News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1892-02-18

Q6tlIu. 40 not WONDER. Tic u6det
daughter twelve years of age. tits
about the happiest time in most lives.
Very little children suffer many in
justices because they are children,
and childhood is not a desirable
part of human eXistence-they get
whacked or set on. But at twelve
years of age the child has come to
self assertion and is apt to make her
rights known And then, twelve
years of age is too early for the cares
and anxieties of life. So this girl was,
think, the merriment of the house
hold. She furnished for them the
mimicry and the harmless mischief,
and reused the guffaw that often
rang through that happy home. But
now she is dead, and the grief at her
departure is as violent as her pres
ence had been vivacious and inspirit-
ing. Oh the bereavement was so
sharp, SO overwhelming How could
they give her upl
suspect that they blamed them
selves for this or for that. Oh, if
they had had some other doctor, OF
taken some other medicine, or had
been more careful of her health, or if
they had not given her that reproof
sometime when she had not really
deserved it. Oh, if they had been
more patient with her hilarities and,
instead of hushing her play, had par
| ticipated in it'll You know there are
70 many things that parents always
blame themselves for at such times.
Only twelve years of agel So fair,
80 promising, so full of life a few
days ago, and now so still Oh, what
it is to have a daughter deadl The
room is full of folks. but yonder is
the room where the young sleeper is
The crowd cannot go in there. Only
six persons enter, five besides Christ
three friends, and, of course, the
father and mother. They have the
first right to go in. The heaviest
part of the grief was theirs. All eyes
in that room are on the face of this
girl.
There lay the beautiful hand, white
and finely shapen, but it was not
lifted in greeting to any of the group.
Christ stepped forward and took hold
of that hand and said, with tone
and accentuation charged with ten
derness and command, "Damsel, |
say unto thee, arise!'' And without
moments delay she arose, her eyes
vide open, her cheeks turning from
white lily to red rose. and the parents
Try: She lives She lives!" and in
;he next room they take up the
sound, She livesl She ivesr and
5he throng in front of the doorway
repeat it, She lives She ivesT
VIII not all those who have lost a
laughter feel that such a Christ as
that can sympathize2
THE COMPASSION OF CHRIST
On another occasion he showed
row he felt about the loss of son.
Here are the obsequies: A long pro
cession. a widowed mother following
her only SON | know not how long
the husband and father had been
gone, but upon this son, who had now
come to be a young man, the leader
ship of that household had fallen. /
think he had got to be the breadwin-
ner. He was proud of his mother,
and she should never lack anything
as long as he lived. And there is no
grander spectacle on earth than a
young man standing between want
and a widowed mother. But that
young man had fallen lifeless under
accident OF disaster, and he was be-
ing carried out
Only few hours in that land are
allowed to pass between decease and
burial It is the same day or the
next. And there they move on.
Christ meets the procession. His
eye picks out the chief mourner. He
puts his hand on the bier. as much as
to say to the pallbearers: Stop
There will be no burial today. That
broken heart must be healed That
mother must have her home rebuilt.
And then looking into the face of the
young man for in those lands the
face is always exposed in such a pro
cession), Christ speaks one sentence,
before which Death fell PROSTATE I'M
der the bier, Young man, | say
unto thee, arise. He sat up, while
the overjoyed mother wrapped him
in her arms and well nigh smoth-
cred him with her caresses, and
the air was rent with congTatllla-
TONS Can any one who has ever
lost a son doubt that Christ sympa-
thizes with such wOe@ And how
many there are who need that par
ticular comfort.
1t was not hollow sentiment when,
after Edmund Burke, the greatest
orator Of his time, had lost his son,
and the bereaved father, crossing the
pasture field, met the horse that had
belonged to that deceased son, that
the orator threw his arms around the
horses neck and kissed the dumb
brute. 1t was not hollow sentiment
when David, the psalmist, cried out
at the news of his sons death, al
though he had been a desperately
bad boy: "Oh, Absalom, my son my
son! Would God had died for thee.
Oh, Absalom, my son my sOnI" But
for such and all other bereavement
there is divine coincidence.
Christ on the plain. care not from
what side you approach him, you can
touch him and get his help. Is it
mental depression you suffer- Re
member him who said, My God, my
God, why hast thou forsaken me2"
Is it struggle for breadl Remember
him who fed the five thousand with
two minnows and five biscuits, neither
IF the biscuits larger than your fist.
Is it chronic ailment? Remember the
woman who for eighteen years was
Oent almost double, and he lifted her
ace until she could look into the blue
ky. Are you a sailor and spend your
life battling with the tempests2 Re
member him who flung the tempest
IF Genesareth fat on the crystal pave +
nent of a quiet sea.
That Christ is in sympathy with
Ill who have trouble with their eyes,
md that is becoming an almost uni
yersal trouble through much reading
q rail cars, and the overpressuIe of |
study in the schools where children
are expected to be philosophers at |
ten, boys and girls at fourteen with |
ypac+9rlaS I say with all Sucb iron