Greene County herald. (Leakesville, Miss.) 1898-current, 1907-09-13
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Circle
Depart
ment.

There is only card in the envel-
ope that friend sends us-a little
card, edged with black. and bearing
a few sad words, saddest of which is
died Only card, but two fond
hearts have wept over it, and it has
come to us the message of sorrow.
Only a card, as much white as black
possibly little more. 1t is fitting so.
1t was pure spirit that winged its
way heaven ward when this little
bud was plucked on earth to bloom
in Heaven; pure spirit, white and
unsullied. The black shadow of grief
should seem less to us than the sweet
purity which will now never be tar
nished. Only a few days upon earth.
Just little work day week of life,
with no strength for labor, and then
Sabbath at its ending that ahall
know no end forever and forever. On
ly a narrow edging of black; for could
such a little being cast broad shad-
ow back as it went sunward? All,
yes, it might" the heart says, until
| it stops a moment to remember. Re-
membering, it hears the echo of a
sweet word long since uttered: SUI
| fer little children to come unto me
and the shadow lessons, lessons, UNI
til we see it not at all, but look
straight on to the brightness that
shall never grow dim. Suffer little
children" not lead, not carry them,
only suffer them. Then they must
want to go. And do they not? Stand
ing so near the ''pearlys gates" as
they do, who can tell what music
they hear, what balmy airs blow on
them? It is easy for them to slip a
way from the loving arms here to the
loving arms there. Easy for them,
but so hard for u.s. So hard! We can
not see them as they go, for the
weeping; but we know they are gone
by the dull pain in our arms that
clasp nothing. Died." How many
hearts will echo it sadly and with
tears Many children are leaving us
weekly, finishing their short weeks
of life and entering on the Sabbaths
never ending. A tender goodbye to
them all tender hand-clasp for all
who weep their loss. Losing is the
common lot, and weeping the herit-
age of humanity; but the losing and
the weeping will end finally in find
ing and Joy. Those of our readers
who still have an unbroken family
circle cannot value the prize too
highly.
| ~
| All day the busy feet have trod the
garden paths; all day the merry voice
has echoed through the rooms, but
now, when twilight is deepening into
night, and the lamps of heaven are
being lighted, the noisy feet grow
still. the childish voice is hushed to
the low breathing of the evening
prayer, and as the brown head sinks
YEARLY to rest upon its pillow the
red lips murmur family, so tired. "
All, tired one, ofttimes thy feet
will falter aud grow weary ere they
reach the prime of manhood; and to
thee will come hours when not as
now the innocent sleep Of childhood
will bring thee rest.
Often from other lips than childish
ones has escaped sigh, the burden
of which has been, so tired!" Eag-
erly we toll for an Independence
which some day in the far-off future
Is to bring us rest; but as night after
night we laid our weary heads upor
our pillows, we are still looking for
ward. still unsatisfed and thus il
I will ever be with us till the Master
calls. Sometimes ambition is the gui
: ding star Turing us onward to the
temple of fame But the path is {
thorny one, the footsteps falter; the
brain grows dizzy: and from the hear
goes forth the cry, So tired!' Ye'
temptingly siren voice whispers 0
glory, and of rest, and again the fee
press forward, till the goal is reach
ed. But alas! for the rest which am
| bition brings. Too often with the cul