AN OLD MAN'S PRAYER

Seventh-Day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Thursday, May 6, 1880

FromThe Advent Review and Sabbath Herald, Vol. 55, No. 19

AN OLD MAN'S PRAYER.

[This simple story will be recognized by many throughout New England to whom the author has had the pleasure of reciting it. Frequent requests that it be put in shape for preservation have emboldened him to issue it in its present dress. Painfully conscious of its defects as a literary work, he sends it forth in search of old acquaintances, trusting it may receive a share of that kindly favor bestowed upon it as it fell from his lips.]

In the loftiest room, of princely state, Of a modern palace, grand and great,— Whose marble front is a symbol true Of the inner splendors hid from view,— On an autumn night, when wild without The bold winds held their revel rout, Rudely assailing the passing throng, Through the church-yards creeping with mournful song, A group was gathered around a board Heaped with all that wealth could afford Or taste suggest; rich dishes and rare, Fruits of all climes and all seasons, were there. The pendant lights in brilliance danced On the gleaming plate, their rays enhanced; The massive mirrors thrice displayed The stately banquet there arrayed. Furniture carved by an artist hand, Carpets which wealth could alone command, Curtains of damask, of lace, and of gold, Spoke of the splendors wealth could unfold, And filled with a joy and a pleasure rare The youthful hearts that were gathered there. Slender each form, and fair each face, Of the twelve gay lads who that table grace, As with genial talk and pleasant jest They banter each other and cheer their guest; For one guest is there, as youthful as they, With a heart as light and a voice as gay, Who laughs at their jests with ready glee, And whose quick replies speak a spirit free,— An honored guest, for on the morrow They must part with him in pain and sorrow. The glittering emblems his shoulders bear Bid him for strife and war prepare; Bid him go forth at his country's call, With her banner to triumph or for it to fall.

A moment's pause, as with ready hand The waiter hurries, at their command To clear the table, and, instead Of the rich, choice viands thickly spread, Range dark bottles and cruets, which show Marks of long years in damp vaults below. The richest juices age can display Are quickly spread in tempting array; Wines of Bordeaux and Seville are there, With liquors and cordials sparkling and rare; And bottles are opened, and glasses are filled, When all in a moment the tumult is stilled, As he who presides with dignified grace High raises his goblet, and stands in his place: “I give you, friends, no warrior's name Your hearts to thrill, your blood to flame; No toast to beauty shall my lips repeat, When to-night in friendship's bond we meet To part with one who, in our boyhood days, Earnest and true, won our love and praise; Who on the morrow plays the hero's part, And goes to the war, with loyal heart. His health I give, with an earnest prayer That while on his mission of peril and care, Success may be his, and by deeds renowned, He may meet us again with laurels crowned.”

All glasses are raised, when a gentle hand Is heard at the door; all silent stand As it slowly opens, and into the light An old man steps, his features bright. The long, white hairs o'er his shoulders stream, Like silver threads in the warm ray's beam. Wrinkled his brow and pale his face, Wasted his form and slow his pace, Shrunken his cheek; but the eye above Tells of gentleness, kindness, and love. And silent stand all as he slowly seeks A place near the table, and gently speaks: “Young men, but a moment I check your mirth, And bring you back to the common earth. Unbidden I come, with an old man's prayer; May it seek your hearts and gain entrance there! Look on my face, seamed, not with crime, But with marks of age before their time; These long white hairs should not have shown Till ten more years had by me flown. Age is upon me; not age by years, But age by sorrow, and care, and tears; Not age that cheers as it draweth near Yon Heaven, which seemeth more bright and clear, But age which causeth the heart to lag In its onward course, and the spirit to flag, That prays for death as but a release From earthly care, and finds no peace In that sweet belief that at last I hail,— ‘There is rest for the weary beyond the vale.’ For to me has come a spirit of light, Bringing the morning, and chasing the night, Causing my heart with joy to swell To my Maker, ‘who doeth all things well.’ You shall hear my story; 'twill not be long, And may guard you all from sin and wrong. I had wealth and plenty in goodly lands, In houses and cattle, and from my hands Many were fed; and many were they Who partook of my charity day by day. My house was open to stranger and friend, And my gold did I lavishly, freely spend. But one bitter curse did my wealth uprear To poison my life,—the Tempter here, The sparkling Demon which now I see From all your glasses glaring on me,— A monster that steals on its prey so slow That it has your life before you know Or dream of its power; this was the curse That sat at my fireside, robbed my purse, Poisoned my life, and left me to be A drifting log on the world's wide sea, Ruined and bankrupt, lost and bereft— No kindred, no fortune, no treasure left. Treasure?—Yes; for I had three sons, The hope of my life—three noble ones. You shall hear their fate, and then I'll away, Nor longer your hour of pleasure delay.”

