The Fulton County news. [volume] (McConnellsburg, Pa.) 1899-current, 1902-02-27

f0rd, VINO salu III lne nre, we snail nave
o merry supper with the Lord tonight"
Yonder is Henry Woes, who exclaimed as
he died, "If j had ten heads, they should
all fall off for Christi" The great throng
of the martyrs! 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
aud set on fire. Ii all the martyrs stakes
that have been kindled could be set at
proper distances they would make the mid
hight all the world over bright as noon
'ay! And now they sit yonder in the mar
tyrs' gallery
For them the frcs 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 privaton. 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 arenal"
What? Are they all looking? This hour
we answer back the salutation they give
and cry, "Hail, sons and daughters Of the
Grel"
/ look again and see another gallery
that of eminent Christians What strikes
ne 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 Armniusl Who would have
thought that they would sit SO lovingly to-
gether? There are George Whiteield and
the ministers who would not let him come
into their pulpits because they thought
him q fanatic. There are the sweet sing.
ers Toplady, Montgomery Charles Wes
ley, Isaac Watts and Mrs. Sigouney. If
heaven had had no rlusic before they went
up they would have started the singing,
And there the band of missionaries
David Abcel, talking of China redeemed; (;
and John Scudder, of India saved; and
David Brainerd, of the aborignes 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
theirst Do we in Christ's cause suffer
from the cold? They walked Greenland's
icy mountains. Do we suffer from the
heat? They swelterod in tropca. Do we
get fatigued? They tainted, with none to
care for them but cannibals. Are we per,
secuted? 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 addressing Us in his
o.d hymn, only little changed;
Must yol be carried to the skies
On flowery beds of ease
While others fought to win the prize
Or sailed through bloody seas!
Top,ady shouts in his old hymn:
Your harps, We trembling saints,
Down from the willows take;
Loud to the praise of love divine
Bid every string awake.
While Charles Wesley the Methodist,
breaks forth in words little varied;
a charge to keep you have,
A God to glorify,
"A never dying soul to save
And fit it for the sky.
look 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 VIC 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 stolid
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 lis. 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 tc
clasp theirs in rapturous handshaking,
while their voices come ringing down from
the gallery, crying, ''Be thou faithful unto
DEATH and you shall have a crownl"
But here j 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? Myrads of eyes beaming on us!
Myriads of hearts beating in sympathy for
usl How shall we ever dare to sin again s
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'
rifed kindred for us-shall we give up the
fight and die? No, Son OF God, who didst
die to save us! No, ye angels, whose wings
are spread forth to shelter us No. ye
prophets and apostles whose warnings
startle us! No, we loved ones, whose arms
are outstretched to receive us! No; we
will never surrender!
Sure ] must fight if l would reign,
Be faithful to my Lord,
And bear the cross, endure the pain,
Supported by Thy word.
Thv saints in all this glorious war
Shall conquer though they die;
They see the triumph from afar
And seize 1t with their eye.
When that illustrous day shall rise
And all Thine armies shine
In robes of victory through the skies,
The glory shall be Thine.
Ny hearers, shall we die in the arena or
rise to join our friends in the gallery?
Through Christ we may come off more than
conquerors. A soldier dying in the hospi.
tai rose up in bed the last moment and
cried "Here, hereW His attendants put
him back on his pillow and asked him why
he shouted "Here!" ooh, heard the roll
call of heaven. and / was only answering
to my namel" / wonder whether after
this battle Of this life is over our names
will be called in the muster roll of the
pardoned and gloriied and, with the JOY OF
heaven breaking upon our souls, shall cry,
"Here, herol"
copyright 1902. L. Klopsch.l