The Camden chronicle. (Camden, Tenn.) 1890-current, 1902-03-28

In oli the anguish OF our heafb
The Man Of Sorrows bore a part.
Once in the ancient amphitheatre a lion
with one paw caught the combatantf
sword and with his other paw caught his
shield. The man took his knife from his
grdle and slew the beast. The king, sit
ting in the gallery, said That was not
fair. The lion must be slain by a sword "
Other lions were turned out, and the poor
victim fell You cry, "Shame shamei" at
such meanness. But the King in this case
is our brother, and He viii see that we
have fair play. He will forbid the rushing
out Of moro lions than we can meet. He
will not suffer us to be tempted above that
we are able. Thank Godl The King is IN
the gallery His eyes are on US His heart
il with as. His hand viii deliver us.
Blessed are they who put their trust in
Him"
1 look again and see the gallery Of the
martyrs. Who is that? Hugh Latimer,
sure enough lie woald not apologize for
the truth he preached, and so he died, the
night before swinging from the bedpOst IN
perfect glee at the thought of emancipa-
ton. Who is that army of 6666? They are
che Theban legion who died for the faith.
Here is a larger host in magnificent array,
884 900, who persisted for Christ in the
prosecutions Of Diocletian. Yonder is a
family group, Felicitas, of Rome, and her
children. While they we're dying for the
faith she stood encouraging them. One
son was whipped to death by thorns; an
other was flung from a rock; another was
beheaded. AT last the mother became
martyr. There they are together, family
group in heaven! Yonder is John Brad
ford who said in the FIRE, eve shall have
a merry supper with the Lord tonight"
Yondsr is Henry Woes, who exclaimed as
he died, "u l had ten heads, they should
all fall of for Christi" The great throng
Of the martyrsl 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 pincers; they were sewed up in the
skins Of animals and then thrown to the
dogs; they were daubed with combustibles
and set on fire! If all the martyrs stakes
that have been kindled could be set at
proper distances they would make the mid
night all the world over bright as noon
day And now they sit yonder in the mar
tyrs' gallery.
For them the fires of persecution have
gone out; the swords are sheathed and the
mob hushed. Now they watch us with an
p
the pain, all The hardship, all the anguish,
all the injustice. all the privation. They
cannot keep still. They cry: Courage!
The fire will not consume; the foods can
not drown; the lions cannot devour. Cour-
age down there in the arena!"
What? Are they all looking? This hour
we answer back the salutation they give
and cry, Hail, sons and daughters of the
6reW
I look again and I see another gallery
that of eminent Christians What strikes
/ look agcin and / 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 for
gotten 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 stold
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 re-
member our sorrows They speak our
names. They watch this fight for heaven.
Nay, / see them rise up and lean over and
wave before us their recognition and en-
couragement. That gallery is not full.
They are keeping places for us. After we
have slain the hon they expect the King
to call us, saying, Come up higher"
Between the hot struggles in the arena
/ wipe the sweat from my brow and stand
on tiptoe, reaching up my right hand to
clasp theirs in rapturous handshaking,
while their voices come ringing down from
the gallery, crying BE thou faithful unto
Jnafh nd vO,y shall bovn cYo1sypt
But here l pause, overwhelmed with the
majesty and the joy of the scene! Gallery
of the King! Gallery of angels! Gallery
of prophets and apostles! Gallery of mar
tyrs! Gallery of saints! Gallery of friends
and kindred! o majestic circles of light
and love! Throngs, throngs, throngs!
How shall we stand the gaze of the uni
verse? Myriads of eyes beaming on us!
Myriads of hearts beating in sympathy for
us! How shall we ever dare to sin again
How shall we ever become discouraged
again? How shall we ever feel lonely
again? With God for us and angels for us
and prophets and apostles for us and the
great souls of the ages for us and our glo-
rified kindred for us-shall we give up the
irht and die? No. Son of God. who didN,
me strangely is the mixing in companion
ship of those who on earth could not agree.
There is Albert Barnes and around him
the presbytery who tried him for hetero-
doxyl Yonder are Lyman Beecher and
the church court that denounced him!
Stranger than all, there are John Calvin
and James Arminius! Who would have
thought that they would sit so lovingly to-
gether? There are George Whitefeld and
the ministers who would not let him come
into their pulpits because they thought
him a fanatic. There are the sweet sing
ers Toplady, Montgomery, Charles Yves.
ley, Isaac Watts and Mrs Sigourney II
heaven had had no music before they went
up, they would have started the singing
And there the band Of missionaries
David Abeel, talking of China redeemed
and John Scudder. Of India saved; and
David Brainerd, of che aborigines evan
gelized; and Mrs. Adoniram Judson
whose prayers for Burma took heaven by
violence All these Christians are looking
- L. Il = -