and Shushan is a ruin; but as
long as the world stands there will be multitudes of men and women,
familiar with the Bible, who will come into this picture-gallery of
God and admire the divine portrait of Vashti the queen, Vashti the
veiled, Vashti the sacrifice, Vashti the silent.

I. In the first place, I want you to look upon Vashti the queen. A
blue ribbon, rayed with white, drawn around her forehead, indicated
her queenly position. It was no small honor to be queen in such a
realm as that. Hark to the rustle of her robes! See the blaze of her
jewels! And yet, my friends, it is not necessary to have place and
regal robe in order to be queenly. When I see a woman with stout faith
in God, putting her foot upon all meanness and selfishness and godless
display, going right forward to serve Christ and the race by a grand
and a glorious service, I say: "That woman is a queen," and the ranks
of heaven look over the battlements upon the coronation; and whether
she comes up from the shanty on the commons or the mansion of the
fashionable square, I greet her with the shout, "All hail, Queen
Vashti!"

What glory was there on the brow of Mary of Scotland, or Elizabeth of
England, or Margaret of France, or Catherine of Russia, compared with
the worth of some of our Christian mothers, many of them gone into
glory?--or of that woman mentioned in the Scriptures, who put her all
into the Lord's treasury?--or of Jephtha's daughter, who made a
demonstration of unselfish patriotism?--or of Abigail, who rescued the
herds and flocks of her husband?--or of Ruth, who toiled under a
tropical sun for poor, old, helpless Naomi?--or of Florence
Nightingale, who went at midnight to stanch the battle wounds of the
Crimea?--or of Mrs. Adoniram Judson, who kindled the lights of
salvation amid the darkness of Burmah?--or of Mrs. Hemans, who poured
out her holy soul in words which will forever be associated with
hunter's horn, and captive's chain, and bridal hour, and lute's throb,
and curfew's knell at the dying day?--and scores and hundreds of
women, unknown on earth, who have given water to the thirsty, and
bread to the hungry, and medicine to the sick, and smiles to the
discouraged--their footsteps heard along dark lane and in government
hospital, and in almshouse corridor, and by prison gate? There may be
no royal robe--there may be no palatial surroundings. She does not
need them; for all charitable men will unite with the crackling lips
of