Georgetown weekly news., 1854-12-14
Too Late.
BARD OF Underwood,

Reader, didSt thou ever ponder upon those
two little words-"too late?"
Didst thou ever seek to fathom their
meaning? did'st thou ever remember that
once they escaped thy lips? If thou hast
not, let me tell thee, they are pregnant with
meaning-that they have often found an
echo in thy heart. They may come from
the innocent, thoughtIess, joy-living present
childhood, and be but the expression of
momentary grief from some trivial disap-
pointment, some unattained pleasure; buoy
ant youth may utter them, and still but
briefly feel their weight and import.
But should they find a harbor in the bo-
som of manhood, or be breathed by the livid
lips of declining age? Never should man
hood or old age give them birth; yet how
often they fall upon the ear.
Young man, with the bloom Of health
upon thy cheek-rejoicing in thy hardihood
and strength-whose pathway in life was
once decked with flowers of hope, love, and
happiness brow bore no stamp of
care and sorrow-has the hand of sickness
stricken thy form? has the blossoms Of af-
fection and Joy withered around thee? has
the mantle of sadness envelOped thee in its
gloomy folds? hast thou almost felt there is
no longer anything to live for in this beau
tiful world-hast thou dared even to think
those wOrds-''too late?"
Pause, then, ere thou givest them utter
ance; pause, not as he Of old, to plunge, and
then be free no more. Meier too late
never, while there is life; write it upon the
tablet of thy heart, and go forth to conquer
go forth with the deep determination not
to yield-bent upon, yet writing name
among the stars-to buffet manly y, stOutly,
the billows of adversity-to stem with
dauntless courage the tide of misfortune
and success will surely be trusting in
Him, "who holds the winds and waves in
the hollow Of his hand" and thy own strong
arm, and crown of glory and of wealth
will be thine on earth, and one Of bliss and
joy hereafter.
Old man, whose race is nearly run-Vo-
tary at the shrine of mammOn-recreant
from the faith-do the misspent hours days,
and years of thy life haunt thee none? dost
thou not feel there is no redemption, no re-
paration to be made? dost thou tremble up
on the treshhold of the grave-dost thou,
too, exclaim in the agony of despair alas!
too late?" Take back thy words-not too
atel though the death dampis on thy brow,
and thy heart-strings but little while will
vibrate, there is still hope of salvation, still
repentance for the past-though "thy sins
be as scarlet, they shall be as white as
snow" No, not too late.
Erring, frail one, has the brightest jewel
in thy coronet been tarnished-hast thou
felt the death-barbed shafts of taunt and
jeer-the mocking, singing life of those
once thy equal? and art thou, too, ready to
exclaim, in bitterest grief-"too late!"-
Joyless heart, tbs not too late; peace may
yet have resting-place in thy breast, and
the happiness of earth be thine. "Go and
sin no more"
Proud father, has the boy on whom thou
hadst placed thy highest expectations de-
ceived thee, and dashed to earth thy glow
ing hopes? take him by the hand-to thy
bosom once more; tell him not too late
and bid him again "God speed"
Fond mother, kneeling by the bedside of
thy infdel and dying son-thy prayer will
yet be heard, and angels whisper to thee
not too late!
Parentless sister, is brother looking to
thee for lost mothers sympathy and coun-
sci? hast thou marked the flushed cheek, the
blood-shot eye, the unsteady step? Do thy
duty, then; cheer him by thy kind and low
ing words; implore him by the love he bears
those angel forms in Heavenly his valua-
ton of reputation and honor-now, at once,
to break the chain that is Tightening around
him, and be again man; breathe in his
ears, hourly, daily-not too latel