Imagens das páginas
PDF
ePub

ROCK OF AGES-THE SONG

Some years ago the following exquisite verses appeared in Public Opinion, London. They surely have in them power to gently touch every heart and to soothe the weary. It is but one of the many beautiful forms of the story of a life lived according to faith in God.

"Rock of Ages, cleft for me—”
Thoughtlessly the maiden sung;
Fell the words unconsciously
From the girlish, guileless tongue;
Sung as little children sing,

Sung as sing the birds in June;
Fell the words as light leaves down
On the current of the tune-
'Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee."

"Rock of Ages, cleft for me"

Felt her soul no need to hide,
Sweet the song as song could be,
And she had no thought beside;
All the words unheedingly

Fell from lips untouched by care,
Dreamed not then that each might be
On some other lips a prayer-

"Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee."

"Rock of Ages, cleft for me-"

'Twas a woman sung them now;
Sung them slow and wearily-
Wan hand on her aching brow.
Rode the song as storm-tossed bird
Beats with weary wing the air;

Every note with sorrow stirred,
Every syllable a prayer—
'Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee."

"Rock of Ages, cleft for me-"

Lips grown aged sung the hymn Trustingly and tenderly;

Voice grown weak and eyes grown dim"Let me hide myself in Thee."

Trembling though the voice and low,

Ran the sweet strain peacefully,

Like a river in its flow;

Sung as only they can sing

Who life's thorny paths have pressed;

Sung as only they can sing

Who behold the promised rest—

"Rock of Ages, cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in Thee."

"Rock of Ages, cleft for me--
Sung above a coffin lid;
Underneath all restfully,

All life's joys and sorrows hid.
Never more a storm-tossed soul,
Never more from wind and tide,
Never more from billows roll
Wilt thou ever need to hide.
Could the sightless, sunken eyes,

Closed beneath the soft white hair:
Could the mute and stiffened lips

Move again in pleading prayer, Still, aye still, the words would be"Let me hide myself in Thee."

THE WHITE HOUSE KITCHEN IN 1862

Both the steward and the cook had remonstrated with "Master Tad" upon bringing into the kitchen of the White House "such squads of poor, dirty, hungry street urchins to be fed," and at last Peter said that Mrs. Lincoln must be told.

Tad flew into a rage, ran upstairs to see his mother himself, and on finding her out, searched the place for his busy father.

Meanwhile, the small objects of his charity waited at the lower door-for Peter had absolutely refused to let them "step inside."

The indignant boy spied his father just crossing the yard with head bowed, eyes to the ground, talking earnestly to Mr. Seward as they walked to the Department of State together. He cried out to him at once:-"Father, father! Can't I bring those poor, cold, hungry boys home with me whenever I want to? Isn't it our kitchen?"

By this time Tad had his father by the hand, who stopped to listen to the frantic appeal.

"Can't I give them a good warm dinner today, say? They're just as hungry as bears, and two of 'em are boys of a soldier, too!-and, father, I'm going to discharge Peter this minute if he don't get out the meat and chickens and pies and all the things we had left yesterday. Say, mayn't I? Isn't it our kitchen, father?"

Secretary Seward was shaking with laughter. Mr. Lincoln turned to him with a twinkle. "Seward, advise with me. This case requires diplomacy."

Mr. Seward patted Tad on the back and said he must be careful not to run the government into debt, and the President took Tad's little brown hands in his own big one, and with a droll smile bid him to "run along home and

feed the boys," and added: "Tell Peter that you are really required to obey the Bible by getting in the maimed and the blind, and that he must be a better Christian than he is!"

In less than an hour, Mr. Seward said they passed through the yard on their way to the Cabinet meeting, and no less than ten small boys were sitting with Tad on the lower steps. cracking nuts and having a "state dinner."

Mr. Lincoln remarked that the "kitchen was ours."
From Wide Awake.

THE MINISTER'S BLUNDER

Now, you know, there are anecdotes and anecdotes, short metre and long metre. I shall give you a long metre one, with a snapper at the end. It is about a Scotch-Irish minister who thought he was called to preach the Gospel, while he knew that he had the gift of oratory, and he never missed an opportunity to display it. An opportunity was afforded on the occasion of a christening. There was a considerable audience, made up of relatives, friends and neighbors of the parents. The preacher began by saying:

"We have met together, my friends, on a very interesting occasion-the christening of this little child-but I see already a look of disappointment on your faces. Is it because this infant is so small? We must bear in mind that this globe upon which we live is made up of small things, infinitesimal objects, we might say. Little drops of water make the mighty ocean; the mountains which rear their hoary heads toward Heaven and are often lost in the clouds are made up of little grains of sand. Besides, my friends, we must take into consideration the possibilities in the life of this little speck of humanity. He may become a great preacher, multitudes may be swayed by his eloquence and

brought to see and believe in the truths of the Gospel. He may become a distinguished physician, and his fame as a healer of men may reach the uttermost ends of the earth, and his name go down to posterity as one of the great benefactors of his kind. He may become a great astronomer, and may read the heavens as an open book. He may discover new stars which may be coupled with those of Newton and many other great discoverers. He may become a distinguished statesman and orator, and by the strength of his intellect and eloquence he may control the destinies of nations, and his name be engraved upon monuments erected to perpetuate his memory by his admiring and grateful countrymen. He may become an author and a poet, and his name may yet appear among those now entombed at Westminster. He may become a great warrior and lead armies to battle and victory; his prowess and valor may change the map of Europe. Methinks I hear the plaudits of the people at the mention of his deeds and name. He may become-er-er-he might-er- turning to the mother, "What is his name?"

The mother, very much bewildered: "What is the baby's name?"

"Yes, what is his name?"

The mother: "Its name is Mary Ann."

Mark Twain, in Ladies' Home Journal.

IN A FRIENDLY SORT O' WAY

When a man ain't got a cent, and he's feeling kind o blue, An' the clouds hang dark an' heavy, an' won't let the sun

shine through,

It's a great thing, O my brethren, for a feller just to lay
His hand upon your shoulder in a friendly sort o' way!

« AnteriorContinuar »