Wichita eagle., 1888-05-06
The OLD FILES.

Sunday has come-thc day Of rest
Business pauses at its behest.
While quiet reigns on every street.
The little city, clean and neat
Is noted for its moral ways,
And has been since the early days.
Some, of course, who live therein
Are not beyond the power OF sin.
Some Will tattle and gossip and talk.
LIES path is crowded-every walk
Is filled with people OF different caste
The good and bad, from FIRST TO last
Upon this Sabbath day SO pure
To judge them all, I'm very sure,
Is not for me, nor yet for you
IT'S such little thing to dol
q" Judge not" said Oae, and We have read,
"Lest judgment faIleth on thy head"
And as they pass, quiet throng,
To worship and 10 prayer and song,
Wen call them iust-good gentletoIk,
And blessings on each head invoke.
A pretty city, neat and clean,
No better people live, ween.
But there IS one, il man may daro
To Judge his fellow mortals here,
Who can history unfold.
He has Record "-musty old;
And in Its pages, week by week,
This perfect record we may SEEK
Now, while the people sing and pray,
And worship God this Sabbath day,
Wen stand beside the old armchair,
Where sits our gray-haired editor.
Before him on the table lie
The pages Of this history.
This is record full of years;
1t tells OF hopes AMI joys and fears;
1t speaks OF many battles fought;
It mirrors public speech and thought
Within its every page and line
This record mission was divine!
Our city, since its early days,
Is noted for its moral ways.
Yet ere those "early days " begun,
The town-and one indeed 10 shun-
Was here, and lost to every Cody feari
And now our Record" doth appear.
The times were new, the people crude,
Good meaning words were misconstrued.
To take bold stand for the right
Brought down upon the luckless wight
A score OF tauats and even blows,
All this our record truly shows.
But right was might, and ever IS.
The drap1-shops. breeding mise-ies,
Were first TO fail, as, blow on blow,
the fearless writer laid them low.
HIS pen, aye, mightler than the sword,
Began 10 l&oor for the Lord.
He turns the pages slowly DER,
The battle wakes long and sore.
Evils must cease; warning cry
Is made TO idlers standing by:
" Seek ye the vineyard, honest toll:
Go bald the village, till the soilr'
The years roll on, the record lives,
AID toevery good it gives.
The church Is built, 2ad that its debt
May never grow TO vex and fret
The struggling few, he pays the most.
OF this, the record fails 10 boast.
The pages turn, aud Oft we see
Where right has gained ayictory.
Then darkness came, and troubles Off
List 20 those tear drops falling SOFT;
Here is record he can not hide:
The wife be loved, the day sue died.
Our record lengthens, yet we stay.
Those who won't 20 sing and pray
Are homeward going in pleasant mood;
- The music grand-tAe sermon good
Stin turn the pages! Record old,
You have not al thy history told.
a story OF toil-sye, years Of toll,
A record OF deeds, boJn III and well;
or brides refused from party pelf;
A constant blindness 10 fame and self.
Charitable words for those who fall;
The record tells i.-and tells II all
The leaves are turned, the record closed,
We could read more. II so disposed.
The record, we know, Is Incomplete;
It must be soft Is not meet
That IL should bear ono word or line
OF this grand secret, which is mine.
For all this work and toll, we fear,
tSostly. the editor must not hear,
He his not known one word Of praise,
Not even since those early days"
Z" 1t is his business the people say,
And thus they calmly go their way.
Who made our city since those daySf
Our city proud. with moral waysr
Who fought its battles, nobly, too;
Who fights them now, Go 1, or your
A pretty city, neat and clean.
No better people live, ween.
w