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HINTS I'RON HISTORY:
Sy A. H. TJlett.
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Success Is Not the Test.
NTO the granite of the Confederate
monument erected at Jackson, Missis
sippi, by the patriotic women of the
State, are chiseled these words:
“All lost; but by the graves
Where martyred heroes rest,
He wins the most who honor saves,
Success is not the test.”
On another page of high authority I
have read these words:
“For the earth bringeth forth; fruit of herself;
fiirst the blade, then the ear, after that, the full
corn in the ear.” It says the kingdom of heaven
is like that.
Moses.
A boy grew to manhood in the palace of the
Pharaohs. He was a prince, his people were slaves.
A day of crisis came to him. He chose afflictions
with the people of God. He stood barefoot before
the burning brush in the solitude and heard the
voice of God. Tn a< pathway lit by the light of that
vision he led his murmuring people for forty years
toward the freedom of the promised land. And
th°n, all the dangers passed, all the murmn rings
stilled, all the thankless labors done, with eye nn
dimmed, and natural vigor unabated, this hero of
history’s morning passed over into the realization
of his life-long dream. With har>nv heart and with
triumphant step he leads the children of the blood
he loved across the Jordan into the land that flows
with milk and honey. The record is against it. me
record is:
“By Nebo’s lonelv mountain
On this side Jordan’s wave.”
His foot was not permitted to press the soil of
the lard for the hope of which he turned his back
upon the palace of a king.
Do yon think th? life of Moses was a failure 1 ? A
gleam of glorv D'om the Mount of Transfiguration
assures me that it was not.
T think within the scope of our vision the I'fe
of Mosps himself does not reach “the full corn in
the ear.” T believe the truth for which Tip lived
will ripen in the hearts of men to its oarvest home.
Wycliffe.
Do vou think the life and the life-work of John
Wvcliffe were failures because he died with the
maledictions of the mightv in his ears? Do vou
think the life of the translator of the first English
Bible was a failure because forty-four years aft/r
his death the ruling church dug up his bones and
burned them, and threw the ashes into the brook
bv the parsonage of Lutterworth, in which he had
lived as rector?
“The Avon by the Seven runs
The Spvem to the sea,
Ard Wycliffe’s dust shall spread abroad
Wide as the waters be.”
Wycliffe died this side the harvest time, but re
ligious freedom shall come to “the full corn in
the ear.”
Frcebel.
Friedrich Froebel spent sevnty years loving an
idea into life, nursing “the blade” into “the ear.”
It does not shake my faith in the truth of his prin
ciples that they were discredited and opposed. T
think no less of the truth he taught because the
Prussian government, in 1851, prohibited kinder
gartens as forming “a part of the Froebelian so
cialistic system, the aim of which is to teach the
children atheism.” When the eld man died in June
of the following year, he had not seen “the full
corn in the ear.” But the truth he taught is not
buried in the grave at Schweina.
Pickett.
At 3:30 p. m., Julv 3, 1865, a long, grey line of
14.000 men advanced across the mile between Semi
nary and Cemetery Ridges at Gettysburg:
“Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them,
Volleyed and thundered.”
The Golden Age for October 31, 1907.
Because the shattered remnants of this immortal
division could not hold the summit thev had
gained against the concentrated strength of 100,-
000 men; because the survivors of the charge
reeled back from the hot breath of annihilation;
because the twilight and the night came on and the
fate of the South was sealed, will you say chat
Pickett’s charge at Gettysburg was a failure ‘ Not
a drop of the costly blood that was shed tliar day
was shed in vain. It went to enrich the Svil in
which grows the blade of the immortality of Anglo-
Saxon courage fighting for the truth. The eyes of
men shall see “the full corn in the ear.”
Herndon.
A ship with near 600 souls on board. Struck by
a terrific tornado on the Atlantic. She writhes and
plunges in the grasp of the angry billows. Do you
see through spray that officer in full uniform with
pistol in hand? Do you know him? His name has
not been heralded around the world. Do yon know
him? It’s William Lewis Herndon, of Virginia.
His orders are that not cne man shall be taken into
the life-boats till every woman and child is saved.
He is standing in the face of the storm enforcing
that order.
And it was done. The women and children were
saved. They were gone in the life-boats and safe
from death when Captain Herndon and the 400
men at his side went down beneath the waves. But
the waters of oblivion shall not close above his
name, and “the full corn in the) ear” of Anglo-
Saxon chivalry shall ripen to its perfect reverence
for womankind in the clear light of this supromest
deed.
The truth in religion, the truth in education, the
truth in government, the truth of woman’s place
and privilege—all these shall prevail in a world
created by a God of truth.
“ —Though the earth
Forget her empires with a just decay,
The enslaver and the enslaved—
Their death and birth.
The high, the mountain majesty of worth
Should be,, and shall, survivor of its woe
And from its immortality look forth
Imperishably pure above all things below.”
Truett, Rockefeller —and Tapp.
That was a rather breezy meeting that took place
one day last week between Colonel Sidney C. Tapp,
Editor of The American Republic, and the unti
tled Editor of The Golden Age.
