Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1890-01-17
THE PAST.
From The Waoerly Progress, by ]. l..
LODGE, d. D., Editor

The most thoughtless soul alive, when
treading the brink of new-made grave,
marking the dumb deposit in its dreary
depths, must have some passing touch of
feeling recalling him to the realistic, the fate.
full, the eternal. Whiring amid pleasures,
tossed in worthless OF passion immersed in
seas of cares, bewldered with multiplying
plans and prospects promiseful, or stated
with roses OF vanity that paled to ashes on
his lips and left the bitterness of death upon
the taste, even that gifted debauchee, Byron,
Yates as well as Poeetees, shall teach him:
Between two worlds lite hovers like star,
'Twixt night and morn, upon the hori-
IONS verge;
How little do we know that which We are
How less what we may be! the eternal
surge
Oftime and tide rolls on, and bears alar
Our bubbles; as the old burst, new emerge
Lashed from the foam of ages while the
graves
or empires heave but like some passing
wave.
AT a time like this, when life's last sigh is
breathing through the death-struck lips of
the expiring year; when, in four hours
more what we call "the present" shall be
named "the past" every voice in nature,
every form OF speech angelic or demoniac.
tongue can try, every monitor above be-
meath, and in the middle space, each
agency or influence kindly or malevolent
that seeks our veal or plans our woe, our
own diviner, better sell demands u pause,
entreats reflection, judgment, and resolve.
The annual tide, summed up of daily, hour
ly flow, has borne seaward, far away and
past the view of the slippery shore on which
we stand, myriads, some OF whom were
known and loved by US. With these we
communicate not; our knowledge Of them
has ceased. 10 them no earthly prospect is
visible through the close. shut gates of death.
Pertinent to the living, still led by destiny,
still using or abusing freedom limited, is
the query, What history have we made this
year? Ii we have sung elegies over our dead
hopes, and chanted drges over withered
buds of early loves, our lot has been but
common. The luxurious life OF first sum
mer growths must needs be transient. The
full green foliage which indicates that man
hoods plans are vigorous within us is like
that of those trees deciduent before the sum-
mer is half gone If experience has brought
out oak leaves, more beautiful for the tints
that have come with the christening season,
and ciinging firmly till the death chill sets
the seal upon their perfected mission; if the
stormy life has proved outrageous to the
worn and lootsore, the hands have been
helpful, the heart in tune with the diapason
that makes all human spheres musical and
melts with the tenderness that shelters all
humanity with love, the years decrease will
bring no sadness, but take trumpet to pro
phecy with dying notes of what is better
yet To comet When the progress OF the
years has brought vacancies into homes, |
losses that can never he epurcd, enforce |
economy where once was sumptuous plenty, /
witnessed whrlming defeat OF most heroic |
endeavor, and brought in train heart.sick /
ness for which there is no earthly cure,
suffering must Ne accepted; ioi,
THIS is truth the poet sings,
That a sorrows crown of sorrow is remem |
berng happier things.
What have We done IL means and cries
ON every sougnng wini WHAT have we
done! Hear it, there, in the toling of the
last hours OF this years dying day. What
have we done! The gaunt and shadowy /
forms OF murdered Years rise up and shake
their CORY locks at us, and lay this new
murder on our souls What have We done!
Alas what have We left undone A tiny
streamlet, like thread of silver, may wind
its course through some, the best OF lives;
but that great dark ocean of remssness
threatens to englulf 1t all When the great
aud good Archbishop of Usher, after fifty
five years Of laborious, devoted service,
in special pardon ME my sins of omission.
There is, perhaps, more guilt in the weary
blanks OF life than in its blots. 1t is IA time
for retrospection But it is likewise time |
for gratitude. We may get moral from 1he
Tempest: After the shipwreck, Com ola says |
To AlonZO,
'Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have
cause
$50 have We ally of joy; for our escape
Is much beyond our loss our hint OF |
woe
Is common every day some sailors wife,
The masters of some merchant, and the |
merchant,
Have just our theme of woe: but for the
miracle,
| mean our preservation, few in millions |
Can speak like us then wisely, good sir,
weigh
Our sorrow with our comfort.-tAct 2, |
Scene L.
Merrrnent, ill timed, might make US, like
Alfonso, receive comfort like cold por'
ridge; but there is often the justest reason
for smiling through our tears. Look back
over the past year; what mingled merces
with our sOrrows If earthly loss has taught
US to lay up treasure in the safe upper gar
ncr, we are gamers. If we have loved and
lost, that We're better than never to have
loved at all; nor, where true love is can
there he loss Ii suffering has purified;
if patience under chastisement has been the
lruilage Of past Woes; if resignation has
brought peace il all our discipline has led
toward perfection, no cost can have been too
dear.
But it has not been all suffering. Pros
perity, health, tenderest affection, kindly
sympathy, faithful minstrdtion, brolherly
love- have shown upon many, and brought
10y and gladness in their shining; and, in
the darkest hour, hope has glinteI across
our way To whisper, ''it IS better farther on
On our side, "Nothing but leaves "a vast =.
ed life from years of strife nothing but
leaves" On the Great Fathers SIDE, "Good
ness and mercy have followed Us all the
days of our lives"
Dec. 81, 1889.