The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1868-08-27
ALL rs WELL.

The following excellent gem is worth
preserving. We doubt if, in the whole |
range of English literature, anything more
tonchingly eloquent can be found:
Twelve O'Clock at night and all is
well. False prophet Still and statue
like at yonder window stands the wife.
The clock has tolled the small hours, yet
her face Is pressed against the window
pane, striving In vain, with straining eyes
TO penetrate the darkness. She sees
nothing, she hears nothing but the beat
ing OF her own heart. Now she takes
her seat, opens her Bible, and seeks from
1t what comfort she may, while tears
blister the pages. Then she clasps her
hands and her lips are tremulous with
mute supplicatiOn. Hist there is an
unsteady step in the hall she knows IT,
for many time and oft has it trud on her
heart strings. She glides down gently to
meet the wanderer. He falls heavily
against her and in maudlin tone pronoun-
ces name he has long forgotten to honor
Oh, all enduring power of woman's love
no reProach-no upbrAiding-the light
arm passed around the rceling figure, once
erect in Gods own image. With tender
words OF entreaty, which he is powerless
to resist, if he would, she leads him in.
1t is bot the repetition of thousand
Vigi!s II is the performance of a VOW,
with heroism and patient endurance too
common every day TO be chronicled on
earth, too holy and heavenly to pass un-
noticed by the registering angel above.
Calls we'll !" False prophet! In yon-
der luxurious room sits one whose privi-
lege 1t was to be fair as dream of Eden.
lime was when those clear eyes looked
lovingly into mothers face-when a
kind, loving father, laid trembling hand
with blessing on that sunny head-when
brothers and sisters voices were heard
around the happy hearth. Oh, where
are they now Are there none to say TO
the repentant Magdalen, ''neither do
condemn thee-go and sin 10 more o.
Must the gilded fetter continue to bind the
soul that loaths it, because man is less
merciful than God
'All's well J" False prophet There
hes the dead orphan. In all the length
and breadth of the green earth there was
found no sheltering nest where the lonely
dove-could fold its wings when the pa
rent bird had flown. The broodiDg wing
was gone that covered it from the cold
winds of neglect and unkindness. Love
was its life and so it dropped
''Alfs we'll" False prophet! Sin
walks the earth in purple and fine linen :;
honest poverty with tear bedewed face,
hungers and thirsts, "while the publican
stands afar off," The widow pleads in
vain to the determined judge for '.irstice,' y
and unpunished of heaven, the human tiger
croucheS i'll his lair and springs upon his
helpless prey.
"AIl's WE'LL" Ah, yes, all is we'll,
for He who "seeth the end of the begin
ning," holds evenly the scales of Justice.
''Dives shall yet beg of Lazarus" Every
human tear is counted. They shall yet
sparkle as gems in the crown of the pa
tient and enduring 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 1 will, but as thou wilt"