Rensselaer Republican, Volume 21, Number 42, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 June 1889 — MAMMA'S BOY [ARTICLE]

MAMMA'S BOY

START FOUR BOY IN THE PATHWAY OF BIGHT, And In the End He Will Be Where fl® Ought to Be—The Destinies of Empires Are in the Mother's Hands.

Rev. Dr. Talmage preached at Brooklyn last Sunday. Subject: “People Who Have Lost Their Way.” Text* Genesis xxi., 9. He said: I learn from this Oriental Scene, in the first place, what a sad thing it ia wrtifexi too proud , for their business. Hagar was an assistant in that household, bnt she wanted to rule there. She ridiculed and jeered until her son Ishmael got the same tricks. She dashed out her own happiness and threw Sarah into a great fret; and if she had stayed much longer in that household she would have upset calm Abraham’s equilibrium. My friends, one half of the trouble in the world to-day comes from the fact that people do not know, their place, or finding their place; would not stay in it. When we come into the world there is always a place ready for us. A place for Abraham. A place for Sarah. A place for Hagar. A place for Ishmael. A place for you and a place for me. Our first duty is to find our sphere; our second is to keep it. We may be bom in a sphere far off from the one for which God finally intends us. Sextus V. was born on the low ground, and was a swine herdenGod called him up to wave a scepter. Ferguson spent his early days in looking after the sheep; God called him up to look after stars, and be a shepherd watching the flocks of light on the hillsides of heaven. Hogarth by engraving pewter pots; God raised him to stand in the enchanted realm of a painter. The shoemaker’s bench held oioorhfleld for a little while, but God called him to sit in the chair of a philosopher and a Christian scholar. The soap boiler of London could not keep his son in that business, for God had decided that Hawley was to be one of the greatest astronomers of England. On the other hand, we may be born in a sphere a little higher that for which God intends us. We may be bom in a castle, and play in a costly conservatory, and feed high brpd pointers, and angle for gold fish in artificial ponds, and be familiar with Princes; yet God may have fitted us for a carpenter’s shop, or a "dentist’s forceps, or a weaver’s shuttle, or a blacksmith’s forge. The great thing is to find just the the sphere for wnich God intended us, and then to occupy that sphere, and occupy it forever. Here is a man God fashioned to make a plow. There is a man God fashioned to make a constitution. The man who makes the plow is just as honorable as the man who makes the constitution, provided he makes the plow as good as the other man makes the constitution. There is a woman who was made to fashion a robe, and yonder is one intended to be a Queen and wear it. It seems to me that in the one case as in the other, God appoints the sphere; and the needle is just as respectable in His sight as the scepter. Ido not know but that the world would long ago have been saved in some of the men out of the ministry were in it, and some of those who are in it were out of it. I really think that one-half of the world may be divided into two-quarters—those who have not found their sphere, and those who, having found it, are not willing to stay there. How many are struggling for a position a little higher than that for which God intended them. The bondswoman wants to be mistress. Hagar keeps crowding Sarah. The small wheel of a watch, which beautifully went treading its golden pathway, wants to be the balance wheel, and the sparrow, with chagrin, droops into the brook, because it cannot, like the eagle, cut a circle under the sun. In the Lord’s army we all want to be brigadiergenerals. The eloop says: “More mast, more connage, more canvas. O, that I were a topsail schooner, or a fulbrigged, or a Ounard steamer.” And so the world is tilled with cries of discontent, because we are not willing to stay in the place where God put us and intended us to be. My friends, be not too proud to do any thing God tells you to do. For the tack of a right disposition in ibis respect the world is ttrewn with wandering Hagars and Ishmaels. God has given each one of us a work to do. You carry a scuttle of coal up that dark alley. You distribute that Christian tract. You give SIO,OOO to the missionary cause. You, for fiiceen years, sit witn chronic rheumatism, displaying the beauty of Christian submission. Whatever God calls you to, whether it win hissing or huzza; whether to walk under triumphal aich at lift the sot out of the ditch; whether it be to preach on a Pentecost, or to tell some wanderer of the street on the mercy of the Christ of Mary Magdalene; whether it be to weave a garland for a laughing child on a spring morning and call her a May Q teen, or to comb out tangle d locks of a waif of the street and cut up one of your old dresses to fit her out for the sanctuary—do jt, and do it right away. Whether it be a crown or a yoke, do not fidget. Everlasting honors upon those who do their work, and to tneir whole work, and are contented in the sphere in which God has put them, while there is only wandering, and exile, and desolation and wilderness, for discontented Hagar and Ishmael. Again: I find in this Oriental scene a i saon of sympathy with woman when /oe goes forth trudging in the desert What a great change it was for this Hagar. There was the tent and all the the surroundings of Abraham’s house, beautiful and luxurious no doubt Now the is going out into the hot sands of the desert O, what a change it was! And in our day we often see the wheel -of fortune turn. Here is some one who lived in the very bright home of her father. She had every thing possible to administer to her happiness. Plenty at the table. Music in the drawingroom. Welcome at the door. Shew led forth into life by some one who can not appreciate her. A dissipated soul comes and takes her out in the desert Iniquities blot out all the lights of that home circle. Harsh words wear out her spirits. The high hopes that shone out over the marriage altar while the ring was being set and the vows given ana the benediction pronounced have all faded with the orange blossoms, and there she is to-day, broken hearted, thinking of past ioy

