Gold Hill daily news. [volume] (Gold Hill, N.T. [Nev.]) 1863-1882, 1869-04-24

is there an idea that is common
to heather, Mohammedan, Jew and
hristian-common to all sects and
divisions of acknowledgements TO
high and low, learned and ignorant
common also to all lands and ages
Where is there such universal idea of
any kind that is not founded in truth ?
There is none. Error alone is sectional
the universal is true. Any want
which all humanity expresses isatrue
want. Any hope which it cherishes in
its broad and universal bosom is hope
that may be realized If the true path to
it be found. The deepest love is the
most universal. The loudest and
strongest testimony to truth, next to
the voice from Heaven, is that which
heaves up nightly from the broad
bosom of humanity. When Heaven
speaks, earth returns the echo, and if
we hear but the echo VIC know what
the voice spoke, though it be less
distinctly. So what we hear sounding
forth in universal voice from the
whole race of man has been spoken to
them from Heaven, and this common
belief among men, Of future recogni-
ton, is tho echo from earth to q truth
from Heaven.
A beloved sister, when passing into
the valley Of death, commenced utterlng
what she felt, and describing what she
saw, until the glory of the invisible
world seemed so fully present to her
soul, that she was overwhelmed and
lost in wonder, and said: ooh ! |
cannot tell you all, but you will see it
beautiful, beautiful - and expired
with these words. A little girl, a
lovely, precious child, who had lost her
mother very early, would often come to
lay her little arm about the neck of a
friend, who kindly took care of her,
aud say, Snow, tell me about
mamma" And when the oft-rspeated
tale was told, would say, softly, Take
me into the psrlor, want to see
mamma )" and she would remain for
hours gazing on her mothers portrait.
She at last was called to die. The dew
of death was fast settling on her pale
brow. The little chest heayed spas
medically. Her friend sat beside her,
and held her hand. "Do You know
me, darling?" she sobbed, but no
answer. All at once brightness, as
if from the upper world, burst over the
child's colorless features. The eyelids
flashed open, the lips parted, and hold
ing out her little wasted arms, as she
looked piercingly into the far-nbove,
Mother :" she cried, with surprise
and delight, and died. Did not that
child pass into her mothers arms?
Sitting once beside a dying girl, aud
watching every moment to see her
breathe her last, as she had lain with
her eyes closed and unconscious for
hours, was startled to see her sud-
denly open her eyes, and looking up,
exclaim, Mother Brother | felt
surely the departed were near us, whom
| remembered only few months preyi-
Gus she had lost her mother and eldest
brother.
Shall we know our friends in Heaven
I trust have answered this question TO
your comfort, poor, sorrowing ones,
who are sitting around yonr lonely
hearthstoncs. You wonder sadly and
tearfully among the grassy hillocks
of the cemetery. Sorrow has swept
the chords Of your hearts, and filled
your souls with mouruful sounds.
Those cherished graves, where the
cypress waves and the amarynth blows,
tell me that your treasured dead sleep
there, and they are still dear to you. |
60 into your home, and into the rooms
where father and mother used to greet
you, but all is silent The old arm
chair has been put away ; they do not
need it now or into the nursery, which
childish joys made bright. But those
voices are hushed, and | see the toys
and play-things all put carefully away,
looking strangely sad for the absence
of their owners. listen for the pat
tering OF little feet, but those feet arc
still, y, so still sit st your door 10
wait at evening for the coming of n
dear form that used to be announced by
the hum of an old tune, or the low
whistle Of a familiar song; but he
comes not. follow you to the church
yard and listen to your sobs, and ! un-
derstand it all. All ! those treasured
dead We will see them ngain-know
them again-love them again-the
sainted dead. We have heard the mys
tcrious prophetic siehings of this con-
viction that comes to us out Of the
Pagan gloom OF the Old World. We
have seen the dawning of this hope in
the twilight of the jewish religion, and
it confirmed in the clearer light Of the
Gospel. And now, what greater conso-
lation can speak to sorrowing hsnrts
than to assure them they shall see and
know their departed dead who have
gone up to those stormless regions Of
light aud life? What sweeter, stron-
ger argument to the thoughtless in this
congregation, to win them to Jesus and
the cross, than the hope Of meeting,
and knowing, and loving again, those
with whom they so sorrowfully parted
at the grave. The trees that shade our
slumbering dead seem greener, and the
flowers that bloom on their graves grow
brighter when we believe We shall
meet them again and know them.
When we hear the music ringing
Through the bright celestial dome,
When sweet angels voices singing,
Gladly bid US welcome home
To the land of ancient story,
Where the spirit knows no care,
In the land Of light and glory
Shall we know each other there {?
When the holy angels meet US,
Aswe 20 to join their band,
Shall we know the friends that greet US
In the glorious spirit land?
Shall wo sec the sames eyes shining
On us, as in days Of yorc?
Shall VIC feel their dear arms twining
Fondly round US as before'
Yes, my earth-worn soul rejoices,
And my weary heart grows light,
For the thrilling angel voices
And the angel faces bright,
That shall welcome US in Heaven,
Are the loved of long ago,
And to them 'tis kindly given
Thus their mortal friends to know.
Oh! 20 weary, sad and tossed ones,
Droop not, faint not BY the way
Ye shall Join the loved and just ones,
In the land Of perfect day
Harp strings touched BY angel fingers,
Murmurcd in my raptured ear,