The Potter journal. [volume] (Coudersport, Pa.) 1857-1872, 1858-10-14

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Who are you, man or woman, for whom
this prayer has not old, sweet associations; !;
who, hearing is words, hear not, too, ,he
" ma.lory bell" ring ns " IRON The gold
en- plains Of rour childhood, aud icel not
the SOFT gales frgm the morning land Of
your life sweeping over your soul /?
You may be a nan now, in tie rride
and strength of your years you mag
have carried out for yourself an honorable
name and destiny in this world -mayhap
you are the owner Of broad lands aud proud
homes, and your heart has grown hard in
its battle with the world.
But stop moment and listen to this
little verse-so simple thai the merest
babe who iearns to lisp the words can com
prehani them, and 80 grand in It's Sub
| line significance and faith, that the wisest
sage shall only have learaea fully tho true
lesson of Life when the soul utters them
as It did in It's infancy
| Let US see how many years ago was
it twenty, thirty, forty; 10 matter, at
the old sound Of " Now | lay me-" they
have rolled back their massive doors, and
you go down through then to the Old red
one story house, where your life first took
its morning.. You sec the little window
on the right side, close under the rafters !;
ah you slept sounder slumber, and dream
cd Swecter dreams in that old garret than
you ever dtl IN your lofty chambers, with
the gilded ceiling and snowy draperies !;
and what matter if your bed was a straw
one and your ccverlet made of red and
yellow "patchos" Of calico, you never
snug2,ed down so contentedly under your
spring mattresses and Marsaiiles counter
panes.
"Now lay me :" how softly sleep would
colae and weigh down y,rr eyc-l.!s, as
you repeated the words after her; all !.
ycu can hear her very to4es now, stealing
across your heart, though it is SO many
years since Geath Silcnceo them ard you
feel the scf5 touch of her hand on your
pillow, and the tender lingering Of her
kiss upon your iips-you break down here,
proud man as you are-the memory Of
your mother is more than you can bear.
If she had only lived, you would not have
been what you are now; but, thanks be
to God, she left you something holy ard
beyond all meaning; something that can
not grow old and dim, lot even il the
unspeakable brightness" beyond the
shining gates-the memory of loving,
Drayinp. christian mother
Reader, it may be many years since you
repeated this prayer, or, alas . IL may be
that in the din and struggle Of life you
may have forgotten to pray at all, and that
night after niaat yor have lain CowE o.
your pillow, never thinking Of the shin
;ng ranks OF angels that Gods mercy sta
toned around you, or thank him for the
day or for the night.
But come back, we beseech you, to the
old prayer of your childhood You can
not have outgrown that-no matter if
your hair is frosted with the SHOWS Of life's
December, and if your years are three
Iscora-and-ten. hneel down by your bed
side, and uttering tAc5e words, see ii
somethinr of the old peace and faith q
your childhood does not come pack to you
if something of It's dew and It's blessing
Ta.l not upon your s.umoer.
And remember ii at sooner or later, you
must "l;e down TO Sleep when tlis
prayer will be all that your soul c1n take
all that will avail Of your r~nh, Q,
wealth, or fame, whatsoever you mos
prize in this world, which is but the shaI-
ow of eternity.