sad present desolation and coming anguish. Hagar in the wilderne*! Here is a beautiful nome. You can . not think of any thing that can be added to it For years there has not been the suggestion of a single trouble. Bright and happy children fill the house with laughter and song. Books to read; pictures to look at; lounges to rest on; cup of domestic joy full and running over; dark night drops; pillow hot, pulses flutter; eyes close. And the foot whose well-known steps on the door-sill brought the whole household but at eventide, crying, “Father’s coming,” will never sound on the door-sill again. A long, deep grief plowed through all that lightness of domestic life. Paradise lost! Widowhood! Hagar in the wilderness! How- often it is We see the weak arm of woman conscripted for this battle with the rough world. Why is she going down the street in the early light of the morning, pale with exhausting work, not half slept out with the slumbers of last night,tragedies of suffering written all over her face, her lusterless eyes looking far ahead as though for the coming of some other trouble? Her parents called her Mary, or Bertha, or Agnes on the day when they held her up to the font, and the Christian minister sprinkled on the infant’s face the washings of a holy baptism. Her name is changedjnow. I hear it in shu f flejof the Worn-out shoes. I see it in the figure of the faded calico. I find it in the lineaments of the woebegone countenance. Not Mary, nor Bertha, nor Agnes, but Hagar in the wilderness. May God have mercy upon woman in her toils, her struggles, her hardships; her desolation, and may the great heart of Divine sympathy inclose her forever. Again: I find in this Oriental scene the fact that every mother leads forth tremendous destinies. You say: “That isn’t an unusual scene, a mother leading her child bv the hand.” Who is it that she is lead'iug? Ishmael, you say. Who is Ishmael? A great nation is to be founded; • nation so strong that it is to stand for thousands of years against all the armies of the world. Egypt and Asyria thunder against it; but in vain. Gaulns brings up his army,and his army is smitten. Alexander decides upon a campaign, brings up his hosts and dies. For a long while that nation monopolizes the learning of the world. It is the nation of the Arabs. Who founded it? Ishmael, the lad that Hagar led into the wilderness. She had no idea she was leading forth such destinies. Neither does any mother. You pass along the street, and see boys and girls who will yet make the earth quake with their influence. Whois that boy at Sutton Pool, Piymoutn, England, barefooted, wading down into the slush and slime, until his bare foot comes upon a piece of glass, and he holds it, bleeding and painstruck? That wound in the foot decides that he be sedentary in his life, decides that he be a student. That wound by the glass in the foot decides that he shall be John Kitto, who shall provide the best religious encyclopedia the world has ever bad provided, and, with his other writings as well, throwing a light upon the word of God such as has come from no other man in this century. Oh mother, mother, that little hand that wanders over your face may yet be lifted to hurl thunderbolts of war or drop benedictions. That little voice may blaspheme God in the grog shop, or cry “Forward!” to the Lord’s hosts, as they go out for their last victory. Mv mind to-day leaps thiity years ahead, and I see a merchant prince of New York. One stroke of his pen brings a ship out of Canton. Another stroke of his pen brings a ship into Madras. He is mighty in all the money markets of the world. ‘ Who is he? He sit? to-day beside you in the Tabernacle. My mind leaps thirty years forward from this time, and I find myself in a relief association. A great multitude of Christian women have met together for a generous purpose. There is one woman in that crowd who seems to have the confidence of all the others, and they all look up to . her for her counsel and for her prayers. Who is rhe? To-day you will find her in the Sabbath school, while the teacher tells her of that Christ who clothed the naked and fed the hungry and healed the sick. My mind leap’s forward thirty years from now, and I find myself in an African jungle; and there is a missionary of the cross addressing the natives, and their dusky countenances are irradiated With the glad tidings of great joy and salvation. Who is he? Did you not hear his voice to-day in the first song of the service? My mind leaps forward thirty years from now, and I find myself looking through the wickets of a prison. I see a face scarred with every crime. His chin on his open palm, his elbow on his knee—a picture of despair. As I open the wicket he starts, and I hear his chain clank. The jail keeper tells me that he has been in there now three times. First for theft, then for arson, now for murder. He steps upon the trap door, the rope is fastened to his neck, the plank falls, his body swings into the air. hh soul swings off into eternity. Who is he, and where is he? To-day playing kite on the city commons. Mother, you are to-day hoisting a throne or forging a chain—you are kindling a star or digging a dungeon. 1 learn one more lesson from this Oriental scene, and that is that every wilderness has a well in it. Hagar and Ishmael gave up to die. Hagars heart sank within her as she heard her child crying: “Water! water! water!” “Ah,” she says, “my darling, there is no water. This is a desert” And then God’s Angel said from the cloud; “What aileth thee, Hagar?” And she looked up and saw him pointing to a well of water where she filled the bottle for the lad. Blessed be God that there is in every wilderness a well, if you only know how to find it—fountains for all these thirsty souls to-day. On that last day, on that great day of the feast, Jesus stood and cried: “If any man thirst, let him come to me and drink.” All these other fountains you find are mere mirages of the desert. Paracelsus, yon know, spent bis time in trying to find out the elixir of life—a liquid which, if taken, would keep one perpetually young in this world, and would’change the aged back again to yonth. Of course, be was disappointed; he found not the elixir. But here I tell you to-day of the elixir of everlasting life bursting from the “Rock of Ages/’ And that drinking that water yon shall never get old, and you never will be sick, and you will never die. Ho, every one that come ye to the waters.” Ah, here ia a man who says: “1 have been looking for that fountain a great while, but can’t 1 find it.” And here is *ome ono else who says: “I believe all

