Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1882-11-18
"HfLP NE ACROSS, PAPA. +"
Hawk-Eye.

There was anguish in the faces of
thuse who bent over the little white
bed, for they knew that baby May
WAS drifting away from them, go
ing out alone into the dark voyage
where 50 many have been resting
from loving ha nds, and as they tried
in vain to keep her, or to smooth
with their kind soiicitude her last
brief sorrows, they too, experienced
in the bitter hour of parting the
pangs of death. They only hoped
that she did not suffer now. The
rings of golden hair lay damp and
unstirred on her white forehead;
the roses turned to lilies. on her
cheeks the lovely violet eyes saw
them not, but We're upturned and
fixed the breath on the pale lips
came and went, t1uttered and SEEM
ed 10th to leave its sweet prison.
Oh, the awful, cruel strength OF
death, and the weakness, the help
lessness Of lovel They who loved
her better than life could not lift a
hand to avert the destroyer; they
could only watch and wait till the
end should come. Her merry, ring
ing laugh would never again glad
den their hearts her little feet
would make no more music as they
ran to meet them. Baby May was
dying, and all the house was dark
ened and hushed.
Then it was that the shadows fell
in denser waves about gus, that she
stirred ever so family, and our
hearts gave a bound as we thought,
She is better! She will live! Yes,
she knew us, her eyes moved from
one face to the other, with a dim,
uncertain gaze! Oh! how good God
was to give her back! How we
would praise and bless him all our
lives! She lifted one dainty hand
cold-almOst puiseless, better, better
we would have it sO-1and laid It.
ON the rough, brown hand Of the
rugged man who Sat nearest her.
His eyelids were wet with weeping,
but now a smile lighted all bis
whole bronze face like a rainbow,
as he felt the genuine pressure of
his little daughters hand - the
mute, imploring touch, that meant
a question.
"What is it, darling? ?" he asked
in broken tones of joy and thanks-l
giving.
She could not speak, and so we
raised her on the pretty lace pill
low, and her wee white face shown
in the twilight like a fair star, or ii
sweet woodland flower
She lifted her heavy eyes to his
ewes that even then had the glory
and the promise of Immortality in
them, and reaching Out--her little
wasted arms, said in her weary,
voice:
"Help me across, papa!'
Then she was gone! We held TO
our breaking hearts the frail, beau
tiful shell, but SHE was far away,
whittier we might not follow. She
had crossed the dark river, and not
alone. s- E-r- CT a TIN |
'Over the river the boatman pale 49, ~
Carried another, the household pet.
'she crossed on her bosom her dimpled
hands,
And fearlessly entered the phantom bark;
We felt IL glide from the river sands, II
And all our sunshine grew strangely 4
Oh! Infinite Father! When we, |
weary and disappointed ones reach |
Dut pleading hands to Thee, wilt |
Thou take us even as the little child, |
md help us across over the noun
aims of defeat and the valleys of
into the eternal rest of
Thy presence, into the green pas
ures and beside the still waters.
nto the City of the New Jerusa-
EN-, whose builder and maker is
Tod