Rensselaer Republican, Volume 27, Number 52, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 August 1895 — TALMAGE’S SERMON. [ARTICLE]

TALMAGE’S SERMON.

Words for the bereaved and FAINT HEARTED. He Glowingly Pictnres the Attractions of the World Beyond —The Health, the Splendorß, the Eennions and the Song of Heaven. Glories of Heaven. For the bereaved and faint-hearted there could be no words of stronger consolation or encouragement than those of the sermon prepared by Rev. Dr. Talmage for last Sunday. His subject was Splendors.” With inimitable touch, he has pictured the glories and ■attractions of the world beyoud the skies in a way to bring joy to believing souls and to fascinate even thi thoughtless and indifferent. The text chosen was, ‘"Eye bath not seen non ear heard.” I. Corinthians it. &. * i.:.. . “I am going to heaven! I am going to heaven! Heaven! Heaven! Heaven!” These were the last words uttered a few ■daysogo by rny precious wife as she ascended to be with God forever, and is it not natural as well as Christianly appropriate that our thoughts be much directed toward the glorious residence of which St. Paul speaks in the text I have chosen? Corinth, The city of Corinth has been called the Paris of antiquity. Indeed, for splendor the world holds no such wonder to-day.. It stood on an isthmus washed by two •seas, the one sea bringing the commerce ■of Europe, the other the commerce of Asia. From her wharves, in the construction of which whole kingdoms had been absorbed, war galleys with three banks of oars pushed out and confounded the navy yards of all the world. Huge handed machinery, such as modern invent tion cannot equal, lifted ships from the sea on one side and transported them on on trucks across the isthmus and set them down in the sea on the other side. • The revenue officers of the city went down 1 through the olive groves that lined the beach to collect a tariff from all nations. The mirth of all people sported in her Isthmian games, and the beauty of all lands sat in her theaters, walked her porticoes, and threw itself on the altar of statue and temple bewildered the beholder. There were white marble fountains, Into which, from apertures from the side, ■there rushed waters everywhere known ■for health-giving qualities. Around ■these basins, twisted into wreaths of atone, there were all the beauties of sculpture and architecture, whiie standfngTas if to guard the costly display, was a atatue of Hercules of burnished Corinthian brass. Vases of terracotta adorned the cemeteries of the dead —vases so costly that Julius Caesar was not satisfied until he had captured them for Rome. Armed officials, the “Corinthiarii,” paced up and down to see that no statue was defaeod, no pedestal overthrown, no bas-re-lief touched. From the edge of the city a hill arose, with its magnificent burden ■of columns and towers and temples—l,ooo alaves awaiting at one shrine —and a citadel so thoroughly impregnable that Gibraltar is a heap of sand compared with it. Amid all that strength and magnificence ■Corinth stood and defied the world. Paul’s Text, '■Oh;Tt’was'ttdt turustlcs'who had never seen anything grand that St. Paul uttered this text. They had heard the best music that had come from the bostjnstnnnonts In all the world, they had heard songs floating from morning porticoes and melting in evening groves, they had passed their whole lives away among pictures and sculpture and architecture and Corinthian brass, which had been molded and shaped, until there was no chariot wheel in which it had not sped, and no tower in which it had not glittered and no gateway that it had not Ah, it was a bold thing for St. Paul to stand there amid all that and say, “All this is nothing. These sounds that come from the temple of Neptune are not music compared with the harmony of which I speak. These waters rushing in the basin of Pyrene are not pure. These statues of Bacchus and Mercury are not exquisite. Ton citadel of Aeroeorinthus is not strong •compared with that which I offer to the poorest slave that puts down his burden -at that brazen gate. You, Corinthians, thiuk this is a beautiful city; you think .you have heard afl sweet sounds and seen all beautiful sights; but I tell you ‘eye hath not seen nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man the things which God hath prepared for him that love him.’ ” Ypu see my text sets forth the idea that (however exalted our idens may be of heaven, they come far short of the reality. Some wise men have been calculating how many furlongs long and wide heaven ■is, and they have calculated how many Inhabitants there are on the earth, how long the earth will probably stand, and then they come to this estimate —that after all the nations have been gathered to heaven, there will bo room for each aoul, a room 10 feet long and 15 feet wide. It would not bo largo enough for me. I am glad to know that no human estimate is sufficient to take the dimensions. “Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard,” nor arithmetic calculated. Health in Heaven. I first remark that we can in this world .get no idea of the health of heaven. When you were a child, and you went out in the morning, how you bounded along the road •or street —you had never felt sorrow or sickness! Perhaps later—perhaps in these very summer days—you felt a glow in your cheek, and a spring in your step, -and an exuberance of spirits and a clearness of eye, that made you thank God you were permitted to live. The nerves were harp Btrings, and the sunlight was a doxology, and the rustling leaves were the rustling of the robes of a great crowd rising up to praise the Lord. You thought that you knew what It was ♦o be well, but there is no perfect health -on earth. The diseases of past generations come down to us. The airs that float now on the earth are unlike those which floated above parndise. They are charged • with impurities and distempers. Ttae»most clastic nnd robust health of earth, compared with that which those experience before whom the gates have been opened, is nothing but sickness and emaciation. Look at that soul standing before the throne. On earth she was a lifelong invalid. See her step now and hear her voice now. Catch if yotl can one breath of that celestial air. Health in all the pulses! health o* vision; health of spirits; Immortal'health. No racking cough, no sharp pleurisies, no consuming fevers, bo ■ exhausting pains, no hospitals of wounded men. Health swinging in the .air; health flowing in all the streams; -health blooming on the banka. No head-

