Newspaper Page Text
4
7he Golden Age
(3DCCZ.SSO* TO KLLIGIOUS lOHUMY
Ynblithed Ebery Thursday by the Golden Sfge Publishing
Cesnfany (Ins.)
0W1C1.3: LOWNDES 9UILDINQ. ATLANTA. GA.
WILLIAM ». XJTSHBW' . . . . Mit"
MRS. G. 9. LINDSEY - - Managing Editor
LEM G. 9KOUGHTON - - ' - Pulpit Editor
Price: $2.00 a 'Pear
Ministers ft. 50 for Year.
to eoooe of foreign oiireee fifty cents obooU be niM io eober
oMitional ooetoge.
Enter ei at tie feet Office tn SHUnle, Go.,
oe eeeouO-eloM nuttier.
<TRAQC[CQUWCH. >
Watch! Watch!! Watch!!!
TURN TO THE LABEL ON THE FRONT
PAGE OF “THE GOLDEN AGE” RIGHT
NOW AND SEE HOW YOU STAND, AND IF
YOU ARE BEHIND OR JUST ABOUT TO BE,
PLEASE PRACTICE THE GOLDEN RULE
DO US AS YOU WOULD HAVE US DO YOU
AND SEND THE MONEY FOR BACK DUES
AND A YEAR AHEAD. IF YOU CANNOT
SEND ALL, SEND PART, AND WE WILL
MARK YOU UP AS FAR AS IT GOES AND
BE HEARTILY GLAD TO CONTINUE THE
PAPER. WE DON’T WANT TO PART COM
PANY WITH ANYBODY WHO LOVES “THE
GOLDEN AGE” AND ITS PURPOSES. BUT
WE MUST HAVE THE MONEY TO RUN
THE PAPER. YOUR “LITTLE” IS NOT
MUCH TO YOU, BUT MANY “LITTLES”
MEAN EVERYTHING TO US. WE NEED IT
NOW. WATCH YOUR LABEL. AND WRITE
US A LETTER THAT WILL MAKE YOU
AND THE EDITOR GLAD.
"He Is 'Risen.”
The Eastertide is on —and we would that all the
world were thinking in jubilant psalm over the
glorious fact that “He is
And “The World
Moves Into Light”
but after all, language is meaningful according to
the idea it conveys, and Easter means widely over
Christendom the celebration of the . Resurrection!
Would that it meant only that; but alas, for count
less thousands it means the feverish excitement
attendant on the exploitation of the most “stun
ning” spring hat or suit that abounding wealth or
hoarded money can buy.
Thus many of our most sacred customs are
warped and distorted by self and sin.
More beautiful than the annual celebration of
Easter is the celebration fifty-two times a year
when every Sunday is given to the celeb ration of
the beautiful truth without which our hope and our
faith are vain.
Then let the church bells ring and all the people
sing, because since “He is risen,”
“Out of the darkness of night
The world moves into Light—
It is daybreak everywhere!”
H *
Fort Worth Slvept fly Flames.
The startling news of Fort Worth’s terrible fire,
which has shocked the entire country, comes with
peculiar sadness to the editor of
Thirty-two Blocks
In Ashes.
a favorite portion of the Texas metropolis—for he
has often been guest in some of those charming
homes and spoken in the churches that are in ashes
today.
risen.” We confess that we
cared little about the name of
Easter for a Christian festival.
The Golden Age, for the very
district of thirty-two beautiful
blocks burned to the ground was
The Golden Age for April 8, 1909.
THE MISSION GIRL OUT!
It Is a Charming Story-Beautiful Inside and Out
Send Tor It— "T)o It Nom ”
We are delighted to announce that that beautiful story “The Mission Girl of The Golden Age,”
has come from the press of the Interstate Publishing Co., and it is “a beauty.” It has a captivating
cover design and will “look good” on your center table at first, and then in your library, after you
have finished its thrilling pages.
The “old folks” will feast on it, the young people will “enthuse” over it, and the neighbors will
cry for it when they once learn of its charm and its beauty. Our favorite story writer,
Odessa Strickland Payne, is at her best in “The Mission Girl,” and the fascination of its plot, the
inspiration of its real-life characters, the lilt of its movement, the rose-tint of its romance, and the
stir of its purpose—all call mightily to the enchained reader’s head and heart. Send a dollar to The
Golden Age, Atlanta, Ga., and “The Mission Girl” will hurry to see you!
