Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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7 / Taima^e Sermon 7i y "R etf. FranK. T>e XOUl Talmage. 2>.D. Los Angeles, Cal., March 27.—Like a fresh tall from the woods, vocal with the songsters of early spring, this ser mon urges all to cheerful service and to set the keynote of their lives to high and noble themes. The text is Solo mon’s Song ii, 12, "The time of the singing of the birds is come.” "Do you know what makes the snow banks disappear in the springtime?” asked a man of poetic temperament. "Why, yes,” I answered. “It is due to the heat of the sun being so much stronger now than it is in January. It Is due to the fact that, by close con tact, Maine and Massachusetts and •New York and Michigan are being warmed at the sun’s fireside, even as one side of a piece of bread Is toasted by being exposed to the kitchen stove’s heat while the other side of that piece ,of bread remains unscorched.” “Oh, no,” answered my poetic friend. “The snow disappears not on account of the sun’s rays, but because the flames glowing among the feathers of the red breasted robins have melted them. Have you not noticed, ns a rule, the snowflakes never entirely disappear until those harbingers of the summer flowers have stamped them out of ex istence?” Beautiful thought that! Beautiful to think that the winged forerunner of the spring, the chirping robin, should •be carrying around with him a bra zier filled with burning coals, as the ancient kings used to do when they .traveled, and everywhere he alights he changes the white snow bank of winter into the white snow bank of apple blossoms. But whether the snow disappears on account of the coming of the robins or the robins come as the messengers of spring, merely because the snow is disappearing, It is not in our province to discuss. We want to take for granted the one overwhelming fact that spring is here. And as spring Is here and the time of the singing of t^* birds for New York and Michigan and Montana and Dakota has come, we want to tell why the birds sing ami why we, as God’s children, should also become his singing disciples. We would today take our text from the book of nature as well as from the book of Holy Writ. The summer Is coming In beauty arrayed. And bright bees are humming throfch forest and glade; O’er hilltop and mountain are merrily heard The voice of the fountain and song of the bird. Like the Song Bird. r’Mrst, like the song bird, God bids us sing because he has given to us mu sical throats with which to sing. As the brown thrush or the redbird or tbfl nightingale Is able to lift his voice In treble or fantasia or lullaby or cantata or serenade, God, by anatomical con- I struction of the throat, has made It possible for us to sound forth musical notes in his name. He has not discon nected our windpipes from the great bellows of the lungs. He has not had us born with palsied tongue, or with deaf ears. But as God has placed in the larynx of every singing bird's throat a thin membrane, so he has stretched over the end of almost every human being's windpipe a fibrous, elas tic tissue which will vibrate as we at tempt to sing or speak. We ought, one and all. to be grateful that God has given to us anatomically a musical throat with which we can sing his praises. Thank God today for the pow er of the speaking throat. We are all ready to acknowledge our indebted ness to him for the blessings of the eye. If you are not, then read that wonderful story written by the most famous of living English authors. The book opens with a description of a noted war artist who is growing blind. Frenziedly he works at his last canvas, then the dark cloud of total obscura tion falls upon him. Ills friends leave him one by one for the Egyptian war. He sits in his room alone, an object of pity, until at last, crazed by horror, he starts for the front and is there merci fully shot by an Arab’s bullet. Sight! Oh. yes, with every glorious sunrise, with every architecture of frost upon window pane, with every masterpiece of autumn foliage, with every walk over country hill or through city street, we are all ready to say: "Thank God for two eyes! Thank God for the win dows of the soul!” Power of the Hainan Voice, Not only for visual, but for auditory, organs are we also thankful. If the sounding board of one of our eardrums , is in any way deadened we guard the other ear more carefully than we do our jewel Iwxes or our securities, which we place in the safety vaults. We never let our well ear become over heated by stove or register. We never In a railroad train let the draft blow upon It through opened windows. At the least sign of disturbance then away we rush to the specialist to have it treated and cared for by the best of aurists. Ah, yes, we all appreciate the blessings of the ear. But how many of us appreciate the blessings of the voice? How many of us have In the past thanked God that we can sing his praises as the birds can change every tree branch Into a choir loft In the temple of the woods? How many of fcs are ready to thank God for this wonderful Instrument of human voice, which can laugh out our Joys and sob out our sorrows and make men know ihe thoughts that are lodging for awhile under the domes of our fore heads and the loves tuat are billing md cooing in the silent retreats of our Hearts? 