, 1885-01-13
THE PARSONS COMFORTER.

Frederick Langhridee In Good Words-i
The parson goos about his daily ways
With all ths parish troubles In his head.
And takes his Bible out. and reads and prays
Beside the sufferers chair. the dying bed.
Wbate'er the secret skeleton may be,
Doubt drink or debt that keeps within
When psrson comes, ias owner turns the
And lots him out to squeak and gibbsr
there.
IL seems a possibility unguesssd,
Or little borne In mind. II haply known,
That no who cheers in trouble all the rest
May now and then have troubles Of his
own
Alasl God knows, he has his foe TO fight,
His closet-atomy, severe and grim,
All others claim his comfort as OF right,
But. hapless parsonl who shall comfort
himf
A friend he has to whom he may repair
Besides that One who carries all our grief;
And when his load Is more than he can bear
He seeks his comforter, and finds relief.
He finds a cottage. very poor and small.
Ths meanest tenement whore all are mean;
fss deesney and order marx IL al; .v.r.,v
Sometimes, but seldom, ~neighbon hear her
wrung BY some sudden stress of hercsr
Often they hear her pray, but none has
No single soul has heard her lips complain
The parson entered, and a gracious smile
Over the poor, Punched features brightly
grows;
She lets the needles rest a little whilei
You're kindly welcome, sirT-ahi that
be knous
He takes the book and opens at the place.
No need to ask her which her favorite
psalm,
And, as he roads, upon her tortured fucc
There comes a holy rapture, deep and calm
She murmurs softly with him as he reads
lshe can repeat the Psalter through at
II feeds me in green pastures, and He
loads,
He leads me forth besides the waters still. "
He lifts the latch; his comforter is there,
Propt in the bed, where now for weeks she
stays,
Or, haply, seated knitting in her chair,
II this be one OF those rare Hbetter days"
A tiny woman, stunted, bent, and thin;
Her features sharp with pain that always
wakes
The nimbIe hand she holds the needles in
Is warped and wrenched by dire rheumatic
aches.
Sometimes she gets a grateful change of
Sometimes for half a day she quits her
And, lying, sitting, crawls to bed again;
Always she mits; her needles are her
bread.
I r. III l. r----. --L.a u. = wx..I .. 80
Often the CRATE has not a coal Of fret
She has no hope of better things than this;
The future darkens, suffering grows more
dire.
Where will they take her, IL betide IL should
Der stifened hand the needles cannot plyi
Not to the workhouse-God Is very good;
He knows her weakness-Hs viii let her
die.
@Yea, through deaths shadowy valley
though / tread,
will not fear, for Thou dost show the
Thy holy oil is poured upon my head,
Thy loving kindness follows me for aye.
The readings done, and now the prayer ia
be bids farewell, and leaves her to her
pain: I
But grace and blessing on his soul are she'd
He goes forth comforted and strong again.
He takes his way, on divers errands bound,
Adler to plead. and warn, and comfort
That is the darkest house on all his round,
And yet, be sure, the happiest house he
knows.
WIN it not ease. poor soul, thy restless bed,
And make thee more content, II that
can be,
To know that from thy suffering, balm Is
shed,
That comsorts him who comes TO comfort
thee1 .