Rensselaer Republican, Volume 21, Number 24, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 February 1889 — OUR OWN GENERATION. [ARTICLE]

OUR OWN GENERATION.

HOW MANKIND CAN BE SAVED And the World Prevented ftym Being* Fait nr*—There are Sonia to Rescue and Heaven to Obtain. Rev. Dr. Talmage preached at the Brooklyn tabernacle last Sunday. Subject: “Our Own Generation.” Text: Acts xiii., 36. He said: Well, now, let us look around earnestly, prayerfully, and in a commonsense way and see what we can do for our own generation. First of all, let us see to It that, as far as we can, they have enough to eat. The human body is so constituted that three t mes a day the body needs food as much as a lamp needs oil, as much as a locomotive needs fuel. To meet this want God has girdled the earth with apple orchards, orange groves, wheat fields and oceans full of fish and prairies full of cattle. And. notwithstanding this, I will undertake to say that the vast majority of the human family are suffering, either for lack of food or the right kind of food. Our civilization is all askew on this subject and God can only set it right . . - Many of the greatest estates of to day have been built out of the blood and bones of unrequited toil. In olden tinies, for the building of forts and towers, the inhabitants of Ispahan had to contribute 70.000 human skulls, and Bagdad 90,t.0.i human skulls, and that number of people were slain so as to furnish the skulls. But tnese two contributions added together made orily 16 >,OOO skulls, while into the tower of the world's wealth and pomp and magnificence have been wrought the skeletons of uncounted numbers of the halffed p pulations of the earth, million’s of skuls.

Uon't sit down at your table with five or six courses of abundant supply and think nothing of that family in the next street who would take any one of those five co-irses between soup and ' almohd nuts and feel they were in ! heaven. The lack of the right kind of I food is the cause of much of the drunkenness. After drinking what many oL our grocers eall coffee, sweetened with what many call sugar, and eating what 1 many of our butchers call meat, and chewing what many of our bakers ca 1 bread, many of the laboring classes feel so miserable they are tempted to put into their nasty pipes what the tobacconist calls tobacco, or go into the drinking saloons for what he rum-sellers call i beer. Good coffee would do much in driving out bad rum. Adulteration of food has got to be an evil against which all the health officers and all the doctors and all the ministers and all the reformers and all the Christians need to set themselves in battle array. How can weserve our generation with enough to eat? By sitting down in embroidered slippers and lounging back in an arm chair, our mouth puckered up around a havana of the best brand and through clouds of luxurious smoke reading about political economy and the philosophy of strikes? No! Nol By finding but who in Brooklyn has been living on gristle and sending them tenderloin and beefsteak. Seek out some family who through sickness or conjunction of misfortune, have not enough to eat and do for them what Christ did for the hungry multitudes of Asia Minor, multiplying the loves and the fishes. Let us quit the surfeit ng of ourselves until we can not choke down another crumb of cake and begin the supply of other necessities.

We often see on a small scale a recklessness about the welfare of others which a great warrior expressed on a large scale, when his officers were dissuading him from a certain campaign, saying: "It would cost two hundred thousand lives,” replying with i. diabolism that can never be forgotten. “What are two hundred thousand lives to me?” > Bo far from helping appease the world’s hunger there are these whom Isaiah describes as grinding the faces of the poor. You have seen a farmer ora mechanic put a scythe or an ax on a grindstone, while some one was turning it round and round, and the man holding the ax bore on it harder and harder while the water dropped from the grindstone, and the edge of the ax from being round and dull, got keener and keener and the mechanic lifted the ax glistening and sharp and with the edge so keen he must cautiously run his fingers along lest while examining the implement he cut his hand to the bone. Bo I have seen men who were put against the grindstone of hardship, and while one turned the crank another would press-the unfortunate harder down ana harder down until he was ground away thinner and thinner, his comforts thinner, his prospects thinner and bis face thinner, and Isaiah shrieks out: “What mean ye that ye grind the faces of the poor? It is an awful thing to be hungry. It is an easy tning for us to be in a good humor with all the world when we* have no lack. But let hunger take full possession of us and we would all turn barbarians and cannibals and fiends. lam glad to know that the time is coming, God hasten it, when every family in the round world will sit down to a full table, and it will be oiily a question between lamb and venison, or between partridge and quail on toast, and out of spoons made out of Nevada silver or California gold the pastries will drop on tongues thrilling with tbankfullness because they have full enough. I have no idea that God is gding to let the human race stay in its present prdicament If the world winds up as it now is it will be an awful failure of a world. The barren places will be irrigated. The promologists, helped of God, will urge on the fruits. The botanists, inspired of the Lord, will help on the garden. The raisers qf stock will send enough animals fit for human food to the markets, and the last earthquake toat rends the world will upset a banqueting table at wnich are seated the entire human race. Meanwhile suppose that some of the energy we are expending in useless and unavailing talk about the< bread question ’ should he expended in merciful alleviations.

