News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1893-08-10
MUSING BY THE FIRE.
THE PSALMIST RECALLS THE DAYS
OF HIS YOUTH.

Dr. 1aimaSe freacneS on the beneHts u
Solitary ContempIation-The Hand o
Providence In the vicissitudes of Life
Preparation For the Hereafter.
BROOKLYN, Aug. 6.-Rev. DR.. Talmagt
has chosen as the topic for today pan
rrama of "reminiscences appropriate tt
the season, the text selected being Psalm
xxx, 8, ''While was musing the fire
burned"
Here is David, the psalmist, with thu
forefnger of his right hand against hi
temple, the door shut against the world
engaged in contemplation. And it would
be well for US to take the same posture
often, closing the door against the world
while we sit down in sweet solitude tt
contemplate.
In a small island off the coast 1 ono,
passed q Sabbath in delightful solitude
for I had resolved that would have one
day of entire quiet before entered upor
hutumnal work. l thought to have spent
the day in laying out plans for Christian
work, but instead of that it became {
day of tender Renaissance. 1 reviewed
my pastorate. l shook hands with an ole
departed friend, whom l shall greet
again when the curtains of life are lift
ed. The days of my boyhood came back
and I was 10 years of age, and 1 was 8,
and l was 5. There was but one house
on the island, and yet from Sabbath day
break, when the bird chant woke me,
until the evening melted into the bay,
from shore to shore there were 10000
memories, and the groves were album
with voices that had long ago ceased.
YOUTH AND AGE.
Youth is apt too much to spend all its
time in looking forward. Old age is apt
too much to spend all its time in looking
backward. People in midlife and on the
apex look both ways. 1t would be well
for US, think, however, to spend more
time in Renaissance. By the constitu-
fion of our nature we spend most of the
time looking forward. And the vast
majority of people live not so much in
the present as in the future. find that
you mean to make a reputation. You
mean to establish yourself, and the adj
vantages that you expect to achieve alb
sorb great deal of your time. But
see no harm III this if it does not make
you discontented with the present or
disqualify you for existing duties.
1t is useful thing sometimes to look
back and to see the dangers we have es-
capped, and to see the sorrows we have
suffered, and the trials and wanderings
of our earthly pilgrimage, and to sum
up our enjoyments. | mean today, so
far as God may help me, to stir up your
memory of the past, so that in the re-
viewyou may be encouraged and hum
bled and urged to pray.
There is chapel in Florence with
fresco by Guido. 1t was covered up
with two inches of stucco until ou1
American and European artists went
there and after long toll removed the
covering and retraced the fresco. And
am aware that the memory of the past,
with many of you. is all covered up with
10000 deliberations, and | propose this
morning, so far as the Lord may help
me, to take away the covering, that the
old picture may shine out again.
want to bind in one sheaf all your
past advantages, and l want to bind i'll
another sheaf all your past Universities.
1t is precious harvest, and | must be
cautious how l swing the scythe.
Among the greatest advantages of
your past life was an early home and its
surroundings. The bad men of the day,
for the most part, dip their heated pas
sions out of the boiling spring of an I'M
happy home. We are not surprised that
Byron's heart was a concentration of
sin when we hear that his mother was
abandoned and that she made sport of
his infirmity and often called him ''the
lame brat" He who has vicious parents
has to fight every inch of his way if he
would maintain his integrity and at last
reach the home of the good in heaven.
Perhaps your early home was in the
city. 1t may have been in the days
when Canal street, New York, was far
up town. That old house in the city
may have been demolished or changed
into stores, and it seemed like sacrilege
to you, for there was more meaning in
that plain house, in that small house,
than th.re is in granite mansion or a
turreted cathedral. Looking back this
morning, you see it as though it were
yesterday-the sitting room, where the
loved ones sat by the plain lamplight,
the mother at the evening stand, the
brothers and sisters, perhaps long ago
gathered into the skies, then plotting
mischief ON the floor or under the table;
your father with a firm voice command
Ing silence, that lasted half a minute.
HAPPY CHILDHOOD DAYS.
Oh, those were good daysl If you had
your foot hurt, your mother always had
soothing salve to heal it. If you were
wronged in the street, your father was
always ready to protect you. The year
was one round of frolic and mirth. Your
greatest trouble was an April shower,
more sunshine than shower. The heart
had not been ransacked by troubles, nor
had sickness broken it, and no lamb had
a warmer sheepfold than the home in
which your childhood nestled.
Perhaps you were brought up in the
eountry. You stand now today in mem
DRY under the old tree. You dubbed it
for fruit that was not quite ripe because
you could not wait any longer. You
hear the brook rumbling along over the
pebbles. You step again into the furrow
where your father in his shirt sleeves
Shouted to the lazy oxen. You brighten
the swallows from the rafters of the
barn and take just one egg and silence
your conscience by saying they will not
miss it. You take drink again out of
the very bucket that the old well fetched
up. You go for the cows at night and
End them wagging their heads through
the bars. Outlines in the dusty and busy
streets you wish you were home again on
that cool grass or in the hall of the farm
house. through which there was the
breath OF new mown hay or the blossom
Of buckwheat.
You may have in your windows now
beautiful plants and flowers brought
from across the seas, but not one of them
stirs in your soul so much charm and
memory as the old ivy and the yellow
sunfiower that stood sentinel along the
garden walk and the forgetmenots play
ing hide and seek mid the long grass.
The father, who used to come in sun
burned from the fields and sit down on
the doorsill and wipe the sweat from
his brow, may have gone to his everlast
ing rest. The mother, who used to sit at
the door little bent over, cap and spec
tacles on, her face mellowing with the
vicissitudes of many years, may have
put down her gray head on the pillow in
the valley, but forget that home you
never will.
Have you thanked God for it? Have
you rehearsed all these blessed reminis-
cences? Oh, thank God for Christian
father. Thank God for Christian
mother. Thank God for an early Chris
tan altar at which You were taught to