WATCHMAN
102
——— ENOUGH —®
Lorp, give me help to-day!
So at the dawn I pray,
Not knowing what may be ’'twixt morn and
night;
Ng)
Se D> CEng ; And even hour by hour
¥ § Zag a wi is ) Happiness The needed gift of power
CVE i LRAT. ( ‘ 4 . :
tid fii lg ity Comes at my prayer; the dark is changed to
4X i" 3 La a &r” f
THEIR GOLDEN WEDDING
MR. anp Mrs. NEesprr had lived to-
gether forty-four years when they began
to make definite plans for the golden
wedding. They were old people, to be
sure, but hale and courageous, and the
six years would go fast enough. They
would gather the scattered children and
grandchildren, and round out their happy
life together with a celebration appro-
priate and memorable. But if they did
not live to see that celebration, then at
all events the Lord had been good to
them, and they would not complain.
Then the unexpected happened. Dear
old Mrs. Nesbit sat down one day and
could not rise. Paralysis had seized her
suddenly and irrevocably. The doctor
said she would not live a week. All
preparations were made for her funeral.
But she lived a week, and another and
another. Then the family faced the
new situation. She was likely to live
indefinitely, a living death.
Most thankful would she herself have
been could her earthly life have ended:
and for such a consummation she prayed
earnestly. She had taken keen joy in
life, and had no fear of death; but to
be helpless and hopeless was the one in-
tolerable calamity.
But the religious faith and domestic
love of this family gathered strength for
the burden, and shouldered it uncom-
plainingly. And that is why the story
is worth telling.
The old lady had little use of her body.
She could half-turn herself in bed, or in
the couch-chair which they procured for
her. She could not use her hands or
feet, and lost almost totally her power
of speech. But her face retained its
sweetness of expression, and she could
speak a half-dozen words and knew their
meaning.
She had always loved pictures, and al-
though she could not read connectedly,
she could read short titles printed or writ-
ten under pictures, and found joy in
them.
Her one word for any want was
“Come.” When she spoke this word a
genuine guessing-game ensued.
“Is it something to eat?” “Is it in
this room?” “Is it a picture?” “Is
it your shawl?” “Do you wish to be
moved to the window?” Thus they
learned her wishes, and very rarely failed
to discover her wants. The few times
when all their ingenuity could not learn
her desires are among the shadows of her
illness.
And so six years went by. Only the
recording angel knows the burdens of
those years, burdens borne uncomplain-
ingly, gladly, and full of unanticipated
joys. The family life has centered
round that couch-chair. The bright
things have been saved and poured out
there. Sadnesses have been suppressed,
that all possible joy might make its halo
there. And the home that had known
forty-four years of almost unclouded joy
has added six more years of chastened
happiness.
The family had given up all plans for
the golden wedding. They had agreed
to say nothing to her of the date, and
let it slip by unrecognized. But one
morning she said, “ Come.” And after
guessing almost every object in the sky
above and on the earth beneath, they
found it was the calendar she wanted.
When the calendar was brought, they
learned that she desired to know how
long it would be until the date of the
golden wedding.
“About a month,” they told her.
“ But, mother, you do not think it best
that we should have a celebration?”
Indeed she did, and with gentle per-
sistence held to her desire.
“ Just a quiet little celebration, then?”
No, that was not what she desired.
And she had her way. The children and
grandchildren were gathered from afar.
There were flowers and music and merri-
light.
O Lord, I am afraid!
So calls my soul, dismayed
When the fierce sea, storm-lashed, is raging
round;
But presently the calm
Of some sweet evening psalm
Fills my whole being with its soothing sound
O Lord, it is enough;
Be my life smooth or rough,
Thou art beside me, thou wilt succor me.
Grant thou me help each day;
Thou art my strength and stay;
Living or dying, I am safe with thee.
—Marianne Farningham.
ment. The table groaned with good
things. And at one end of the table
stood the couch-chair, with an old lady
radiant with delight and gratitude.
Then when the children all were quiet,
her husband stood beside her, and with
happy tears that choked his utterance,
thanked God for the fifty golden years,
and not least for the unexpected bless-
ings that during the last six years had
crowned the life of the home.
Still she waits in her couch-chair, and
with sweet content.—7 he Youth's Com-
panion,
SSS
REFRESHING SLEEP
SLEEP, refreshing sleep, has a wonder-
ful influence. It is the time which the
vital force uses to repair the system, to
assist digestion, and to prepare the whole
being for the labors of a fresh day. Even
“ forty winks” in many cases is a great
benefit, and in many cases of fever and
nervous troubles patients should seldom
be aroused, unless it is absolutely neces-
sary, to administer medicine. Opiates,
when given, frequently but mock the pa-
tient with a seeming relief, only to re-
sult in some aggravation of the trouble;
they more or less paralvze the digestive
organs, prevent vital repair, goad the
brain into feverish dreams, and leave the
nerves irritated and finally depressed
rather than rested.—Ledger.