Daily tobacco leaf-chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1890-1895, 1891-12-07

Light for the downcast and the lowlyl
Light for aching eyes, and burning brain,
and wasted captive! Light for the smooth
brow Of childhood and for the dim vision
Of the octOgrnarianl Light for queens
cOronet, and for sewing girls needle Let
there be light Whose morning is this?
My morning. Your morning Our Father
gave us the picture, and hung it on the
sky in loops of fire. 1t is the heirloom of
our family.
And so the night 1t is the full moon.
The mists from shore TO shore CLEAN like
shattered mirrors, and the ocean, under
her glance, comes up with great tides,
painting upon the beach, mingling, as il
were foam and fire. The poor man blesses
God for throwing such cheap light
through the broken window pane in his
cabin and TO the sick it seems light from
the other shore which bounds this great
deep Of human pain and woe If the sun
seem like song full and poured from
braZen instruments that fiji heaven and
earth with great harmonies, the moon is
plaintiye aud mild, standing beneath the
throne Of God, sending up her soft, sweet
voice Of praise, while the stars listen, and
the sea.
No mother ever more sweetly guarded
the sick cradle than all night long this
pale watcher of the sky bends over the
weary heartsick, slumbering earth.
Whose is this black framed, black tasseled
picture Of the night2 1t is the heirloom
of our family Ours, the grandeur of the
spring, the crystals of the snow, the coral
Of the beach, the odors of the garden, the
harmonies Of the air.
A WALK OVER THE ESTATE.
You cannot see large estate in one
morning. You must take several walks
around it, The family property of this
royal house of Jesus is so great that we
must take several walks to get any idea of
its extent Let the first walk be around
this earth, All these valleys the harvests
that wave in them and the cattle that pas
ture them-all these mountains and the
precious things hidden beneath them, and
the crown Of glacier they cast at the feet
of the Alpine hurricane-all these lakes,
these islands, these continents, are ours.
In the second walk go among the street
lamps of heaven, and see stretching off on
every side wilderness of worlds. For us
they shine, For us they sang at Say
iOur's nativity For us they will wheel
into line and with their flaming torches
add to the splendor of our triumph on the
day for which all other days were made
In the third walk go around the Eternal
City. As we come near it, bark to the
rush of its Charots and the wedding peal
Of its great towers The bell of heaven has
struck twelve. 1t is high noon. We look
Off upon the chaplets which never fade, the
eyes that never weep, the temples that
never close, the loved ones that never part,
the procession that never hats, the trees
that never wither, the walls that never can
be captured, the sun that never sets, until
we can no longer gaze, and we hide our
eyes and eXClaim, Eye hath not seen, nor
ear heard, neither have entered into the
heart Of man, the things which God hath
prepared for them that love himl" As
these tides Of glory rise we have to retreat
and hold fast lest we be swept off and
drowned in the emotions of gladness and
thanksgiving and triumph.
What think You of the family property?
1t is considered an honor to marry into a
family where there is great wealth. The
Lord the bridegroom of earth and heaven,
offers you his heart and his hand, saying
in the words Of the Canticles, Rise up,
my love, my fair one, and come away"
and once having put on thy hand the sig
net ring Of his love, you will be endowed
with all the wealth of earth and all the
honors of heaven.
Almost every family looks back to
homestead country place where you
grew up. You sat on the doorsill. You
heard the fOotstcp of the rain on the garrett
roof You swung on the gate. You ran
sacked the barn. You waded into the
Ia, Va . Z Hs, Il
pies, and the neighboring woods for nuts;
and everything around the old homestead
is of interest to YOU. tell you of the old
homestead of eternity. In my Fathers
house are many mansions. When we talk
of mansions we think of Chatsworth and
it's park, nine miles in crcumfer-
ence, and its conservatory that aston
ishes the world; its galleries of art,
that contain the triumphs Of Chantrey,
Canoya and ThorWaldsen; of the kings and
the queens who have walked its stately
halls, or, flying over the heather, have
hunted the grouse. But all the dwelling
places Of dukes and princes and queens are
as nothing to the family mansion that is
already awaiting ourarriyal. The hand of
the Lord Jesus lifted the pillars and swung
the doors and planted the parks. Angels
walk there and the good Of all ages. The
poorest man in that house is u millionaire,
and the lowliest a king, and the tamest
word he speaks is an anthem and the short
est life an eternity.
STILL IN A FOREIGN LAND.
1t took n Paxton to build for Chats
worth covering for the wonderful flow
er, Victoria Regia, five feet in diameter
But our Lily of the Valley shall need no