The Ottawa free trader. [volume] (Ottawa, Ill.) 1843-1916, 1844-03-08

along the aisle, his white hat blackened
by Grape in one hand, his cane in the
other, while every eye beholds his lofty
brow, the snowy hair and the command
ing countenance scanned 10y the wrinkles
of age.
Silently he takes his sea,--alI give
way at his presence-silcntly he listens
to the word Of God, silently the Sabbath
morning wears away.
Who is the ancient man!
A new scene
Here cruwdrng round the hannistcrs Of
the circular railing in front Ne pulpit,
hnrellng ON the steps of Tie altar hnwlng
| the heads low III silent awe, come Young
and old, rich aud poor. come red-Iippcd
youth, blooming maidcnhood, mature
malrunagc, stem manhood, and silver
haired age.
In the midst stands the preacher hold
ing aIoft the cup and dread of God, speak
ing Of the mystic meaning Of these d.
vine rmbems, as he extends the sacred
! food to the lips of age, or bes,ows the
wine Of life on the silent alteration of
youth.
And here kneeing with rosy-ckeeked
maiden on one side, an aged veteran of
the cross on the other, here silently bows
the stranger, his long white hairs, hiding
the muscular hands passed lremblingly
over his visage, as he lowers his head IN
voicelcss prayer, here he hneels, here he
prays, that ancient man, he extends his
I hand, receives the cup and bread of God,
and that voice so full, so stern, so bold III
: slightest tone, trembles with the syllA-
hles of the Redeemer's name, murmur-
ingly speaks he word Of hope JESUS "
" no is the stranger, that slmd be-
tween us and the red dawn, few mo-
mens ago, that now bows, pray, trem-
. hles while he eats the bread aia drinks
the wine of God
Who is the ancient man FIth the
. wrinklcd face and the snowy ha !
= Come back with me lively eight
years through the pathway of the, come
, back with me TO a strange all stirring
5 scene. whele our question MY Ind lis
answer.
A wide city. with temples mansions,
( domcs, wrapt in a heavy paIbl smoke,
groups of pa!e-hced citizens landing at
5 the corners OF the streets, tll silence OF
: night resting on the place, lpToad day,
y while the thunder Of distant canon breaks
y Oh the air.
I.Wow ask who is the slran'r!
i Ask the mother. secreiing,e babe, III
5 lhe dim hooks of her hon. on whom
Q next to God she relies lorrotectlon in
this dread hour, when theed hand oil
S British ravage, seems alreV thrust be-
$ fore her eyes, ask the age father, with
G fA blooming and dark-hasd daughter.
y kneeling a, his feet in spehless alarm,
e while she clasps his kneeslsk the grey
e haired man, who shall st the path ct
e the red-coat hireing wit his cry Of
e Beauty and Booty whtshalI rescue
S the pure grl from the ol'"'e" grasp
is OF the ravishcr!
10 The mother, the ia'hI speak one
ar name OF h'pe-one name s''''''o"
Ell People oi the wide cifol The South,
'remoI'ns w''IIe The u'p', VI '''''S"
~ cannon is at your gait clustering at
- your street corners IN " "'"'"S your
n selves in the hooks and hmherS ct your
y proud mansions, tell m'eII US who I"
your salvation in this Vrf VINO leads
70 your sons your nr''n'. '"' '','''> ""
~ the march Of dca'hn'h""' the Guy
u. walls, IN this m"mcn' "'"'h an" nor
ne r"r
,r Again tia, name s'ry breaks III