Peninsula enterprise. [volume] (Accomac, Va.) 1881-1965, 1899-01-28

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 comet" Care for you
has marked up her face with many o
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 mo-
ment 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 housed
Gather about us what we will of COM
fort and luxury. When the pale mes
senger 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 III
the brow But what of that? Must we
stand forever mourning among the
graves of our dead? No! No! The peo-
pie in Bengal bring cages of birds to
the graves of their dead, and then they
open the cages, and the birds 90 singing
heavenward So I would bring to the
graves Of your dead all bright thoughts
and congratulations and bid them sing
of victory and redemption. stamp on
the bottom of the grave, and it breaks
through into tho light and the glory Of
heaven The ancients used to think
that tho straits entering the Red sea
were very dangerous places, and they
supposed that every ship that went
through those straits would be destroy
ed 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 Do you know
what they called those straits? They
called them the ''Gate of Tears. l
stand ut the gate of tears through which
many of your loved ones have gone, and
/ want to tell you that all are not ship
wrecked 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 sorrow
This sound of breaking hearts that l
hear all about mel This last look Of
faces that never will brighten againl
This last kiss of lips that never will
speak again This widowhood and or
nhanage! Oh, when will the day of sor-
row be gonel
After the sharpest winter the spring
dismounts from the shoulder of south
ern gale and puts it's 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, if every
winter had not its spring, and every
night its day, and every gloom its glow,
and every bitter now its sweet hereaft-
er If you have been on the sea, you
know, as the ship passes in the night,
there is phosphorescent track left be-
hind 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 phos-
phorescent track of his feet we might
all follow and be illumined.
There was gentleman in rail car
who saw in that same car three passen-
gers of very different circumstances.
The first was a maniac. He was care
fully guarded by his attendants. His
mind, like ship dismasted, was beat
ing against dark, desolate coast, from
which no help could come The train
stopped, and the man was taken out
into the asylum, to waste away perhaps
through years of gloom. The second
passenger was a 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 he was taken out to
the penitentiary, to which he had been
condemned. There was the third pas
senger, under far different circum-
stances. She was bride. Every hour
was gay as u marriage bell. Life gilt
tered and beckoned Her companion
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 a father S
kiss. Quickly we fly toward eternity.
We will soon be there. Some leave this
life condemned culprits and they refuse
pardon. 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 be marriage banquet. Fa-
theirs welcomed Fathers bosoml Fa-
;her's l1issl Heaven Heaven
Curt and Witty.
'The following story of the Arch
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