The River Falls journal. (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1857-1861, 1858-08-25
CHOW HAN ME DOWN TO
SLEEP.:,
"NoT / lay me down to sleep.
] pray the Lord my soul TO keep;
If should die before I wake,
pray the Lord my soul to take"

Who are you, man or woman, for
whom this prayer has not old, sweet as
sociations; 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 NOR
ming land of your life sweeping over your
soul? You may be u man now, in the
pride and strength Of yonr years; you
may have carved out for yourself an hon
orable name and destiny 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 moment, and listen to this lit
tie verse, so simple that the merest babe
who learns to lisp the words can comprc-
bend them, so grand in its sublime sig
nifcance and faith that the wisest sage
shallonly have learned fully the true les
son Of life when his soul can utter them
as it uttered them in his infancy.
Let's see! how many years ago was it I?
twenty, thirty, forty; no matter, at the
old sound Of snow lay me-" they have
| all rolled back their massive doors, and
you go down through them to the old red
one story house, where your life first took
on its morning. You see the little win
dow on the right side, close under the
rafters; alb! you slept a sounder slumber
and dreamed sweeter dreams in that old
garnet, than you ever have in your lofty
chambers, with the gilded ceilings and
snowy draperies; and what matter if
your bed was straw one, and your COW
erlet made Of red and yellow patches
Of calico, you never Struggled down SO
contentedly upon your spring mattresses
and under Marseiies counterpanes.
Snow I lay me, )" how SO tly sleep woul
come and weigh down your eyelids, as
you repeated the words after her; you
can hear her very tones now, stealing a.
cross your heart, though tits so many,
many years since death silenced them
and you feel, too, the soft touch of her
hand upon your pillow, and the tender
lingering Of her kiss upon your lips-you
break down here, proud man as you are,
the memory Of your mothe. is more than
you can bear. If SIZE had only lived, you
would not be what you are now; but
| blessed be God, she left YOU something
holy and blessed beyond all naming;
something that cannot grow old nor dim,
not even in tho ''unspeakable brightness
beyond the shining gates-the memory
Of q loving, praying, Christian mother.
Reader, it may be many years since
you prayed this prayer; or, alas may
be that in the din and struggle of life you
have forgotten to pray at all, and that
night after night You have lain down on
your pillow, never thinking Of the shining
ranks Of angels that Gods mercy station
ed around you, or thanking him for the
day and for the night. But come back,
we besoech you, come back to the prayer
of your childhood. You cannot have
| outgrowD that, no matter if your hair is
frosted with the SHOWS Of life's December
and if your years are three-score- aud-ten.
Kneel down by your bedside, and utter
ing these words, see if something of the
old peace and faith of your childhood
does not come back to you; if something
of its dew and its blessing fall not upon
! your slumberl And remember that soon
er or later, you must sic down to sleep
when this prayer will be all your soul can
take, all that will avail Of your rank, or
wealth, or fame, whatsoever you most
prize in the world, which is but the shad-
ow Of eteraity! All! we shall soon pass
/ the
"Green Threshold of our common graves.
but this little prayer, the first, it may be,
that we took upon our childish lips, shall
follow us as we sail out under the solemn
arches Of the River of Death follow a
sweet, faint, tender air from the shores,
and when we shall cast anchor
"The Lord our souls shall take"