Clearfield Republican. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1851-1937, 1869-09-15
OUR SATURDAY NIGHT.
TIRED AND WEARY.

TIRED AND WEARY.
Saturday night brings it's Joys, bu
they are like flowers hidden under In
fog in the distance-or like winte
plants meath the snow. There is sucI
q load OF weariness on them and owe
them at times. Who is not wear,
tonight Perhaps not weary from
overwork, but tired from overwaiting
Sometimes Hopes task is heavy one
But the week has gone roaring, whis
tling, bowling down the aisles of th,
past like a simeon 1aden with the Joy
it brought and took away-the friend
It has taken from us-the hopes W,
had last week-the good acts and tn,
bad acts-the past seven days-th,
tears, prayers, fears, triumphs anc
shattered anticipations we all had
with the lives of those We knew anC
loved as soon will one of them &c
homo with our life.
Which will be our last Saturday
night ehapterl This one, or another
one And when comes our last week
and call Home, may that good God
we adore, believe in and reverence
give those who read af.cr We are done
with this weary-working. hearts q
take US as wo mean. that the good
intentions of busy life may not mlI
like ashes. or like dead trees that bear
no fruit. And may he Who Nth q
glance unravels the mysteries and dis.
sects all of our hfe-acts each from the
other be kind Of heart to all of us
writer and readers.
Tonight we are very wcary-tired
with our work. And someb,dv is not
here. The room is very still. Gently
the breeze sighs outside, as If TO wraI
the heart in Grape The gaslight
fiickers, and shadows dance ana Write
across our paper, just as shadows will
over the weary heart. A miller flies
about us, singeing his wings at times,
as men and women do in life and in
love. Now he has gone, and to-mor
row will be dead or forgotten, as all
Of us will be some day-and this makes
no iuoiO Ntdt) vi waiting.
The room seems so still. We hear
tramping of feet and rumbling Of
wheels on the street. Are they wea.
ryi Who are all those who 20 by
Are they tircdy Are they happy
Are they going to happy homes or to
misery What terrible knowledge
must be Gods, for he knows all our
hopes, fears, desires Those who 60
by are going somewhere, home, or to
other place. We know them not
They do not know us. They live and
die without us-how little we amount
to as individuals. No wonder we arc
weary
We have waited all the week for
this night TO come. We wanted Ia
cut loose from business cares and thi.
hcad-aching work for others, 10 rest
We wanted to rest in our easy chair
to see the flower of the bud we have
seven days watched-to throw of the
uniform of life's terrible battle, for its
points hurt, and rest. But il is bard
to rest alone Wonder if IL is hard
to die alone .
II that one wero only with us and
by us to night. No matter who il is
we know, and that one knowsl II
we could but feel that presence
watch the whispers of the soul as
shadowed on the face and by the eyes
could feel on our head, which at
times feels like lead, hot and burniny
like sea of fire from weariness. over
work and overthinking, we should not
be 20 weary. But IL is not thus, and
when this is written, perhaps sleep
will bring us rest.
And it is long to be alone TO wait
for coming--to hunger for that one
10 be nigh and by you. Not for work
for passion, for annoyance, but 20
love, to pet, 20 caress, 10 hold in your
heart, and fill the soul with, as roses
hold fragrance. How il rests one 10
sit in the shade How il rests the
heart 10 DO with loved ones. and TO
forget under the gentle touch, the soft
smooth of the palm over weary TEN.
pics, the silent kiss, the Gods poetry
of the eye, tho heart-swelling inspirs.
ton Of that love which reaches us from
Heaven, as sunbeams pierce through
shutter-crevices, and to know that we
arc not alone
There are many woary onos tonight.
Oh God, pity them all--fricnd or foe.
Near by and far away are weary ones.
Wives sitting 10 tears-sitting with
swelling hearts and eyes just ready TO
run over with the coming tear, strain.
ing every nerve TO catch the footstep
sound which comes not There are
those who walk from crib, bed. or era.
die, of sleeping or sickened little ones
TO wonder why he does not como, and
the night almost gonel Who keeps
keeps him-where is he
why is heg Weary with the work of
The week, many is the heart broken
wife Of some jolly fellow who is carous.
ing with his companions while the iyv.
the weeds, the choking vines of sad.
ness, neglect, and despair are choking
and deadcning and worrying tho lis