The Abbeville banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1847-1869, 1859-11-03
DYING.

II steais upon us uhawares, tins thought
Of dying. 1t does not wait for the wei.
come, which we never give it, but enters
in unLidlcn. We put it far away-indced
we can hardly realize that it will ever
come to us, in its last rea;ly-ye. the
shadow floats back and VIC cannot ban
ish it. Not in Autumn only, when ma
trre dies, bu: in the virginia. Spring,
when the hours are young and cxhuber-
ant with gladncss-a voice unknown and
wonderful, appeals to the inner sense and
whispers of dying. In tho fiery mart,
amid the reekiug life rolling so fercely
together, we meet funeral sometimes
and then, for IL moment, think of the low,
mute house to which all these travellers
are has:ening; and Of the undiscovered
country" lying just the other side of its
door. Nerxes, gazing upon the serred
ranks of men before him, weeping that
in che hundred years that pa!pitating
mass Of life would be only dust, oLeyed
natural impulse Of the heart. Through
all our years we walk in the shadow of
great mystery-it is not strange that
sometimes We pause, aud wonder, aud
fear.
The years, in their flight, bear away
the bloom and freshness of our morn.
ing. The hilarious spring cannot always
renew the youth in our hearts. With
all she brings us, we feel that there is
less of life in our veins than there was
last year. Serene may have been our
morning, dazzling our noon-yet we can
but think Of the night as we draw to-
ward it. 1t is well, AS we should forget
to look up to the light of the after morn
ing.
This thought Of dying will not lie
eluded. 1t comes IN the hour of triumph ,
amid the din Of business amid the fe-
yer of ambition, and then we feel the
vanity Of human effort, and Of human
wishes. Sometimes disease seizes US, car
ries us down to the brink Of the dark
river, and leaves us there. Then we find
that Time and Eternity have changed
places. Eternity hangs over US, stark,
certain, awfuIy defined. 1t is no longer
fable: Life has receded. Afar back
we see the shaving mutitudes of the
world.
Were we ever one OF that mad crowd
Did we ever chase such phantoms? Were
we ever filled with the impetuous ca
gerness which impels each competitor for
an earthly prizea We pray for life that
We may teach the living how to live'
Sometimes the prayer is granted. We
come back to the world-agnin Eternity
rolls back-again the soul sinks into
vassalage.
But in our living hours-in the calm
of the night watch-when the cares which
devoured the day have taken wings and
departed ; when the burden of life seems
to roll from our hearts at the feet OF
night, and we feel our nature growing
larger-then comes this thought of dying.
In its light, motives are analysed, and
despised. Purposes are weighed and
found wanting; desires are rejected, ac-
tions bitterly condemned. Remcrse, per.
haps, stalks in the hushed corridors of the
soul. Holy aspirations steal into the heart,
like breathings from diviner world.
You wonder how you have lived sordid
and selfish life. You remember your
mothers prayers. You are not ashamed
again to be child. r will live nobIer
life tomorrow! will live nobler always!
Twill obey God in my soul" you say. Do
you keep the vowa When the turbid wave
of daily life settles back upon your soul,
do you remsmber9
M. G. A.