Fremont journal. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County [Ohio]) 1853-1866, 1855-08-03
when am Dead.

despair a0ldetn, lneSe WOruS seem Written
"A strange meSning-a solemn intimation
unlolds itself at their utterance. -Four SIM
pie monysillables, how much of gloom ye
convey How ye speak in funeral tones Of
the extinguishment of earthly hopes-of the
spirit that has struggled in vain, and is
painfully quiet now
"When | am deadP" is uttered calmly
but what alm!-such as tornado leave:
when silence broods over desolation. The
voice pronouncing that despairing phrase
has no: all its mournfulness from ITSELF
The listening ear hears something more;-
for from those words the groan Of high as
pirations quenched, and hopes pale and
bleeding upon the sharp rocks of adversely
come up, phantom-like, amid the ghastly
scenes Of the buried past.
When l am dead!" We have heard
it often, like tie pealing bell that tolls the
body of the departed to its final rest. The
last word "dead." fingers strangely, and
echoes sadly in the ear, and through the
portals of the sympathizing soul. Dead
dead-dead-an the world grows gray
and the heart stills, and the eye moistens
to that mysterious sound.
The spirit trembles before The rushing
flood of conflicting emotions which follow
the dark echo, and essay to glance through
its import. But the echo fades amid encirc
ling mist, and the spirit turns back confus-
ed with blindness.
Even the echo of death cannot be pene-
trated. The few feet Of mold that com
poses the grave, are wider than the globe
higher than the stars Not the minds eye
Fot the anxious soul can glance through the
barrier-the boundary between time anC
eternity.
When am dead!" More or less sig
nifes resignation, or dependent wo, fol
filment Of nature, or perversion Of its end
may these words express, though sad they
are at last.
When the aged man, whose steps hav'
grown feeble in the walks of goodness, anC
whose hands trembled with the oft-giveI
charity, utters these words, they fall from
the lips as a prayer 10 heaven. lD then
bis will harmonizes with his destiny; ant
the tear that starts for superior soul il
abou. to leave its clay, glistens in the ligh
of happiness that CLEANS out of the heart
at the prospective reward of the future.
The lips, too, that never pressed the rim
of the fount of natures poesy, may murmul
-"when | am dead!" but death 20 sucl
an one is better, perhaps, than life. Hi
heart holds no music, Ginning in cadences t.
veal and wo; his inward existence is void
and the rough surfacee of his being check
cred, though not frightened BY the half
stray thoughts, darkens but little with th'
pano2ly of the tomb.
How different, when youth glowing will
beauty of soul and heart rich with thu
treasures of mind, and warm with sympa
thy for all OF loveIiness, sighs like the soutl
wind, "when l am dead!" A spirit seems
to wall its anthem, and an eclipse Of th'
noontide sun to fall upon the picture of I
high nature checked in its purpose-turn
from dulcet waves coral reaf, against th'
rocks of destructive shore.
"When am dead!" 1t is as mournfu
as The plant OF a ghost cn the tempest anC
midnight wind. But we must say ii somC
time; for the grave lies at hand yaWninE
through bed of thorns or cleaning like {
white avenue of hope leaning against th'
stars.
"When 1 am dead!" Strange and fear
full import hath it 10 the utterer, but it is {
weak phrase only to others, the world, who
speakit! Many think the single going fortl
Of a soul will move none-all will be as
before.
When he, and you, and we gentle read
ers, are folded in our shrouds, friends dear
est and those who loved US best, will dry
their tears ere they have all began TO flow
The heart that beats with rapture agains
our own will freeze above our memory II
brief time-5riefer than woman's trust OIL
mans period of goodness.
But it is well thus; 'tis the worlds Gus
tom and natures law. We weep not fol
the dead but while they die. We sEai
soon be with them; and it may be good We
90 early to their narrow home.