of their own purses. Necessity of evil is an excellent philosophy, applied to everybody but ourselves. These easy souls will see nothing in our "Old Man at the Gate" but a pauper let out of the workhouse for the chance of a few half-pence. Surely he is something more! He is old; very old. Every day, every hour, earth has less claim in him. He is so old, so feeble, that even as you look he seems sinking. At sunset he is scarcely the man who opened the gate to you in the morning. Yet there is no disease in him-none. He is 10 dying of old age. He is working out that most awful problem of life-slowly, solemnly. He is now the badged pauper, and now in the unknown country with Solomon! Can man look upon a more touching solemnity? 15 There stands the old man, passive as a stone, nearer, every moment, to church-yard clay! It was only yesterday that he took his station at the gate. His predecessor held the post for two years-he too daily, daily dying "Till, like a clock worn out with cating time, The weary wheels of life at length stood still." 20 How long will the present watcher survive? In that very uncertainty-in the very hoariness of age which brings home to us that uncertainty-there is something 25 that makes the old man sacred; for, in the course of nature, is not the oldest man the nearest to the angels? Yet, away from these thoughts, there is reverence due to that old man. What has been his life?-a war with suffering. What a beautiful world is this! How rich and 30 glorious! How abundant in blessings, great and little, to thousands! What a lovely place hath God made it; and how have God's creatures darkened and outraged it to the wrong of one another! Well, what had 5 this man of the world? What stake, as the effrontery of selfishness has it? The wild fox was better cared for. Though preserved some day to be killed, it was preserved until then. What did this old man inherit? Toil, incessant toil, with no holiday of the heart: he came into the world a badged animal of labor—the property of animals. What was the earth to him?-a place to die in. "The poor shall never cease out of the land." Shall we, then, accommodating our sympathies to this hard 10 necessity, look serenely down upon the wretched? Shall we preach only comfort to ourselves from the doomed condition of others? It is an easy philosophy; so easy there is but little wonder it is so well exercised. But the "Old Man at the Gate" has, for seventy 15 years, worked and worked; and what his closing reward?-the workhouse! Shall we not, some of us, blush crimson at our own world-successes, pondering the destitution of our worthy, single-hearted fellows? Should not affluence touch its hat to the "Old Man at 20 the Gate" with a reverence for the years upon him; he, the born soldier of poverty, doomed for life to lead life's forlorn hope! Thus considered, surely Dives may unbonnet to Lazarus." To our mind, the venerableness of age made the “Old 25 Man at the Gate" something like a spiritual presence. He was so old, who could say how few the pulsations of his heart between him and the grave? But there he was with a meek happiness upon him; gentle, cheerful. He was not built up in bricks and mortar, but was still 30 in the open air, with the sweetest influences about him: the sky, the trees, the greensward, and flowers with the breath of God in them! 5 WHEN chill November's surly blast I spied a man whose aged step His face was furrowed o'er with years, "Young stranger, whither wanderest thou?" Began the reverend sage: "Does thirst of wealth thy step constrain, Or, haply, prest with cares and woes, 10 To wander forth, with me, to mourn 15 "The sun that overhangs yon moors, "Oh, man! while in thy early years, Which tenfold force gives Nature's law, "Look not alone on youthful prime, On manhood's active might; Man then is useful to his kind, Supported is his right: But see him on the edge of life, With cares and sorrows worn; Then Age and Want-O ill-matched pair!Show man was made to mourn. "A few seem favorites of Fate, In Pleasure's lap carest; Yet think not all the rich and great Are likewise truly blest. But, oh! what crowds in every land, Through weary life this lesson learn That man was made to mourn. "Many and sharp the numerous ills More pointed still we make ourselves And man, whose heaven-erected face Man's inhumanity to man Makes countless thousands mourn. 16 20 25 30 5 "See yonder poor o'erlabored wight, Who begs a brother of the earth And see his lordly fellow-worm "If I'm designed yon lordling's slaveBy Nature's law designed Why was an independent wish E'er planted in my mind? If not, why am I subject to His cruelty or scorn? Or why has man the will and power "Yet let not this too much, my son, This partial view of human-kind 20 The poor, oppressèd, honest man Had never, sure, been born, Had there not been some recompense "O Death! the poor man's dearest friend The kindest and the best! Welcome the hour my agèd limbs Are laid with thee at rest! The great, the wealthy, fear thy blow, But, oh! a blest relief to those That weary-laden mourn!" 26 30 10 15 |