The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1905-03-10
Winding The Clock.
BY ALLEN PAYNE.

.
BY ALLEN PAYNE.
The sick room was all hustle,
The doctor again was called;
He came in for lifes battle,
But knew that his science was stalled
He'd done all in his power
To check the raging fever
Had labored hour after hour.
By and by she rallied,
And asked of those around,
If the little clock still Tailed
With the sun, that was going down.
At dusk each day she'd reach
Upon small round table,
There grasp a little time piece,
And wind till no longer able.
The evening shades were falling,
The time had come to hand.
When the little clock needed winding,
And replacing on the stand.
Her feeble hand pushed forward
And grasped the tiny clock;
She listened to, and then wound,
That faithful little piece.
While some about the dying bed
Were waiting for the end,
There were others who believed
That she was on the mend.
Across through the open windows,
Hiding the setting sun,
Was the steeple of st. Andrews,
Whose chimes of sweetest tone,
Pealed forth the hour Of seven,-
Striking all three BELLS
As if to announce from Heaven
That all in all was well.
But bark another note peals forth,
IT'S music, sweet to hear;
The choir is making an effort
To keep it from the ear
Of those in yonder dwelling,
Whose hearts are bowed in grief,
Whose sorrows know no telling,
Whose burden is no wreath.
But softly across the grassy lea,
Is heard in chorus, "Abide with me,
Fast falls the even tide,
The darkness deepens
Lord With me abide"
The patient rallies slightly,
And opening wide her eyes,
Excaims excitedly,
Lord with me, abide"
The music is growing fainter,
And changes to the tune.
LEAD kindly light
Amid the encircling gloom,
Lead Thou me on"
Next afternoon the chimes
In old St. Andrews steeple,
Strike three times.
Announcing to the people,
That time in its hasty flight
Is moving steadily onward
Towards the starlit night.
And through the open window,
A heavy cloud is seen,
That slowly casts shadow,
Encircling the entire room.
The worn out friends still linger
Beside the dying bed;
Watching those frail fingers,
Making ringlets round her head;
And away from yonder distance.
Family comes the thunders roll,
And changing of the countenance.
As ifa claim upon the soul
At last had been demanded,
FROM the One ABOVE, on high,
While the pearly gates were opened.
And sun burst lit the sky.
"'Tis getting dark, - came family
From the slowly dying one.
docs the clock still tai v
With the glorious setting sun?
The evening shades are falling
And must wind the clock"
The storm was swiftly coming;
The lightning fiercely flashed,
And through the hazy cleaning,
A frail, small bark is dashed.
The pillows swell in mountains,
And loudly do they roar;
The rain descends in torrents
The bark is heading for yonder shore.
And in it rests a fair passenger;
Alone? Nay Death is at the oars.
And swiftly DER the raging water
The craft speeds on towards "Evermore."
And gazing DER the stormy waves,
Through the misty gloom,
Virgie sees the pearly gates;
And clothed in white, a groom,
Standing by the pillars, high
Holding the gates a,jar.
Who rises on his wings to fly
And meet the craft from aiar.
In one hand he holds horn,
The other hand crown;
And as he speeds through raging storm,
He blows, and settles down
Upon that small and Weekend craft,
And cheers the coming soul
With the joy that friends who are bereft,
Will some day reach the goal
And she then will take his place,
And brave the storm seas wild,
To usher to Him, face to face,
saved. redeeming child.
Upon her head. the angel pressed.
The crown of jewels and gold.
And as he then her brow caressed,
The portals did untold,
And thousands ofangels joyously passed
Outside the pearly gate,
And there they densely massed,
Settling down to wait,
As nearer and nearer the little raft
Drew to anchor through the silvery mist,
That surrounded the golden DOCK
For Virgie Abel stepped from the craft,
When last she wound the tiny clock.
School Building Condemned.
The brick public school building a
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