Bradford reporter. [volume] (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, 1856-06-14

Inc eyes OF the youth seemed gifted with
supernatural power, and he beheld what he had
not before seen, a cross that must have been
borne by the stranger, for the mantle that CO.
yered his shoulder was stained with blood, and
ne pressed his hand against bis side as if op-
pressed with WEAKNESS. Constrained by mys-
terlous, ineXplicable power, the youth bowed
himself down, and attempted to lift burden
at once so glorifed and so accursed, but his
trembling hands fell on his sides, unable to
overcome its weight Fear not, | am with
thee said the stranger and lifting the cross
as lightly as if it were a silver thread, he laid
it across the shoulder of the youth, and taking
his hand with benign smile he bade him arise
and be Of good cheer
And thcn," said the youth looking back up
upon the pilgrim, on whose head the noon day
sun fell with strange glory, eff thou hast
borne the cross, where is thy crown? 2"
The stranger lifted his right hand to Hea-
ven, as he slowly receded from view, and to the
dazzled eyes of the youth, his face seemed like
the body of heaven in its clearness, and his
drapery white and glistening, so as no fuller on
earth could whiten it. And he went on, Ell.
dowed with strength from on high with the
pilgrims staff in his right hand, and the pill
grim's sandals on his feet, he was enabled to
bear the burden of the pilgrims cross 1t is
true, his heart and flesh oft-times failed, and
his spirit painted under the weary load, while
tears gushed from his eyes, and blood trckled
from his wounded shoulder But a voice SEEM
ed ever whispering in his ear, "No cross-no
crown" And he fixed his eyes on the mountain
summit, and toed upward and onward, paus-
ing only to drink of the brook by the wav,"
for the shadows began to lengthen, and chill
ness crept through the air
40, God, he once exclaimed, in the extre-
nifty of despair, while the cross he had borne
seemed bearing down upon him with crushing
weight, my burden is greater than | can
bear Is this rugged path the same / enter
cd this morning so green and fresh and blush
ing with newborn flowers g.? Is this leaden
heart the same that then throbbed with such
glad puisations these weary eyes the same
that mocked the dawning sunbeams? Oh, if
this be life's journey, why did | enter it? Why
were such glorious aspirations given, combined
with so much weakness-such longings for i'm
mortality, yet such draggngs down to earth
such divine ambition bound by such mortal
coils! Alas, my spirit is willing, but my flesh
is weak"
Who that had seen that crushed and weari-
cd figure, travel soiled, dim and dusty, with
pale and tear stained check, and dry, quiver-
ing lips, and eyes like smoking torches, would
have recognized the youth in the morning bloom
OF his heart and cheek, his hope, and Joy and
brightness His knees bend under him-he
Is about to sink, as many q poor burdened
heart has done in life's pilgrimage when thro'
the parting mountain shadow he catches a
glimpse of the temple which is the goal Of his
footsteps, glittering and flashing like the gol-
den glories seen through sunset clouds He
rises and presses onward, and as he remembers
the promise of him who had himself borne the
cross ana deSpised the shame who had placed
the staff in his hands and bound the sandals to
his feet-when he recalls the divine efTulgcnce
in which he melted from his sight-the sublime
gesture slowly sweeping heavenward, his spirit
burns within him, and his failing strength is
renewed. lie presses onward and upward
the mountain stream dashes across his path
aud the cold waters threaten to submcrge him.
bnt he plunges in, and they soon roll darkly
! behind him. The mountain side is whitcned
by the bones of way-farers, who perished ere
they reached the temple goal, now almost gain
ed by him.
| Hark Is it music that greets his fainting
senses No, it is the opening of the temple
gate, on golden hinges turning" Halt not,
weary pilgrim one more step, and the goal is
won Thou canst lay down the cross, and the
crown is thine T! Joy to thee, triumphant ira
vecr From this mountain height-from the |
sunclad temple, where thy feet are planted, |
thou canst look back on the rugged path and
toilsome ascent and the fallen cross Who
that beheld that radiant FORM growing with
immortal youth and heavenly Joy, with that
crowd of seven-fold beams of glory on his brow,
would recognize the travel soilcd and tear bis |
tered pilgrim, bowing and fainting beneath the |
crushing burden of life ? Gone were the dust |
stains from his garments, the tear stains from
his cheek, the blood drops from his vesture,
and the anguish from his soul How short the
warfare-how enduring the triumph How
brief the toil-how everlasting the rest !
How different the downward to the upward
view
A young maiden sat in her chamber at the
twilight hour, there was no one near to witness
the shadow on her brow The breeze sighed
through her lattice, and she sighed responsive
to its mournful whispers she was young, but
her cheek was pale, and her blue eyes were
darkened by melancholy shade she was
young, but the fragrance had passed from lifes
flower and the glory from life's dream. She
had made herself an idol, and found that its
heart was of iron, and its feet of clay and she
gathered up the 1allen gaTlahds WIN WHICH sie |
had crowned it, and crushed them withering to
her bosom.
40, Father in heaven |" she exclaimed in
the loneliness and desolation of her heart, let
me not continue life's weary journey thus sor
rowing and alone. | have gathered with rash
hand the blossoms of love, and they have fad |
ed from my grasp, leaving nothing but the
print of the thorns Doom me not to travel
long bleak way, whose darkness appals, and
whose GOODNESS chis. o, my Father one
lonely traveller will not be missed in the
crrnat fhornurhfarn of humanity Hero Let me |