St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1884-07-05

tidence:
"Beneath the shadow of Thy throne,
Thy saints have dwelt secure;
Sufficient is Thine arm alone,
And our defense is sure"
But the cloud drif.ed away and the
sunburst of light blazed over the earth
again, and in stately measure "Dun-
dee" swelled in its half note step from
the bench:
"A faith that shines more bright and clear
When tempcstS rage without:
That when IN danger knows no fear,
In darkness feels no doubt"
1t may have been the majestic old
tune. or it may have been, | rather
think it was, the cooling wood dove,
mourning in the tall old elm down by
the horse well, that made grandma sing:
Return. OH holy dove, return,
Sweet messenger of rest;
hate the sins that made thee mourn"
Rock, rock. rock, the old straight
back rocker finished the verse without
words, and in moment the whirling
flight of my pigeons sweeping from the
barn roof over to the cool woods changed
grandma's song to joyous "Amster-
dam"
RlSe, my soul. ana Stretcn tHy WHY'S,
Thy better portion trace:
Rise from transitory things,
Toward Heaven. thy native place.
Sum- and moon, and stars decay,
Time shall soon this earth remove,
Rise, my soul, and haste away"
But grandpa, with lusty arm and
changing hammer, beating on the iron
rings that bound the ends of the single
tree, sang aloud, with terrible voice.
that direful old revival hymn that used
to melt with sudden fear the trembling
souls of impenitent youth:
'.Say. have you an arm like God,
That you His will oppose2
Fear you not that iron rod
With which He breaks His foes:"
And like a soothing balm to his
avenging chant that seemed to echo the
dread thunders of Sinai, came the
mourning notes of the wood dove, and
dear old grandma's s sweet 'Aletta':
weeping SOUL no longer mourn,
Jesus all thy griefs hath borne;
View Him bleeding on the tree,
Pouring out His life for thee;
There thy every sin He bore,
Weeping soul. lament no more
A distant strain of song from the men
in the field with Uncle John caught the
old mans ear, and he Strengthened him
self moment, to rest or to listen. He
looked at the reapers. then down at the
mulberry trees by the spring in the
pasture, across at the long ranks of
corn. at the golden field of oats, wait
ing impatiently for the reapers and
sang:
"On Jordan's stormy banks l stand.
And cast wistful eye
To Canaan's fair and happy land,
Where my possessions lie.'
While like benediction came chanting
into his song the mourning dove and
grandma's Zion,
HAS thy night been long and mournful?
Have thy friends unfaithful proyedl
Have thy foes been proud and scornful,
BY thy signs and tears Inmoved?
Cease thy mourning:
Zion still is well beloved
DoXoLoGY.
A rattle of wheels down the carriage
drive. chorus of pleasant voices and
rippling laughter, cataract of talk, of
band box and package and sample and
price list, and news of the friends in
Peoria: who is dead and who is mar
ried. who they saw and what he said
the girls have returned from town, the
service of song is over and his last
hymn mingling with the joyous laugh
ter and merry chatter of his girls, as he
drove the horses over to the barn,
heard grandfather softly singing to
.'Ortonville:"
..Why should the children of king
Go mourning all their days.
-Robt. j. Burdette, in Brooklun Eagle.
II is laiynnd that fewer mon ara