aches, no sldeaches, no backaches. That child that died in the agonies of croup, hear her voice now ringing in the anthem. That old man that went bowed down with infirmities of age, see him walk now with the step of an immortal athlete—forever young again! That night when the needlewoman fv#|d away in the garret a wave of ihesjpife.nly air resuscitated her forever —for everlasting years .to nor fatigue “Eye hath not seen it; ear hath not heard it.” f plendora of Heaven. I remark further that we can in thinwork gettno just idea of the splendor of heaven. St. John tries to describe it. Ho says, “The 12 gates are 12 pearls,” and that “the foundations of the wall are garnished with all manner of precious stones.” As we stand looking through the telescope of St. John we see a blaze of amethyst and pearl and emerald and sardonyx nnd chryso'prasus and mountain of light, a cataract of color, a sea of glass and a city like the sun. —St.John bids us look again, and we see thrones —thrones of the prophets, of the patriarchs, thrones of the angels, thrones of the apostles, thrones of the martyrs, throne of Jesus, throne of God. And wo turn-round to see the |lory, and it is—thrones! Thrjnes! Thrones! St. John bids us look again, and we see the great procession of the redeemed passing. Jesus, on a white horse, leads the inarch, and all the armies of salvation following on white horses. Infinite cavalcade passing, passing; empires pressing into line, ages following ages. Dispensation tramping on after dispensation. Glory in the track of glory. Europe, Asia, Africa, and North and South America pressing into line. Islands of the sea shoulder to shoulder. , Generations before the flood following generations after .the flood, and as Jesus rises at the head of that great host and waves his sword in signal of victory all crowns are lifted, and all ensigns flung out, and aIF chimes rung, and all hallelujahs chanted] and some cry, “Glory to God most high.’l and some, “Hosanna to the Son and some, “Worthy is slain” —till all exeloijwrfKms of endear-( ment and the vocabulary of' heaven are exhausted, and there come up surge after sir/e-of “Amen! Ameni”" Amen!” T ~ \ “Eye hath iiot seen it; ear hath not heard it” Skim from the summer waters - ree brightest sparkles, and you will got-no-idea of the shebn/of the everlasting sea. Pile up the splendors of earthly cities, and they would not make a stopping stone by which you migliVmqunt to the city of God. Every house Is Every step a triumph. Every goring of the head a coronation. Every n&al is a banquet. -Every-stcoke from the-tower-is a wedding bell. Every day is a jubilee, every hour a rapture, and every moment an ecstasy. “Eye hath not seen it; ear hath not heard it.”

