Ceredo advance. [volume] (Ceredo, W. Va.) 1885-1939, 1892-04-06


lighted on a nook that was completely
out of the world. and mot one man in
five hundred who iostle along the
noisy Strand ever dreams of its exist
ence."
The restful influence of the place
drew her within the open gate and
along the tree-shadowed path to the
chapel door. She went timidly down
the flight of stone steps that led to the
entrance, hearing the sweet thunder of
the organ, and wondering whether she
might gain admission; but when the
threshold was crossed her last doubt
died away. No disconsolate widow
with a white cap and a short temper
conducted the worshipers to their
seats-a pleasant-faced young verger in
black gown found places for all who
wanted them. And this was no easy
task, for the little chapel. even ut this
questionable time of year, was full to
OVERLOOKING.
When Olive ventured to raise her
eyes, she received vivid impression of
rich yet delicate colors; the red rose Of
Lancaster burned in the emblazoned
panes OF the chancel window; all the
lights that found their way into the
place were tinted with rainbow DIVES.
But this chapel was not in the least
like any OF the great churches that She
had seen in London-it was, in fact. "a
single rectangular chamber" full of
glowing shadows and warm living sun
lights; no mighty arches rose overhead
and were lost in mist, no massive
pillars stood out solemnly from the
gloom. Here was cheerful sanctuary,
magnificent without pomp, reverent, but
not Mysterious House Beautiful
where every tired pilgrim might find
''some softening CLEAN of love and
prayer"
The young girl, worn with perpetual
heartache, seemed at last to breathe an
atmosphere of repose. The old familiar
words of the Liturgy, uttered in calm
voice, fell upon her soul like drops of
dew, and the music of the hymns, full
of solemn appeal and sublime content,
lifted her out of the iron cage of her
sorrow.
When she looked up to the clergy
man who stood in the pulpit, and heard
that calm voice speaking the text, she
did not know that he had been minis
tering here for more than a quarter of
century. She did not know that the
words spoken in this little chapel had
gone out into the world and were treas
ured up in the minds of thoughtful men
and women she only knew that the
preacher seemed to her unknown and
yet well known" already She had
fallen under the magnetic spell of his
strong personal influence; the voice. so
distinct and intensely penetrating in its
quietness, found its way through all
the clouds and shadows that had gath
cred around her inner life.
"Yc shall leave me alone; and yet am not
alone because the Father is with me st
John xvi. 39.
The loneliness of Jesus Christ in His
life, in His sufferings and in His death.
is pattern and a prophecy of the soli-
tude which is touchingly characteristics
of all true life. Eugene Bersier, the
eloquent preacher in Paris, rightly SAYS
that there are two kinds of solitude, an
outward and an inward, visible and
an invisible. When we are noS seen, nor
heard, nor touched by anyone, we say
that we are alone. But il is not always
complete isolation. The fisherman
does not feel alone on the ocean,
though he sees only the silent stars in
the armament and hears only the
sound of the moaning wind and the roll
ing waves. He is thinking of his wife
and children, who are on shore await
ing his safe return. For them he is
working; their love fills his heart; he
never feels alone.
The watching soldier on his lonely
picket does not feel quite solitary, for
he knows that the honor of his coun-
try's flag is in his care. The work.
woman in her garnet, handling her
diligent needle during the long hours of
winters evening, does not feel lonely,
for she knows that before daybrealx
she will have earned for herself and
her children the next days bread. The
lighthouse keeper in the middle of the
ocean does not feel alone, for he knows
that by his vigilance the light will be
kept brilliant which will warn off thou
sands of ships from danger and minister
to the security of myriads of lives.
Those who love and are loved are never
alone. These are all visible solitudes.
There are also inward solitudes. A
crowd is not company. There are many
whose contact makes no sympathetic
chord to vibrate in our hearts. Their
hands may press ours, but that indif-
ferent clasp touches nothing within our
| spirits. There are voices and faces
which do not charm us even though
they vouchsafe us conventional words
and smiles of courtesy. Faces may
only be as gallery of pictures, and
voices only the hum of many sounds.
There is an important sense which
makes this inward solitude to be
| specially felt in the crowded life of a
/ great city. When William Wordsworth
came 20 London he was astounded that
people lived close 10 each other and
scarcely knew the names Of their
neighbors. Charles Dickens said that
loneliness was as possible in the streets
of great city as in the desert OF
Arabia. The Latins have n proverb.
Magma civitas, magma solitude" Ia
great city, a great solitude). Hence,
even we who live in a busy hive OF
workers and sufferers are not denied
the power To- find and foster a solitude.
do not know a more pathetic refiec-
ton than this that we all live, even
as we must surely all die, In avery real
and requisite solitude. The experience
Of ages has never falsifed the word
spoken nearly three thousand years
I ago: THE heart knoyyeth its own hit.