Rensselaer Republican, Volume 27, Number 31, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 April 1896 — BTARTING FOR HOME. [ARTICLE]

BTARTING FOR HOME.

«EV. DR. TALMAGE PREACHES A RADICAL SERMON. The Prodigal** Return Fttr»M#hca the Theme for a Powerful Discourse—A , Divine Cufe for the Ills of the "World—A Glorious Invitation. .. . The Capital Pulpit. A most radical gospel sermon is the one ■of last Sunday by Dr/Talmage, It runs «p and down the whole gamut of glorious invitation. His text was Luke xv.‘, 18 ' n l will arise and go to my father.” J TEefets nothing like hunger to take the" ■energy out of a man. A hungry man can toil neither with* pen nor hand nor foot. There has been many an army defeated not so much for lack of ammunition as for lack of bread. It was that fact that Took thefire oqxof this young man of the text. Storm and exposure will wear out any man's life in time, but hunger makes ■quick work. The most awful cry. ever heard on eirth is the cry for bread. A Traveler tells us that in Asia Minor there are trees which bear fruit looking very much like the. long bean of our time. It is called the carob. Once in awhile the :people, reduced to destitution, would eat these earobs, but generally the earobs, the ■beans spoken of here in the text, were thrown only to the swine, and they ■crunched them with great avidity. But This young man of iny text could not even* .get them without stealing them. So one day, amid the swine troughs, he begins to He says: “These are no ■clothes for a rich man’s son to wear; this!s no kind of business for a Jew to be engaged in, feeding swine. I’ll go home; I’ll go home. I will arise and go to my father.” : ,1 know there are a great many people who try to throw a fascination, a romance, n halo, about sin, but notwithstanding all that Lord Byron and George Sand have said in regard to it, it is a mean, low, contemptible business, and putting food and fodder into the troughs of a herd of inIquities that root and .wallow in the soul of matt is a very poor business for men ■and women intended to be sous and -daughters of the Lord Almighty, and when this young man resolved to go home it was a very wise thing for him to do, and The only question is whether we will follow him, Satan promises large wages if we will serve him, but he clothes his victims with rags, and he pinches them with hunger, and when they start out to do "better he sets after them all the bloodbounds of lielL Subtil comes to us to-day, ■and he promises all luxuries and emoluments if we will only serve him. Liar, ■down with thee to the pit! “The wages of «in is death.’’ Oh, the young man of the text was wise when he uttered the resolution, -I will arise and go to my father.” In the time-of Mary, the 1 persecutor, a jiersecutar came 4tu4xA3imstiau woman who had hidden in hey house for the Lord’s sake one of Christ’s servants, and the persecutor said, “Where is that heretic?” The Christian woman said, “You open that trunk and you will see the heretic.” The persecutor opened the trunk, ftnd ( ori the top of the linen of the trunk he saw a glass. He said, “There is no heretic here.” “Ah:" she said, “you look in the glass and you will see the heretic.”

Seeing Ourstelves, As I take up the mirror of .God’s word to-day, I would that, instead of seeing the prodigal of the text, we might see ourselves—our want, our wandering, our sin, our lost condition—so that we might-be-ae--tvise as this young man was and say, “I will arise and go to my father.” The resoJution of this text was formed in a dis■gust at his present circumstances. If this young man 'had been by bis employer *et to culturing flowers, or trainyig vines •over an arbor, or keeping an account of the pork market, or overseeing other laborers, he would not have thought of going home—if lie had had his pockets full of money, if he had been able to say: “I liave SI,OOO now of my own. What's the tise of my going back to Iny father's house? Do you flunk Tin going back to apologize' to the old man? Why, he would put me on the limits. He would not have going on around the old place •such conduct as I have been engaged in. I won’t go home. There is no reason why I should go home. I have plenty of money, plenty of pleasant surroundings. Why should Igo home?” Ah, it was liis pauperism, it was his beggary. He had to go home. Some man comes and says to me: “Why do you talk about the ruiued state of the human soul? Why don’t you speak about the progress of the nineteenth ceufury and talk of something more exhilarating?” It is for this reason: A man never », the . Map&Jfek, an a famine struck state. Suppose I should come to you in your home, and you are in good, sound, robust health, and I should begin to talk about medicines, and •about how much better this medicine is than that, and some other medicine than some other medicine, and talk about tins physician and that physician. After a while you would’ get tired, and you would say: ‘‘l don’t want to hear about medicines. Why do you talk to me of physicians? I never have a doctor.” But suppose I come into your house ami 1 find . you spverely sick, and I know the medicine that will cure you, and I know the physician who is skillful enough to meet your case. You say: “Bring on all that . medicine, bring on that physician. 