The daily republic., 1853-08-25
Remembrance Of the sabbath.

Remembrance or the SaDDdtn.
Memory is curse or blessing, as it reflects
either virtuous or vicious past. Despite of
human will it fulfls its functions, painting upon
the delicate canvas Of the brain bright and lovely
images before which the heart glows with happi-
ness, or sketching ghastly phantoms that glare
hours of agony in moments, and will not vanish.
Memory may be beautiful or hideous gift;
calm eve of heavenly stars winking down hope
into our breasts, or a heavy night OF tempest,
dashing from our vision the clear sky which we
must behold or else despond It is the glorious
moonlight dancing Ger the wake of waters on
which our lfe-bark rides, or the threatening thun
der-cloud pregnant with destruction and growing
in wrath. ~.
BY the holy light of memory men have traced
their course through time, and discovered the
golden path whose beginning without end is bliss,
and whose radia mt arch is eternity BY its baeful
beams have men turned from the pursuit of true
happiness, and followed seeming pleasure until,
ignis fatuus like, it has led them into noisOme
pools whence arise exhalations pestferous and
fatal E
Memory is the crucible of the mind in which
our purpose is exposed to the fire of atfliction.
Dross may float at first upon the surface. but the
heat of the flame and the infusion of purer mate
rial will etherialize the grosser ingredients, and the
immaculate ore will remain. That ore is virtu-
GUS resolution, and it will not become mingled
again with the earthly substance that destroys its
lustre. a As ltsc fN 6t
Memory is of the past and of the future too, in
asmuch as it yields to that future the hues of the
past and forms it's outline. Circumstances fill up
the prescribed boundaries, and bring out in strong
relief the delicate tnts which flicker from what
has been.
Our recollections regulate our life, and he who
remembers we'll and rightly cannot easily 60
astray. His thoughts being turned SO often into
the by-gone, acquire direction they do not vary
from when permitted to wander into the future.
Early lessons, gentle teachings, holy counsels.
stored faithfully in the memory, and oft referred
to in after years, are faithful guide to conduct.
Their quiet beauty and their pure wisdom steal
with their undying brightness even through the
heavy folds of custom, and partially illume the
yet untravelled caverns of time.
Remembrance is drowned in the excitement
and hustle of the world. Hurried on by thou
ows that elude constantly our eager grasp, dazzled
by the prospect of ever-retreating happiness, and
by ambitious longirgs, we turn not to the expand
ing pathway which follows backward to our
cradle. . @ e 4a
Did we oftener recall the peaceful home, the
simple song, the smiling children, the guileless
sport, which were once our only Joy, and that lit
tie 10Y was paradise, we should be-oh, how much
happier! Innocence would then come back to us
in the beauteous forms Of childhood; and vice and
temptation would retreat before their conquering
serenity. We would live again the true life of
contentment, and lot rarely granted to man s
weak waywardness would be ours. 5
But we must think, we must remember some
times Early nature, now and then, resumes her
pristine sway; her yoke is easy, for it is twined
with the flowers Of youth, whose fragrance doth
not all decay, even though their petals droop and
pale. Occasions come, and positions are felt, and
scenes present themselves, when memory rushes
irresistibly upon the mind, and carries 1t into al
most forgotten realms
Bitter things may be tasted in those realms,
and odious sights be visible. Tears and trem-
bling may result from this sudden retrospect; but
there will be some CLEAN in the darkness-a
CLEAN that will afford comfort and exhibit dam
gers hidden before, or concealed by exterior at
traction. ,-t 4g
Days will and do conle-for nature created such
days-when we have the strength, the will, and
the courage to- look back. Such days are the
Sabbath; days for reflection, memory, and reform.
They cannot unbar their windows OF light too
often, since the light is soothing to the heart and
balm to the troubled conscience. The coming OF
the Sabbath should be a sacred and happy pc
rod it's each return should find the worldling
stronger, nobler, purer, advanced a pace nearer
unto Heaven. ad
Sweet Sabbath, ye approach like an universal
deliverer into the land Of bondage, and strike Oh
the chains in which the spirit is bound. Ye re
store the freedom to think of the past and of the
| future, of God and goodness, and afford the
golden hour to practice one to obtain the other.
Sabbatl,s should be white days in our existence,
and no deed of ours should spot their purity.
They should be passed meekly and happily, and
remembered with holiness, not as different periods,
but as one pure whole.
League memory with the Sabbath, and when
the mind treads reverently by the tomb of buried
years, there will be found flowers blossomng above
the graves. There will be no mourners above the
sepulchred ashes; but happy faces and fair forms
will be gathered about the burial-paces, the faces
and forms of the ministers of tiIne and they will
smile to think that those beneath the ground were
kindly cherished by the pilgrim who walks amid
the past to obtain strength for the future. That
pilgrim will be yourself, reader, if you "remen-
ber the Sabbath to keep it holy,'' and you will
move with Joy by those dear graves, until an an
gel shall meet you there and kiss your brow with
Immortality, and bear you emparadised in her
transparent arms upward, where the stars live
and where your souls home shines.
THE REASON WHY "BRUDDER DICKSON" LEFT
THE CHuRcH.--Mr. Dickson, colored barber in
one Of our large New England towns, was shaving
one of his customers, respectable citizen, one
morning, when conversation occurred between
them respecting MIR. Dickson's former connexion
with colored church in that place.
81 believe you arc connected with the church in
Elm street, Mr. Dickson, said the customer.
ssNo, sab, not at all. I"
'sWhat, are you not member of tho African
church, o3 -W N
'sNot dis year, sab. (" A.E @
.'Why did you leave their communion, Mr..
Dickson if / may be permitted to ask.