1 never realized so much what the blessing of the human voice meant as the other day, when a lady and gentle man from the east, with their little daughter, called upon me. The child had a beautiful face. She was as love ly a young girl as I ever saw. While we were talking she would watch uj closely and sympathetically smile when we smiled. But though she smiled she never laughed. At last I turned and addressed a sentence directly to her. With that a shadow flitted across the mother’s countenance as she said; "My little daughter cannot answer you. She Is dumb. Her tongue has been palsied since she was three years old. We have taken her to the best of doctors, but they all say her case Is hopeless.” "Merciful heaven!” I ejaculated.“What an affliction to fall on so beautiful a child!” And ns I looked sympathetic ally at the bright little creature, so sadly shut out of one of the Joys of life, I said to myself, “How thankful ought I to be for the power to sing God’s praises and to proclaim the gos pel of Christ to my fellow men!” Have you ever thanked God In the spring time for the power of the human voice? God Bid* la Sing. Like the song birds, G«d bids us sing because he has given to us an open heaven in which to sing. It is one thing to have a voice with which to sing, but it is just as essential to have a suitable place in which you can sing. It is one thing to have a musical throat like the song thrush, in which all the siren spirits of the hills and val leys can find melodious expression, but it is another thing to have the beauti ful voice of the yellow tipped canary hushed into perpetual silence by being domiciled in a dark room or in a dungeon. If a siuging bird were com pelled to live in a ground mole’s tun nel, or to work like the moths with their mouths wrapped up with wooleu garments, he would be ns dumb as they. Thank God, then, for your musical throat and for your opportunities for using it. David Glasgow Farragut, one of the most resplendent characters in naval history, was born July 5, 1801. With the exception of an engagement in which he participated as a mere boy of thirteen, Farragut never smelled gunpowder in actual battle until he was sixty-one years of age. For near ly fifty long years he walked the ship’s deck in times of peace. Had he been retired at sixty years of age from the service American history would have had one of its brightest lights snuffed out before It had had any opportunity to shine. John Milton, in some re spects, is the greatest name in English literature. Yet old, blind and neglect ed by his people, he had to write for posterity because the men of his own times and generation would not listen to his poetic song. Edmund Burke, one of the greatest of the English statesmen of his time, most of his Hfo was practically a statesman without an office, or, if in office, one who held a very subordinate place. So little was he honored by his parliamentary col leagues that it was once said, “No man could empty the house of commons so quickly as when Edmund Burke arose to speak.” Jonathan Edwards, the greatest of New England theologians, was driven out of his Northampton pulpit in 1750 and for eight long years the ablest of American metaphysicians lived in the little village of Stock- bridge because no first class church wanted to hear him preach. Henry David Thoreau, after publishing his pastoral masterpiece, “A Week on the Concord and the Merrlmac Rivers,” could find so few buyers that the pub lishers threw back seven-tenths of the first edition upon his hands. It was at this time that Thoreau bitterly wrote, "I have now a library of 900 volumes, 700 of which I wrote myself.” Oh, yes! We have seen many and many human birds with musical throats who could sing if any one wanted to hear them sing. But the trouble Is that thousands of men can slug who have no opportunity to sing. Thank God, my brother, If you have not only tal ents, but present opportunities for us ing those talents, In your Master’s service. Oar Opportunities. In all probability there are few of us here who have not our opportuni ties. When the American fleet was about to enter Manila harbor some one proposed to the American commodore that the coal barges be sent ahead. If there were any hidden mines in the harbor it was better to have pieces of coal blown