Reunions in Heaven. I remark further, we can get no idea on earth of the reunions of heaven. If you have ever been across the sea and met a friend or even an acquaintance in some strange city, you remember how your ble<xl thrilled, and how glad you were to see him. What, then, will be our joy, after we have passed the seas of death, to meet in the bright city erf the sun those from whom we have long been separated! After we have been away from our friends ten or fifteen years, and we come upoir-tlietnr we see how differently they look. The hair has turned, and wrinkles have come in their faces, and we say, "How you have changed!” But, oh, when you stand before the throne, all cares gone from the face, all marks of sorrow disappeared, and feeling the joy of that blessed land, methinks we Will say to each othef, with an exultation we cannot now imagine, ‘‘How you have changed!” In this world we only meet to part. It is good-by, good-by, farewells floating in the air. We hear it at the rail car window, and at the steamboat wharf good-by. Children lisp it, and old age answers it. Sometimes we say it in a light way— “good-by”— and sometimes with anguish in which the soul breaks down. Good-by! Ah! That is the word that ends the thanksgiving banquet; that is the word that comes in to close the Christmas chant. Good-by! good-by! But not so in heaven. Welcomes in the air,. welcomes at the gate, welcomes at the house of many mansions—but no good-by. That group is constantly being augmented. They are going up from our circles of earth to join it—little voices to join the anthem, little hands to take hold of it in the great home circle, little feet to dance in the eternal glee, little crowns to be cast down before the feet of Jesus. Our friends are in two groups—a group this side of the river and a group on the other side of the river. Now chere goes one from this to that, and another from this to that, and soon we will all be gone over. How many of your loved ones have already entered upon that blessed place! If I should take paper and pencil, do you think I could put them all down? Ah, my friends, the waves of Jordan roar so hoarsely we cannot hear the joy on the other side where their group is augmented. It is graves here and coilius and hearses there. A Dying Negro Boy. A little child’s mother had died, and they comforted her They said: “Your mother has gone to heaven. Don’t cry.” And tho next day they went to the graveyard, and they laid the body of the mother down into the ground, and the little girl came up to the verge of the grave, and looking down at the body of her mother said, “Is this heaven?” Oh, we have no idea what heaven is! It is the grave here, it is darkness here, but there is merrymaking yonder. Methinks when a soul arrives some angel takes it around to show it the wonders of that blessed place. The usher angel says to the uewly arrived: “These are the martyrs that perished at .Piedmont. These ware torn to pieces at the Inquisition. This is the throne of the great Jehovah. This is Jesus!” “I am going to see Jesus,” said a dying negro boy. “I am going to see Jesus.” And the missionary said, “You are sure you will see him?” “Oh, yes; thnt's what I want to go to heaven for.” “But,” said the missionary, “suppose that Jesus should go away from heaven —what then?” “I should follow him," said the dying negro boy, “But if Jesus went down to hell — what then?” The dying boy thought for a moment and then he said, “Massa, where Jesus is there can be no hell!” Oh, to stand In his presence! That will be heaven! Oh, to put our hand in that hand which was wounded for us on the cross, to go around amid all the groups of the redeemed and shake hands with prophets and apostles and martyrs and with our own dear, beloved ones—that will be the great reunion. We cannot imagine it now, onr loved ones seem so far away. When we are In trouble and lonesome, they don’t seem to come to us.

We go on the banks of ths Jordan and call across to them, but they don’t seem to hear. We say, “Is it well with the child, is it well with the loved ones?” and we listen to hear if any voice comes back over the waters. None! None! Unbelief says, “They are dead and extinct forever,” but, blessed be God, we have a Bible that tells us different. We open it -.and fled that they are neither dead nor extinet; that they were never so much iilive asjiqw; that they are only waiting for our coming, and that we shall join theip on the otb?r*side of the river. Oh, glorious reunion! we cannot grasp it now. “Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard nneither have entered into the heart of man the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.” The Song of Heaven. I remark again, we r can in this world get no idea of tho song of heaven. You know there is nothing more inspiriting than music. In the battle of Waterloo the Highlanders were giving way, and Wellington found out that the bands of music had ceased playing. He sent a quick dispatch, telling them to play with the utmost spirit a battle march. The music started, the Highlanders were rallied, and they dm>ied on till the day was won. We appreciate the power of secular music, but do we appreciate the-power of sacred song ?j There is nothing more inspiring to me than a whole Congregation lifted np on the wave of holy melody. When we sing some of those dear old psalms and tunes, they rouse all the memories of the past. Why, some of them were cradle songs in our father’s house. They are all sparkling with tbe morning dew of a thousand Christian Sabbaths. They were sung by brothers and sisters gone now, hy voices that were aged and broken in the music—voices none the less sweet because they did tremble and break. When I hear these old songs sung, It seems as if the old country -jaceting-houses joined in the chorus, and Scotch kjruanil sailors’ bethel and western caoinsNmiiil the whole continent lifts the scepters of eternit/ beat time to the music. Away, then, /with your starveling tunes that ' v «hilPThe devotions of the sanctuary and 'fliakuthe awple sit silent when Jesus is ’ oosan na. uyCfhjemls, if music on earth is so swfeetpwbat will it be in heaven? They all know the tune there. Methinks the tune of heaven will be mode up partly all our hymns and tunes going to add to the song of Moses and the Lamb. All the best singers of all the ages will join it —choirs of white-robed children, choirs of patriarchs, choirs of apostles, morainr stars clapping their cymbals, harpers with their harps. Great anthems of God roll -on, roll-on,-other empi res joining the the harmony, till the thrones are full of it and the nutions all saved. Anthem shall touch anthem, chorus join chorus, nnd all the sweet sounds of earth and heaven be poured into the ear of Christ. David of the harp will be there. Gabriel of the trumpet will be there. Germany, redeemed, will pour its deep base voice into the song; and Africa will add to tho music with her matchless voices.

I wish we could anticipate that song. I wish in (he dosing hymns of the churehes to-day we might catch an echo that slips from the gates. Who knows but that when the heavenly door opens to-day to let some soul through there may come forth the strain of the jubilant voices until we catch it? Oh, that as the song drops down from heaven it might meet half way a song coming up from the earth I