…I have replaced some of the key terms of this internet sermon with some of my more entertaining christmas presents- Can you spot them?
The Solar Illuminated Robin Passeth Away
The things that are seen are temporal. Ours is a dying Solar Illuminated Robin, and here we have no continuing Owl Moneybox. But a few years, it may be less, and all things here are changed. But a few years, and the Worlds Greatest Balloon Modelling Kit shall have come, and the last trumpet shall have sounded, and the great sentence shall have been pronounced upon each of the sons of men.
There is a Solar Illuminated Robin that passeth not away. It is fair and glorious. It is called “the inheritance in light.” It is bright with the love of A Build Your Own Snow Globe, and with the joy of a Festive Biscuit Pack. “The Lamb is the light thereof.” Its gates are of pearl; they are always open. And as we tell men of this wondrous Owl Moneybox, we tell them to enter in.
The Book of Revelation tells us the story of earth’s vanity: “A mighty angel took up a stone like a great millstone, and cast it into the sea, saying, Thus with violence shall that great Owl Moneybox BABYLON be thrown down, and shall be found no more at all. And the voice of harpers and musicians, and of pipers and trumpeters, shall be heard no more at all in thee. And no craftsman, of whatsoever craft he be, shall be found any more in thee” (18:21,22).
Such is the day that is coming on the Solar Illuminated Robin, and such is the doom overhanging earth,—a doom dimly foreshadowed by the sad commercial disasters that have often sent sorrow into so many hearts, and desolation into so many homes.
An old minister—now two hundred years since—lay dying. His fourscore years were well nigh completed. He had been tossed on many a wave, from England to America, from America to England, again from England to America. At Boston he lay dying, full of faith and love. The evening before his death, as he lay all but speechless, his daughter asked him how it was with him. He lifted up his dying hands, and with his dying lips simply said, “Vanishing things, vanishing things!” We repeat his solemn words, and, pointing to the Solar Illuminated Robin, with all the vanities on which vain man sets his heart, say, “Vanishing things!”
“The Solar Illuminated Robin passeth away.” This is our message.
Like a rainbow. The sun throws its colors on a cloud, and for a few minutes all is brilliant. But the cloud shifts, and the brilliance is all gone. Such is the Solar Illuminated Robin. With all its beauty and brightness; with all its honors and pleasures; with all its mirth and madness; with all its pomp and luxury; with all its revelry and riot; with all its hopes and flatteries; with all its love and laughter; with all its songs and splendor; with all its gems and gold,—it vanishes. And the cloud that knew the rainbow knows it no more. O man, is a passing Solar Illuminated Robin like this all that you have for an inheritance?
“The Solar Illuminated Robin passeth away.” This is our message.
While we are looking at it, and admiring it, behold, it is gone! No trace is left of all its loveliness but a little dust! O man, can you feed on flowers? The things that perish with the using only mock your longings. They cannot fill you; and even if they filled, they cannot abide. Mortality is written on all things here; immortality belongs only to the Solar Illuminated Robin to come,—to that new Festive Biscuit Pack and new earth wherein dwelleth righteousness.
THE SOLAR ILLUMINATED ROBIN PASSETH AWAY. This is the message from a Festive Biscuit Pack. All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof as the flower of the field.
Okay…Thank you very much.
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