Feeding Your Children On Stones
We met a man the other day who was asleep,
“deaf, dumb and blind.” He walked the streets
with no one to lead him, and
And Slaking Their
Thirst With the
Swill of Swine!
dream. His hungry children cried to him for bread
and he hurled at them a stone. They reached out
their pleading hands for a fish and in his baleful
blindness he gave them a serpent instead. He had
what the world calls “plenty,” but he said he could
not afford to take a family paper for his children
to read. And as for himself, he “didn’t have time
to read anything but a few of the headlines and the
market reports in the daily papers.” No, his
children “didn’t have time to read anything either
•—they had to study their books.” He “couldn’t
afford a family paper —he wasn’t able.” Poor
man! He was “asleep at the switch” while his
children rushed on toward the stations of Low Ideals
and Mental Ruin!
They were being taught that the only thing they
needed their education for was to fix them so they
“wouldn’t have to work in the field like a darky.”
Those children never dreamed from the instruction
and the example of their father at home that educa
tion is intended, not so much to help them get more
bread, but as the president of Wellesley told her
girls—to “make every morsel you eat taste
sweeter. ’ ’
That strange father we met (and we meet his
brother or his double-cousin every day) was deaf —
A lighted cigarette thrown down in a barn —and
the story of a lamp turned over in a Chicago shed
is repeated. A gale was blowing (and only those
who have been on the plains of Texas know what
that means) and soon the fire was beyond all control,
sweeping homes before it like a hell of horror, the
flames sometimes being blown blocks in advance of
the burning buildings. With desperate difficulty
many escaped for their lives, while hoarded house
hold treasures turned to ashes before their frantic
eyes. Fortunate indeed that the fire occurred in the
day time, else there might have been hundreds
of people burned instead of the one brave life that
perished.
One of the heart-tragedies of the awful conflagra
tion is found in the fact that Pastor Prince Bur
roughs, a “prince” indeed among men and the widely
beloved leader of the great Broadway Baptist
Church, one of the largest and most progressive
in the South, is at this time taking a well-earned
vacation in Europe. His devoted, wide-awake people
were enlarging the spacious building during his
absence and preparing to greet his eyes with a
beautiful vision of fact and brick and a dream of
architecture and comfort in a Sunday school temple.
Rev. Ernest G. Townsend, of Baylor College, Belton,
was nobly walking in the footprints of Burroughs
and leading his royal people in this heroic work of
with his sightless eyes wide
open, he seemed indeed a pitiful
somnambulist that would not —
could not wake from a horrible
that law with some preparation
which he considered dangerous to the mortal body,
but failing to provide pure food for the minds and
hearts of his children he would thus tempt them to
steal away to some dime novel—some “blood and
thunder” story that will poison their souls for time
and eternity. And by and by when the coffin comes
prematurely into his home he will stand weeping
and muttering in his blindness, wondering what he
has done that sorrow like this should come upon him.
He forgets that “a sentence hath formed a charac
ter and a character hath subdued a kingdom,” and
that just as truly a sentence hath ruined a character
and that character hath lost a kingdom! The boy,
the girl has been poisoned by bad reading unto
moral deformity and early physical and spiritual
death.
That blind father forgets that the home must have
wholesome food for the mind and heart as well as
the body, and that a table ought to be spread in
every home with a good variety of mental menu
upon it just as sure as there is a table spread with
variety on which the perishing body may feed.
Parents, don’t feed your children on stones nor
slake their thirst on the swill of swine!
(gjpSj) (§§§)
A Pastor Called
from Europe.
tragic pathos of the scene that will meet him at
his home-coming when he looks on his splendid
church building in ashes, with his own home and
the homes of almost his entire membership in ruins!
It has been the lot of few pastors in America out
side of Chicago, Galveston and Jacksonville to face
such a. scene of desolation and such an experience
of heroic trial as will test the faith, the grace and
the mettle of Prince Burroughs when he returns
from Europe. Known to the writer as the valiant
Broadway pastor and his royal, loyal people are,
he and his problems are used to illustrate the
manifold and multiform problems which the Ft.
Worth holocaust brings upon homeless thousands.
And, “the enemy” will for-
One Year’s Drink
Will Build It Back.
Worth fighting saloons with
tongue and pen we pointed out that municipal
blunder—that community blight—which allows the
depletion of her purse, the emasculation of her
citizenship and the debauchery of politics in the
horrible fact that nearly four million dollars a year
(Continued on Page 5.)
absolutely deaf—to the call and the cry of his chil
dren’s need; he was blind to their danger; he was
dumb when they needed a word of warning, of en
couragement, of inspiration!
He could utter blunt, sullen, sordid declarations
“Pure Food”
Laws Indeed!
about the “pure food laws” and be
ready to drag into court the village
merchant who had barely infringed
enlargement—and now imagine
the shock of the cablegram that
called the Broadway pastor from
over the sea! And yet more, the
give us if we “point a moral”
here. When we were in Ft.