1 am terribly sick, and I want help.” Unincd bjr Sin, If I come to you, and you feel you are all right in body, and all right iu mind, wild all right in soul, you have need of nothing, but suppose I have persuaded you that the leprosy of sin is upon you, the worst of all sickness. Oh, then you say, “Bring me that balm of the gospel, bring mo that divine medicament, bringme Jesus Christ.” “But,” says some one in the audience, “how do you know that we are in a ruined condition by sin?” Well, I ran prove it iu two ways, and you may have your choice. I can prove it cither by the statements of men or by the statement of God. Which 'Shall it be? You say, “Bet ns have the statement of God.” Well, he says in one place, “The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked.” He says in another place, “Whitt is man that lie should be clean, and he which is born of woman tint he should be righteous?” He says in another place, “There is none that -doeth good—no, l not one." He says ih another place, “As by one man sin on-. fftil iutft world, itnd do«ilh by Hiiu And so death passed upon all men. for \ that all £SJ sinned." "Well,” you say, '“I am willing to acknowledge thnt, but -why should I take the particular rescue

that you propose?” This is the reason: “Except a man be born again he cannot see the kingdom of God.” This is the reason: ‘There is one name given under heaven among men whereby they may be saved.” Then there are a thousand voices here ready to say: “Well. I am ready to accept this help qf the gospel. I wojuld like to have this divine cure: How shall Igo to" work - ?” refine say that'a mere whim, an undefined longiug, amounts to nothing. You must have a stout, a tremendous resolution like this young man of the test when he said, “I will arise and. go to my father.” “Oh,” says some man, “how do I know my father wants me? How do I know if I go back I would be received?’! “Oh,” say# some man, “you don’t know where I have been; you don’t know how far I have wandered; you wouldn't talk that way-to me if ytm-fcnew all the iniquities I have committed.” What is that flutter among the angels of God? What is that horseman running with quick dispatch? It is news, it is news!- Christ has-found the lost. Nor angels can their joy contain, But kiudic with new fire. The sinner lost is found, they sing, 1 And strike the sounding lyre. God’s Infinite Mercy. When Napoleon talked of going into Italy, they said: “You can’t get there. If you knew what the Alps were, you would not talk about it or think about it. You can’t get your ammunition, wagons over the Alps.” Then Napoleon rose in his stirrups, and, waving his hand toward the" mountains, he said. “There shall be no Alps!” That wondersu 1 pass was laid out which has been the wonderment of all’ the years since—the wonderment of all engineers. And you tell me there are such mountains of sin between your soul and God there is no mercy. Then I see Christ waving his hand toward the mountains. I hear him say, “I will come over the mountains of thy sin and the hills of thine iniquity.” There shall be no Pyrenees; there shall be no Alps. ' Again, I notice that this resolution of the young man of my text was founded in sorrow at his misbehavior. It was not hiere physical plight. It was grief that lie had so maltreated his father. It is a sad thing after a father has done everything a child to have that child ungrateful. ■ Haw sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is To have a thankless child. That is Shaksjieare. “A foolish son is the heaviness of his mother.” That is the Bible. Wellfbiy Tnends, liftve not some of us been cruel prodigals? Have we not maltreated our Father? And such a Father! Three times a day has he fed thee. He has poured sunlight into tlhy day and at night kindled up all the street lamps of heaven. With what varieties of apparel he hath clothed thee for the seasons. Whose eye watches thee? Whose hand defends thee? Whose heart sympathizes with thee? Who gave you your children? Who is guarding your loved ones departed? Such a Father! So loving, so kind. If he ’had been a stranger; if he had forsaken us; if lie had flagellated us; if he had pounded us and turned us out of doors' on the commons, it would not have been so wonderful—our treatment of him; but he is a Father, so loving, #o kind, and yet how many of 11s for our wanderings have never apologized! If we say anything that hurts our friend’s feelings, if we do anything that hurts the feelings of those in whom we are interested, how quickly we apologize! We can scarcely wait until we get pen and paper