Burlington hawk-eye. [volume] (Burlington, Iowa) 1845-185?, 1850-06-27
THE LAST HOI'E.

emergency which we may pass through
during our stay upon earth, no one can in
volve such scenes Of momen:ous interest
as that which includes this period Of our
existence and commences another. It is
this last hour, that puts the seal Of iminor-
ality upon those qualities shat make up our
character whether they be -virtuous or
otherwise; and as if written with sympa-
thetic ink will shine out in the trans parency
Of eternity, where oblivion can never cov-
er a single act. 1t is boundary line
which once crossed, our interest is for
ever closed in all that shall be done under
the sun. A change which precludes all
subsequent chance, and all possibility Of
improvement. The great question Of the
SOULS eternal veal or woe upon which the
nind has been go long exercised with
alternate preponderations Of hope aid fear
is now 10 be forever set at rest by an I'M
mistakable reality. 1t is an hour that car
ries much sadness in its associations, even
to the heart Of the christian. To think Of
laying off this sweet habit Of existence for
an untried one, Of closing our eyes upon
the sun and sky, the field and valley, and
opening them upon new scenes, are con-
siderations naturally welcome to all. The
noiseless assiduities Of the sick chamber
the saddersd and subdued tones offriends,
as they povs softly and slowly about US
indicating by their unYcnted officiousness
tha. we shaii soon be beyond the reach Of
kindness, contrasts strongly with the
cheerfulness and buoyancy Of health
And those friends whose face have so
we have travelled so long and pleasantly
can accompany us TO farther. We must
lea:e then: behind, to struggle yet with
the vicis sit;.des Of earth, "to waver in
temptations hour, perchance to fall, "nev-
er to meet them again under the same cir
cun;stances.
1t is to survivors an hour Of undissem-
bled sorrow. With what eagerness dc
they catch the lowest whisper, that breathes
of hope and immortality; that speaks Of q
reunion beyond the shores Of time, where
! parting sounds are heard, and where
grief and sin cannot enter. And wher
the dim eye no longer recognize the fa-
ces of loved ones, the ear turns no more
to catch the sounds Of affection. There
are moments of sorrow that none but the
bereaved can appreciate.
Though many years have since passed,
remember the day, it's dawn and twi-
light, it's clouds and sunshine, as vividly
as the occurrences Of yesterday, when
stood around the bed of my dying mother,
to whom owed all that was dear in expe.
rience or pleasant in prospect, to receive
her last blessing and listen TO her last
prayer in my behalf. / felt my heart
gushing with a weight Of anguish l can
not describe. I followed her in spirit
down to the Jordan of death, and even
across its dark waters TO the gate Of heav-
en-, and as listened to the song Of angels
and the anthems of redeemed spirits fain
would have entered with her, but was
called back.
How natural the question: how can
we best rob this hour ofits bitterness both
TO ourselves and our friends? If the pre-
vious hours of our lives have been spent
and improved Alright, it will be the happi-
est in its results, although its circumstan-
! ces wear such gloomy aspect. With it,
will cease all that has made this world a
vale of tears, all grief and sin, and we
shall be introduced into that better state.
where the wicked cease from troubling,
and the weary are forever at rest.
f. w. CORNWELL.