Democratic messenger. [volume] (Snow Hill, Md.) 1869-1973, 1905-03-18

Robert But father is dead now. l can
never bring him back to tell him how /
have repented of my past sins"
Bearing Burdens In Heaven
Your father and mother beyond the
burden of your sins: Friend do not
know about that. Even in heaven
think they are still longing ana hoping
for our salvation. | for one cannot I'M
derstand how there can be joy in heav-
en- over one sinner that repentcth and
not any thoughts about us who are
still unrcpentant. One of the greatest
of New York pastors once told me that
when anything went wrong in his life
he used TO feel the warm. loving arms
of his redeemed daughter about his
neck. and he could hear her dear lips
speak To him words of counsel which
would bring him To his better self. do
not believe ii beyond the range of pos
sibilities for our dear ones to be anX-
ious about our uNepentant souls. Even
now l would not be surprised if they
were sending forth an angelic messen-
ger to find out what our decision is to
be. Heaven. beautiful heaven. Have
our redeemed parents any burdens
about our unpardoned sins in heaven?
Perhaps by taking you on Il past
journey to the place where l spent
most of my boyhood days might help
you to decision to give your hearts
to Jesus Christ. The journey which
you are to take occurred short time
after my fathers burial After his
body had been laid away to sleep by the
side of MY mother I said to my sister.
Come. let us go and look ut the old
house" We walked down the street
where we both had played many years
before. AS l went along l began to
call up the names of the different
neighbors. But the houses now had
strange fares looking out of the win
dows. The little children who were
playing in the street looked much like
my old playmates. They laughed and
shouted and jumped just as we used
to jump. but their eyes Were different.
They edged off from the sidewalk as
we came along. We were strangers to
them. They We're strangers to us.
stands as sentinel overlooking Fort
Green park. where one of the old Revo-
lutiOnary battles was fought and where
some of the old Revolutionary veterans
lie buried. From the outside the old
house looked about the same There
was the vine mother planted. still
crawling over the side and clinging to
the roof and trying to cover up the
windows. Indeed. the house looked so
much like the past that l thought for
an instant mother would be waiting
for me In the front room to welcome
me home from college. Just to the rear
Of the house was the old grapevine ar
Dor built by Captain Spicer before he
lost his wife and manly son. whom I
can just remember l had often taken
my dessert of fruit there before an
swer the dinner bell But. come;
must not linger outside. Here. let me
take peek in ut the window won
der If yonder policeman will think
am thief. He wears just the same
kind of brass buttons as did the officer
who used tn chase me off the park
grass when was playing "hound and
hares" and climbing up yonder walls
more like trapeZe performer than a
hare scurrying for her burrow.
Visiting the Old Home.
Yes. here is the parlor. There saw
my first Christmas tree. There they
laid me as little baby In basket as
q Christmas present for my father.
There in that same room. first saw
the dead face Of a relative My broth
er's casket lay there. Mothers body
was covered with flowers there And
there We met to laugh as well as to
weep.
Up and through the house we went.
Each room had for us history. In
each place we could see the living and
the dead side by side. Now it was n
sister in her bridal robes, now death
bed scene. now-but stop; cannot go
further. You would not have me If
you could. The history of my old home
was merely the history Of yours. only
under other names. With us it was
Jessie. De Witt, May, Edith, Frank,
Daisy. Maude. With you it was Ger
trude. Sarah, Carrie, William, John.
Walter. Names different; scenes all
the same.
That afternoon I went away from
the old homestead with sad heart.
"All that scene Of love gone foreverw
l kept saying. "All gone. all gonev is
1t all gone forever? But that night as
l sped on west toward my own home,
where my wife and children were wait
ing to greet me, l was looking out of
the train window. l had my cheek
resting upon my hand. l know not
whether l was asleep or awake. But,
whether asleep or awake, suddenly
strange vision came to me. l seemed
to see the dear faces of my loved ones
who are gone. Among the twinkling
stars of the night I saw their bright
eyes and heard them speaking to me.
They seemed to say: 1.-THE past is not
dead. We are going to have our re-
unions again. We are here waiting.
We are waiting for you. Will you live
for Christ as we lived, that we NAV