Fayetteville observer. [volume] (Fayetteville, Tenn.) 1850-1966, 1860-01-05
[ Written for the Fayetteville Observer
On The Immortality of the Soul,
BIZ WILLIAM HuBEER.


BIZ WILLIAM HJBEER.
1t is lamentable truth, and a
inournful thought to every Christian
heart, that tiseIe are still many per-
sons who doubt the Immortality of
the soul. With the light Of Rsli-
gion beaming fully upon their eyes,
witha sh0usantgiftesf tongues, made
eloquent BY the subliIpity OF their
task, teaching the world its divine:
preceptsfrom the pulpit; 10 the very;
face. of reason Of which. as sentient
beings, they claim a ehara these
o5durate minds, and miserable hearts,
continue to grope their. way through
life 10 a darkness Of their own ma
king. Shall we pity or despise them?
Let US pity them Tor truly. they.
need pity. How dreary their jour
ney to that grave which all must fill
at last! What impenetrable shadows
even the ordinary occasions Of life
must throw around Them! The
worm, crushed to atoms beneath their
foot;,he withered leal, crumblipg into
dust within the palm Of the hand,
teaches them the nothingncss Of
their existence. Even the poor
plodding beast, whose toll !ills their
fields and over which they assume
control, is their equal, their superior!
equal, by reason Of the parity be-
tween their physical aim and end--
superior in point Of exemption from
moral and social duties. But let US
touch chord whose Vibrations are
felt more deeply. The footprints Of
Death are esersgheIs around ds s
there il no path IhQaF " secluded s sosytsr
it lbe.poI hearth, however humble,
Iiwbiebg heshaih' not Or will not visit.
Behold him. new entering The henss
Of. tile Jnfiael.9H lii re deep hush of
night. hs comes; With inoissIesss FOOT
steps be approaches the cradle where
slumbsrsr the, pride of theI household i,
! the inuocentbabe-heb ueashes opiits
silken-fringed eyelldsL They remain
closed forever! mo word of'endsafi
ment, no kiss, pot even a mothers 4
holy. tear can unclose them again,
or recsNa smiIa TO those icy CHECK i
tOrthe mother the fohd andsfaithfsl
wife, is stricken by his relentless
hand. = Tie living heart grows
fstill; the eyer-bnsy, all-controiing
hand mingles With the cold dust of
the grave; and her voice is,a memory!
And thus. silently, steadily, the dear
est treasures Of his heart pass away,
and his hearth grows desolate. He
! stands alone--a leafless, brancbless
! trunk. What is it that now upholds
him in this his deepest hour Of afflic-
ton? What angle can he call irom
symphatising Heaven to heal bis
bleeding heart, and whisper in his ear
wolds If consolation and of hopc?-
Nothing upbolds him. Alas! all
his lifetime he has been building on
sand, and Heaven assists him not,for
--he has no priyer!.- Hemay,psIhaps
mingle bis dust with thsiFs,, hat jim ac-
cerdanee with his OVID creed; this is;
all, and hope offers no more What
a sorrowful contemplation! Bot lei
us view a different 'pictudle ,fiom. this.
The same ,,' dark ,as. spirit, psqth, enters
the Christian home. aOne by one the
bright beings that have fmace that
spot u heaven epon earth, piss away;
thelsweet voices, whose simplest tone
was a joy,are hushed in death forever.
But as the life, closes a blessing trem-
bIes upon It; and the last touch ofthe /
gentle band is afpiedge ofieverlast-
ing union in another wo1id..s AS the1
coffin closes over the familiar face,
and the dark clods Of the valley hide
It from kindred and friends. the, eye
IS lifted above, and the light Of
sterDaL JOY dawns upon the soul.
The Lord hath given, the Lord