The Leavenworth echo. [volume] (Leavenworth, Wash.) 1904-current, 1912-12-27
Morning, Leavenworthl A bright,

Morning, Leavenworth! A bright,
happy, prosperous new year to all OF
you'll
OF course, you are not expecting me
to answer any Of your letters as yet,
because, as l explained last week, any
which you have written will not be sent
to me until the day upon which you
will receive this issue of the Echo.
Here we are, looking 1913 in the
face! Befote Mr.. Mayar's presses shall
have ground out another Echo, we shall
stand at the open door of another year;
and what does it mean to us-to you,
to me, to each of us-more than anew
figure upon the date line7 The page
of the closing year, all blotted and soil
ed and marred, will be turned, and the
page of the new year lie revealed,
clean, white, spotless. Would that it
might be, when it gives place to yet
another page, still be unsoiled; still
without blot!
We look back over the twelyemonth
Just drawing to close, and what sor-
ry year the best of US have made OF it!
Doubtless we have committed no muir
ders, nor burglaries, nor highway robber-
les; but have all our doings, all the
year, been perfectly honorable and just2
How many of US, indeed, must hang
our heads and confess, in our heart Of
hearts, to the things we have done that
we ought not to haye done. And all,
the strife, the ill will. the brooding over
fancied wrongs and seeking for revenge.
the uncharitable deeds, the unkind
words, that have marred the year for
some of us. And how many times we
might have helped. fellow traveller on
his way--have given him lift with his
burden, that might have cost US no
more than little sympathy or tender
word, and we did not. Viewing it all
thus in retrospect, we would give much,
ay, very much, perhaps, to undo all the
evil, and every unkind thing. Is there
not, with each one Of us, something in
the past year that it would mean a
great deal to us to be able to blot from
our lives2 The New Year, then, is
before us, saying "Outlive-iorget."
Time moves on, The Old Year,
with its clouds and its sunshine, its
mistakes, its trials and its triumphs, is
a page in the book OF the past. Before
us opens the New Year, bright, full of
promise, and all untried; neither spoiled
by error nor glorifed by truth. And
we cannot see ahead, not by one hour.
We cannot tell whether they be thorns
or roses that strew the way that we
must tread, for Power that is infinitely
greater and wiser than we, will care for
all that in the way that is best; but this
much lies within ourselves: the keeping
OF our own hearts.
Then, when we make our New Years
resolutions, suppose that many of US
will be resolving to abandon certain
habits and form certain others-to leave
this thing, which we should not do, I'M
done, and to do that thing, which we
should do; but would that some power
might give US grace to know that that
is not enough; that we cannot fulfill a
satisfying year by letter of law; that I'M
til our hearts are in sympathy with and
filled with love for every fellow traveller
in this way Of life, and we begin to
shape our lives for the sake OF those
about US, we cannot know real happi-
meas, and have not begun to live.
Which brings to mind the words OF the
apostle:
If speak with the tongues Of men
and OF angels
But have not Love,
I am become sounding brass, or a
changing cymbal.
And il I have the gift Of Prophecy,
And know all mysteries and all Know
ledge;
And if l have all Faith, so as to remove
Mountains,
But have not Love
I am nothing.
And il ! bestow all my Goods to feed
the poor,