Cleveland morning leader. [volume] (Cleveland [Ohio]) 1854-1865, 1858-10-02
% Now 1 Lay me down to Sleep -
e Now / lay me down 10 sleep,
pray the Lord my soul 20 keep,
n | should de before ] wake.

I pray the Lord my soul 70 keep
n shuu d de bof1re ] wake
1 prsy the Lord nay soul To take"
Who are you. man or woman, for whom this
prayer has not old, sweet associations; who,
hearing its words, hear not, too, the memory
bells" ringing up from the golden plains of your
childhood, and feel not the soft gales from the
morning land of your life sweeping over your
soul.
You may be a man now, in the pride and
strength Of yOur years; you may have carved
out for yourself an honorable name and destiny
in in this world-mayhaP you are the owner
Of broad lands and proud homes, and your
heart has grown hard in its battle with the
world.
But stop a moment and listen to this little
verse-so simple that the merest babe who
learns to lisp the words, can comprehend them,
and 50 grand in its sublime significance and
faith that the wIsest sage shall only have learn
ed fully the true lesson of life when the soul
utters them as II did in its infancy.
Let US see how many years ago was it
twenty, thirty, forty no imatter, at the old
sound of " Now i lay me-" they have rolled
back their massive doors, and you 90 down
through them to the old red one-story house,
where your life first took its morning You
see the little window on the right side, close
under the rafters; ah, you slept sounder SUM
Der and dreamed sweeter dreams in that old
garret than you ever did in your lofty cham
bers. with the gilded scenery and snowy dra-
peries; and what matter if your bed was
q straw one and your cOverlit made of red and
yellow ''patches" of calico, you never snuggled
down so contentedly upon your spring mat
tresses and under Msrseilles counterpanes.
"Now 1 lay me-" how softly sleep would
come and weigh down your eye lids, as you re-
peated the words after her; ah you can hear
her very tones now, stealing across your heart,
though It Is so many years since death silencsd
them; and you hear the soft touch Of her hand
on your pillow, and the tender lingering Of her
kiss upon your hps-yOu break down here,
proud man as you are-the memory Of your
mother is more than you can bear. II she had
only lived, you would not have been what you
are now; but, thanks be to God, she left you
something holy and beyond all meaning; some
thing that cannot grow old and dim, not even
in the "unspeakabls brightness" beyond the
shining gates-the memory Of loving, pray
ing, christian mother.
Reader, it may be many years since you re-
Peated this prayer, or, alas it may be that in
the din and struggle of life you may have for
gotten to pray at all, and that night after night
you have laid down on your pillow never
thinking Of the shining ranks of angels that
Gods mercy stationed around you, or to thank
him for the day or for the night.
Come back, we beseeeh you, to the old pray
er of your childhood. You cannot have out
grown that-no matter if your hair is frosted
with the SHOWS of ife's December, and if your
years are three-score and ten. Kneel down by
your bedside, and uttering these words see If
something of the old peace and faith Of your
childhood does not come back to you; if some
thing of its dew and its blessings fall not upon
your slumber.
And remember that sooner or later, you must
Gle down to sleep" when this prayer will be
all that your soul can take-all that will avail
of your rank, or wealth, or fame, whatsoever
you most prize in this world, which is but the
shadow Of eternity. An we shall sOen pass
the