The Grenada sentinel. [volume] (Grenada, Miss.) 1868-1955, 1902-03-01

son, whose prayers for Burma tool
heaven by violence! All these Chris
tians are looking into the arena
Our struggle is nothing to theirsl
Do we in Christ's cause suffer from
the cold? They walked Greenland's
Icy mountains. Do we suffer from
the heat? They sweltered in trop'
les. Do we get fatigued? They faint
ed, with none to care for them but
cannibals. Are we prosecuted? They
were mathematical. And as they
look from their gallery and see us
falter In the presence of the lions
| seem to hear Isaac Watts address.
ing us in his old hymn, only a little
changed:
Must ycu be carried to the skies
On fowery beds of ease
while others fought to win the prize
Or sailed through bloody seas?
Toplady shouts in his old hymn:
Your harps. we trembling saints,
Down from the willows take:
Loud to the praise of love Irvine
Bid every string awake.
While Charles Wesley, the Metho-
dist, breaks forth in words q little
varied:
A charge to keep you have,
A God to glorify,
A never dying soul to ave
And fit 1t for the sky!
Hook again, and l 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 com
pany. Have they forgotten us? Those
fathers and mothers started us on the
road of life. Are they careless as to
what becomes of us? And those chill.
dren-do they look with stolid indiffer-
nee 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
remember our sorrows. They speak
our m They watch this fight for
Heaven. Nay, / see them rise up and
lean over and wave before us their
recognition and encouragement. That
gallery is not full. They are keeping
places for us. After we have slain the
lion 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 ha~ndshaking,
while their voices come ringing down
from the gallery, crying: BE thou
faithful unto death, and you shall have
a crown!"
But here I pause, overwhelmed with
the majesty and the Joy of the scene!
Gallery of the King! Gallery of n
gels! Gallery of prophets and apos-
ties! Gallery of martyrs! Gallery Of
saints! Gallery of friends and kindredl
o majestic circles of light and love!
Throngs, throngs, throngs! How shall
we stand the gaze of the universe?
Myriads of eyes beaming on us! Myri-
ads of hearts beating in sympathy for
us! How shall we ever dare TO sin
again? How shall we ever become dis
couraged again? How shall we ever
feel lonely again? With God for us and
angels for us and prophets and apos
ties for us and the great souls of this
ages for us and our glorifed kindred
for us-shall we give up the fight and
die? No, Son of God, who didst die to
save us! No. we angels, whose wings
are spread forth to shelter us! No. We
prophets and apostles, whose warn
ings startle us! No, We loved ones,
arms are outstretched to receive
us! No; we will never surrender!
Sure l must fight II 1 would reign.
BE faithful to my Lord,
And bear the cross. endure the pain
Supported by thy word.
Thy saints in all this glorious war
snail q though they die;
They see the triumph from afar
And seize 1t with their eye.
When that illustrious day shall rise
And all thine armies hin
In robes of victory thr. ugh the skies.
The glory shall be thine
Ny hearers, shall we die in the aren
or rise to join our friends in the gal
lery? Through Christ we may come
off more than conquerors. A soldier
dying in the hospital rose up in bed the
last moment and cried: Here, here!r
His attendants put him back on his Dill.
low and asked him why he shouted
"Here!" "Oh, | heard the roll call of |
Heaven, and l was only answering to
my name!" l wonder whether after
battle of this life is over our
names will be called in the muster roll
of the pardoned and slorified and, with
the joy of Heaven breaking upoa our
souls, shall cry: Here, tsrel"