11 have read that the battle field on which more troops met than on any other in the world’s history was the battle field of Liepsic, 160,000 men udder Napoltean and 250,000 men under Schwaizeberg. No, no. The greatest and most terrific battle is now being fought all the world over. It is the struggle for food. The ground tone of the finest passage in one of the great musical masterpieces, the artist says, was suggest to him by the cry of the hungry populace of Vienna as the King rode through and they

shouted “Bread! Giv# us bread!’’ And all through the great harmonies of musical acadeiny and cathedral I hear the -pathos, the ground tone, the tragedy of uncounted multitudes, who, with streaming eyes and wan cheeks and broken hearts in behalf of themselves and their families, are pleading for bread. , ’ £- Let us take another look around' to see bow we may serve dur generation. Lee us see as far as po’« blw .that they have enoug Ito w< ar. Go < looks on the huma>< ra. e and know s jur-t now many iun< bitants the w orld has. The statistics 01 tue world’s population are carefully taken in civilized land?, and every few years officers of Government go through the land and count how many people there are in the United States or England and great ai chrhcy is reached. But when people tell us how many inhab tants there are in Asia or Africa, at best it must'be a wild guess. Yet God knows the exact number of people on our planet and He has made enough apparel for each, and it there be fifteen hundred milliou, fifteen thousand, fifteen hundred and fiiteen people, then there is enough apparel for fifteen hundred million, fiiteen thousand, fiiteen hundred and fifteen. Not slouchy apparel, not ragged apparel, not insufficient apparel, but appropriate apparel. At least two suits for every being on the earth, a summer suit and a winter suit. A good pair of shoes lor every living mortal. A good coat, a good bat or a good bonnet and a, good shawl, and a complete masculine or femiume outfit of apparel. A wardrobe for all nations adapted to all crimes, and not a'shing or a button or a pm nr a hook or au eye wanting. [Bu ,» as! where are teg >od clothes for imee-iviu ths of the human race?- The other one fourth have appropriated them. The fact is, there needs to be a redistribution. Not by Anarchistic violence. If outlawry had its way it would rend and tear and diminish until instead of three- fourths of

the world not properly attired, fourfi ur hs wduld be in rags. I let yui know uow the relistribut on will take p ace. by generosity on' the part of those who have a surplus aud increased I industry on the part of those suffering from deficit. Not all, but the large majority of eases of poverty in this country a result of idleness, either on the p rt o. the present sufferers or their au restore. In most cases the rum jug is the maelstrom that has swallowed down tne livelihood of those who are in rags. But things will change, and by generosity on the part of the crowded wardrobes, and industry and sobriety on ths part of the empty wardrobes there will be enough for all to wear. God has done his part toward the dressing of the human race. He grows a surplus of wiol on the sheep’s back and flocas roam the i mountains and vallevs with a burden of warmth intended for tiansference to human comiort, when the shut ths of the factories reaching all the way from Chattahoochee to the Merrimac shall have spun and woven it. And here come north the Rocky mountain goat and the cashmere and the beaver. Here are the merino sheep, their origin traced back to the flocks of Abrahamic and Davidic times. In white letters of snowy fleece. God has been writing for a thousand years His wish that there might be warmth for all nations. Whde others are discussing the eflect of 1 i h br low tariff nr no tm- rt at all wool, y >u and I han be ter s e if in our wardii bes We havenuboiug lum Wj can spare tor 1 the shivering, or pick out some poor lad iof the street and take him down to a clothing store and tit him out for the ( winter. Don’t think that God has forgotten to send ice and snow, because of tuis wonderfully mild January aud February. We shad yet have deep snows and so much frost on the window pane that in the morning you can nol s-e through itjand whole flocks of biizzaids, I for God long ago declared that winter as well as summer shall not cease, and , between this and the spring crocus we j may all have reason to cry out with the psalmist: “Who can stand before His cold?’

