The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1895-05-16
SIDE OBSERVATIONS.

4uelC dIC nCto AlOSs AAuu VI SesA
Is holding complete command,
But never an act SO thrills and sooths s2
AS the touch Of the m0ther-hand. S&
There are loves most dear to fondly hold,
That lead in the pathway pure,
But never a love like the mother-love
To suffer and to endure 1ai
IT'S next to that Of the God above,
And lasts to the latest breath;
It clings in sorrow, In sin and shame, Il
Yes, clings till the hour of death. 4
It is more intense in the realms where now
4 There's many mother waits .t5S&
To gladly lead in the sweet sometime
Through Eden's beautiful gates.
81 81 .-..... ~ .. 4
There is All endearing tender
ness in the love of a mother to 9
son that transcends all other. .af-
fections Of the heart. It is neither
to be chilled by selfshness, weak
ness, by worthlessness, nor stifled
by ingratitude. She will sacrifice
every comfort to his convenience;
she will surrender every pleasure
to his enjoyment; she will glory
in his fame and exhalt in his pros
perity. If misfortune overtakes
him, he will be the dearer to her
from misfortune; and if disgrace
settles upon his name, she will
still love and cherish him in spite
Of his disgrace. If all the world
besides casts him out, she will be
all the world to him. A father
may turn his back on a child;
brothers and sisters may become
inveterate enemies; husbands may
desert their wives, and wives their
husbands, but mothers love en-
dures through all. In good re-
pute, in bad repute, in the face of
the worlds condemnationsya moth
er's love still lives on, and she.
still hopes that her child may turn
from his evil ways and repent;
still she remembers his infant
smile that ever filed her bosom
with rapture, the merry laugh, the
joyful shouts Of his chill dhood, the
opening promise sof his youth and
thinking Of these she ca never be
brought to think him all un-
worthy. r..
*
Young man speak kindly to,
your mother, and be ever cour-
teous and good to- her. But
little while and you shall see her
no more forever. Her eye is dim,
her form is bent, and her shadows
fall heavenward. Others may love
you when she has passed away. A
kind hearted sister perhaps, or
she whom of all the world you
choose for a partner-she may
love you ever so warmly;; children 4
may love you passionately ly; but
never again, never, while time is
yours shall the love of woman be
to you as that of your old tremb-
ling mother. Alas, how little we
appreciate mothers tenderness
while living! How needless we
are of all her anxiety. But when
she is dead and gone, when the
cares and coldness of this world
come whitening to our hearts,
when we experience how hard it is
to find true sympathy, and how /
few will befriend us in misfortune,
then it is that we think of the /
mother we have lost. #
~ a.
The loss of a mother always
deeply felt. Even though age and
infrmities may have incapacitated
her from taking an active part in I
the cause of the family, still she is
a rallying point around which af-&
fection and obedience and thous-
and tender endeavors to please,
concentrate. She is like the
lonely star before us; neither its
heat nor its light are anything to
us in themselves, yet the shepherd
would feel his heart sad if he
missed it when he lifts his eye to
the brow of the mountain over
which it rises when the sun des-
cends. The mothers love is in
deed the golden chord which
binds youth to age; and he is
still but child. however time
may have furrowed his cheek or
silvered his brow, who can yet re-
call with softened heart the fond
devotion or the gentle chidings
Of the best friend that God ever
gave us.
When we are among strangers, &
without acquaintance and friends,
and not possessed of an overly
large supply Of this worlds goods, &
fancy forces memory to be silent,
and twines the image of our
dear mother with a garland Of u
graces, beauties aud virtues, which
we doubt not she possesses. Il
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