The Camden journal. [volume] (Camden, S.C.) 1866-1891, 1871-05-25
OUR SATURDAY NIGHT.
Put Them Away.
Tick Tick ! Tick !

is out of pain and bodily agony, but that nc
more on earth can we hear her voice-listen
to her encouraging words, look into her eyes
that SO eloquently mirrored the purity Of
her soul.
Tomorrow, so soon to be here, will be the
Sabbath. Day of rest-Day Of sadness! ! for
a dear, good friend has already in this life
won her crown and place with those who
passed on, while We arc left to win ours, but
with no more of that help which came from
her good wishes, pure counsel and beautiful
unselfsh friendship.
No one in the room with us-save the
guardian spirits, each with pure, loving
thoughts for US to give to Others What
there is of her. rests in another room. The
door is Just ajar. All is still-very still in
there. We listcn-the ticking ofthc clock
nothing morc
Let us see Twenty years ago we sat, as
now, in a room much like this, while afriend
or the temple in which he once dwelt, rested
in room adjoining. We were then as now
in the presence of death. Then we were not
at rest as now The wind howlcd without
We were afraid-in dread. There seemed
then to come shadow of terror from the
waiting room."
Were you ever afraid to be with a dead
body? Did you ever fear to be alone with
death ? Ifso, we pity you, ifyour fear and
suferings were like ours in the years agone,
before there came about us a light as came to
one long since comes to many who arc de-
serving. But tonight wcarc not afraid. Why
should VIC be? There is nothing there to
harm us. Onlya lesson-that our home is
not here While we arc at work, she is at
rest. While we listen to the ticking of the
clock, as Time marks those who have "gone
home,' she is waiting on the shore for the
one whose very heart, soul and life, she won
by he purity and kindness while here to
bless him with her love and Heayen-born in
fuence.
Others mourn with us. They sleep in rest
less beds, to waken in fearful sorrow while
we keep watch of the flying hours, each pas
sing away laden with souls going from here
to the beautiful Land Of the Lcal.
| This was her room. Oh. Memories !!
Wherever the,eye rests there is something to
remind us of the absent one. There is lit
tie watch-casc nearly finished, as she left it
to await her recovery! There is book in
which she read but three days ago. Here
is Il little ribbon worn in her hair. 1t is too
sacred to touch-so We kiss it with tcar-wct
eyes Sic has gone 1t is so still here 1t
is 50 lonesome for those who have to be all
alone and to look at the little articles worn
Or used by the absent ones. We pity, Oh !!
so deeply-thosc who weep, and watch, and
pray-those who are left to wait in the
storms of life, while the loved one waits
on the distant sunny shore.
There is a slipper once worn by her-a
glove-a thimble once Worn upon the finger
now so cold and lifcless. In that little des!;
it was hers-are letters and scraps, and
kind words from others to her. In that little
jewel-box is ring and few other articles
more precious than wealth, for they were
hers. All about the room We sec her still !
| Oh, Father in Heaven-why is she not
here. with her kind words-hcr pure love-
her eyes so full of beautiful language? Why
cannot those who love go home tcyethcr when
S, true TO each other do they walk the paths
of life here? When re must part some day,
if only for a time, why do we not live better,
purer, truer, and more loving for each other
than for self? We cannot find our way Or
live our life alyne so we'll as with heart
united.
Then, good angel, merciful death, come
for those who are left to mourn, and bear us
and them, fro M pain to easc-from tears to
sn:les-from grief to joy>-from separating
to uniting. Then will you be welcome
welcome-welcome visitor, and we reach
forth to call you to us, as babe reaches for
the hands that are to bear it to the bosom Of
! love.
On the walls are pictures she arranged
She made everything so homelke. She gave
beauty to the room and house. All about
are evidences of her work and care, for good
women arc SO much more thoughtful than
most mcn Here and there arc evidences
that she lived and loved. Garments she
wore till it seems row as il a portion of her
life were left therein, so much did she in
dividualizc everything about her.
Sec there! A necklace wora about her
neck from-let us see Months and months
ago What Joy filled the heart of the one
who placed it there when she said
Il thank you, so nauch for it, We heard
her say it-and she knew the one who gave
it her was happy, because she was. What
makes the tears come so? She has gone
BUT SHE is HERE!
Put them carefully away These sacred
little articles. Let no rough hand disturb
them. Put them all away, wet with tears,
and when tired of this battle Of life, look at
them, think of the absent one, thank
God that thcro is a beautiful Land of the
Leal, where those who truly loved on earth
will meet, and live, and rest, and walk and
work delightedly and delightfully."- together
where thought is the implement and minds
of men the field of labor for ages and ages to
come.
So, welcome Death. Welcome the Dawn
For what is death but life? The opening
of door through which loved ones go to
better and brighter lands-for We never
shall find worse worlds in existence than
this-to wait for our coming. Then we