Raftsman's journal. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, 1868-07-08
All is Well.

All is w ell.
The following exquisite gem is worth pre-
serving. We doubt if, in the whole range
of English literature, anything more touch
ingly eloquent can be found:
Twelve o'clock at night and all is well. :"
False prophet Still and statue-likc at yon-
der window stands the wife. The clock has
tolled the small hours, yet her face is pressed
against the window pane, striving IN VAN,
with straining eyes to penetrate the darkness.
She sees nothing, she hears nothing but the
beating of her own heart. Now she takes
her seat, opens her Bible, and seeks from it
what comfort she may, while tears blister
the pages Then she clasps her hands and
her lips are tremulous with mute supplica-
ton. Hist there is an unsteady step in
the hall she knows it, for many time and
Oft has it trod on her heart strings. She
glides down gently to meet the waDderer
He falls heavily against her and In maudlin
tone prUnounces mamie he has long since
forgotten TO honor. Oh, all enduring power
of woman's love-no reproach, no upbraid-
ing-the light arm passed around the reelng
figure, once erect in God $ own image. With
tender words of ontrcaty. which he is pow
erlcss to resist, if he would, she leads him in.
1t is but the repetition of thousand vigils
1t is the performance of VOW, with hero
ism and patient endurance too common every
day to be chronicled on earth, too holy and
heavenly to pass unnoticed by the register
ing angel above.
''All's well !" False prophet In yonder
luxurious room sits one whose privilege it
was to be fair as dream of Eden. Time
was when those clear eyes looked lovingly
into a mothers face-when kind loving
father laid trembling hand with blessing
on that sunny head-when brothers and
sister voices were heard around the happy
hearth. Oh! where are they now Are
there none to say to the repentant Magdalen,
neither do | condemn thec-go and sin no
more % Must the gilded fetter continue to
bind the soul that loathcs it, because man is
less merciful than God?
"All's well !" False prophet! There lies
the dead orphan In al the length and
breadth of the green earth there was found
no shetering next where the lonely dove
could fold its wings when the parent bird
had flown. The breeding wing was gone
that covered it from the cold winds of neg
leet and unkindness. Love was its life, and
| 40 it -arooped .szz===-s.aa-sa-zs-sz -s-ssss
'All's well y False prophet Sin walks
the earth in purple and fine linen; honest
poverty, with tear bedewed face, hungers
and shivcrs, and thirsts, while the publican
stands afar off The widow pleads in vain
to the determined judge for Justice, - and,
unpunished of heaven, the human tiger
crouches in his lair and springs upon his
helpless prey.
"AlPs weli!" All, yes, all is we'll for
He who 'seeth the end of the beginning, y
holds evenly the scales of justice. Dives
shall yet beg of Lazarus. Every human
tear is counted They will yet sparkle as
gems in tho crown or the patient and en-
| during disciple! When the clear, broad
light of eternity shines upon life's crooked
path, we shall see the pitfalls from which
our hedge of thorns has fenced us in, and
| in our full grown faith. we shall exultingly
say, Father, not as will, but as thou wilt. y