Year: 1873

The WIDOW'S ONLY SOM


In nearly all of our Sunday-schoo


publications of music will be found ,
piece entitled &C. A Light in the Window
for Thee" This beautiful hymn wa.
written from the history of "Tht
Widows Only Son." 1t was originally
printed, we believe, in one of the New
York payers, some twelve years ago
We think it will bear reading, con.
tanning, as it does, many beautiful
sentiments:


Mother, [ will be everything to you
that can be; promise you that. q"


The boy lifted his head. A look OF
high resolve made the young brow
manlike in expression. Not vet had
ten summers deepened the gold ON those
fair locks. The earnest blue eye looked
fondly III the face that bent over him.
There was a world of love in his soul
love that was not only lip-deep, but
was proved by acts of self-denial


They were poOr-that mother and
son-oh, how poor they werei' You
could almost see how poverty had
drifted over everything about them
drifted whitley over the pine chairs and
tables-drifted over the humble quilt
that had grown so faded-drifted over
their clothes and through them, till
patch after patch was placed on the sad
havoc that pitless, drifting want had
made


But In holy heart-love they were
richer than the Rothschilds; yes, out of
their bank in heaven-that bank direc-
tors here might sneer at-they drew
every day, every hour, uncounted


Mother, | will be everything to you
that L can be; promise you that. {"


The words are beautiful enough to be
repeated. Henry Locke smiled, be-
cause as he spoke there came tears to
his mothers eyes. He had that morn
ing been promised a place in little
country store, five miles from the cot.
or cabin, where they lived. 1t was but
a small pittance; but of late the mother
had grown so feeble that she could earn
nothing; could scarcely do the little
that order and neatness called for at
her hands.


One dollar a week! It was a very
little sum, but better, much better, than
nothing. Besides, Henry would have
his meals with his employer, and could,
if he choose, sleep there But he did
not choose. For a glad smile from
mother; for pressure of that feeble
hand; for the tender Christian words
that came from those pale lips, he was
bravely willing, after his hard days
work, to walk the five miles, dark and
tedious though the way was. Often he
came bringing some little delicacy that
he had earned, and which was sweet to
the invalid, because he brought it.


One night the sky was curtained with
clouds. The widow looked from her
little window facing the hilIy road
along which the hay-wagons went on
their way to the city, and said, as she
saw the twilight deepening earlier than
its wont, He will not come tonight. ;"


No, he would not surely come that
night. The wind blew fercely, and
sent the branches of the old applereet-
rattling against the clap-boards, and
threw the rain, as with a spite, over the
little windows, sheeting them, and
making dreary music. SO the widow,
quite confident that Henry would not
venture out in that storm, read her
Bible till her heart kindled with the
holy words, and putting out her little
light, went to her rest.


She knew not how long she had slept,
when a voice awakened her The sweet
voice, so dear to her, was CRYING,
Mother! Mother!'' At first she thought
it dream, but listening intently She
heard, blending with the wall of the
wind, that cry, and sound against the
latch greeted her. Instantly rising,
she groped for light, unfastened the
door, and behold there stood Henry, a
piteous sight indeed, covered with
mire, literally, from head to foot. His
face was wet, but the honest, happy
smile was no ways abated.


my boy, how could you come in
such a night" exclaimed the widow.


"Why, mother, storm couldn't keep
me from you" was his hearty response.
I've had the greatest time, though,
you ever did see-lost my way, got
into a creek, and il must be midnight;
but l meant to come, for s. gave me a
triae over tonight, and / knew how
much you needed it.


MY dear boy" sprang from the
mothers full heart, with tear or two
that trickled down her pale cheeks.


81 wonder 1 haven't thought before,
she said, musingly. AFTER this, I'll
put light in the window. To be sure.
it won't show far; but when you get to
the top of the hill it will be pleasant to
see it, and know that am watching for
you.


For three years the lamp was placed
in the little window every night People
often remarked it; and "as bright as
Mother Locke's little window" became
a favorite saying.


At the end of that time young Henry
was offered good chance on board of
whaling vessel, and he resolved to ac-
cept it. 1t cost him none knew what
struggle to part from the being beloved
with an almost worshipful affection.
But he knew that the time had come
when he must go forth into the world
to do battle for himself and for her;
and sailors life was his coveted call
ing


&C 1t seems to me, Henry" said the
mother, when, with trembling lips, she
parted from him, as if must still
put the light in the little window,
shall think sometimes l hear the sound
of your footsteps, the click of the latch,
and your pleasant voice. Oh, Henry,
Henry, if l could but light you over
the stormy watersl'


Mother, God will do that" said
Henry, pointing to the glowing heaven.
" God will light me through storm and
through calm; but, mother, I shall
think every night that the lamp is in the