you ray, bnt I have been trudging along in the wilderness and can’t find the fountain.” Do vou know the reason? I will toll you. You never looked in the right direction. “Oh,” you say, “1 have looked everywhere. 1 have looked north, south, east and west, and I haven’t found the fountain.” Why, you are not looking in the right direction at all. Look up, where Hager looked. She never would have found the fountain at all, but When she heard the voice of the angel she looked up,and she saw the finger pointing to the supply. And, oh soul, if to-day, with one earnest, intense prayer, if you would only look up to Christ he would point you down to the supply in the wilderness. "Look unto me all ye ends of the earth and be ye saved, for lam God. and there is none else.” Look! look! as Hagar looked. Yes, there is a well for every desert of bereavement. Looking over the andi. ence to-day I notice signs of mourning Have you found consolation? Oh, man bereft! oh, woman bereft!, have you found consolation? Hearse after hearse. We step from one grave hillock to another grave hillock. We follow corpses, ourselves soon to be like them. The world is in mourning for its dead. Every heart has become the sepulcher of some buried joy. But sing ve to God! Every wilderness has a Welfin it, and l come to that well to-day and I begin to draw water from that well. If you have lived in the countrv you have sometimes taken hold of the rope of the old well sweep, and you know now the bucket came up dripping with the bright, cool water," Ana I lay hold of the rope of God’s mercy to-day. and 1 begin to draw on that Gospel well'sweep, and see the buckets coming up. Thirsty soul, here is one bucket of life; come and drink of , it: “Whosoever will, let him come ana take of the water of life freely.” I pull away again at the roue, and another bucket comes up. It is this promise: “Weeping may tn Jure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” I lay hold of the rope again, and I pull away with all my strength, and the bucket comes up bright, and beautiful, and cool. Here is the promise: “Gome nnto Me all yc who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest.” The old astrologers used to cheat the people with the idea that they could tell from the position of the stars what would occur in the future, and if a cluster of stars stood in one relation that would be a prophecy of evil; if a cluster of stars stood in another relation that would be a prophecy of good. Wbat superstition! But here is a new astrology in which I put all my faith. By looking up to the Star of . Jacob, the morning star of the Redeemer, I can make this prophecy in regard to those who put their trust in Goa: “All things work together for good to those who love God.” I read it out on the sky. I read it out in the Bible. I read it out in all things: “All things work together for good to those who love God.” Do you love Him? Dave you seen the Nyetanthes? It is a beautiful flower, but it gives very little frsgrance until after sunset. Then it pours its richness on the air. And this grace of the Gospel that I commend to you this day, while it may he very sweet dnnng the day of prosperity, it pours forth its richest aroma after sun down, and it will be sun down with you and me site* while. When you come to go out < 1 this world, will it be a desert march c r will it be a fountain for your soul. Gb! come to-day to the fountain—tbe fountain open for sin and uncleanne-s. I will tel! you the whole story in two or three sentences. Pardon for all sin. Comfort for all trouble. Light for all darkness. And every wilderness has a well in it.