Again, let us look around and see how we may serve our generation. Wtiat short-sighted mortals we would be if we were anxious to clothe and teed only the most insignificant part of a man, namely, his body, while we put forth no effort to clothe and feed and save his soul; Time is a little piece broken off a great eternity. W hat are we doing for the souls of this present generation? Let me say it is’ a generation worth saving. Most magnificent men and women are in it. We make a great ado about the improvements in navigation, and in locomotion, and in art and machinery. We remark what wonders of telegiaph, and telephone, and stethoecope. Wuat improvement is electric light over a tal,low candle! But all these improvements are insignificant compared with the improvement in the human race. In olden times, once in a wMle, a great and good man or woman would come up, and the world has made a. great fui-s about it ever since; but now they are so numerous we scarcely speak about them. We halo about the people of the past, but I think if the times demanded them it would be found we have now living A this year 1889 fifty Martin Luthers, fifty George Washingtons, fifty Lady Huntingtons, fifty Elizabeth Frys. During the civil war more splendid warriors in North and South were developed in four years than the whole world developed in the previous twenty yeais. I challenge the four thousand years before the flood and the eighteen centuries after the flood to show me the equal of George Peabody/ This generation of men and women is more worth saving than any of theione hundred and eighty generations that have passed off. But where shall we begin? With ourselves. That is the pillar from which we must start. Prescott, the blind historian, tells us how Pizarro saved his army for the right when they were about deserting him. With his sword he made a long the ground. He said: “My men, on the north side are desertion and death, on the south side is victory: on the north s|de Panama and poverty, on the' south side Peru with all its riches. Choose for yourselves; for my part I go to the south.” Stepping across the line one by one, his troops followed and finally his whole army. The sword of God’s truth draws the dividing line to-day/ On one side of it are sin and ruin and death, on the other side are pardon and usefulness and happiness and heaven. You cross from the wrong aide to the right side and your family will cross ' with you, and your friends and ! your associates. The war you go they will go. If we are not saved we will never save any lone else. How to’get saved? Be willing to accept Christ, and then accept Him instantaneously and forever. Get on the Rock fl'st and then you w H be able to help others upon the same

