clock, o'clock, 6 o'clock! The shadows fall longer and thicker and faster. Seven o'clock, o'clock! The sun has dipped below the horizon; the warmth has gone out of the air. Nine o'clock, 10 o'clock The heavy dews are falling; the activities of life's day are all hushed; 1t Is time to go to bed. Eleven o'clock, 12 o'clock! The patriarch sleeps the blessed sleep the cool sleep, the long sleep. Heavens messengers of light have kindled bon fires of victory all over the heavens. At eyentime 1t is light. Light.
 The Latter Day of the Church.
  in the latter day of the church. Only few missionaries, few churches, few good men, compared with the in- stitutions leprous and purified. It is early yet in the history of everything good. Civilization and Christianity are just getting out of the cradle. The light of martyr stakes. flashing up and down tue sky is but the flaming of the morning, but when the evening of the world shall come, glory to Gods con quering truth, 1t shall be light. Wars sword changing back in the scabbard; lntemperance buried under ten thou sand broken decanters; the worlds i'm purity turning its brow heavepward for the benediction, Blessed are the pure In heart;" the last vestige of selfishness submerged in heaven descending chari- ties and China worshiping Dr. AbeePs Saviour; all India believing in Henry Martyn's Bible; aboriginal superstition acknowledging David Brainerd's piety; human bondage delivered through Thomas Clarkson's Christianity; va grancy coming back from it's pollution at the call of Elizabeth Fry's Redeem CT; the mountains coming down; the valleys going up; holiness" inscribed on horses ben, and silkworm's thread, | and brown thrasher's wing and shells | tinge, and manufacturers shuttle, and chemists laboratory, and kings scep l ter, and nations Magma Charta. Not a | hospital, for there are no wounds; not | an asylum, for there are no orphans; | not o nricnp fnr fhoro a ro m orimin a Ia | not an almshouse, for there are no l paupers; not tear, for there are no sorrows. The long dirge of earth's | lamentatfon has ended in the triumph. l al march of redeemed empires, the for l ests harping 1t on vine strung branch. | es. the water chanting 1t among the ! gorges, the thunders drumming il | among the hills, the ocean giving il | forth with its organs, trade winds touching the keys and Euroclydon'f foot on the pedal.
 l l want to see John Howard when the last prisoner is reformed; I want to see Florence Nightingale when the last saber wound has stopped hurting; | want to see William Penn when the last Indian has been civilized; want to see John Huss when the last flame of persecution has been extinguished
 I want to see John Bunyan after the 1 last pilgrim has come to the gate of the celestial city-above all, I want to oee Jesus after the last saint has hin throne and has begun to sing his tr1- umph.
 You have watched the calmness and the glory of the evening hour The la borers have come from the field; the heavens are glowing with an indescrib- able effulgence, as though the sun In departing had forgotten to shut the gate after 1t. All the beauty of cloud and leaf swims in the lake. For a star in the sky, star in the water; heaven above and heaven beneath. Not a leaf rustling or a bee humming or a grass hopper chirping. Silence in the mead
 ow, silence among the hills. Thus bright and beautiful shall be the even ing of the world. The heats of earthly conflict are cool; the glory of heaven
 fills all the scene with love, joy and
 peace. At eventime 1t is hght-light!
 FulalIment at the End.
 Finally, my text shall find fulfillment at the end of the Christians life You
 know how short winters day Is and
 how little work you can do. Now, my
 friends, life is a short winters day.
 The sun rises at 8 and sets at 4. The
 birth angel and the death angel fly
 only little way apart. Baptism and
 burial are near together. With one
 hand the mother rocks the cradle and
 with the other she touches a grave
 | went into the house of one of my partshioners on Thanksgiving day. The
 little child of the household was bright
 and glad, and with 1t I bounded up
 and down the hall. Christmas day
 came, and the light of that household
 had perished. We stood, with black
 book, reading over the grave, Ashes
 to ashes, dust to dust"