Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1911-02-25
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THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE.

Ever visit prison? Gray stone, iron
footed guards; palld faced, leaGen
heeled prisoners; silence, labor, ever
and always a deadening sense of re-
straint. The dungeon, the chamber
of horrors" the lock step, the striped
suits, the shaved heads, the averted
faces, the ever present conSumptive
cough, were just the surface things
your eve and ear caught You muir
INJURED, THE way of the tranSgrcSsor is
hard" But those things told nothing
of the real horrors of that house of
bondage-tears, remorSc. bitterness, de-
spair. Prison walls tell no tales. In
spections and Investigations mean OK
ternal things only. The life and soul
grow smaller and smaller. The prison $
a cemetery; the cells grave. tritie
Is remembered for weeks The coming
of a new man, time up for another, Il
death by tuberculosis, another by sui
eide, execution day with its suppressed
excitement, are red letter days in the
calendar Of stone. When the bit is
served and once more the thin haired,
low voiced, paste faced, furtivc eyed
creature goes forth he will be marked
man. Police detective and plain clothes
man will shadow" him. He's jail
bird" he's "done time" has "a record, y
he will be "pinched" on suspicion, he
will be bounded and haraSScd until
man handled and driven he Is back in
the cell. Say, when You came out from
your visit you took great big breath
of fresh air and thanked God for free
dom, didn't you? Well you might one
of the darkest and most pathetic sto-
ries ever writ in hearts blood is that
of our brother In the house of bondage.
Tho Slave Drivers Whip.
But, listen, friend. These hundred
thousand more or less of the caught
and uncaught are only few. We're
all bond servants of sin-vcritable
slaves in the devils prison house
Bondage of bad habits, temper, appe-
tite, lust and greed. We're often
chained to them. Paul said, "Who
shall deliver me from the body of
this death?' Know this figure? Man
chained to the dead, rotting, stencil
full body of his victim. Eat, drink,
or sleep, the sickening carcass is
there Whose sins is compelled to
bear its consequence. Notice the drink
slave. See his master drive him out
of bed at 5 o'clock in the morning,
walk the streets in a binding snow
storm, waiting for the corner saloon
to open. The appetite cracks the
whip, and he tramples over home and
wife and child to answer his master.
He must obey. He Is a slave. See
him as an unhOly passion leads him
to the gates of perdition. Hat down
over eyes he skulks through the red
light district. The tigers in his
veins. For the woman with the
ability, manhood, honor. He's a
slave! The conductor taps another
on the shoulder. Fare, please" Il
paid you when l got on Conductor
glances at the fare register. He
knows he didn't, but what's the use
arguing? He laughs when the mer
chant makes mistake in change or
when he holds the hard pushed seller
to an evident slip of tongue or pen
He's sly, deceitful, tricky, supremely
selfish. Greed's got him. His
hearts freezing His souls dead. But
all sins servitude. No jailer's so cruel
and merciless. Sin Is fire in the blood
Scorpions sting in every nerve cell
and fiber.
Christ the Deliverer.
"Whom the Son makes free shall
be free indeed" He frees nations
Sin enslaves them. When nations die
they commit suicide Graft and cor
ruption defeat a Spain or Il Russia
He frees mind Of prejudice, falsehood
selfishness. He helps one control his
will, sanctify his body, master his
moods and Danish fear-his worst en-
envy Let the skeptic mock. They
did so at the man born blind whom
Christ gave sight. They sneered, but
there stood the man! John Bunyan.
the swearing, Sabbath breaking tinker,
is released from his bondage. Jerry
MacAuley, the New York river thief,
drops his chains. John B. Cough, the
hopeless drunkard, Is released from
the bonds of his master. It's myS-
terry. You can't do 1t by force. After
the shock Of war we go back to diplO-
macy-not by legislation. The Magma
Charta is given, the emancipation proc
lamation Is signed, the legislative en-
actment is passed, but the works just
begun! Not even education and civil
lization do the trick. Who's your jail
er, brother? Christ's your deliverer.
Were you at the G. A. II. encampment
at Atlantic City last summer? Great
crowds; brass bands; big parade.
Next to the crippled and MANNED the
most eloquent procession was the eX-
prisoners of war. Here were men from
Libby, Andersonville, Salisbury, Belle
island-each had a badge with name
of his prison on it. Some had two,
some three! They We're prisoners not
ashamed of their bondage. I thought
of some other prlsoners-prisoners of
Christ, ambassadors In bonds, having
also fought the good fight. see an
other parade-the grand army Of the
redeemed, that will march down the
streets Of the city Of our God, applaud,
ed by heavenly throngs-thousands
upon thousands, and ten thousand
times ten thousand, a mighty multi
tude tina. no man can number. Pris-
oners from the earthly house of bond
age to the heavenly mansions of light.