Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1878-02-13
The Guiding Eye.

o for the wings of a dove, that might fly away
and be at rest.
1t was cry out of the depths, cry full
of piteous pleading, and came from heart
broken with losses,
And weary with dragging the crosses
Too heavy for mortals to bear.
It fell from the lips of woman, clad in sable
draperies, who, with dropping eyeids, leaned
her head amid the cushions of her easy
chair. The late afternoon sunshine streamed
through curtains of filmy lace, over gems of
art and treasures of literature but more
wonderful than any of the rare sculpture
in that luxurious apartment was the counte-
nance of Margaret Weston, which the great
Master, with his loving chisel of afliction,
was shaping, and waiting for his own time
to ilumine it with the light of a perfect
trust. More real than the sorrow that
breathes in the plaintive songs of poets or
the pages of romance was the story of lone
illness and woe which the finger of the Di-
vine Teacher was tracing on the bleeding
heart of that white-browed woman, that he
might afterward cover the aching lines with
the wondrous balm OF the beatitude to those
who mourn. There was a hard, hard strug-
gle going on in the mind and soul of that
desolate figure, whose silvered hair the sun
light was touching gently, almost pitifully.
At length she rose from the chair and
paced excitedly up and down the room, ex-
claiming
Z" Is God the tender, watchful Father
have been taught to believe him to be ?
Does he see how | am burdened ? All, il
could but believe But 10 my faith fails
me-" The room seemed to become intoler-
ably small, the air oppressive. Her present
frame of mind urged her into the outer
world. Donning hat and mantle, and long,
dark veil, she was soon in the chilly atmos-
phere of the street, and turned her steps,
not toward the broad avenue or crowded
thoroughfare, but in the direction of poorer
portion of the city. How dark was every.
thing about her, as, added TO the dens.
shadow of grief, the midnight OF unbelief
gathered around her soul. Square after
square was passed Soon she became aware
that the sun had gone down behind the
housetops, and filled with the bitterness OF
doubt, she proceeded to retrace her way.
"Mamma, mamma, is you there 2" Such
sweet voice, like tiny silver bell, arrested
the attention of Mrs. Weston, who retarded
her footsteps, aud gancing in the direction
of the speaker, beheld wee mite of a girl
holding with both hands a large basket, and
gazing intently at the second-story window
of a small frame house.
mamma, mamma, is you there 2" re
peated the child, still looking upward. Mrs
Weston raised her eyes and saw a lovely
young mother face appear at the window
aud heard clear voice say, Yes, darling
am here. Run right along"
The little girl turned and took few steps
but then, as ii only half-satisfied, hesitatec
and looked up again. The kindly eyes wert
still watching, the tender voice said, "Gt
on, darling"
The child moved on once more, but il
seemed so far across to go all alone, that th,
tiny feet faltered, and the baby heart failed
Another pause, another upward glance, ant
then the little, belllike voice cried, with
world of trust in its pleading accents:
Mamma, will you look out the window
all The time ?"
"Yes, my child" answered the mother, a
she hastily threw shawl about her shoul
ders. That was sufficient. The basket wa
large, but there was strength in the bab
hands now. What if the crossing was lonl
to the other side. the little feet trudged Oh
for mother was at the window all the time.
Margaret Weston, when far down tn
street, gazed back to the small frame hous,
and although the child and lts burden wer
no longer visible, she could see the shadow
outlines of the watching mothers lace.
Somehow deep humiliation came owe
the hardening spirit of the woman. Shoul
she not blush for her unbelief in Falht
who has said, I" | will guide thee with min
eye" Father who loves and watcht
his children more patiently, lovingly, an
faithfully than any earthly parent can do
Could she not trust him implicitly?
She had reached her own home, her ow
room. Weak aud falteriug, and humble {
little child, she plead with tears for 10
giveness, for stronger faith. Kneeling alol
in the twilight she realized as never befol
the infinite tenderness of God. A diviI
comfort filed her soul. She did not a,
why the way was dark and rough. 1t WI
enough to know it was his will. And W
he not 4" looking all the time Christian
Work.