Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1871-04-06
Our Saturday Night.
PUT THEM AWAY.


PUI THEM AWAY
BY DR1oK PoMERoY.
Tick Tick! Tick
How the ticking of the clock, unno,
ticed at other times, strikes like ham
mer Of iron to the heart as we sit here
tonight, in y room yesterday occupied
by living, loving friend Tonight
she is at rest in the Golden Land. And
we are to mourn--not so much that she
is out of pain and bodily agony, but
that no more on earth can we hear her
sweet Voice-listcn to her encouraging
words, or look into her eyes that so elo-
Quently mirored the purity Of her soul
Tomorrow, soon to be here, will be
the Sabbath, Day of rest-Day Of
Sadness! for dear, good friend has al
ready in this life won her crown and
place with those who have passed on,
while we are left to win ours, but with
no more Of thai help which came from
her good wishes, pure counsel, and beau
tiful unselIish friendship.
No one in the room with us-savc
the guardian spirits, each with pure, lov
ING thoughts for us to give to others.
What there is Of her rests in another
room. The door is just ajar. XII is
stiIl-very still in there. We listen
the ticking Of theclock nothing more
Let us see! Twerty years ago we
sat, as now, in room much like this,
while friend, or the temple in which
he once dwelt, rested in room adjoin-
ing. We were then, as now, in the
presence Of DEATH Then we were not
at rest as row. The wind howled with
out. We were atraid-in dread. There
seemed then to come a shadow Of ter
ror from the waiting room,
Were YOU ever afraid to be with Il
dead body Did you ever fear to be
alone with death {? If so, we pity you,
if your fear and suferings were like
ours in the years agone, before there
came about Us u light as came to one
long since-as comes to many who are
deserving But tonight we are not
afraid. Why should we be? There is
nothing there to harm us. Only a les
son-that our home is not here. While
we are 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 her purity and kindness while here
to bless him with her love and Heaven
born influence.
Others mourn with us. They sleep
in restless beds, to waken in fearful sor-
row while we keep watch of the flying
hours, each passing away laden with
souls going from here to the beautiful
Land Of the Leal.
This was her ROOM Oh! Memo
ries Wherever the eve rests there is
something to remind lis of the absent
one. There is a little watch case near
| ly finished, as she left it to wait her re
coyery! There is book in which she
read but three days ago. Here is a lit
tie ribbon worn in her hair 1t is too
sacred to touch-So we kiss it with tear
wet eyes. She has gone. 1t is so still
here! 1t is so lonesome for those who
have to be all alone and to look at the
little articles worn OF used by the ab-
sent ones. We pity, Oh! so deeply
those who weep, and watch, and pray
those who are left to watch in the
storms of life, while the loved one walks
on the distant sunny shore.
There is slipper once worn by her
a glove-a thlmble once worn upon
the finger now so cold and lifeless. In
that little desk-it was hers-are letters
and scraps, and kind words from others
to her In that little jewel box is a
ring and a few other articles more prec-
ious than wealth, for they were hers.
All about the room we see her still.
Oh, Father in IIeaven-why is she
uot here, with her kind words-her
pure love--her eyes so full of beautiful
language? Why cannot those who love
90 home together when so true to each
other do they walk the paths of life
here? When we must part some day,
if only for time, why do we not live
he ter, purer, truer, and more loving for
each other than for self? We cannot
find our way or live our life alone so
well as with heart united.
Then, good angel, merciful death,
come for those who are left to mourn,
and bear us as them, from pain to ease,
from tears to smiles-from grief to
| joy--from separation to uniting. Then
will you be ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
come visitor, and we reach forth to call
you to us, as a babe reaches for the
hands that are to bear it to the bosom
Of love.
On the walls are pictures she arrang-