The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1895-05-25

that it does not much matter whether
we live or die. But somehow the sky
changes as we talk with them. The
sun comes out. We go away feeling
what beautiful world this isl
think I will stay here while longerp'
Something like this is the result of
prayer,-of the time we spend in the
divine presence. Archbishop Trench
has written:
"Lord, what change within us. one short hour
Spent in thy presence will prevail to make,
What heavy burdens from our bosoms takei
What parched grounds refresh as with a
shower.
We kneel. and all around us seems bower;
We rise. and all the distant and the near
Stands forth in seeming outline brave and clear
We kneel how weak; we rise how full of
powerl"
4. Finally, the is q prophetic
element in prayer. 1t looks forward.
Its face is toward the sunrise. 1t sug-
gests future of honor and power
and glory, when the powers that we
now family feel stirring within us
shall have risen to full stature.
prayer is the soul feebly trying
its wings; by and by it shall soar
like the eagle"
l believe that these prophetic in
buttons will some day be realized.
Sometime and somewhere these long
ings will be fully satisfied; these de
sires met; these aspirations will reach
the heights toward which they strive.
Sometime and somewhere these life
structures that here seem to get but
little beyond the foundations. will
rise in finished beauty."Now We know
in part; but there shall we know
even as we also are known"
1--WE shall be like him, for we shall
see him as he is"
There is the story of an old artist
that will illustrate our longings and
strivings and their final goal! 1t is
related by one of the artists compan-
ions.
1t was over the figure of Christ that
his enthusiasm never faltered. 1t
was, as he often told us, to be his
masterpiece, -"Gummidge's master
piece" he called it-this, it was I'M
derstood, he had labored over ever
since we first knew him. 1t stood in
the corner of his studio with dingy
white cheese cloth curtain before it,
and whenever we would enter his
studio he never failed todrop the cur
tain, to conceal it.
He was always talking of it. When
one met him on the stairs in the
morning, and helped him up with the
inevitable pail of water, he always had
some incident to relate, in which the
missing face of his picture figured.
81 thought, young friend, that I saw
the face this morning-but alas!
when | drew nigh, there were sordid
lines in it. Originally it had been
Christlike, / am sure, but life,-life
and the passions had changed it
the purity had passed as the scent of
the rose. So | am forced to seek
again; but will yet find the face, l
am sure l shall yet see it-and then
| shall finish my masterpiece. No,
you cannot help me, young friend; |
must see it for myself. So may not
show it to you until it is finished.
Then you shall see tall the world
shall see Gummidges masterpiece"
Then he would begin to draw aim
less lines on the canvas before him
with piece of charcoal, and fidget
about to show that he desired to be
alone.
Poor old man! 1t was a pitiful
sight-the thin, bony hand holding
the charcoal trembling in the strong
north light from the skylight above;
hand transparent and yellow, with
fine, long tapering fingers; and the
eager, sallow face, with its struggling
gray hair and beard falling over the
threadbare velvet coat, with its care
less blotches of dry paint left upon
the left arm.
At length he fell sick and the
younger men sat by his bedside
through the night. He seemed de-
lirious.
Charcoal he said, feebly. "Give
me piece of charcoal. I've al
most seen the face. l think-I can
draw tin all its purity"
We grouped ourselves about the
bed, watching the feeble motions of
the dying painters hand describing
lines in the air before him.
Then the hand holding the brush
fell upon the blanket-he raised his
head, his eyes opened with an up
ward gaze into the dim, blue, starry
space above US, smile of joy illum-
mated the thin lips.
,sT 400 ~ fhara- o,aoAla,oan tha.o