Sidebilder
PDF
ePub

Wherever humanity toils for a scanty subsistence; wherever the iron heel of oppression falls upon the people; wherever the last hope of liberty is dead

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

"the voices of the past and the future seem to blend in one sound of warning and entreaty, addressing itself not only to the general but to the individual ear, calling upon us, each and all, to be faithful to the trust which God has committed to our hands."

Let the American citizen feel the responsibilities of his position, with a determination that the hopes of the world shall not be disappointed. Nor let him mistake the nature of his duties. Many men acknowledge our evils and our dangers, but seek in vain for the remedy. They are ready for any sacrifice, but earnestly inquire when and where it is to be made. We eagerly seize upon any excuse for the nonperformance of duty. "Give me where to stand," cried the ancient philosopher, " and I will move the world." "Find where to stand!" shouts the modern reformer. "Stand where you are," is the voice of reason and religion. It is not upon some great and distant enterprise that our duty will call us. It is not in the tented field that our services will be needed. The battle-ground is in our own hearts; the enemy in our own bosoms. And when the passions of men are subdued; when selfishness is purged from humanity; when anger is entirely restrained; when jealousy, hatred, and revenge, are unknown, then, and then only, is the victory won.

Let no man merge his identity in the masses, nor forget his individual responsibility to his country and his God. Is his position lowly and obscure? Let him remember that every

one exerts an influence, for good or for evil, and no one is so humble as not to need the protection of a good government. Is he called to places of responsibility and trust? Let him bear his honors meckly, but firmly, yielding nothing to the blandishments of power or the acclamations of the multitude. He may be hurled from his station by those who placed him in it, and the voices of praise, which were once sweet music to his ears, may be changed to execrations. Let him lay down his power in dignity and silence; as he has filled a high place without pride, he may fill a low one without humiliation. And if, in the performance of duty, sterner trials await him; if misrule and lawless faction should select him as a victim; let him calinly die, remembering that the best and the bravest earth's noblest children have drunk the cup of degradation to the dregs, and better men than he have been sacrificed by popular violence. In whatever position he may be placed, wherever his lot may be cast, let him maintain the integrity of his soul.

"This above all: To thine own self be true;
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man."

LESSON XCVII.

On the Death of President Harrison.

GEORGE PUTNAM.

He is gone and there is nothing left for a bereaved nation but to yield up the hopes that had centred in him, to bow down in submission beneath the chastening hand of Almighty God, to pay its due tribute of honor to the memory of departed worth and greatness, and lay the awful admonition wisely and humbly to heart.

The melancholy event we are contemplating presents a

striking lesson of the mutability of human affairs, and dull and insensible must that heart be that is not opened to the impression. A few short weeks ago, a private man, called forth by the loud acclaim, and uplifted as on the outspread hands, of a mighty people, was borne along in triumphal procession through the streets of the capital, to be invested with the highest dignities that are in the gift of mankind. He is the centre of a pageant, not perhaps the most dazzling in outward show, but more sublime, in the inner idea and meaning, than all the empires of the elder world can exhibit, the object of eager gaze to gathered thousands there, and of intense interest to scattered millions elsewhere. The pealing shout of multitudes rends the air, as he seals his high commission with the reverent oath; and he is borne, amid acclamations, to a palace home, and stands there, the chiefest, foremost man of a broad continent the equal of kings-high as the highest on earth. A few days pass by, and the mortal body of that same man is borne along the same track, in the sad and silent pomp of funeral woe, and laid away alone, in the dark tomb, to moulder back to kindred dust and ashes!

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

One month ago, and the executive mansion was alive with rejoicings, hospitalities, and congratulations; crowds thronging thither to gratify curiosity or signify their respect, to offer service and seek employment or honor at the fountain of a nation's patronage; officers of state, to give their counsel and receive commands; ambassadors, in robes of office, to tender the felicitations of their royal masters, and renew the pledges of amity and peace between sovereign powers: public and private men from the north and the south—the wise, the ambitious, the high, and the low, the gay, curious, and pleasure-seeking—are coming and going, crowding the lighted halls, in honor of him who presides there.

But what a change comes over the scene, as striking as it is awful and sad! The doors are closed up, the windows

are darkened, there is the silent tread of nurses and physicians, the hard breathing of a sick man, anxious consultations, the agonized solicitude of loving kindred, looks of apprehension all around, messengers going forth hour by hour, with tidings to startle and appal more and more a nation's ear; there is the low voice of prayer and Christian consolation over a dying bed and a mortal man in the last extremity and then the last effort of sinking nature, to utter a patriot's dying aspiration and then stillness, the awful stillness of death.

[ocr errors]

The chief pillar of the state is fallen down; a nation's head lies low in its last rest; and there is no sound there but the cries of women, and the sobbings of children for a fond and beloved father, and the low tones of the last mournful preparation. And yet it is a palace, and the seat of an empire, that is so changed. O, what a shadow and a mockery is all human greatness! How feeble the strength, how deceitful the hope of man! how empty and vain the grandeur and prerogatives of earthly power! How do they all fade away beneath the hand of Him "who bringeth the princes to nothing; who maketh the judges of the earth as vanity; who says they shall not be planted; yea, they shall not be sown; yea, their stock shall not take root in the earth; and he shall blow upon them, and they shall wither, and the whirlwind shall take them away as stubble"!

LESSON XCVIII.

The Hour of Death. MRS. HEMANS.

LEAVES have their time to fall,

And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath,

And stars to set; but all,

Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!

Day is for mortal care,

Eve for glad meetings round the joyous hearth,
Night for the dreams of sleep, the voice of prayer;
But all for thee, thou mightiest of the earth!

The banquet hath its hour,

Its feverish hour of mirth, and song, and wine;
There comes a day for grief's o'erwhelming power.
A time for softer tears; but all are thine!

Youth and the opening rose

May look like things too glorious for decay,
And smile at thee; but thou art not of those
That wait the ripened bloom to seize their prey !

Leaves have their time to fall,

And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath,
And stars to set; but all,

Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!

We know when moons shall wane,

When summer birds from far shall cross the sea, When autumn's hue shall tinge the golden grain; But who shall teach us when to look for thee?

Is it when spring's first gale

Comes forth to whisper where the violets lie?
Is it when roses in our paths grow pale?
They have one season; all are ours to die!

Thou art where billows foam;

Thou art where music melts upon the air

r;

Thou art around us in our peaceful home;

And the world calls us forth, and thou art there.

« ForrigeFortsett »