Highland recorder. (Monterey, Highland County, Va.) 1877-1972, 1893-06-16

cold and sick and hungry. IL mas never
heard the name Of God but in blasphemy
Parents intoxicated staggering around its
straw bed. Oh, death, there is mark for
theel Up with it into the light Before
these little feet stumble on LIES pathway give
them rest.
Here is an aged man. He has done bis
work. He has done it gloriously. The COM
nanions of his youth are all gone, his chill
dren dead. He longs to be at rest, and
YEARLY the days and the nights pass. He
saws "Come. Lord Jesus, come quickly"
Oh. death. there is mark for thee Take
from him the staff aud give him the sceptre
Up with him into the light. where eyes never
grow dim. and the hair whitens not through
the long years o. eternity. All, death will
not do that. Death turns back from the
straw bed and from the aged man ready Tor
the skies and comes to the summer house.
What doest thou here, thou bony, ghastly
monster, amid this waving grass and under
this sunlight sitting through the tree
branches? Children are at play. How quickly
their feet 90 and their locks toss in the wind
Father and mother stand at the side OF the
room looking on, enjoying their glee. IL
does not seem possible that the wolf should
ever break into that fold and carry on q
lamb. Meanwhile an old archer STANDS LOOK
ing through the thicket. He points his arrow
at the brightest Of the group--he IS sure
marksman-the bow bends, the arrow speedS
Hush. now The quick feet have stopped.
aid the locks toss no more In the WIZ
Laughter has gone out OF tao nal. DeaIn
in the summer house,
Here is father in midlife. His coming
home at night is the signal for mirth. The
children rush to the door, and there are books
on the evening stand and the hours pass
away on glad feet There is nothing want
ing in that home. Religion is there and
sacrifices on the altar morning and night.
You look in that household and say ~ can
not think of anything happier. L do not
really believe the world is 80 sad place as
some people describe 1t to be-" The scene
changes. Father is sick. The doors must
be kept shut The deathwatch chirps dole
fully on the hearth. The children whisper
and walk softly where once they romped.
Passing the house late at night, you see tho
quick glancing of lights from room to room.
1t is all over Death in the summer house.
Here is an aged mother-aged, but not in
firm. You think you will have the Joy OF car
ing for her wants good while yet: AS she
goes rrom mouse 10 house. to children and
grandchildren, her coming is dropping OF
sunlight in the dwelling. Your children see
her coming through the lane, and they cry,
"Grandmother's Gomez Care for you has
marked up her face with many deep
wrinkle, and her back stoops with car
rying your burdens. Some days she is
very quiet. She says she is not
sick, but something tells you you
will not much longer have mother. She will
sit with you no longer at the table nor at the
hearth. Her soul goes out 80 gently you do
not exactly know the moment of its going.
Fold the hands that have done many kind
nesses for you right over the heart that has
beat with love for you since before you were
born. Let the pilgrim rest. She is weary.
Death in the summer house!
Gather about us what we will OF comfort
and luxury. when the pale messenger comes
he does not stop to look at the architecture
of the house before he comes in, nor entering
does he wait to examine the pictures we have
gathered on the wall, or bending over your
pillow he does not stop to see whether there
is color in the cheek, or gentleness in the
eye, or intelligence in the brow. But what
Of that? Must we stand for ever mourning
among the graves of our dead, No No The
people in Bengal bring cages of birds to the
graves of their dead and then they open the
cages, and the birds 60 singing heavenward.
SO [ would bring to the graves Of your dead
all bright thoughts and congratulations and
bid them think of victory and redemption. l
stamp on the bottom of the grave, and it
breaks through into the light and glory OF
heaven.
The anoients used to think that the straits
entering the Red sea were very dangerous
places, as they supposed that every ship that
went through those straits would be de-
stroyed, and they were in the hobit Of put
ting on weeds of mourning for those who
had gone on that voyage, as though they
were actually dead. Doyou know what they
called those straits? They call them the
"Gate of Tears" Oh, stand to-day at the
gate of tears through which many Of your
loved ones have gone, and | want to tell you
that all are not shipwrecked that have gone
through those straits into the great ocean
stretching out beyond.
The sound that comes from that other
shore on still nights when we are wrapped
in prayer makes me think that the departed
are not dead. We are the dead-we who
toll. we who weep, we who sin-we are the
dead. How my heart aches for human sor-
row This sound of breaking hearts that
hear all about me This last look of faces
that win never brighten again This last
kiss of lips that never will speak again
This widowhood and orphanagel Oh, when
will the day of sorrow be gone?
After the sharpest winter the spring dis
mounts from the shoulder of q southern gale
and puts its warm hand upon the earth, and
In its palm there comes the grass, and there
come the flowers, and God reads over the
poetry of bird and brook and bloom and
pronounces it very good. What, my friends,
if every winter had not its spring. and every
night its day, and every gloom its glow, and
every bitter now its sweet hereafterP Ii you
have been on the sea, you know, as the ship
passes in the night, there is phosphorescent
track left behind it, and as the waters roll up
they toss with unimaginable splendor. Well,
across this great ocean OF human trouble
Jesus walks. Oh, that in the phosphorescenl
track of His feet we might all follow and he
illumined
There was gentleman in the rail car VIII
saw in that same car three passengers Oh
very different circumstances. TIE first was
maniac He was carefully guarded by his
attendants his mind, like a ship dismasted,
was beating against dark, desolate coast,
from which no help could come. The train
stopped, and the man W. taken out into the
asylum to waste away perhaps through years
of gloom. The second passenger was
culprit. The outraged law had seized on him.
AS the cars jolted the chains ratified. On his
face were crime, depravity and despair. The
train halted, and he was taken out to she
penitentiary, to which he had been M
demned There was the third passenga m
der far different circumstances. She was
bride Every hour was gay as marriage
bell. Life glittered and beckoned. Her COM
panion was taking her to his fathers house.
The train halted The old man was there to
welcome her to her new home, and his white
locks showed down upon her as he sealed his
word with q fathers kiss.
Quickly we fly toward eternity. We will
soon be there. Some leave this life con-
demned culprits. They refused pardon
they carry their chains. Oh, may it be with
us that leaving this feeting life for the next,
we may find our Father ready to greet US to
our new home with Him forever. That will