“One sought as a merchant, hopeful, to clear Our tarnished name, to again uprear Our shattered house; but, sad to say, The curse of the wine-cup was in his way. He seized on it madly, drank deep and fast, And sunk to the drunkard's grave at last. I stood by his side, as with frenzy wild He cursed himself, and his wife and child; He cursed me, too, as the one who had led His feet in the path that drunkards tread; And then—it was worse than all beside— He cursed his Maker; and then—he died!”

“Another, with spirit that loved to brave, Sought a bold, free life on the ocean wave. He left my side, full of life and health, In a good, staunch ship, in search of wealth. A twelve-month passed, and day by day I scanned for his sail the distant bay; At last I saw it, and eagerly flew To welcome my boy, so manly and true. But alas! he was gone—no son to greet My waiting heart, came with eager feet; But they told me then, one stormy night, When the heavens were filled with angry light, The waves rolled high, and the winds beat wild, That out on a frail yard went my child; He had drunk deep, and 'twas fearful to sweep On that slender spar o'er the seething deep; That one heavy sea tossed the ship like a toy, And hurled from his hold my darling boy.”

“I had but one left, and him I taught To shun each sinful word and thought; To beware of the wine-cup's demon lure, That would steal his heart, and his soul obscure. He took the way of life that leads To the sacred desk, where the preacher pleads, And placed his foot on the pulpit stair, The gospel banner of life to bear. When the cannon's boom o'er Sumter broke, And the air was filled with the battle smoke, My boy stepped down from the preacher's stand, And started forth, with life in hand, To sell it dear, but to battle strong With the loyal North against fearful wrong. I know that he carries a magic spell 'Gainst the curse of our race to guard him well; And I know, should he fall, his death will be In the foremost ranks of the loyal free.

“And now, young men, an old man's prayer: Leave the bright wine in your glasses there; Shun its allurements, for in its deep red Is the blood of its victims—dying and dead. Fill up your glasses, and pledge your friend In the crystal stream that Heaven doth send.”

With a lowly bow and the same meek air, He has passed the door and adown the stair; While those he has left to their leader turn, With downcast eyes and cheeks that burn. Silent he stands, as his glass he takes, When the guest of the evening the silence breaks: “Friends of my boyhood, the old man's prayer Shall meet a response in the heart I bear. I come to-night from a mother's side; She watches my life with a parent's pride; And I know 'tis the dearest wish of her heart In camp and in battle to keep me apart From sin and temptation. Unceasing she'll pray Heaven's blessing to guard on my perilous way; And this pledge will I leave her: Never again My lips with the wine-cup's poison to stain. So, friends, let's drink to our meeting again,— My drink is the water, free from all stain.” He stood with his upraised glass, and the light Full on his fair young brow beamed bright,— That brow which an anxious mother would kiss With a pure, deep feeling of heart-felt bliss; And along the line of his comrades young, To honor his toast each hand upspring. In not one glass did the red wine gleam, But all were filled from the crystal stream.

On the dawning morrow, adown the street, With trumpet's blast and war-drum's beat, Firm and erect, with martial tread, The flag of their country overhead, With brave, stout hearts and patriot song, The nation's heroes go marching along; And our soldier is with them, going forth To join the bands of the loyal North; To strike a blow for his country dear, And her trailing flag to again uprear. Light is his heart, his faith is strong; Bright gleams his sword as he moves along; But the armor he wears that shall serve him best Is the shield of Temperance over his breast.