skyward than human bodies. To that advice Commodore Dewey said: “No; the Olympia shall go In first. For two reasons do I make this decision. First, we need the coal. If defeated and the coal ships are de stroyed we are lost. Second reason, I have waited thirty years for this op portunity, and no man shall take It away from me.” Commodore Dewey may hu\ o had to wait thirty years for his opportunity, but we do not have to wait one month, one week or one day or one hour to serve Christ. Today our opportunity is here. Like the song birds, we have musical throats with which to sing, and we also have the open heaven under which to sing. We have the talent and also the opportu nity to use the talent. Like the song birds, we have a mag nificent subject for our songs. Every truly great sculptor is inspired by his theme. Artists have their models. Mere portrait painters strive to repro duce a face, but an Immortal artist studies more than a mere face. He tries by the aid of his model to por tray love cr hate, war or peace, fame or disgrace, the creation or the nativ ity. The grander the theme the great er the opportunities of the picture. Chnoa*- a Ml whir Theme. What Is true of painting and sculp ture is also true of music. Beethoven nud Wagner and Mendelssohn and Handel did not employ their genius In a street ditty. They trained their ears to catch the voices of the winds, which can only be heard upon the heights of Mount Olympus. They calk'd their oratorios by the mighty names of "The Messiah,” "The Deluge," “The Prodigal Son,” “The Light of the World," "Sam son,” “Saul,” "Esther,” “Joshua.” "Eli jah” and "Paul,” "Jephthah,” "Israel In Egypt,” “The Creation,” “The Wom an of Samaria.” So our singing birds in their oratorios have glorious themes to slug about. Their song is the res urrection. They sing of the bursting seeds and the incense of swinging flow ers. They sing of the winter which is gone and the harvests which are to come. They sing of the sheep which are growing the wool that the little children may have warm clothing to defy the December blasts and of the sap giving life to the trees that the great logs may be rolled Into the old fashioned fireplaces around which the families can gather about its glow and learn the lessons of love. They sing of the open harbors and the king’s ships going to Tarshlsh to come back laden with gold and silver and Ivories and the wealth of foreign climes. They sing of our earth’s resurrection, which Is emblematic of a heavenly glory. Oh, my friends, like the song birds in the springtime, will you not choose a mighty theme to inspire and uplift your life’s music? The theme! The theme! What Is the inspiring theme of your life's song? Are you ready to surrender your life to the noble work of the alleviation of physical pain? As Cyrus W. Field, when a young man, consecrated his mental energies to compel the mer maids of electric science with lightning rapidity to carry men’s messages under the seas, and clung to that purpose for years and years against obloquy and taunts and sneers, will you, in the same persistent, enthusiastic way, fight to alleviate physical suffering? Will you attune your life to the upliftment of mankind, as John Howard sang bis sweet song in convicts’ cells, or Flor ence Nightingale sang her song among the booming guns of the Crimean war? Will you become Christ’s apostle to the gentiles down in the slums, as John Eliot was called the “Apostle to the Massachusetts Indians?” In the old country village meeting house the lead er of the choir, before the age of or gan or piano, would arise and with a little bar of steel strike the keynote of the song. Every human being has a note by which to start his song. Upon what keynote, O man, are you today starting the music of your life’s song? The theme! The theme! What is the inspiring, uplifting theme of your life’s music? The Chornu ot the Wood*. Again, God bids us, like the song birds, sing because he does not expect us to be soloists, but to take an essen tial part in a great life’s chorus. The true beauty of the song bird’s singing is that he carries a part and not a whole day’s solitary musical recitation. Like the piccolo, or the clarinet, his voice may be shrill, or like the flute, soft and sweet, or like the bass viol, loud and deep; but whether soft or ’oud, his voice has a part, an essential part, in the chorus of the woods. If you would know how essential the birds’ voices are for the musical sweet ness of the woods just go with me some day up among the forest covered hills. As we tramp on and the twigs snap under our feet and our voices are toss ed in echo from tree to tree the birds scurry away or silently hide behind their curtain of leaves. They act a good deal as do the village children when city people are riding through the country. They run into the house or