Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1878-07-25
ESTABLISHED IN ls43.
VOL. Sc. NO. 20.
Written for the Grant County HERALD.
NEVER OLD.
ny WIN pIpn

By WILD BIRD.
o, the beautiful days OF our childhood glec,
SO bright with the hope-buds OF holiest bliss;
And some have now blossomed so lovely to see |;
And Others in happier regions than this,
Are yet to unfold to our wondering eyes,
In coa.ts of the Palace prepared in the skies.
We turn and look back on the years that are gone,
Where sunshine is lid in the curtains Of mist,
Whose veil DER fond loved ones is silently drawn,
And there sleeps the music ndheart could resist ;
Where hands. that once tenderly wiped away tears,
Are folded SO low In the tomb of the years
We think Of the eyes that spoke soft to our own;
Thatwept for SORROWS and answered our smiles;
We weep for one word from the friends that have
~ flown,
And longingly look to the bright starry isles
That I'LL the blue heavens, and yearn for the song
Now sung by the saints in the glorious throng.
Aud then we remember the Message of Love,
And ope the glad tidngs the King has sent down;
We read the sweet song they singing above.
Till tears all dried and our anguish is gone.
We almost walk with them the pathway of gold,
To clasp the dear hands, and sing praise of old
And then we grow willing those loved ones should
stay;
We would not recall them to dwell with us now
Nor ask them to leave the bright regions of Day.
Nor take the pure crown from glorified brow
And thus couforted, strengthened anew
With prayer and thanksgiving our way to pursue.
And we cannot say that the years that are gone
Were brightest and best, and our summer is past !;
Say rather. Our Spring time is only begun,
The dawn OF axiatenoa foravar IN last.
Like God to endure; though the sun should grow
dim.
Still zoe eternal, created like Him.
Nor call it old age" when decrepitude comes,
When threads bright and pearly streak tresses
once dark.
Till ringlets ofsi'ver encircle the brow,
When tn ear heeds no longer the song Of the
lark,
When cheeks, robbed of ARE wriakied and thin
And nands, once active their trembling begin
When feeble feet totter remember the life
That Jesus now offers through faith In his blood
Remember the saints who have dwelt on the earth
Long ages ago, and now live with cur God
Ask those who have dwelt there for thousands OF
years
How long, in that home their existence appears.
What would the apostles now gay of your age?
Or Israeps Sweet Singer, or Noah on hight
Those WORTHLESS great who have studied each page
As thousands OF years with their wonders roid hyi
And what would good father Methuselah say
As he smiled his reply, 20, child of dayi"
And could they but tell u.s. those giants of mind
So fadeless and blooming, what words would they
speak
The older they grew, the more brilliant of soul,
In vigor undyng, SO wise and SO meek.
As the centuries roll, in the realm of the blest,
The ransomed can say, Now is sweetest and best.
Then never despair; never feel you are old;
Nor weep for the beautiful days that are fled:
But trust the Good Shepherd who calls to His fold
Where ever mourn for the hopes that are
dead.
Where sorrow and pain and the weakness o { years
Are lost in the glory and strength that appears.
And there the Great Architect, Author and Sire
Each thought of our hearts, with his own, will
inspire.
And draw all His children, His ransomed, His own,
To dwell evermore in the light of His Throne.
Faribault, Mimi, July. 1878.