Chapter 36.
From the Cradle to the Grave.
A little boy at his mother's knee,
Laughing and babbling in childish glee;
A willow horse in his chubby hand;
Acting the role of a grown-up man.
Shaking his head in an angry mood,
As if deep wrongs he had endured.
Tossing a lock from his baby brow—
Catching a flash of repentance now,
Then cuddling close to his mother's side,
As if to heal his wounded pride—
And many a wound, by a mother's kiss
Is changed from pain to a cup of bliss.A strapping youth at the "garden gate,"
Anxious to meet his expected mate;
With a wish in his heart the future to see,
To catch one glimpse of his destiny.
Willing to give his share of the world
For a warranty deed of his cherished girl;
Nervous to right an imagined wrong,
Nursing his wrath for a battle strong;
Heedless of counsel, for in his own eyes
His case is just and his judgment wise.
"'Tis manly to stand in defense of truth,"
And "I know I am right" is the voice of youth.Next comes the man, majestic and grand.
And what is grander than a noble man?
In every move there is power and grace,
Revealing the origin of his race;
The depth of thought, the fire of his brain,
Leaping from earth to realms whence he came;
Chaining the lightning with a skilful hand,
Making it serve the bidding of man;
Building a kite to fly to the skies,
Onward, and upward, without knowing why.From the baby's cradle to the father's grave,
As restless and forceful as the ocean's wave;
The child, the youth, the man in his power
Show that conditions are made for the hour;
That cause and effect are as true to their rule
As any, those laws, we learn in our school.
To mortals, old age is the crowning link,
The last breathing spell, as we stand on the brink
Of a wonderful change, called the river of time,
Or passage of death, a terror and dread
To most of the living, but what of the dead?
The millions of loved ones who've passed through the door,
And are hid from our view, on that mystical shore?
Can just spirits answer? speak up if you can,
And tell us the future of him we call man.
Is life there a burden, or is it a joy?
An existence of pleasure, without pain or alloy?
Hark, a voice comes from Joseph, the prophet and seer;
'"Listen, ye mortals, the glad tidings hear;
Death is the portal that gives to our sight
An endless progression, in the mansions of light;
And with the faithful meet the Father and Son,
And dwell with the righteous, exalted ones.
'Tis the "lost tree of knowledge" that opens our eyes,
And brings us to Eden, a redeemed Paradise.
LINES TO SISTER M. L.
There was a sound of revelry by night,
And Grayson's school-house was all aglow;
Windows were brilliant with borrowed lights,
And youthful feet were tripping to and fro.
"Soft eyes looked love to eyes that spake again,"
And words of cheer sent back a warm refrain;
For every heart was full of joy and pride,
Like the wedded lover, welcoming the blushing bride.
And speech, and song, with hearty zest,
Each one to entertain doing his best.
And wherefore this? In this broad land there is no foe,
No cloud of war, no shadows of impending woe.
The sky serene; an atmosphere of peace,
Inviting old and young as to a feast.
And 'twas a feast, a feast of soul
A prize more precious than a mine of gold;
A sacrifice, free given, on the altar of pure love,
A call to mission labor, from the courts above.O brothers in a common cause, did you ever feel
Coming to your being a joy you can't reveal?
A baptism, or a birth, an unction from on high?
An evolution of happiness, that moistens every eye?
Like the joy that came to Abraham, when he offered up his son,
When his guardian angel shouted, "Hold! Harm not the precious one!"
The metal has been proven in the crucible of pain;
The dross has been rejected, the gold alone remains.
So tonight, we say to Mary, a daughter native born—
We have known her from the cradle, in sunshine and in storm;
One of the chosen spirits our Father sent to earth
To labor in the mission field, a trust of sacred worth.
And every soul within our town will hasten to the hall
To witness his approval of this angelic call;
Go forth, thou blessed sister, into the mission field;
To meet the mists of darkness, keep virtue as thy shield;
Strong in thine own inheritance, a pure and spotless life,
And you shall be victorious in every gospel strife.