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12 THE TKIUWHS sf the CHURCH By C. A. Ridley. (CONCL UD £ D ) N broken rafts, it crossed the waters and has become the brightest star in 'Columbia’s crown. It is now’ scatter ing pearls over Darkest Africa and lighting with joy the islands which gem the western seas. It is the com forter of our race. It is the staff of the pilgrim, star of the sailor and light house of the lost. It is sorrows’ only solace, the pillow of the dying and the death night’s only dawn. The unfailing friend of the friendless, the undeceiv ing hope of the hopeless, and the unending life of a lifeless world. Oh, mighty Evangel, sweep on over the earth and its islands till thou hast carried the glad message to every home and every heart; till the tides of this stormy life shall have ebbed forever more and thou shalt bear back the olive branch, symbol of salvation, to the hand of the great Master. Immortality and Eternal Life. The church is the world’s archive for these great and glorious doctrines, and but for her we would still be looking through blinding mists without even a compass bearing. . . . Shall our lives burn out like some taper that has served to light a festal board, and before the day dawn, end in utter dark ness? What mean these high desires that burn con tinually upon the main altar of our hearts? We throw ourselves at the feet of science and beg for an answer, but proud science that measures the uni verse and weighs the distant stars, breaks her cru cible, blows out her lamp and answers nothing. But inspiration through the church of God comes to our aid, declaring that these yearnings shall be satisfied; that they are fixed stars that shall only fade before the brightness of an eternal Sun. It declared that we are the children of a King, and that the broad earth is our inheritance to set in order for the com ing of the Master. That the march of every cen tury, the rise and fall of. every state, is but the building of an imperial highway over which He shall ■come. In nature God has made ample provisions for ev ery demand of our physical beings, and through in spiration and the church He has made provisions for every demand of our physical beings. The beau ties of sunrise, the thousand attractions of the day, the glowing sunset with all its gorgeous splendors of light and shadows commingled, falling athwart the emerald landscape, satisfies every demand of the eye; and when the ear makes its demands, from the hills and valleys and mountains come the sweet mel odies of birds and beasts and bending boughs and breathing winds, until the stillness of night brings the music of the spheres. Now, since God has been so careful to supply the demands of our mortal bodies, He will certainly be no less careful to supply the demands of our im mortal spirits. If He will so lovingly answer the cry of the mortal, He will still more lovingly answer the cry of the immortal. Job, the poet of patience, broke the silence and uttered the cry of every soul since Adam when he asked, “If a man die, shall he live again?” Heaven, earth and hell, the Bible, • the church and human consciousness all answer yes. If this question has never come home to you, it will soon. I have gone into a home from whence the low voice of love and laughter had long since de parted, and I have seen there a piano from whose ivory keys the spirit of music had been evoked by fingers now stilled and stiffened beneath the grave, and in the solemn stillness as I waited, I thought it sounded without a touch. And even so there is a voice in every human soul, drowned sometimes it may be in mirth and madness, but sounding in the solemn stillness of life’s pauses, a yearning cry for the hand that made it. And so it is the church that stands for this im mortality, and holds out to us the hope of eternal life. It is the church that tells us that when our work is ended here that what we call death will be but an open doorway into a broader, grander life. The Golden Age for March 8, 1906. It is the church that tells us that the glories of earth are not to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed in us. Here we know in part, but there we shall know as we are known. Men deserve things in this world without ever getting them, but up there every man will be rewarded according to his works, and no mistakes will be made or partiality shown. In this world, where there is sin and death and doubt, men walk with feeble, tottering steps, wi-th tattered and torn garments, with forms bent under the burdens of life, with heads whitened by the cold, frosty neglect of a world, with hands cramped by their struggles for bread; but it will not be so after the church has made her last triumph, conquered her last enemy and landed her last passenger in the haven of rest. Then her children shall have been transformed. The bowed and bent form shall then stand erect with the strength of immortlity, the torn and tattered garb shall be exchanged for a robe of spotless righteousness, the frosty locks shall be crowned with a diadem of glory, the eyes shall receive new sight because God shall wipe all tears from them, the feeble, tottering steps will have the elasticity of eternal youth find the once cramped and bony fingers will sweep with such matchless grace across some golden harp that the swelling chorus shall make the dead who will be caught up with their Lord in the air to dwell with Him forever. The Church Rests Upon the Bible. Since the church rests upon the Word of the eter nal God these triumphs must continue. After pro longed research the master minds of every age have admitted the Bible is divine. And though the oldest Book in the world, still its pages are fresh as the dews of morning. Its leaves never wither and its beauty