Fremont journal. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County [Ohio]) 1853-1866, 1853-06-11
Gems 8
Pencilled Passages.
FROM cLovERNooK.

and sweet The falntest smile, 10 the love ol
What were home without i'll what
we're life, what the world. or what all we
conceive Of heaven without it!
They ere small things that make up the
sum OF human happiness or misery a smile or
a kind word, may strengthen us for the tasks
and duties of the day, more than the fresh
airs of summer more than the shelter Of a
broad roof, or daintiest viands, or most dek-
cious and inspiring wines. A reproachtul
glance, any untoward event, ruthful convic-
ton, falls on the hands like paralysis, on the
heart like mildew; and landscape fades not so
much with the slant rains of autumn beating
cold against its flow ars, as for the presence of
any of these.
Sooner or later we grow weary, and cov-
ct for our bleeding feet and broken hearts the
comfort of the grave; for life has no good un-
mixed with evil. The laurel twines itself only
about haggard and aching brows; under the
dame that steams across the centuries lie the
gray ashes Of all dearest hopes: the great
waves of despair beat ever against the citadel
of Joy, until we are glad to fold the darkness
about us. and 60 down to the narrow house,
there, at least, to rest. No troubling dream
disturbs the pillow, no necessity to labor or to
wait, calls us away from the quiet to front
with fainting and failing powers, the terrors OF
adverse destiny. The morning goes, and
comes again, and again, bat visits our eyelids
with no unwelcome light The sobbng rains
of the spring time beautify with flowers the
covering that is over US, the dry leaves of au-
tumn drop down, and the white SHOWS of win
ter settle over the grave mound like the pale
sheet over the newly dead; but to the pale
seepers it is all the same, for there is no
work, nor device, nor wisdom nor knowledge
in the grave.
How like peal of thunder aw wakening
us from some pleasant dream, when the dash
ing of the rain at the window, the bowling of
the tempest on the hill, and the blank dark
ness about us take the place Of the soft voice
that was in our ears, and the smile that warm
ed our hearts, leaving US for a moment star
tied and bewildered, comes intelligent of the
death of friend, whom we left few weeks,
or it may be few days ago, in the enjoy
ment Of vigorous health.
"A thousand times over we may say tc
ourselves, Can my weak hands wrest my des
tiny from the power of Omniscence? Can
warp circumstances to my will? Can l be
other than | am ? and so, yield to the sway o
blind impulse. but voice that condemns III
"a still. small voice-is speaking all tn,
while in our hearts, and making itself felt a
bove our senseless defamation Turn righ
about from the !empter, weak dler, and worl
work diligently and earnestly, doing wha
your hand finds to do with your mnght-ant
the wicked one will flee away. No mere in
tellectual resolve, though never so well contri
we'd, is strong enough. without work. If yo
come to rock that you can neither blast no
break nor dig under; nor climb over, tur
aside, but work on, and by little and little yo
will get forward, and each step will give ne,
strength for the next, till at last you will tr
umph, even though it be not till that "hoar
flower that CROWDS extreme old age" sha
have blossomed on your brow.
-----The world is full of bruised and crushe
hearts and desolate spirits. moans of sorro
creep vien.lIke through the sunshine, and ur
! derlne the laughter, however gay and loud
. pillows of pain. and chambers where the SO
h step of sleep will not tread, are all over th
world; since the serpent folds were anon
flowers, there is no perpetual bloom; an
since sin furrowed the world with grave
mounds, and the white wings of the ange
darkencd away from the curse, there is n
rest and no solace for us any more.
Our feet would be weary on the gree
Of Erst
BUSINESS of our desolation, and our lips parcl
ed by the sweet waters of life, if all that mad
an Eden TO us here were wanting there.
We have need TO be thankful th,
when man brought on the primal glory OF b
nature the mildew of sin. God did not cast
utterly from him but in the unsearchable rcl
cs of his mercy struck open the refuge of III
, grave. 1fthere were no fountain where OF
sins of scarlet might be washed white as wot
if the black night of death we've not borders
by the golden shadows of the morning of il
mortaliy. if deep in the darkness were n
hidden the foundations of the white bastiol
IS of peace. il were YET an inestimabie privilel
= to lay aside the burden of life. for life become
" sooner or later, burden, and an echo amor
Il ruins.
If It seems, sometimes as if we were b
o drifted here and there. by blind chances,
g perish. at last, like the flowers; and this esp
ID cialiy seems true, when after striving earne'
y but vanly to pierce the darkness whic
:. lies between the farthest strech of imaginatio
and the eternal bright about God, o
: thoughts come back to our poor mortal bein
Else It seems that we were'predea iuatedlfro
eternity'to fill certain round, from viii
there is no escape; and, sick at heart, we tu
from each lofty endeavor We have too lit
of the chid's faith-too little of simple al
trustful reliance on 'our Father"
1t My life was long dream; when I awoke,
Duty stood like an angle in my path,
D. And seemed so terrible, could have turnt
Into my yesterdays, and wandered back
TO distant childhood. and gone out to God
: BY the gate of birth, not death.
Great duties are before me and great song
And whether crowned or crownless, when I
. 1t matters not, 80 as Gods work is DONE
= I've learned TO prise the quiet lightning de-