“I have just written an editorial about George W.
Truett of Dallas, Texas, in which I gave him fits!”
declared The Republic editor, who, by the way, is
never at ease unless he is administering a dose of
fits to some “big man”!
The name of George Truett arrested the writer’s
attention at once —for if there is one name of a
preacher on the American continent that wakes this
Editor’s heart to enthusiasm that name is George
Truett. “What on earth has Truett been doing
that you should jump on him?” was asked.
“Ah!” said The Unterrified Georgian—and there
was a dangerous gleam in his eye as the Corrector
of Evils sprang like a tiger upon his distant prey
—“he has done enough; he preached at Euclid
Avenue Church in Cleveland, and then came out
to that church to which the Oil King belongs and
said that John D. Rockefeller is one of the saints
of earth! Ah! I’ve fixed him. I have skinned him
alive!” Then quoth the Editor of The Golden
Age:
“And I will just remove your cuticle as soon as
I get hold of my pen. Send me a copy of that
editorial in The Republic before you go to press.
I want to answer it,” and then, tauntingly: “I am
personally acquainted with George Truett and John
D. Rockefeller both, and you don’t know either
I’ll just fix you for jumping on good men whom you
know nothing about.”
“That is just what I want you to do,” said the
aroused and expectant Editor of The American Re
public. And the witnesses to the scene of linguis
tic polemics caught a gleam into the soul of a con-
suming iconoclast who would rather be in a fight
than to be President.
But the advance sheet of the Republic’s edito
rial had not reached The Golden Age office before
the Editor hurried awav to Alabama to fight liquor
again. We cannot therefore answer that scalping
article in detail, but in one paragraph we can.
in all seriousness, answer the criticising position
of that editorial.
George W. Truett is one of the most prudent of
all the prudent men in the American ministry.
Whatever the dispatches may say we do not be
lieve he indulged in words of undue adulation con
cerning John D. Rockefeller. That he spoke warm
ly of his impression of Mr. Rockefeller we do not
doubt, for no man can meet the great philanthrop
ist without being won by the sensible simplicity of
his manner and impressed by his piety, his devo
tion and the beauty of his home and church life.
We honestly believe that there have been a thou
sand evil things told about Mr. Rockefeller that are
not warranted by facts. Many things have doubt
less been done in his name of which he has been
unconscious and innocent. But this thing of writ
ing cheap invective about a man because he has
great wealth is being carried top far.
Whatever the ultra reformer who edits The
American Republic may think or say, we believe that
Rockefeller is great and Truett is wise. W. D. U.
n *.
e T Want to Sing, Tor Him.”
A few' years ago in the splendid town of Law
renceville, Georgia, a gracious meeting was closing.
The morning service was given to testimonies for
Christ. Especially sweet were the first words of
many new converts. Occasionally some one who
had been a Christian for years told in tearful joy
of what Christ had meant to them. And then a
voice was heard in the choir:
“Bro. Upshaw, I want to sing for Him!”
And the clear, sweet voice was lost in a sob of
tenderness and joy. )
Many times before had that voice been heard in
the meetings—but always in sacred song. Her
solos had been sweet, tender, touching and spiritual.
No wonder that such a soul with such consecrated
gifts should sav in a testimonv meeting: “I want
to sing for Him.” Hew it all comes back to me
now “through the mellowed mist of tears,” when
I pick up a paper and read the startling, painful
announcement that Mrs Addie Brand Ware is
She was the wife of Professor Clarence R. Ware,
an old college mate of mine, the daughter of Mr.
E. M. Brand, a prominent business man of Gwin
net county, and a sister of Hon. L. M. Brand, of
Lawrenceville, and Judge C. H. Brand, of Athens.
Mr. L. M. Brand was the plucky mayor of Law
renceville, who led the fight that stopped liquor
shipments to the town.
Addie Brand Ware goes earlv to the Better Land,
and the voice she used to praise Him
here now joins the chorus of the Redeemer around
the Throne of God. Not only with beckoning hands
but with voice attuned to the symphonies of the
skies she calls those who knew her and loved her
to her Redeemer and her Heaveny Home. W. U.
The Tight in Jacksonville.
(From The Evening Metropolis.)
Tonight at the foot of Main street there will be
a big prohibition rally addressed by William D.
Upshaw, who is one of the most entertaining tem
perence orators on this continent. He was one of
the leaders in the great battle and victory in Geor
gia and was regarded by many as the most effective
worker in that famous contest. * * ♦ *
Georgia stock was above par in Jacksonville last
night when William D. Upshaw, Editor of The
Golden Age and Vice President of the Georgia Anti-
Saloon League, spoke to an immense crowd at the
First Christian Church. The Georgian caught his
crowd with his opening sentence and kept them
“swinging, twixt a smile and a tear” to the end
that came too soon. Because he came from Geor
gia, spoke from a chair or leaning on his crutche<
and moved the audience with such magnetic power
and electrifying eloquence many in Jacksonville
are ready to dub him today, “The Alexander Steph
ens of the Prohibition platform,”
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