The citizen. (Honesdale, Pa.) 1908-1914, 1909-07-09

the song OF
thanksgiving, the song of victory, the
song before the throne. And In this
lesson we have the song in the night.
What a picture is here presented! !!
Two men, with backs bleeding where
they have been flogged till every vein
drips blood, are in an underground
dungeon, chains on their wrists, their
feet fast in torturing stocks, the pros
pect Of violent death at daybreak
resting upon them. Is there any in
spiration here for singing? Uncover
those bleeding backs and see If that
mangled flesh gives any occasion for
praise. Lift up those chains, exam
inc the cruel stocks, put your hand
gently on those fevered brows and
see If you can discover anything that
would lead human beings to sing. And
yet, we are told that at midnight
these two men had real Pentecostal
prayer and praise meeting and made
that old Philippian Jail vocal with mel
ody. And at midnight Paul and Silas
prayed, and sang praises to God"
And this praise meeting was not
the boisterous bacchanalian revelry Of
intoxication, nor the senseless strains
of the demented. 1t was intelligent,
sober, earnest, heartfelt, enthusiastic.
1t was the duet of men who were con-
fident that God was on the throne Of
the Universe, and that He was work.
ing out His good pleasure for the
eternal improvement of the race. The
.World says, If you are rich you can
sing. The world says, If you are sue
cessful you can sing. The world says,
II you have good health you can sing.
The world says, If you have plenty of
friends, you can sing. But if you are
poor, and unsuccessful, and sick, and
have no friends, take the advice of
Jobs wife in a similar case. Curse
God and die. But at midnight, in a
dungeon, with lacerated bodies and
limbs in shackles, prone on the ground
where they had been flung, no eye to
pity and no arm to save, Paul and
Silas sang a song in the night the
echoes of which are in the air today.
The fact Is, this is the only kind of
singing that is immortal. Anybody
can sing in day time: only the i'm
mortals sing in the night.
Joseph sang that kind of music in
Potiphar's prison. The three Hebrew
worthless sang it in the fiery furnace.
The lions den echoed it in the days of
Daniel. The cells of the Inquisition
have resounded with such songs;
songs have mingled with the breaking
of bones on the rack, and have risen
above the roar of the flames into the
ear Of the God of heaven. And it is
SO today. The circumstances have
changed, but the midnight that men
are still called to pass through is just
as black as ever. All over this earth
the scene of the Philippian jail is be-
ing re-enacted. Listen to the songs
that are still going up from human
hps-songs where wealth has been
swept away, songs where health has
gone and the river of death Is in sight,
songs in the chamber where loved
ones are sleeping their last sleep,
songs amid the upturned sod of the
cemetery, songs at midnight, because
the morning star shines already on
the horizon.
And this song Of Paul and Silas had
mighty result, "The prisoners heard
them" The jailer and his family
were transformed because Of it. The
song did not exhaust itself on the
lives of the singers; 1t refreshed
them; it saved others. Once ON a
Southern battlefield a Northern SOL
der lay dying. Crushed by the shot
Of the enemy his life blood was slowly
ebbing away. All about him, in the
darkness, other mangled forms were
lying helpless and alone. But this
man was not alone, for there was a
great peace in his heart, as the mo-
ments brought him ever nearer to the
home Of his soul. Thus in the mid
night he broke out into song:
when I can read my title clear,
To mansions In the skies,
I'll bid farewell to every fear,
And wipe my weeping eyes,"
And as he was singing, one and an.
other in the darkness took up the
strain. Here and there trembling
voices Joined in, and pretty soon, all
over the battlefield a multitude OF
voices were lifting the song Of tri'
umph:
"IIl bid farewell to every fear,
And wipe my weeping eyes,"
Thus they sang until one by one
their lips were closed in death. That
was a song in the night worth singing
That was a battle shout of men who
were "oonQuerors and more than con.
Queroys through Him." Of whom the