Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1901-12-23

when thrashers fail and farmers plow
and wcodman's AK and ox's yoke and
eleaf binders rake shall surrender to
the God who made the country, as man
made the town.
Motherhood Consecrated.
Behold also that on that Christmas
night God honored motherhood Two
angels on their wings might have
brought an infant Saviour to Bethle-
hem without Mary's being there at all.
When the villagers on the morning of
Dee. 26 awo1e, by divine arrangement
and in some unexplained way the child
Jesus might have been found il some
comfortable cradle of the village. But
no, no. Motherhood for all time was to
be consecrated, and one of the tender
est relations was to be the maternal re-
lation and one of the sweetest words,
mother" In all ages God has honored
good motherhood. John Wesley had a
good mother; st. Bernard had a good
mother; Samuel Budget, good moth.
er; DodSridge, a good mother; Walter
Scott, good mother; Benjamin West, a
good mother. In great audience, most
of whom were Christians, / asked that
all those who had been blessed of
Christian mothers arise and almost
the entire assembly stood up. Do you
not see how important it is that all
motherhood be consecrated? Why did
Titan, the Italian artist when he
sketched the Madonna make it an Ital-
ian face? Why did Rubens, the Ger
arfi cf in HI
German face? Why did Joshua Reyn-
olds, the English artist, in his Madonna
make it an English face? Why did
Murllo, the Spanish artist, in his Ma
donna make it a Spanish face? l new
er heard, but l think they took their
own mothers as the type of Mary, the
mother of Christ. When you hear some
one in sermon or grafton speak in the
abstract of a good, faithful, honest
mother, your eyes fill up with tears
while you say to yourself, "That was
my mother"
Waiting at the Throne.
The first word a child utters is apt
to be mother" and the old man in his
dying dream calls: 'Mother! Motherv
1t matters not whether she was brought
in af1luent home and was dressed ap-
with reference to the de-
mands of modern life or whether she
wore the old time cap and great, round
spectacles and apron of her own make
and knit your socks with her own nee
dies seated by the broad fireplace, with
great backlog ablaze, on winter
night. It matters not how many wrin-
kles crossed and recrossed her face or
how much her shoulders stopped with
the burdens of a long life. If you
painted a Madonna, hers would be the
face. What a gentle hand she had
when we were sick and what a voice
to soothe pain, and was there any one
and purity and light? And what a
sad day that was when we came home
and she could greet us not, for her lips
were forever still! Come back, mother,
in these Christmas times and take your
old place and, as ten or twenty or fifty
years ago, come and open the old BIZ
bic as you used to; read and kneel in
the same place where you used to pray |
and look upon us, as of old, when you
wished us q merry Christmas or hap
py new year! But, no! That would !
not be fair to call you back. You had |
troubles enough and aches enough and
bereavements enough while you were
here larry by the throne, mother, |
till we join you there, your prayers all /
answered, and in the eternal home
stead of our God we shall again keep |
Christmas jubilee together. But speak !
from your thrones, all you glorif1ed |
and say to all these, your sons !
and daughters, words Of love, words of
warning, words of cheer. They need |
your voice, for they have travelled far
and with many heartbreak since you |
left them, and you do well to call from
the heights Of heaven to the valleys of |
earth. Hail, enthroned ancestry! We
are coming. Keep a place right beside !
you at the banquet!
Slow footed years! More swiftly run
Into the gold of that unsetting sun.
Homesick for thee,
Calm land beyond the sea.
copyright, 1901, Louis Klopsch, N. "