barn and keep very quiet. But if you pay no attention to those children they will begin to peek ot)| of the win dows or behind the wood house, and then they will gradually come out and watch you as you disappear down the road. Such is the way the feathered musicians of the forest act. When you first enter the woods and call to them to sing they will keep as silent as the grave, but if you He down at the foot of some giant oak and pretend you are asleep the many voices of the birds will then begin their seemingly endless chorus. First there will be a twitter, then an answering call, then a duet, then a third voice will break in and make the trio. Then off in the distance a woodpecker will beat time, like the drumstick tapping upon the sheepskin. Then a great wave of liarmony, like Handel’s “Halleluiah Chorus,” will roll over you. Then sudden silence. Again the music will start, and a new concert will be masterfully rendered, each bird’s voice not much in itself, but each an essential part of the great wood’s chorus. An Inspiration. It is wonderful to realize how quick ly a musical conductor knows when any of his musicians are not doing as they ought to do. I once read of a great orchestra of hundreds of pieces being gathered together. When every musician was doing his part, and the sounds rose and fell like voices of many waters, the piccolo player thought he would stop and see if the leader would miss him. No sooner did he stop than the leader pointed his baton toward the silent man and said, “Flay! Play! You are an essential part of the piece. Do you hear me? Play.” So, in the great musical chorus for the salvation of the world, God bids us each to sing and take our part, as each bird of the woods has his singing part. Sing! Sing! Today in Christ’s name sing, as the song birds In the springtime. Sing your part in the “Song of Moses and the Lamb.” Like the singing birds, we should not only sing because we have an essential part in God’s great chorus, but because each song bird inspires other song birds to sing. A little canary in a room alone may not care to warble. But It Is different when two or three birdcages are hanging In the windows through which the sun is shining. Then one bird's note will inspire the other birds. One bird’s song will make the other birds sing. So men nud women, singing Christ’s songs, will inspire other men and women to sing them. Men and w' icn pray better and often- er if they p \y together. They love God more a.id are more willing to make sacrifices for the Master, if they love and serve him In groups, as the little company gathered in the upper chamber, to await the coming of the Holy Ghost They are more willing to go out into the byways and hedges and carry the gospel to the blind, the deaf, the dumb, the crippled and the poor, if they go forth as Christ sent his disciples, two by two, and not alone. Oh, my brother and sister, in God’s great chorus of redemption, will you not sing and inspire your neighbors and loved ones to sing also? In Christ’* Name. During the dark days of the Amer ican civil war, after the two opposing armies had been watching each other for months upon tl.o opposite banks of the Potomac river, there came a night of strange song, which will al ways be remembered by those who were participants in the scene. The moon was shining brightly. The sur face of the river was reflecting the lights not only of the campfires of the two armies, but also the starry lights from above. The only sounds to be heard were the going forth of the relief guards and the call of the sentries, “All’s well along the Potomac.” While the stillness of death seemed to pre vail, a northern soldier was writing to his mother. As he wrote he became very homesick for the sight of the old farm. He softly began to sing the words which John Howard Payne wrote when he was a helpless, sick, friendless, lonely exile. He sang the words all Americans have sung a hun dred times. As the homesick boy sang the men in the next tent took up the refrain. Then the song went from company to company, regiment to regi ment, brigade to brigade, until It leap ed across the river, and the Confeder ate army sang it as well as the Fed eral army. Then the war hounds, which had been growling in rage and showing their white teeth and tugging at their chains, turned and went Into their kennels and lay down to listen to the music. As that one homesick boy’s song found its echo in the song of his company, and in the song of his regiment, and in the song of his army, and in the song of the great host which were lying upon the opposite side of Virginia’s bank, shall not our Christ’s song In spire others to sing? One bird can make a whole forest sound with inspir ing songs. Shall not we inspire those in our homes and stores and churches to sing? Sing in Christ’s name. Sing as the