Fayetteville observer. [volume] (Fayetteville, Tenn.) 1850-1966, 1867-08-29

Aye, from the great depth of my
soul I pity such an one-so scant
in love, SO meagre in happiness,
so very far away from hope
and Heaven! With all our pride
and boasted honors we are nothing
more than frail, weak, erring NOR
tails, and may not expect too much
of one another. If the great
High Judge above us were as rigid,
as exacting, as merciless as man,
alas, fear me not one OF earth's
frail children would hear in that
last day of reckoning Jehovah's
merciful-"Not guilty! stand ye
on my right" But He is merci-
full and forbearing-He doth pity
and love his sinful little ones, yea
He loveth them with a love which
passeth all understanding. He
noteth even the falling ofsparrows,
and "tempereth the wind to the
shorn lamb"
Then by what right doth man
set himself up as a judge, and pass
sentence upon his erring brother
by what right doth man say,
"Brother, thou hast done a thing
objectionable in the eye of God,
while the All-pitying Father
doth rather say, ego thy way and
sin no more" Oh (! why may we
not in all things be gentle and for
bearing? What though a.broth-
er pilgrim has wronged us-is it
not sweet to forgive? What
though a weak sister has tainted
by the way side and gathered a.
bout her, all hopeless and despair
ing, the tattered shreds of her
conquered banner-is it not sweet
to bring hope to the hopeless? :?
All, methinks if we would forget
the shortcomings and frailtles of
one another, and devote more time
to wiping away the tears of the
mourner, and pouring the oil of
consolation into the wounded souls
of the sorrowing, each life would
be brighter and purer and better
there would be less falling of
tears, less wringing of hands, less
grounding of arms and furling Of
weary banners. Aye, | can but
think if the sweet maiden, Mercy,
did always journey with us in onr
life-pilgrimage, we would often
hear glad peans of triumph, and
each voice would sing song of
! Joy. There would be less chant
ing of funeral dirges, less of the
broken wailing Of those who sit
them down to die all unloved and
unblest, with no friends, no home,
| no Heaven-no answering voice,
no beacon light, only "silence and
gloom and death, slow-sailing vul-
lures and voiceless desolationf" !"
"Let each for each beacon be"
how I love to repeat it to my.
self, how ] love to think there are
beacon lights all about me to guide
my wandering feet aright-sacred,
holy guiding-hames burning on,
ever constant and unextinguished.
Blessed, thrice blessed beacon
lights!-a time may come when
the fame of hope in nay life-lan-
tern will die quite out, and the
ashes of bitterness form DER the
living Goals. In that sad hour, as
sit all shivering and unlighted,
how sweet 'twould be to lift my
fearful eyes to where your kindly
lights cleaning and gathercoursge
and strength to toll on to the close
--how sweet to learn to watch and
to wait, 'to suffer and be strong"
"Let each for each a beacon be"
there's not a mother-bird in all
the wildwood but does willingly
spread forth her wing to shelter
her birdlings from the storm
The eider-duck does pluck the
feathers from her oarsa breast to
make soft and warm the nest for
her younglings, and right grateful
ly, Tween, the eider-ducklings do
hover meath the sheltering wing
| of the mother-bird. Shall man,
made in the very image of Jeho-
yah, and "but a little lower than
than the angels" be less generous,
less merciful, less self-forgetting
than these same soulless mother
birds? No, no-let US rather
help one another-let US say to our
wandering brother-"Behold the
beacon light which | have set up
for you," and to our fainting sister.