Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1902-02-27

Here is a larger host in magnificent
array, $4,000, who perished for Christ
in the prosecutions of Diocletian. Yon-
der is family group, Felicitas OF
Rome and her children. While they
were dying for the faith she stood en-
courag ing them. One son was whip
ped to death by thorns another was
flung from rock; another was behead-
ed. At last the mother became n mar
tyr. There they are together. family
group in heaven! Yonder is John Brad
ford, who said in the fire, I'VE shall
have a merry supper with the Lord to-
night" Yonder is Henry Woes. who
exclaimed as he died, IF l had ten
heads. they should all fall OFF for
Christ" The great throng of the mar
tyrs. 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
rcdhot pnchers; they were scwed 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 dis
tances, they would make the midnight
all the world over bright as MONDAY!
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 all observing
sympathy. They know all the pain, all
the hardship, all the anguish. all the
injustice, all the privation. They can
not keep still. They cry: Courage!
The fire will not consume: the floods
cannot drown; the lions cannot devour.
Courage down there In the arena"
Some Eminent Spectators.
What? Are they all looking? This
hour we answer back the salutation
they give and cry, Hail. sons and
daughters of the fire"
l look again, and I see another gal
lery-that Of eminent Christians. What
strikes me strangely is the mixing in
companionship of those who on earth
could not agree. There is Albert
Barnes and around him the presbytery
who tried him for heterodoxy! Yon-
der are Lyman Beecher and the church
court that denounced him! Stranger
than all, there are John Calvin and
James Armlniusi Who would have
thought that they would sit so lovingly
together? There are George Whitefeld
and the ministers who would not let
him come into their pulpits because
they thought him fanatic. There are
the sweet singers Toplady, Montgom-
cry, Charles Wesley, Isaac Watts and
Mrs. Sigourney. If heaven had had
no music before they went up, they
would have started the singing. And
there the band of MISUNDERSTANDING
Abeel talking Of China redeemed; and
John Scudder, of India saved; and Da-
vid Brainerd, of the aborigines evan
gelized; and Mrs. Adoniram Judson,
whose prayers for Burma took heaven
by violence! All these Christians are
looking into the arena. Our struggle is
nothing to theirs! Do we in Christ's
cause suffer from the cold? They walk
ed Greenland's icy mountains. Do we
suffer from the heat? They sweltered
in tropics. Do we get fatigued7 They
tainted, with none to care for them but
cannibals. Are we persecutedI They
were mathematical. And as they look
from their gallery and see us falter in
the presence of the lions l seem to hear
Isaac Watts addressing us in his old
hymn, only little changed
Must you be carried to the skies
On flowery beds OF ease
While others fought to win the prize
or sailed through bloody seas?
Toplady shouts in his old hymn:
Your harps, ye trembling saints,
Down from the willows take;
Loud to the praise of love divine
Bid every string awake.
While Charles Wesley, the Method
lat, breaks forth in words a little va
ried:
A charge to keep you have,
| A God to glorify.
| A never dying soul to save
And Mt 1t for the sky!
look again, and l see the gallery Of
bur departed. Many of those in the
other galleries we have heard of. but
these we knew. Oh, how familiar their
faces. They sat Mt 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.
ence 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
BUR names. They watch this fight for
heaven. Nay, l 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" Betwes
the hot struggles in the arena / viii
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 death, and you shall have
q CROWN
The Case of the Universe.
But here l pause, overwhelmed with
the majesty and the Joy Of the scene!