Herald of the times. [volume] (Newport, R.I.) 1849-1856, 1849-11-22

work, even though our way lay along 'hto
all of dishonor to the tomb. II lie has will
cd il, walk We in i, unmurmuringly."
"Maidcn. you are young; oh, little know
Won of The terrible trials Of life. The suiler'
in,s, the wrongs the injuries, the burning
pancs ,ha, madden,lh the pains that pierce the
heart eternally, the igony untold, unspeak-
abe, unendurab' fear and horror, aLd ha-
,red /; the heart-s,rings wrung and riyen till
every lhrob is fash Of fire, and the brain
roaring flame, with living liehtnings lmin-
Cling with all its pu ses o my God!--my
God, what have no, endured and yet !
am still alive J"
"Anl could you bend the knee to Him
each day, aud pray for protection, hen you
h sd ,elfsl,yput yourself away from doing
Q, cd TO others - and the maidens quivcr-
ing eye rested on his.
al have not prayed thus" and the slran-
gers voice was deep and solemn but my
only petition morning and evening has been
,ha, might die. Blu, death hears not
even God rejects me J"
"No, sir; think not thus. But would
you plead for death if it was not Heavens
yill-if your appointed work was not yet
done-your allotted task not yet fulilled!'
.What have / TO do on earth, child"
and the speakers eye grew isariuly wild.
"Nothing-Lolhing tha, God or man will
acc ept and fo,l have been TO think thus.
No; have not friend on earth OF friend
in heaven. Oh, now, in my lnmost SOUL |
have felt that my Maker hates me ~
"You are wrong, believe me, sir--you
are all wrong God careth for all-every
one. We are his chiIdren-his own-and
though he may correct, though he may
chas,en, he sti ! loves still follows us with
b essings, hinelng them in our pathway
Trampe not upon them, lest,as you wiIful-
ly crush them, the fragrance Of those frag'
ncn,s turn TO Upas odor, that spreads It's
cprosy Of death DER the soul. Yes, all
that we have, even mind, and heart and
thought, cones from that one eternal Foun-
tain OF immortality, from whence our spir-
its sprang-whcre they will res, for ever
1t is the angels that rejoice over the peni-
ten,--t is God that goes forth TO meet The
prodigal son. |, is Jesus that bids the
weary and heavy laden come to him, and
he will give them rest. All weak, and
frail. and sinful as we are, heaven hates us
not"
The hermit's voice was somewhat soften
ened a. he said
"And why, then, have disappontmen,s
met me at every turn '-and why hath my
every effort Jailed -
"Perhaps the discipline was needed
needed more fully to deveiope powers that
are given as holy gifts to each. Perhaps
the heart needed to be crushed ere all its
wealth were found; and its strings, may be,
needed to be touched by the master hand
of misery, ere is minstrel,y were like heav
ems. Oh, many-many hearts are broken
ere their wells Of wealth are found And
are they not then mos, deep and pure Oh,
i, cannot be-" Lllias continue |, with win
ming e, ,crgy, :" it cannot be that you are to
live here a selfish and useless life. That
the light-Aashing its flame on the high
heart--light that is portion of the One
Eternal-lght that God has set a star on
car,h-ligh, that angels wings are ever
tanning to a holy glow-oh, i, cannot be il
is for ever TO be hidden in the depths Of
earth"
And yet | often think, lady-oh
how oiten-that this painting passion is
but a mockery, and / a fool to follow
to gaze upon ito worship it."
" Rather say" was tn, quiet re-
joinder, that you have obeyed the
bidding ofpride and scorn too long,
as it has kept you from the path of
duty-irom doing good"
" Good % repeated the recluse.-
And yet my very acts of kindness
ould have been hurled to the dust
| No; existence is to me curse-a
blank filled up with the blankness Of
darkness for ever ~
Lillias shuddered. She almost
thought him insane. And yet no-it
might be that reason shrank from its
weight Of warning woes. 1t might tot
ter, but it was not dethroned.
"You are severe" she said at length,
gazing sweetly upon that stern. pale
face. So long have you brooded
over lies many miseries, that they
seem ten times more terrible than they
really are. Memory is the shadow of
suffering, and when it lays long upon
the heart it engraves its own dark inn
age there ; and nothing but faith,
hope in the future can obliterate it.
And yet it does not erase tit only
pictures it over with its own fair foli-