The Sedalia weekly bazoo. [volume] (Sedalia, Mo.) 187?-1904, 1881-12-06


There are times when valor lower, his
dinted shield and labor Hing. the wary
sickle IN the gathered sheai, and both are
fam to lie down together i'm cypress shadow,
while the yellow corn bends mournfully to
the reproachful wind and the storm of
battle PUSHES by IL was n iavorite saving
OF Reynold, the founder IL the New York
Times, that nothing on earth was worth
either grief or labor and the stronges.
among us, ~ We may well believe, are
touched 10y the sable wing of that despair
False love and flirting friendships sting
our hearts like poisoned daegers sudden
temPests of disaster sweep down the no.
best monuments OF our toll ennui comes
tn sit, pale and leering fend, a, the rich
est ieasts OF pleasure disease plucks the
crown al enjoyment from our brows are
steals from us the role Of beauty and
strength, and death, everywhere and al
ways, Stands IN the path and mocks us ut
every step OF our wisiiul, winding ~ay.
The scheme OF nature, Is IL lies within
the scope OF human vision, seems To- be a
tricky parade of antitheses and paradoxes.
The origin, nature and necessity of evil
have always been yelled mysteries ;o
priests and philosophers. We behold .
beautiful world through which the angels
OF life and death go hand in hand, the one
whispering hope to the low-lying germ
and the other breathing decay over the full
blown flower. The strong instinct Of sell
preservation drives US forth To the duties
of each returning day, but the memorable
iates attend Us still weaving the xayside
roses with rue. and striking from cur
hands the sweet garlands we have gather
ed with all tears and toll
Then. baft!ed in every wish, and borne
back BY the rcfluent tide OF hope. we turn
from the stricken idols OF the flesh and
bend mournfully at the mistrd shrine of
the spirit And what comes of all our
dark dark questioning? Innumerable
creeds cross each other and tangle in hope
less confusion; a thousand doubts play
like shadows over the pages OF the one sc-
credited revelation, and the grea. vital
truth evades us always Going back To
nature and the material world, the old, un-
answered question, gloomy and desolate as
the Egyptian SPHINX, again confron,s us
There, still, the stars are marching on and
OH in golden silence, the surge of the wide.
waste sea Is falling like requiem on the
shore, and the shining marbles that mark
the resting places Of our dead are lifted
like warning Tin. ers, "a il to ,ay: Hasten.
oh children Of earth. and hush thy wall
ing; this is the end of ALL The truth lies
slumbering here-snd it, name is, Rest :"
just now the greatest nation on earth,
pausing by the grave OF its nartyr,d
chieftain. feels. ii il does not exclaim, what
is all this worth? But time. the tomb
builder. is a healer, too, and. "a silvcry
starlight melts into the gold Of day, the
mystery oi this night and storm will pass,
and the hand OF God. careful of the type
but seemingly forgetful Of the individual.
will still be seen to guide the fiying shuttle
of the worlds events That hand was
upon the sword III Joshua-b ckoncd the
Macedonian across the Issus. and glanced
through the smoke and thunder of Austen
litz. The unity and perfection OF the race
is the grand ideal toward which all tides
are fowing-all winds are waiting. We
will learn, by and by, that the joys and
sorrows OF earth are not ends, but means,
and wear the Grape rs lightly as the rose
There is no anchorage on this restless sea
Of life. Scientists refer the greatest phe-
nOmena of nature To- forms of motion.
Space and eternity are illimi,able, and
from the blue battlements of heaven no
trumpet calls retreat In the old Orient.
cradle Of the race and nurse of civilization,
the dark browed votaries OF Buddha, al
ready realize that life. here and beyond the
stars, is essentially imp-rsonal, and that
the boosted loves and friendships of our
neither experience are casual a. the kiss of
the foaming wave carcssing the fruitful
shore one instant, and then returning |
upon the calm, deep heart of the hoary /
ocean. Under the patter OF the musical !.
rain, or the flash OF the crystalized snow,
beats etc -nal!y the fiery heart Of life, and, !
deep in the dark. dark mould, the angels !
Of beauty are painting the fragrant azure !
Of the woodland violet and the gold OF the !
tleeting buttercup But, after all, while
We dream, conjecture and theorize, We
must return at last and lean upon the /
Tyre of some deathless singer, and
we may fifty conclude this dreamy Sunday
talk by quoting from out own Longfellow:
Not enjoyment. and not sorrow
Is our destined end or way,
But to live, that each tomorrow
Finds us further on the wav.