The Portland daily press., 1892-12-30

you took hold of those old hands on the
face of that centenarian of timepiece
and pushed them back you might ex-
| pect that time would stop or retreat for
at least few minutes. ''No, mol" says
the old family clock II must go on. l
saw your father and mother on their
wedding day. struck the hour of your
nativity / counted the festal hours of
the day in which you brought home a
bride. l sounded the knell at your
fathers death. tolled at your mothers
departure. Yea, must sound your own
going out of life. must go on. must
| go on. Tick, took! Tick, took"
THE UNcEAsING FLIGHT OF TIME.
| But there is great city clock high up
in the tower. There are so many
| wrongs in all our cities to be righted, SC
many evils to be extirpated, SO many
prisons to be standardization the city
clock until all these things are done.
Let common council and the people Of
the great town decree that the city hall
clock shall stop. We do not want the
sins of 1899 to be handed over to 1898.
We do not want the young year to in
herit the misfortunes of the old year.
By ladders lifted to the tower and by
strong hands take hold and halt the city
clock. mo, mol" says the city clock.
81 cannot wait until you correct all
evils or soothe all sorrow or drive out all
sin. l have been counting the steps of
your progress as a city. I have seen
your opportunities. I have deplored
your neglects, but time wasted is wasted
forever. / must go on. I must go on.
Tick, took! Tick, tockr' But in the tower
Of the capitols at Washington and Lon
don and Berlin and Vienna and all the
great national capitals there are clocks
Suppose that by presidential proclama-
ton and resolution of senate and house
of representatives our national clock in
the Capitol turret be ordered to stop.
'sStop, 0 clock, until sectional animos-
tiles are cooled off, until our Sabbaths
are better kept, and drunkenness turns
to sobriety, and bribery, fraud and dis
sipation quit the landl Stop, 0 clock,
in the tower of the great United States
CapitolH' ''No, nor says the clock. II
ford to stop. sounded the birthday of
American independence. rang out the
return Of peace in 1856. I have seen
many presidents inaugurated. I struck
the hour Of Lincoln's assassination. I
have beat time for emancipation proc
lamation, and Chicago fire, and Charles
ton earthquake, and epidemics of fever
oh
march on toward salvation or demoli-
ton. And why should stop? chime
for the national holidays. I toll for the
mighty dead. must go onl must go
on! Tick, took! Tick, tock!" There may
be difference of few seconds or few
minutes in the timepieces, but it will be
serious occasion when next Saturday
night about the same hour the family
clocks, and the city clocks, and the ma
tional clocks strike one! two! three,
four! five! six! seven! eight! nine! ten,
eleven! twelve!
THE DEAD YEAR AND IT'S DEAD.
Sorry am to have 1892 depart this
life. 1t has been a good year. What
bright days! What starry nights! What
harvests! What religious conversations!
What triumphs of art and science and
invention and enterprise and religion.
But, alas, how sacred it has been with
sorrows! What pillows hot with fever
that could not be cooled What graves
opening wide enough to take down
beauty and strength and usefulness
What octogenarians putting down the
staff of earthly pilgrimage and taking the
crown Of heavenly reward! What chill
dren, as in Bible time, crying: s'My head,
my headl And they carried him to his
mother, and he sat on her knees until
noon and then died." This year went
the chief poet of England and the chief
poet of America. Our John G.. Whittier
great in literature and simple as a
child-for did not spend an afternoon
with him in barn in the Adirondacks,
and in the evening we played blind
mans buff, he tying over my eyes the
handkerchief while the hotel parlors
rang with the merrymaking? And Ten
nyson. this year gone-he who for this
particular season of the year wrote:
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud. the frosty light.
The year is dying in the night.
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.
What ningling of emotions in this clos
ing year! What orange blossoms for the
marriageAaltar, and what myrtle for the
tombs Of the dead! Hosannas and lam
entations in collision. Anthem and
dead march mounting from the same
ivory keys. Before this year quite leaves
the earth let it hear our repentance for
opportunities that can never return.
Kind words spoken too late or not spoken
at all. Means of getting good or doing
good so completely gone by that the
archangel's voice could not recall them.
Can it be that this year is closing and
our sins are unforgiven, and we have no |
certainty that when our last Dec. 81 has !
sped away we shall enter blissful eter-
nifty? The most overwhelmingly solemn |
week of all the year is the last week of |
December.
But on opening this subject, SIN re-
spect Of holy day. as my text puts it. |