Weekly Trinity journal., 1861-01-19
"Now Lay me Down 20 sleep"
"Now | lay me down to sleep,
pray the Lord my soul to keep,
IL | should die before | wake,
nrav the Lord nv soul to take,u

pray the Lord my soul to keep,
If | should die before | wake,
pray the Lord my soul to take"
Who are you man or woman, for whom thi.
prayer has not Old sweet associations whC
hearing its words hear not, too, the "memory
bell" ringing up from the golden plains of YOU
childhood and feel not the soft gales from thC
morning land Of your life sweeping over YOU
soul
You may be man now in pride and strength
of your years; you may have carved out io
yourself an honorable name aud destiny in The
world-mayhap you are the owner OF broa'
/ lands and proud homes, and your heart ha'
grown hard in its battle with the world
But stop n moment. and listen to this little
verse, so simple that the merest babe who learns
to lisp the words can comprehend them, aud so
grand in its suplime significance and faith. that
the wises shall only have learned the true lessons
of life when the soul utters them as it did in its
infancy.
"Let us see How many years ago was 1t ?
twenty, thirty no matter, at the sound OF " Now
lay me-" they have rolled their massive doors,
and you go 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
a aounder slumber and dreamed sweeter dreams
in that old garret than you ever did in your
lofty chambers, with their gilded ceilings aud
snowy draperies aud what matter If your bed
was a straw one and your coverlet made Of red
aud yellow patches" of calico, you never
snuggled down so contentedly under your spring
mattresses and Marseiles counterpanes
"Now | lay me - how softly sleep would
come and weigh down your eyelids, as you re-
peatcd the words after her ah you can hear
her very tones now stealing across your heart
though it is so many years since death senced
them you feel the soft touch Of her haud on
your pillow, and the tender lingering Of her kiss
line horn md
man "a 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 now are /;
but, thanks be to God, she left you something
that cannot grow old and dim, even in the
"unspeakable brightness" beyond the shining
gates-the memory OF a loving praying, christian
mother.
Reader, it may he that 10 the din and struggle
of life you may have forgotten 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 or thanking him for the day or the
night.
But come back, we besoech you, to the old
prayer of your childhood You cannot have
outgrOwn that-no matter if your halr is frosted
with the SHOWS of lile's December, and if your
years are three-s score and ten, kneel down by
your bedside, and utter these words, see il some
thing OF the old peace aud faith of your child
hOOd dose not come Dack TO you, II something OF
its dew aud blessing fall not upon your slumber.
And remember that sooner or later, you must
"lie down aud sleep" when this prayer will be
all your soul can take--al that will avail OF
your rank, or wealth, or fame, whatsoever you
most prize in this world, which is but the shadow
OF eternity All! we shall soon pass the
"Green threshold Of our common grave;v
but the little prayer, the first, it may be, that
we took upon our childish lips, we sail ont under
the solemn arches of the "River Of Death"
follows u.s. faint, tender air, from the shores,
and when we shall cast anchor,
"The Lord our souls shall take.V