The Blood Of A King
A king dying! You remember when the last Czar of Russia was in his fatal sickness, that bulletins were every hour dispatched from the palace, saying, “The king is better,” or “The king is worse,” or “The king is delirious,” or “The king rested easier through the night,” or “The king is dying,” or “The king is dead.” The bells tolled it, the flag signaled it, the telegraphs flashed it.
Tell it now to all the earth and to all the heavens—Jesus, our King, is sick with His last sickness.
Let couriers carry the swift dispatch. His pains are worse. He is breathing a last groan; through His body quivers the last anguish; the King is dying; THE KING IS DEAD! Ye who come round about the cross, look what is beneath. It is royal blood.—TALMAGE.