song birds sing. Sing as the psalmist bids us sing. “Let every thing that hath breath praise the Lord.” Sing! Sing! Triumphantly and everlastingly sing. Sing, for the time of the singing of all Christians as well as of birds has come. Our lives are songs. God writes the words And we set them to music at leisure. And the song is sad or the song is glad As we choose to fashion the measure. We must write the song, whatever the words. Whatever its rhyme or meter. And if it is sad we must make it glad. And if sweet we must make it sweeter. [Copyright, 1X4, by Louis Klopsch.] Increase In Church Membership. In 1800 only 7 per cent of the total population of the United States were church members, whereas today the ratio is 30 per cent, the members in creasing from 304,000 to 29.000,000. Not only has there been this great gain in numbers, but there has also been a great Increase in activity, as Indicated by the rise of foreign missions, the modern Sunday school, young people’s societies, brotherhoods, young men’s Christian associations and kindred movements. Investigations show, however, that the large majority of young men, or 9,059,000 out of 14,250,000, are outside of church membership. Even after al lowing a large margin for those who are not members, but attend religious services at least occasionally, It is safe to say that fully one-half are wholly outside of church fellowship or direct influence. It may be a comfort to know that this is no new problem. Professor Will- cox in his book, “The Pastor and His Flock,” describes conditions a century ago as follows: “There were no young Christians in any considerable num- bers. When a young man joined the church of Dr. Lyman Beecher in Litch- fleld, Conn., early In the century, so strange an event astonished all the western section of that state.”—Church Economist Commercial Printing Of every description executed with neatness and dispatch at The Ledger office, Gaffney, S. C. New Type, New Presses, the finest quality of Ink and Paper, and Compe tent Workmen. Send us your orders. No Snoring. Postmaster General Payne the other day told a story of something that he once saw in a Milwaukee courtroom. Through the kindness and tact of the Judge the court crier was saved from a fine. “I one day attended,” said Mr. Payne, “a session of the court at which this Judge presided. The court crier was a very old man; he had served with fidel ity for many years, but age was be ginning now to tell on him. He fell asleep while I was in the courtroom and in a little while he was snoring. “The snorcr, of cours j, disturbed the proceedings of the court, but the Judge showed great tact in interrupting, without embarrassing, the crier. “ ‘Crier Jones,’ he said in a loud voice —‘Crier Jones, some one Is snoring!’ "The crier awakened with a start and Jumped to his feet. *' ‘Silence!’ he exclaimed. ‘There must be no snoring In the courtroom,’ and he glared fiercely all about him.” - Philadelphia Press. A PLEASING ARRAY. Let us handle your grocery order. Let us tell you how cheaply we can furnish you with the necessaries and luxuries of life. Our stock is large and fresh, and consists of Heavy,JStaple and Fancy Groceries, Candies, Canned ,Goods, Cigars, Tobacco, &c., all of the very best brands and sold at a slight margin above cost. Three Good Reasons why you should trade with us : You’ll like the goods we sell. You’ll like the way we treat you You’ll like the price we ask. Let us show you that we mean business. J. S. & S. LITTLEJOHN, I. W. Richardson’s Old Stand. The Gaffney City Land and 1 . ‘ Co. Offers for sale IBuilding >Lots in this flourishing town, Gaffney; also Farms near by and in read, of the Schools of Limestone Springs and of this place, in lots of 30 to 100 acres on liberal time rates; also Agricultural Lands to rent for Farm purposes For full particulars apply to J. V. SARRATT, Agent. N. B.—All persons are forbidden to enter on, walk or ride through or over the lands of this company, cutting and removinK timber, Ashing or hunting, under penalty of law. before you buy your Mules. Wagons, Bug gies, Harness, Turn Plows of every kind, Plow Shapes, Single Trees, Chains, Axes, Nails, &c. We are at all times full up ^on the best Flour, 'Sugar Coffee Molasses, Meat Meal, Corn, Hay, Canned Goods of all kinds. Why do we ask you to see us? 1st—Because we have the best selected stock of Mules, Buggies, Wagons,Harness Farming Implements, Groceries, Guano, &c,, to select from. 2nd—We offer you as low prices as anybody and may be lower prices, as they are too numerous to mention. J. C. Lipscomb & Co., Gaffney, G. For AH The News of Cherokee county read the only up-to-date paper published in the county. The Ledger has the largest paid - in - advance subscrip tion of any semi-weekly newspaper in the State. Only $1.00 a year, strictly in advance. :: :: :: L