Grand River times. [volume] (Grand Haven, Mich.) 1851-18??, 1857-10-14
A Mothers Last Prayer.
BY MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS.


Our hopes, and then our fears-and when
These are dead, the debt is due,
Dust claims dust-and we die too.
was very young, scarcely beyond the
verge of infancy, the last and most helpless
of three girls who were gathered around my
poor mothers death bed When l look on
the chain of my varied existence-that woof
of gold and iron woven so strangely togeth-
er--the remembrance of that young being
who perished 80 early and so gently from the
bosom of her family forms the first sad link
which ever gives forth thrill Of funeral mu-
sic when my heart turns to it-music which
becomes most deep-toned and solemn as that
chain is strengthened by thought, and bound
together by the events of successive years.
The first human being that can remember
is my mother, moving languidly about her
home, with the paleness of disease sitting
upon her beautiful features, and deep Grim
son spot burning with painful brightness on
either cheek. remember that her step be-
came unsteady, and her voice fainter and
more gentle day by day, till at last she sank
to her bed, and we were called upon to wit
ness her spirit 60 forth to the presence of Je-
hovah. They took me to her couch, and told
me to look upon my mother before she died.
Their words had no meaning to me then,
but the whisper in which they were spoken
thrilled painfully through my heart, and l
felt that something very terrible was about
to happen. Pale, troubled faces were around
that death-pillow-stern men with sad, heavy
eyes-women overwhelmed with tears and
sympathy-and children, that huddlcd to-
gether, shuddering and weeping, that knew
not wherefore.
Filled with wonder and awe, / crept to my
mother and burying my brow in the mass
of rich brown hair that foated over her pill
low, heavy with the damp of death, but still
lustrous in spite of disease, trembled and
sobbed without knowing why, save that all
around me was full of grief and lamenta-
ton. They murmured, and placed my hand
upon her head My little heart sweled, but
l lay motionless and filled with awe. Her
lips moved, and a voice, tremulous and very
low, came family over them. These words,
broken and sweet as they were on my mem
ory-" Lead lis not into temptation, but de-
liver us from evil.' This was mothers last
prayerl In that imperfect sentence her gen
tie voice went out forever. Young as was,
that prayer had entered my heart with sol
emn strength.
raised my head from its resting place,
and gazed, awe-stricken, upon the face of my
mother. Oh! how an hour had changed it!
The crimson flush was quenched on her
checks; moisture lay upon her forehead ;
and the grey, mysterious shadows Of death
were stealing over her thin features; yet her
lip still moved, and her deep blue eyes were
bent on me, surcharged with spiritual bright
ness, as if they would have left one of their
vivid, unearthly rays, as the seal of death
bed covenant. Slowly as sun-beams pale at
night fall from the leaves of flower, went
out the starlight fire of her own eyes; a
mist came over them, softly as the dew might
fall from the flower, and she was dead !
Even then / knew not the meaning of the
solemn change | had witnessed; but when
they bore me forth from my mothers death
bed, my heart was filled with fear and mis-
giving. 3
All were overwhelmed with the weight OF
their own sorrow, and was permitted to
wander around my solitary home unchecked
and forgotten. stood wondering by as they
shrouded my mother and smoothed the long
hair over her pale forehead. Silently /
watched them spread the winding sheet, and
fold those small pale hands over her bo-
som; but when they closed the blinds and
went forth, my little heart sweled with a
sense of unkindness in shutting out the sun