Kock. Men and women have been raved quicker than I have been talking about it. What, w.thout a prayer? Yes.* «V hat, 1 without time to deliberately think it ovei? Yea. What, without a tear?, Yes. believe! That is all. Believe what? That Jesus died to save you from sin and death and hell. Will you? Do yon? | You have. Something makes me think you have. New light has come into your countenances. Welcome! 1 7Welcome! Hail! Hail! Saved yourselves, how are you going to save others? By* tes imony. Tell it to your family. Teh it to your business associates. Tell it everywhere. We will successfully preach no more religion and will sue cessfully talk no more religion than we Ourselves have. I What if we cofild get this whole generation saved? These people who are living with us the same year and amid the same stupendous events and who are flying toward the future swifter than eagles toward their prey* We can not stop. They can not stop. We think we can stop. We say, “Come, new, my friend, let us stop and discuss this subject,’ but we do not stop. The year does not stop, the day does not stop, the hour does not atop- The year is a gieat wheel and there isabaud on that wheel that keeps it revolving,and as that w heel tut ns it turns three hundred and sixtyfive smaller wheels, which are the days, and then each °f these three hundred anu sixty-five wheels turns twenty four smaller wheels, which are the hours, and these twenty-four smaller wheels turn sixty smaller wheels, which are the minutes, and these sixty smaller wheels turn sixty more smaller wheels which are the seconds, and they keep rolling, rolling, rolling, mounting, mounting, mounting and swiftening, swiiteinng, switteniug. Oh, Goul it our generation is going like that, and we are going with them, wake us to the short but tremendous opportunity. I conf< ss to you that my one wish is to serve this generation, not to antagonize it, not to damage it, not to rule it, but to serve it. I would like to do something toward helping unstrap its load, to stop its tears, to balsam its wounds and to induce it to put foot on the upward road that has at its teiminus acclamation rapturous and gates pearline, andgarlands amaianthine and fountains rainbowed and dominions enthroned and coroneted, for I can not forget that lullaby in the closing words of my text: “David, after he had served h s own generation, by the will of God, fell on sleep.” And what a lovely sleep it was! Unhlial Absalom did not trouble it. Ambitious Adonijah did not worry it/ Persecuting Saul did not harrow it. Exile did not fill it with nightmare. Since a boy-among his father’s flocks at night, he had not had such a good sleep. At seventy years of age he lay down to it. He has nad many a troubled sleep, as in the caverns of Adullam or in the palace at the time his enemies were attempting his capture. But this was a peaceful sleep, a calm sleep, a restful sleep, a glorious sleep. “After be had served his generation,by the will of God he fell on sleep.” Oh, what a good thing is sleep after a hard day’s work! It takes all the aching out of the head and all the weariness out of the limbs and all the „ smarting out cf the eyes. From it we rise in the morning and it is a new world. And if we, like David, serve our generation, we will at life’s close have most desirable and refreshing sleep. In it will vanish our last fatigue of body, our last worriment of mind, our last sorrow of soul. To the Cnristian’s body that was hot with raging fevers so that the attendants must by sheer force keep on the blankets.it will be t.ie cool sleep. To those who are thin-blooded and suffering with agues, it will be the warm sleep. To those who, because of physical disorders, were terrified with night l visions, it will be the dreamless sleep. [ To nurses and doctors and mothers who were wakened almost every hour of the night by those to whom they ministered, or over whom they watched, it will be the undisturbed sleep. To those who could not get to bed until late at night and must rise early in the morning, and before getting rested, it will be the long sleep.

Away with all your gloomy talk about departure from this world. If we have served our generation it will not be putting out into the breakers, it will not be the fight with the King of Terrors; it will be going to sleep. A friend writing me from Illinois says that Rev. Dr. Wingate, President of Wake Forest College, North Carolina, after a most useful life, found his last day on earth his happiest day, and that in his lest moments he seemed te be personally talking with Christ, as friend with friend, saying: “Oh, how delightful it is. 1 knew you would be with me when the time came, and I knew it would be sweet, but I did not know jt would be as sweet as it is.” The fact was he had served his generation .-in the Gospel ministry, end by the will of God he tell on sleep. When in Africa. Mujwara, the servant, looked intothe tent of David Livingstone, and found him ’ on nis knees, he stepped back, not wishing to disturb him in prayer, and sometime after went in and found him in the same posture, and stepped back again, but after awhile went in and touched him, and lo! the great traveler had finished his last journey and he had died in the grandest and mightiest posture a man ever takes on his knees. He had served his generation by unrolling the scroll of a continent, and by the will of God, he fell on sleep.

But I must not look any longer at those gardens of beauty, but examine this building in which I haveejust awakened. I look out of the window this way and that and up and down, and I find it is a mansion of immense size in which lam stopping. All its windows of agate and its colonnades of porphery and alabaster. Why, 1 wonder if this is not the house of “many mansions” of which I usf dto read? It is, it is. There must be many of my kindred and friends in this very mansion. Hark! whose are those voices, whose are those bounding feet? I open the door and see, and lo! they are coming through all the corridors and up and down all the stairs, our long absent kindred. Why, there is father, there is mother,there are thechi!dren. Ah well again. All young again. All of us together again. And we embrace each other with the cry: ‘‘Never more to part, never more to part!” The arfibes, the alcoves, the hallways echo and re-echo the words, “Never more to p<rr, never more to part.” Then oui glorified friends say: “Come out with us and see heaven.’’ And some of th>m bounding ahead of us and some of them skipping beside us, westart down the ivory stairway. And we meet, coming up. one of the Kings of ancient Israel, somewhat small of stature, but having a countenance radiant with a thousand victories.