to write a letter of apology. How easy it is for any one who is intelligent, right hearted, to write an apology or make an apology! We apologize for wrongs done to our fellows, but some of us perhaps have committed ten thousand times ten thousand wrongs against God and never apologized. An Irreparable Loss. I remark still further that this resolution of the text was founded in a feeling of homesickness. Ido not know how long this young man, how many months, how many years, he had been away from his father’s house, but there is something about the reading of m.v text that makes me think he was homesick. Some of you know what that feeling is. Far away from home sometimes, surrounded by everything bright and pleasant—plenty of Xriendsr-yojj-have-sai d, ‘‘l would.gixa_the _ world to be home to-night.” Well, this young man was homesick for his father’s house. I have no doubt when he thought of his father’s house he said, “Now, perhaps father may not be living.” We read nothing in this story, this parable, -founded on everyday life—wo read nothing about the mother. It says nothing about going home to her. I think she was dead. 1 think she had died of a broken heart at his wanderings, or perhaps he had gone into dissipation from the fact that he could not remember a loving and sympathetic mother. A man never gets over having lost his mother. Nothing said , "kQ&t-her, but father’s house. He thought he would just like to go and walk around the old place. He thought he would just like to go and see if things were as they used to be. Many a man after having been off a long while lias goile home and knocked at the door, and a stranger, has come. It is the old homestead, but a> stranger comes to the door. He finds out father is gone and mother is gone and brothers and sisters all gone. I think this young man of the text said to himself, “Perhaps father may be dead.” Still he starts to find out. He is homesick. Are there any here to-day homesick for God, homesick for heaven? To Be Almost Saved Is to Be Lost. There is a man who said, long ago, “If I could live to the year 1890, by that time I will have my business matters all arranged, and I will have time to attend to religion,' and I will bo a good, thorough, consecrated Christian.” The year 189 G has come. January, February, March, April—a third of the year gone. Where is your broken vow? “Oh,” says some man, “I’ll attend to that when I get my character fixed up, when I can get over my evil hqbits; I am now given to strong drink.” Oh, says the man, “I am given to uuclennlincss.” Or, says the man; “I nm given to dishonesty. When I get over my present habits, then I’ll be a thorough Christian.” My brother, yon, will get worse and worse, until Christ takes you in hand. “Not the righteous, sinners Jesus came to call.” Oh, but you say, “I ngreowith you in all that, but I must put it off a little longer.” Do you knoul'shere •were many who came just as near as you nre to the kingdom of God and never entered it? I was at Kusthampton, and I went into the cemetery to look around, and in that cemetery there are twelve graves side by side —the graves of sailors. This crew, some years ago, io a ship went ~»«ietb»-br«4k«n- at Amagauseu, about three miles away. My brother, then preaching at Easthampton, had been at the burial. These men of the crew came very near being saved. The people from

Amagansett saw the vessel, and they shot rockets, and they sent ropes from the shore, and these poor fellows got into the bo&t, and they palled mightily for the shore, bat jus>t before < they got to the Shore the rope snapped'.it: d the boat capsized, and they were lost, their bodies .afterward washed upon the beach. Oh, told of it by my brother—when these twelve men lay at the foot of the ptalpit, and he read over them the funeral serviee. They came very hear shore—within shouting distance of the shore, yet did not arrive on solid land. There are some men who come almost to the shore of God’s mercy, but not quite, not quite. To be almost saved is to be lost! Two Prodigals. I will tell you of two prodigals—the one that got back, and the ether that did nut get back. In Richmond there is a very prosperous and beautiful home in many respects. A young man wandered off from, that home. He wandered very far into sin. They heard of him after, but be tvas always on the wrong track. He would not go home. At the door of that beautiful home one night there was a great out-] icry. The young man of the house ran. ’down to open the door to see what was the matter. It was midnight. The rest of the family were asleep. There were the wife and children of this prodigal young man. The fact was he had come home and driven them out. He said: “Out of this house!. Away with these children! I will dash their brains out. Out into the storm!” The mother gathered them up and fled. The next morning the brother, the young man who had staid at borne, went out to find this prodigal brother