The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1893-06-21


Parents intoxicated staggering around its
straw bed. Oh, death, thero is mark for
thee! Up with It into the light Before
these little feet stumble on life's pathway give
them rest.
Here is On aged man. He has done his
work. He has done it gloriously. The com
panions Of his youth are all gone, his chill
dren dead. He longs to be at rest, and
wesrily the days and the nights pass. He
says. "Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly.
on, death, there is mark for thee! Take
from him the staff and give him the sceptre .
Up with him into the light, where eyes never
grow dim, and the hair whitens not through
the long years of eternity. All, death will
not do that. Death turns back from the
straw bed and from the aged man ready for
the skies and comes to the summer house.
What doest thou here, thou bony, CHASTITY
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. It
does not seem possible that the wolf should
ever break into that fold and carry oil a
lamb. Meanwhile an old archer stands look
ing through thethicket. He points his arrow
at the brightest OF the group-he Is sure
marksman-theb bow bends, the arrow speeds
Hush, now! The quick feet have stopped,
and the locks toss no more In the wind.
Laughter has gone out Of the hall Death
in the summer house!
Here is a father in midlife. His coming
home at night is the signal for m1rth. The
children rush to the door, and there rebooks
on the evening stand, and the hours pass
ing in that home. Religion Is there and
sacrifices on the altar morning and night.
You look in that household and say 81 can
not think of anything happier. do not
really believe the world is 80 sad place as
some people describe it 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 SEQ the
quick glsncin2 of lights from room to room.
It 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 he- wants good while yet. AS she
goes from house to house. to children and
Grandchildren, her coming is a 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 a 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 so gently you do
not exactly know the moment OF its going.
Fold the hands that have done 20 many kind
nesses for you right over tho 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 go singing heavenward.
So I would bring to the graves Of your dead
all bright thoughts and congratulations and
Did them think of victory and redemption. I
stamp on the bottom Of the grave, and 1t
breaks through into the light and glory Of
heaven.
The ancients 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 habit 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 straits2 They call them the
"Gate Of Tears" Oh;,I 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-~e 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 I
hear all about me! This last look OF faces
that will never brighten again! This last
kiss OF lips that never will speak again
This widowhood and o-phanage! Oh, when
will rhe day OF sorrow be gomez
After the sharpest winter the spring dis
mounts from the shoulder of 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 1t very good. What, my friends,
il every winter had not its spring, and every
night its day, and every gloom its glow, and
every bitter now its sweet hereafter? II you
have been On the sea, you know, as the saip
passes in the night, there is phosphorescent
track LETT behind it, and as tho waters roll up
they toss with unimasinable splendor. Well,
across this great ocean OF human trouble
Jesus walks. Oh, that in the phosohorescent
faa srvht oil fol mr. "a
illumined!
There was gentleman in the rail cor who
saw in that same car three passengers OF
very different circumstances. The first was
q maniac He was carefully guarded by his
attendants :; his mind, like ship dismasted.
was beating against dark, desolate coast,
from which no help. could come. The train
stopped, and the man was taken out into tho
asylum to waste away perhaps through years
OF gloom. The second passenger was
culprit. The outraged law had seized on him.
AS the cars iolted the chains ratified. On his
face were crime, depravity and despair. The
train halted, and be WIS taken out to tho
penitentiary, to which he had been con-
demned. There was the third passengarun-
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 fathers kiss.
Quickly we fly toward eternity. We Will
soon be there. Some leave this life con-
demned culprits. They refused L pardon
they carry their chains. Oh, may it be with
US that leaving this feeting life for the next.
we may lind our Father ready to greet US TO
our new home with Him forever. Tint Will
be marriage banquet. Fathers wel;on9.
Fathers bosom Fathers kiss Heaven I!
Heaven!