never fades. Though covering hundreds of years and written by different men, still it is the perfect realization of one mind. When figuring in human history it gives details that throw light upon other books of the past. The dark gulf of futurity over which poetry and philosophy hang with weary wing is lighted up by its rays. Through its pages the most gifted intellect may roam with pleasure and profit, and before its revelations human reason stands rebuked, unable it may be to believe, and yet afraid to doubt. But if any man will believe “he shall know of the doctrine.” This Book deals not in cold abstractions, but in the virtues of human life. It appeals in tender tones to the heart of every man. By the excellency of its laws, and the conclusions of its testimony it commends itself to every conscience, so that even human depravity when walking amid its precepts is compelled, like devils among the tombs, to acknowl edge the purity of its morals and the holiness of its presence. It is as much the Book for the twentieth as it was for the third century. It contains all the principles that underly human action. The faith that justified righteous Able and whereby Enoch walked with God, the faith by which Abraham kept the covenant and by which Moses prevailed, the faith that raised Daniel’s window toward Jerusa lem and bore away his petition to the throne of God, the faith that sustained the Hebrew children and rings out still in the sighs and songs of David, is the same faith that still attracts the attention of heaven and brings down its richest blessings. It is the sin of the nation and the calamity of the church that we ever thought to doubt one page of this Book. When we view it soberly it commends itself to the pulpit and the pew ,to the mean and the mighty, to the rich and the ragged, to the lordly and the low, to the outcast and the king. It can not be read soberly without imparting life to its reader. As well might the flowers try to sleep after Spring had blown its mellow horn. As well might the mist try to linger upon the bosom of the lake after the sun had risen in his resplendent glory. It builds for us a world beyond this tiny speck upon which we have camped for a fortnight, stretch es our conception of the Infinite beyond the further- most orb of astronomy, pacifies the moral discord of the earth, recognizes the dust of the sepulchre and tells us that our heme is heaven and that our life time is eternity. And so the church rests its all upon the teachings of this Book. . . . Centuries before the Grecian troops had driven their hostile prows upon the Trojan shores, or ever the fallen Hector had been dragged by the swift steeds of Achilles around the walls of Priam, Moses, the first great word painter, had told creation’s story in words that still survive. Long before the harp of Homer had been fashioned Job, the poet of patience had melted his sweet soul into measures of music that are the wonders of the modern world. And so we have a perfect picture gallery. First we come upon Moses as his bold pencil sketches the morning dawn of the universe. A Background of awful darkness, then a Spirit moves upon its cha otic bosom, the earth rises slowly into view and the seas cradle themselves into their channels; from out the womb of darkness the great sun leaps in all his glory, the host of stars light their myriad lamps and man walks forth pure and immortal as the Infinite could make him. . . .We turn another page, and 10, we stand upon a battlefield. We hear the clash of cymbal, sword and saber, the burst of a pealing horn, the mad rush of frenzied men, then the de spairing wail of defeat and death. . . . The scene has shifted again and this time we stand upon Gilboa’s historic hill and watch the soldiery figure of Saul, sore wounded in battle and worsted, as he falls upon his own sword and dies. . . . Still again we listen to the sweetest music, as the peerless poet and sweet singer, David of Israel, sings of the In finite and immortality. We turn its pages again and we hear the swing of the cycle and the reaper’s song. We are in the midst of a vast field of barley, and as the dying day throws athwart its shadows we catch the picture of two lovers, Boaz the prince and Ruth the beggar maid. And thus the blessed story goes on. His torians unroll the past and prophets disclose the future. Harpers sing, men declaim and sages coun sel. But, while the strains of poesy and prophecy still linger we hear another and a new’ song sung beneath Judean stars to the willing and waiting ears of the shepherd lads as they kept their flocks. It is the song of a new-born King—Christ of Cal vary, the Hero of this Book and the guarantee of the Church. _ I - ■!■■■■ . ■» ' The Lure of Old Songs. By W. D. NESBIT. You were playing, sweet and low, The old songs of long ago; And the high lamp’s crimson shade Poured a softened light that made Mystic shadows in your hair—• Shadows which were laughing there As the shadows of the dawn Leaped and laughed in the days agone. So you played—and so I dreamed While the pranking firelight gleamed In its race along the wall; And I heard the boy days call In the songs that thrilled my heart With their subtly simple art — As when practiced hands are swept O’er a harp that long has slept. Winding paths through meadowlands, Brooks that sang on silver sands, Bending branches on the trees, Noon-time chants of honey bees, Drifting Indian summer haze, Peiting snows of wintry days, Wondrous stars that blazed above — All this you knew nothing of. And you played, and, playing, wrought All the glories unforgot; And the high lamp’s ruddy glow Where the glints swayed to and fro Seemed some way to blend and blur Into these fair days that were—* Led me backward, mile on mile, Te each golden olden while. ; ;