Savannah morning news. [volume] (Savannah) 1868-1887, 1884-02-10
-Eor the -Kornfnn IYe1na.

J Reflections Suggested by Visits to the
! Cemetery at st. Mary's, Ga.
"All that have died, the earth's whole race,
! repOse,
When death collects his treasures, heap on
! heap;
! DER each ones busy day the Magistrates
close:
| Its actors, sufferers, schools, kings, armies
sleep"
| 1t is well to occasionally Withdraw from
the busy scenes and excitements of life
and spend some moments in re-
Election over the graves of those
who precede us to the Gland of
the hereafter" for, at best, our lives, al
ternatiDg rapidly between shade and sun
shine, joy and sorrow, must soon pass
from ''the infantile' to the eternal state of
/ being. Here amid the stained stones, the
little hills and grassy" graves and beau
tiful tombstOnes marking the resting
places of those who repOSe below: here
under the shade of the majestic trees
draped with flowing moss and entwined
with the grape vine; here where the mock
ing bird sings gayly all the day, and the
whippOOrwill breaks the silence of mid
night stiffness in doleful sounds, can one
calmly contemplate death.
"When life is opening buds are sweet.
And golden hopes the spirit greet
J J.
Alas! how hard it is to die
''When, scarce is seized some valued prize.
And duties press, and tender ties
Forbid the soul from earth to rise
How awful then 1t is TO die!
"When faith is strong and conscience clear.
And words of peace the spirit cheer
And visiOned glories half appear,
lis joy! It's triumph! then to die"
We are all moving forward on "the
rapid wings of time to the silent halls of
DEATH" None are exempt; none can es-
cape; the beautiful, the fashionable and
the gay; the uOther, the infant, the sire,
the son, the husband, the wife, the king,
the peasant, the rich, the poor the aged,
the young, the good, the bad, the wise. the
unwise, the noble, the ignOble, the proud,
the humble, the landsman, the seaman,
the saint, the sinner, the pastor, the
flock, the Jew, the Greek, the pagan, the
Christian, the NOrthman and the South
man, the victor, the Yanquished, the for
giving, the unfOrgivIng, must pass from
the visible to the invisible.
''Dust thou art, to dust returneth,
Vas not spoken of the soul"
What will it matter after death whether
poets sing of us, or our epitaphs be fiatter-
lngly written on beautiful marble with
letters Of gold, or whether thOrns and
briers grew above us, or flowers are
planted by the hands OflOve to bud and to
bloom, ICr as the tree "falieth so shall it
be.''
When the little babe-the only babe
the idol Of the household, dies-when it
falls and fades as a flOwer-We miss it. it
is said It is painful, but the thought
that it goes to glitter in a Redeemer's
crown is cOnsoling. When the maiden,
just blooming into womanhoOd, dies, we
are sorrowful. We go about mourning the
loss of beauty and of wit, and
drop a tear over her grave and dress it
with fresh, blooming flowers and sigh and
pass on; but when the maiden becomes
wife, or wife and mother, and the ''chill-
ing hand Of death" is laid on that anxious
brow, ''many and bitter are the tears that
fall' as we linger to take the farewell
glance at the form we loved so well. How
hard how sadl to give the last farewell.
7 M