The Tiffin weekly tribune. (Tiffin, Ohio) 1859-1868, 1863-01-23
For the Tribune.
Watch-word of the Heart.

Byc-and-bye.-lt 10 he chart Of life,
swelling out like an anthem from every
form Of beauty, or Of might; and the hu-
man heart. night and day, beats time to
the measure bye-and-bye.
Patient hope sings it softly to herself,
and the glad hereafter shouts it trium-
phantly in the ears Of the dying to. day
Bye.und-bye--Faith writes.it'on the grave
Of the beloved, and thus coihiorted, aAtc-
ton goes on her way "sorrowing yet ro.
jocing." Bye-and-byc- the angels whis'
per il when the feet faltcr lfe-wcary;joy
come in the morning" Bye-and-byc--
it is wrapped us prophetic scroll in ev'
cry folded bud interpreted sure fulfil
ment in every bursting blossom. Rye.
and-tye--the heart keeps singing, long
after the lips refuse to utter it, until al
last there comes a DAY when, turning
away from the song Of promise, it takes
up the evening harvest, at might haze
been" OH sorrowlul requiem, chantcd
slowly, sadly, over buried hopes and
loves
Standing in youths sunny morning, we
see adown the future, visions all glory
clad; the heart bounds lightly at the
sight, and wildly we march onward to
make those ours, unheeding'the way side
blossoms, till midway out in the desert
our idols fail us, our life-drc0m fades
away. There with the ruins around us
and the waste beyond, do we look back
to the green hooks where we might have
fingered, sighing rcgrettully, ii might
hare been. 1t might have been Oh
spell from the cnchantcrs tongue; call
ing up memo.its like accusing spirits TO
make the soul wrlhe in its agony. Mem
ories OF kindly words unspokcn, noble
deeds unperlormed, wealth Tor the mind
ungarnered, whispers from the heaven
land UNDECIDED. Darkcning mortality by
its shadow, it shall add the deepest an
guish to the wall OF the lost,
II mighthare been! Havcyou never
said it proud heart, when you stood where
the green grass was creeping over grave
on whose portal was craven a household
name! Mother, perchancc, or wife, or
sister, Have you ever thought how that
silent heart had achcd for the tenderness
YOU never repaid? how when its grief
shrunk from the eye of day, the bitter
tears that "lell inwards on the soul" cor
roded the "silver cord" till it broke! il
may be ere the heart had beat out hall
its measure in the march of life! All,
yes you remembered, and bitterer than
death was the whisper that said,"it might
have Eeon, but now, alas; the grave gives
never back its spoils."
Now,go on your way, and shut your
heart on memory, weaver for yourself
bright dreams of coming years, and for
get, if possible, what might have been.-
Back to your side will come the specter
remorse, and, taking your shrinking hand
in his walk unrelontingly beside you
Eot the shadows of years gather ever SO
thickly, out through them all will CLEAN
that grave in the silent city, and,wheR
your ears grow dull to sweet music these
words will echo increasingly around you,
at might hare beea; oh, il might have
beea."
From the depth Of that anguish our
God be our shield! And when ,ur feet
draw near the swelIings of that rivcr,oyer
whose wave steals the light of eternity
may each heart say -"But for the grave
th"' h~- led nc, Nigh! hare JseH what
sH"ll be like