Wilmington daily gazette., 1872-04-24
Su,:pfr ELoQveWo9.

Su,:pfr ELoovGwoE. = .aA-'ss't
The snnmn NJ ssa
on hearing Rev Thomas u. Stockton preach In Tai
bot county. Nd. in 1877.
The day was decining-thc breeze in its slee.
Had left the fair blossoms to sing on the sea;
A. the spa acwn ~ sS from The brow Of the h
Ono tremulcas star. in the glory OF June
Assn As she W sraced her blue throne with the pride of
Th. smiles Of her loveliness xladdsned the scene.
The scene was enchanting in distance away
Rolled the foam crested waves Of the Chesapeake
whielHsthed in the moonlight. the village was
with Dhs church in the distance. that stood on the
The sob .siopins meadow. lay brightly unrollsd =,
And the earth; in hsr beauty io.sstt,ns to srisve
A lirht- hearted child. l had wandered away
From the, spot where my footsteps had samooiied
And free IS = birds. was the song Of my soul.
A. heard the wild water. exqtinsiy roI.
with bursts of low Laughter and snatches Of song.
i struck in pathway half worn Ger ths sod
Az traced Its green windi!gs. murmur Of prayer
with the hymn OF the worshippers rose on the air:
aa. stood unobssrvsd w in The midst of the ihrons.
Il; and Ss is' ssa nj: Tss'''ss sa
But birds. vays. and .aphyrs were quickly fersSt
In stature majestic. apart from the throng.
lie stood in his beauty. the theme Of my song!
Ill up with the splendors Of youth and Of love-.
Yet the heart glowing rapture that bea,ned from
Seemed BY SORROWS and chastened by siehs.
A. II the young heart in its bloom had grown cold.
With its loves unrequited. its sorrows untold.
Such LANGUAGE - his NAV never recall.
But his theme was ssalvetion:-salvation - to all;
And the souls cfa Thousand in - scstancy hung
No. aisns on tn. car his Wild elcaueHYcs stole;
En{Orcod BY each gesture, it sank to the soul.
Til II seemed that an angel had frightened the sod
And brought to each bosom message from Gsd.
Ia snake of the Saviour-what pictures he drew:
The scsne Of His suferings ran clear my view:
The Crose-the rude cross where He suffered and
The sa.S Of bright crimson that flowed from His
TIL. cu~ nae of his sorrows. tho wormword and gall.
The darkness that mantled the earth rs a pail.
The gariands Of thorns and the demon like crews.
Who kss'. :' they 'c'fsd lin Hail. King OF the
He spake and it seemed that his statue-lke form
Expanded and glowed a. his spirit grew warm;
His tone so rpaasioned. so melting his air.
As. touched with compassion, he ended in prayer.
II n,
Still pleading for sins that were never his own.
While that mouth where such sweetness inefable
Still spoke though expression had died on his
tongue.
o, Ood! what emotions the speaker awokei
mortal he seemed-yet deity spoke;
man-yet so far from humanity riven:
How Oft in my fancy I've pictured him there
As be stood in that triumph Of passion and prayer
With his eyes closed in rapture-their transient
0CliDse
Made bright by the smiles that illumined his lips
That thrills like kiss. from the lips to the heart
Tis the slanos-ths expression-ths well cho'e'
By whose magic the depths of the spirit are stirred
The smile-the mute sesture-the soul startn
The eyes sweet expression-that melts while i
:s cSa.% s
The time is long past, yet how clearly defined.
That bay church an and village aoat @ up on my mind
With the sweet little trembler that sat, by her side
hear the blue waves as she wanders along.
Leap up in their gladpess and sing her a song
And I tread in the pathway half wsrn DER the soc
BY the feet that went up to the worship of God
The time is long past yet what visions see.
The past. the dim past is the present to me.
am standing once more mid that heart -stricke
Ayision aoats sP-'tis :! the theme Of my song
The light like halo encircling his hair,
As catch the same accents OF sweetness and love,
He whispers of Jesus-and points us above.
How sweet to my heart is the picture I've traced
lts chain Of bright fancies seemed al lmest efaced.
Till memory. the fond one. that sits in the soul.
Took up the frail links and connected the whole.
As the dew to the blossom. the bud to the bee,
As the scent to the rose are these memories to m
Round the chords of my heart they have tremb bling
clung,
And the echs it gives is the song have sung.