The Grenada sentinel. [volume] (Grenada, Miss.) 1868-1955, 1902-05-10
This night thy soul shall be

! borne in upon his soul with crushin.
= defeat the words of Christ: "Wha'
, shall it profit a man if he gain tn,
whole world and lose his own soul?'
t Then he will realize that the realitie.
OF life are not to be compared :,
, the riches of Heaven to which til,
soul has access in Jesus Christ.
And SO with the pleasure seeker
The world is going mad in its quest
after diverting pastimes and exciting
pleasures. And is it ever satisfied.
Does it ever reach the point where II
can say l am content? Never! Like
the dope of the morphine eater, each
successive dose of pleasure must be
intensified in order to secure the de.
sired effect. Sodom and Gomorrah
of ancient time. and the more recent
examples of Rome and Greece, show
to what end the pleasure seekers are
tending.
But the secret of true happiness il
found in the acceptance of Gods Gift.
No tarnish ever dims the luster OF
that presence. No aching head and
shattered nerves ever come in the wake
of the happiness of dwelling in the
presence of Jesus. No anguish of soul
which leads so often to the suicides
grave ever brushes the soul with its
aftermath, when Christ is the salts
flying portion.
The potency of Gods Gift is felt in
every throb and being of life. Why
seek what the world can give when
Heaven was emptied that all earth,
and Heaven, too, might resound
throughout the ages with the praises
of the matchless Gift of God to men.
They who, with David, have said: "Ihad
rather be a doorkeeper in the House
of my God, than dwell in the palaces
of the wicked" are to-day rejoicing in
the realities of Heaven, while their
contemporaries who rejected the rule
of God over their hearts are awaiting
in darkness their eternal Punishment
from the Lord.
God has come down into the midst of
men and is holding out, to w~hosoever
will taken this Gift of eternal life
through Christ Jesus. what will you
do with Jesus, who is called the
Christi" How shall we escape il we
neglect so great salvation?" Now is
the accepted time, now is the day of
salvation" To-day, if you will hear
His voice, harden not your hearts"
l had occasion the other day to en-
ter the home where affection had
come. The father had gone to his work
as usual one morning. He kissed his
wife and two little boys a CHEEKY good
by and trudged off to work. With no
thought that a terrible accident was
impending, while the sun shone and
the fresh air spoke of coming spring,
and the birds echoed in glad notes the
feelings of reviving nature all about,
suddenly came the crash of cars, and
Papa lies over at the hospital" was
the story the sturdy little boy told
me in subdued tones when / called.
As l turned my way homeward pom
dering on the uncertainties of life and
repeating: "Yea, verify, while we are
in life we are in the midst of DEATH"
suddenly a tiny bird caught my eye
as he circled the tree higher and
higher seeking its food. Never a
thought but for the moment. Seeking
its complete joy and satisfaction in
the present moment. How like some
lives was hat of this little bird. Here
was life in all of its glad fullness. Not
a cloud in the sky to darken the
warming rays of the sun. Could it be
possible that only a few steps back
the way that I had come a sor-
rowing wife and tender children were
mourning the sudden accident to the
husband and father. All, friend, are
you counting on the morrow and the
that follow? Are you put
ting off the acceptance of this Gift Of.
fered you by God until a more conve-
nient season. How dare we risk the
eternal welfare of the soul in the face
or life's uncertainties? Why should
we delay when we gain all through
the Gift, and have nothing without
it?
As l neared my own door on that
Lords day. afternoon I saw my neigh
Dor standing in his doorway. "How
is the little girl?" I asked. The re.
port in the morning was that she was
better, and as I made the present in
quiry it was with the expectancy OF
good news of continued improvement,
as looked into the drawn features
Of the sorrow-stricken father, I real
his message, and "She is dead" nee.
to have been spoken.
Dead! What dread sound that word
has to the human heart. How we
shrink from the grim reaper. Oh, the
anguish of that home. If the finger of
God had reached out and touched
those cold lips and made them warm
with life, had put the light into the
eye and strength into the little wasted
limbs, what joy, what mad icy, would
rave shook the frames of the p. rents in
revulsive emotion. We reason thus
'fstntimes in our childish imaginings,
md fail to appreciate the sadder
the death of soul. Why. what
call death may be but the darkly
gateway which ushers into
eternal life of which we have been
speaking. Gods Gift, His only Begot-
ten Son, makes of death but a shadow.
md the soul can pass along the way
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