The Maryville times. (Maryville, Tenn.) 1884-1944, 1893-06-21

| nome. Religion is there, and sacrllces
GA the altar day and night. You look
in that household and say: 81 cannot
think of anything happier. l do not
really believe the world is so sad
place as some people describe it to be"
The scene changes Father is sick.
The doors must be kept shut. The
death-watch chirps dolefully on the
hearth. The children whisper and
walk softly where they once romped.
Passing through the house at night
you see the 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 intirm. You think you will have
the JOY of caring for her wants good
while yet AS she goes from house to
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 come" Care for you
has marked up her face with many
deep wrinkle and her back stoops with
carrying your burdens. Some day 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 more 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 so many kindnesses for
you right over the heart that has beat
with love toward 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, bend
} ing over your pillow, he does not stop
| to see whether there is color in the
cheek, or gentleness in the eye. or in
, telligence in the brow. But what OF
5 that? Must we stand forever mourn
I ing among the graves of our dead? Mol
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
: would bring to the graves of yonr dead
l all bright thoughts and congratula
tions, and bid them think of victory
? and redemption. / stamp on the bot
l tom of the grave, and it breaks through
, into the light and the glory of heaven
S The ancients used to think that the
: straits entering the Red Sea were very
dangerous places, and they supposed
that every ship that went through
S those straits would be destroyed, ant
4 they were in the habit of putting OF
e weeds of mourning for those who hat
y gone on that voyage as though they
\ were actually dead. Do you know
V what they called those straits? They
q called them the Gate of Tears" o,
: stand to-day at the gate of tear
0 through which many OF your loved
J. ones have gone, and | want to tell you
v that all are not shipwrecked that hav'
a gone through these straits into thu
i great ocean stretching out beyond
. The sound that comes from that othe
I shore on still nights when we ar
J wrapped in prayer makes me thinl
e that the departed are not dead. We ar
q the dead-we who toll; we who weep
u we who sin-we are the dead. How
y nv heart aches for human sorrow! thl
/ sound of breaking hearts that | hea
. all about mel this last look of face
;, that will never brighten again. thi
last kiss of lips that never will speal
,s again; this widowhood and orphanage
" O, when will the day of sorrow b
y gone!
After the sharpest winter, the sprin
: dism cunts from the shoulder of south
70 ern gale and puts its warm hands upo
- the earth, and in its palm there come
- the grass, and there comes the flowers
:, and God reads over the poetry of blro
! and brook, and bloom, and pronounce
=, it very good. What, my friends,
. :, every winter had not its spring, an
~ every night its day, and every gloor
=. its glow, and every bitter now its swee
h hereafter. If you have been on the sea
= you know, as the ship passes in tn
No night, there is phosp horescent trac
4 left behind it, and as the waters TO
q up, they toss it'll unimaginable spler
~ dor. Well across this great ocean {
"a human trouble Jesus walks. O, tina
Ia in the phosphoresc ent track of His fee
~ we might all follow and be illumineC
, There was gentleman in the raj
car who saw in that same car three pa
10 sengers of very different circumstance
A. The first was maniac. He was carr
a fully guarded by his attendants; h
a mind, like ship dismasted, was bea
10 ing against dark, desolate coast, frol
la which no help could come. The trai
stopped, and the man was taken out il
Ia to the asy lum, to waste away, perhap
v through years of gloom. The secon
II passenger was culprit. The on
10 ragged law had seized upon hin
ID AS the cars jolted, the chair
RI ratified. On his face were Grim
re- depravity and despair. The train halte
40 and he was taken out to the penitel
N tiary, to which he had been condemne
&c There was the third passenger, undo
ne far different circumstances. She WI
v a bride. Every hour was gay as a ma
n riage- bell. Life glittered and beckone
id Her companion was taking her to h
&c fathers house. The train halted. III
at old man was there to welcome her
lv her new home, and his white loci
nd showed down upon her as he sealed h