The Richmond palladium. [volume] (Richmond, Ind.) 1855-1875, 1871-01-28
OUR SATURDAY NIGHT.


~ Gil m0 w nat " OOs'
How little it matters to that
Power which calls the weeks to
His Inspection whether our daily
deeds be for good as evil; as it
not to the weeks themselves
whether the days were pleasant or
gloomy-dark or light. All these
days, weeks aud years are not for
US alone. The sun shines for 9TH
ers. The rain falls not to help us,
but in obedience to q nature which
is not to be resisted. So do we
live and die for . great purpose Of
which each Of Us is part. The
great planning is not for US to
know at once. il ever, for when we
shall have reached the point Of
knowledge to know, perhaps as
God now knows, the future, famil-
lar to Him will still be dark to US,
though our light be a billion times
greater than now, and we who
strive shall become as Gods.
Such are the changes here and
hereafter. Not more in the mate.
rial than the coming life. Ofthese
thoughts We will tell you who
would read, and the why.
This day, before came upon US
the shades and shadows of Satur-
day Night, we were at the house OF
q friend. It was a home of mourn.
ing. A sweet, pretty babe but lit
tie more than year old had died,
as we say-had gone on to be our
senior Over There. as we were its
senior here.
We were called into the parlor.
In little coffin slept the fair form
which but yesterday was full o.
life. The tears rolled one after
another down the face of the heart
wounded father, as he silently hello
| to his heart the agonized mother
His was grief. Hers was agony
His was sorrow. Hers was lik,
the tearing away Of life! Why de
mothers love more than fathers
Why do those who weave beautiful
carpets. or exquisite laces, lool
with more pride upon the compile
ted article, which they have beer
months fashioning, little by little
than tie one who brought to thei
loom the material, then went TO
more? Answer US this, and yo'
will not ask US the other.
! So he mourned on the shore
while she in agony waded into tn
sen which her created life hat
passed over, as if to call bach
when He had called to comU
1t was q lovely face. So whit
and fair-so pure and innocent
like the face of one We often sc
and worship for the love she bear
US and the good she is to us whe
it seems as though none othe
could or cared to unders tand u.
Happy child that was Of earth
that is of the Leal. Its little hand
were folded across its bosom-it
little eyes we're closed, and its lip
we're parted as if in the sweetes
sleep. Did you ever see mothe
in agony3 Did you ever see
woman throw herself on the coffi
of her darling and sob, and weel
and struggle, as if to break ava
and follow after to that Garden
the East7 Do you not know th.
at times words are powerless
build replies2
80! tell me-teH me! what sho
1 do2 I cannot have this so!
shall die! D let me 60, or tell n
tell me what to do
Come here, you who mourn; ye
upon whose breast she leans; ye
whose heart 10 her home. Con
over to this side Of the roor
| Away from there! Bring b.
with you. Sit ye both here, viii
we sit beside you. That will d
And that is right-hold her fa,
upon your breast and let her ey
be closed.
Tell you what to do7"
Believe! Have faith! ALL
we'll with the little one, as it "
in time be with US who sleep
!, purity, to waken in light and in
mediate happiness. That litt
corpse; so still and beautiful in t
coffin, is no more than little hou
from which the occupant has gor
It filled its mission! It came fro
. the place Of creation as . garme
for the spirit. The garment
left, of no farther use-the life Ii
was therein has passed on to ",
come you Over There % you ",
coined it here! Passed on befo
tainted, stained, bruised, and i
pured by contact with those who
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