The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1873-04-02
PICTURES AT THE GRArE- PArrENcErE

- II = =
The twilight deepened, and the stars came
out one by one, until the whole blue arch of
heaven twinlxled with these bright jewels of
night.
| Igazed up into the blue depths, and thought
of the many darh eaed homes and weary hands,
and aching hearts that spread out under the
sparkling canopy. thought of the many
eyes so dimned with bitter tears, as to be I'M
able to see the glorious beauty of this winter
night, and of the many suffering ones who lay
upon beds of pain and languishing--and
perhaps had lain there for years--shut in
from the beauty of this beautiful world.
| looked out upon the landscape, that lay so
calm and peaceful in the pale moonlight, and
it seemed almost impossible, that world so
beautiful, could contain SO many Borrowing
ones. s
What can sustain them all ?" l thought
to myself, as turned to the bright fire in the
CRATE, and fingered to enjoy the light and
warmth of the cheerful blaze. l read my
answer in the glowing Goals.
l saw a low attic room, with its bare floor
and naked raftcrs. The frosty air of the
chilly winters night, came creeping in through
the broken panes of the small, low window,
and the scanty fire of damp chips could do
little toward warming the cheerlcss apartment.
On low bed in one corner of the room, lay
one upon whose face were many traces of
want and suffering. For years this poor room
had been her only home, and this couch her
only resting place.
Each year as it passed had brought her
some new pain or sorrow to BEAR till now,
every hope of ever again going out into the
pure air Of heaven had vanished, and she
knew that she would never walk again until
her weary feet should press the golden streets
of the new Jerusalem.
But with all this present want and pain,
and the prospect of future suffering, why
does the pale face wear such look of perfect
peace2
Why is it that never murmur passes the
thin lips, or frown darlSen the white brow?
Why are the pure weary hands clasped SO
still and patiently, through all the pain and
anguish?
All the answer is plain, for beside that
poor couch stands the angel of Patience, with
his strong, helpful hands, and the brightness
of his presence fills the poor room with light
and peace. He soothes the burning pain, and
helps the sufferer to bear patiently the hours
of sickness as they grow into weeks, and
months, and years. ever whispering, "Peacc,
be still y to the weary heart until this attic
room has become an abode of peaceful and
quiet resignation.
Patience" he swcctly saith
The Fathers morcies too hate;
Gifd thee with patient strength and trusting faith,
And firm cndurance-watt ="
And her meek reply has been:
"Angel, behold, wait
Wearing the thorny crown through lie 5 hours
Wait till thy hand shall open the eternal gate,
And change the thorn to flowers"
The fire blazed up, and hid the pictures
from my sight, but l had learned lesson
from what had seen, and as turned again to
the window, sent up prayer into the blue
heavens, that if, in this beautiful earth, my
feet must walk in dark places, and over
rough and thorny road, that in my wandering
the angel of Patience might walk by my side,
teaching me to bear all things with fortitude
and accomplishing meekness.