The Evansville journal. [volume] (Evansville, Ind.) 1866-1870, 1866-12-01

lest DANGER mas been pefmltLe0 TO
alarm us we should, with special fer
vor, thank God for His preserving
mercy.
aa9But whether we have journeysd or
fingered amidst the quiet scenes of
home, all of us have been spared
through another year. Manifold dis
eases have lurked, like hungry tigers,
along our pathway. and Death has
been busy with his dreadful DART
Some who began the year as healthy
and as strong as we, have. fallen.
q Some like night Hash passed asvay.J
And some sank lingering day by day"
From the city Of the living they have
gone to- their long home in yonder
silent city of the dead. Is not our
preservation marvel of mercyi 10
sour life contains a thousand springs.
And dies If one be gone &
= Strange that q harp OF thousand strings
Z IS Should keepin tune SO longt"iN T :
Should not every chord of that harp
be vocal, this day, as we celebrate the
loving kindnesses of the Lord2sa
twill mention the loving kindnesses
of the Lord ? in the domestic mercies
we have enjoyed. Home! What
wealth of meaning IN that word
Home-the name is a talisman. What
heart has not felt the. spell of it's
magic power? Home is the, sum
ofiearth's sweetest, purest joyst Yes,
home, sweet home, musical with glad
voices, fragrant with the flowers of
affection, beautiful as an angels
dream, no wonder we love thee
Home, fragment Of our lost Paradise,
gladdening the desert world-blessed
type of the Paradise to be regained,
thou art dear to our hearts ~ There
is no place like home
Elm every cline the magnet of the soul,
Touched3 by remembrance, Ktrembles to
that POLE"
~ Il If; then, God has given us a happy
home, let us not forget to thank Him.
True, there is no earthly home so
bright but that shadows will some.
times fall across its hearthstone, nor
any household song so joyous but that
into it sad notes must sometimes en-
ter.a Even as the swift years go by do
they leave fewer of the faces that we
love, gathering in the dear home cir
Gle and in the chambers of memory
new images of the loved ones gone.
But the angel of hope points the
mourner to a griefess, graveless land,
lying in sweet sunshine beyond the
River, and gently whispers of the dead
ZONES dear, : not lost but gone before"
Yes, the glad Gospel brings down in
to our darkened houses the very light
of the Holy City, and unveils before
us. visions of the glorifed before the
Throne! O, weeping pilgrims, would
you call back those ransomed ones
from their harps and psalms, to wan
der again in the valley of tears? Let
us rather learn ~ -
20 ils-'sAsy year by year we lose
Friends out of sight, in faith to muse
How grows in Paradise our store."T "A
The very tears of the mourner will
. reflect Gods praise, as when the
heavens are weeping the rainbow
spans the cloud with its radiant arch.
But even in our sorrows we must not
forget the joysT that remain. Few
houses are utterly 1desolate. Oh,
.smitten heartt the little coffin felt less
heavy because of the dear ones that
were left Cherished and beautiful
buds may have been plucked, but
others are still blooming on the parent
tree. Your weeping for the loved
ones gone may not be rebuked-even
Jesus wept at the grave Of friend
but your tears for the departed must
not blind you to the sweet mercies-
which still bless your home.
boo As to-day, therefore, you look upon
these tokens of Gods loving kind
ness, if you cannot sing joyous song
you will, at least, take upyoHr harp
onH IN rofoC &C fan1ar Oh ,-fcffsr,
row say, !" will sing. of mercy and
will | sing Then, whether we meet
in homes bright with gladuess or in
homes shaded by sadness, let there be
no circle of kindred hearts to-day or
family affairs from which there shall
not ascend the incense of praise to
that God whose loving kindness is the
spring of all our joys-f7whose smile is
the sunshine of our homes.
III. But / will mention the low
ing kindnesses of the Lord in his
mercies to us as city. And, if ever
a city had reasons for thanksgiving
that city is ours. In the early sum
mer, borne on the wings of the wind,
the angel of the pestilenceHi reach
ed our shores. Unsheathing his mys-
terious sword he journeyeds across the
continent, silently executing his awful
commission. Thousands fell before
him. From every class-from prat.
Ting childhood and gray haired age
from the dwelling of poverty and the
mansions of wealth, the destroyer
claimed his victims. In New York,
in Cincinnati, in Chicago and St.
& Louis-in a score of cities there was
mourning, lamentation and woe"
But our city has not been seourged.
True, some who dwelt among us-the
loved, the beautiful-crossed the track
of the pestilence and came back no
more. Like the lightning that strikes