The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1884-03-05

possessor, but every one who may know
him or meet with HIM or see or hear OF
him. True, we cannot bear the burdens
of world, and as for trouble, we all have
our share of it to bear. There are griefs
and snxieties, and pains and aches, and
our fortitude is often taxed, our patience
put to the proof, and our spirits sorely
tried. But do not let us 60 through life
with dropping heads and tear-dimmed
eyes, and hearts always apprehensive of
evil There are beautiful compensations
in the hardest lot, and there are angels
unawares who meet US every day. II
wealth goes, let US not repine; it might
have taken the manhood out of our sons,
and have hindered the development OF
our daughters into useful womanhood.
We know homes, not one or two or three,
but dozen, in our own immediate range
of acquaintance, where the children are
growing up all the better and nobler be
cause their parents have been forced, in
these recent years, to do battle with mil
fortune. Happiness is not measured by
mercantile standards, and there may be
blithe and buoysnt courage where there
have been sweeping losses and great
changes of circumstf nee. Is some dear
one assailed by temptation, and has be
proved himself unstable, weak, reed
shaken by the wird2 We are none of Us
too strong. Not one of us but has some
where the vulnerable point at which, it
the enemy strike US, he shall see his spear
piercing deep through our chain armor
into flesh and blood. Each of us has
grieved the tenderest Friend far more and
far oftener than our friends can grieve us.
Yet we are apt to be hard and harsh and
bitterly censorious towards those who do
wrong, or who fail to do as we think
right; aud many time, instead of the
helping hand upward. we give the erring
push downward. 1t is not kind or
Christlike thus to treat the sinner,
whether repentant or otherwise; and not
80 shall we win him TO more honorable
way. Let us pray for him trustfully, deal
with him gently, and not, because of his
missteps, sit down yelled in sackcloth and
covered with ashes. But there is deeper,
deadlier wound. The sun of our lives
has gone down. The darling child, the
cherished companion, the beloved of our
soul lies mute in the silence of death. No
more for her the lilies bloom, no more The
rainbows shine, no more the trees put on
autumnal pomp, and the skies rejoice i'll
glory. Our homes are desolate, and the
path before us is lonely. How are we to
60 on and live, and bear our burden of
| grief d? We resent consolation, and the
nightly and daily theme of our thoughts
is that never was sorrow like ours. Are
we, then, heathens or Christians DO we
believe in the life everlasting, in the res
direction of the dead, in the communion
of saints Can we spare friend to jour
ney around this planet, and feel utterly
bereft if his journey be into the heavenly
city, where we expect to go? Have the
living no claims, and do we care nothing
for the dear ones who remain? Let Us
shake off the lethargy of sorrow, and giro
ourselves with gladness. At least let us
be content. We, too, are on our journey
home. Words of cheer-speak them
fellow pilgrim Sing them, brave heart
Shout them, true servant of God Wits
per them, gentle aged one Lisp then
sweet little child We need encourage
ment We want to be lifted, vitaGzed
and strengthened. We want to take con
scious hold on God, for though the earth
be removed, and the hills cast into tn
midst of the sea, we shall ever be saf'
while he is our defense.-Christian al
| Work.