and son, and he came where he was and saw the young man wandering up and down in front of the place where he had been staying, and the young man who had kept his integrity said to the older brother: “Here, what does all this mean? What is the matter with you.? Why do you act in this way?” -The prodigal looked at him afd said: “Who am I? Who do you take me to be?” He said, “You are my brother.” “No, lam not. lam a brute. Have you seen anything of my wife and ehiidren? Are they dead? I drove them out last night in the storm. I am a brute. John, do you think there is any help for me? I)o you think I will, ever get over this life of dissipation?” He said, “John.' there is one thing that will stop this.” The prodigal ran his fingers across his throat and said: “That will stop it, and I will stop it before night. Oh, my brain! I can stand it no longer.” That prodigal never got home. But I will tell you of a prodigal that did get home. In England. two young men started from ilieir father’s house and wefnt down to Portsmouth—l have, been there—a beautiful seaport. Some of you have been there! The father could not pursue his children - for sortie reason he could not leave .home—and so he wrote a letter down to Mr. Griffin, saying: “Mr. Griffin, I wish you would go and see my two sons. They have arrived in Portsmouth, and they are going to take ship and going away from hpme. I wish you would persuade them back.” The Pardon of the Gospel. Mr. Griffin went and tried to persuade them back. He persuaded one to go. He went with very easy persuasion because he was very.liomesick already. The other young man said: “I will not go. I have had enough of home. I’ll never go home.” “Well,” said Mr. Griffin, “then if you won’t go home I’ll get you a respectable position on a respectable ship.” “No, you won’t” said the prodigal; “no you won’t. I am going as a private sailor; as a common sailor. That will plague my father mqst and what will do most to tantalize and worry him will please me best.” Years passed on and Mr. Griffin was seated in his study one day when a messenger came to him saying there was a young man in irons on a ship at the dock —a young man condemned to death —who wished to see this clergyman. Mr. Griffin went down to the dock and went on shipboard. The young man said to’him. “You don’t know me, do you?” “No,” he 6aid, “I don’t know yon.” “Why, don’t you remember that young man you tried to persuade to go homo and he wouldn’t go?” “Oh, yes,” seid Mr, Griffin. “Are you that man?” “Yes, lam -that-awn,” said the. other.,“l would like to have you pray for me. I have committed murder and I must die, but I don’t want to go out of this world until some one prays for me. You are my father’s friend and I would like to have you pray for me.” Mr, Griffin went from judicial authority to judicial authority to get that young man’s pardon. He slept not night nor day. He went from influential person to influential person, until in some way he got that young nian’s pardon. He came down on Che dock and as he arrived on the dock with the pardon the father came. He had heard that his son, under a disguised and# was going to be put to death. So Mr. Griffin and the father went on ship’s deck and at the very moment Mr. Griffin offered the pardon to the young man the old father threw bis arms around the son’s n«fck and the son said: “Father, I have done very wrong and lam very sorry. I wish I had never broken your heart. I am very sorry!” “Oh,” said the father, “don’t mention it. It won’t make any difference now. It is all over. I forgive you, my son.” And he kissed him and kissed him and kissed him. To-day I offer you the pardon of the gospel—full pardon, free pardon. Ido not care what your crime has been. Though you say you have committed a crime against God, against your soul, against your fellow man, against your family, against the day of judgment, against the cross of Christ—whatever your crime has been, here is pardon, full pardon, and the very moment you take that pardon your Heavenly Father throws his arms around about you and says: “My son, I forgive you. It is all right. You are as much in my favor now as if you had never sinned.” Oh," there is joy on earth and joy in heaven. Who will take the Father’s embrace? Irish soldiers fought in King Philip’s war, which broke out in 1675, and some even earlier, iu the Pequod war. His-* torical evidence exists of Irish settlers in New England within twenty years after the landing at Plymouth Itock. As early as i 634 Massachusetts granted land near Newburyport to certain Irish and Scotch comers, and iu IG3O arrived the ship St. Patrick, belonging to Sir Tliomaß Wentworth, deputy of Ireland. In 1543, after the introduction of metal pins as nn article of feminine use. they became popular fla NfigJCeacJirea: ents. They were very expensive, and for a gentleman to make his lady friends a present of four or five_plns was considered a very happy thought.