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Article THE FATHER: A SKETCH FHOM LIFE. Page 1 of 2 →
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
The Father: A Sketch Fhom Life.
THE FATHER : A SKETCH FHOM LIFE .
I SAW him where he sat alone . His eyes Were dim with weeping , and his sallow brow Was clouded o ' er with grief . His hands were crossed Upon his trembling knees—and there he sat , As if forgetfulness of all the world Had fixed him to the spot . He look'd to Heaven
In silence , but that silent look bespoke , Far more than ever language could describe , The weight of sorrow that oppressed his soul . It was a speechless prayer , but eloquent , To Him who rules the destinies of man , And mercifully heals the broken heart .
Then did he deeply sigh , and tears again Burst from their fountain , like a trickling stream , Cooling the fever of the anguished mind . I saw him where he sat alone—his arm Upon the table resting , while his hand Sustained his throbbing temples . I approached ,
And soothingly addressed him - . —Why art thou Afflicted thus ? What cause hast thou to mourn ? He bade me listen to his tale of woe : —
I am a father . In my youthful days I wedded happily with her I loved , And blessedness and pure connubial joy , In mutual union , shone upon our path , Rich with the promise that our Life would be One lovely scene of sweet domestic peace .
Three sons we hud , whose infant smiles inspired Our parent feelings with supreme delight . We cherished them with love , and trained them up As future treasures of parental hope , When years should bring us to the close of Life , And they console us iri the hour of death .
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
The Father: A Sketch Fhom Life.
THE FATHER : A SKETCH FHOM LIFE .
I SAW him where he sat alone . His eyes Were dim with weeping , and his sallow brow Was clouded o ' er with grief . His hands were crossed Upon his trembling knees—and there he sat , As if forgetfulness of all the world Had fixed him to the spot . He look'd to Heaven
In silence , but that silent look bespoke , Far more than ever language could describe , The weight of sorrow that oppressed his soul . It was a speechless prayer , but eloquent , To Him who rules the destinies of man , And mercifully heals the broken heart .
Then did he deeply sigh , and tears again Burst from their fountain , like a trickling stream , Cooling the fever of the anguished mind . I saw him where he sat alone—his arm Upon the table resting , while his hand Sustained his throbbing temples . I approached ,
And soothingly addressed him - . —Why art thou Afflicted thus ? What cause hast thou to mourn ? He bade me listen to his tale of woe : —
I am a father . In my youthful days I wedded happily with her I loved , And blessedness and pure connubial joy , In mutual union , shone upon our path , Rich with the promise that our Life would be One lovely scene of sweet domestic peace .
Three sons we hud , whose infant smiles inspired Our parent feelings with supreme delight . We cherished them with love , and trained them up As future treasures of parental hope , When years should bring us to the close of Life , And they console us iri the hour of death .