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The Home Circle for Our Young People
Conducted by MRS. G. B. LINDSEY ................
GEORGIA-ALABAMA BUSINESS
COLLEGE,
\ 453 Cherry Street,
MRw Macon, Ga. Write
for illustrated cata
log, free. Best em
ployment proposi
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Special rates for a
Eugene Anderson, , . ..
President. short time.
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By Emanuel Swedenborg,
“Heaven and Hell,” 624 pages;
“Divine Providence,” 605 pages;
“Four Leading Doctrines,” 593 pages;
‘‘Divine Love and Wisdom,” 598 pages.
Sent to any address on receipt c f
postage, 6 cents per book or 1-i
cents for the set.
The American Swedenborg
Printing and Publishing Society
3 W. 29th St, New York City.
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OS S5-IVIU ELLER
"epi. R-9 Cedar Rapids,
Shirley |
I I President I
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Kiss the dear old mother, her cheek
is wan and wasted,
Feeble are the footsteps that once
were gay;
Many a bitter cup of sorrow she has
tasted,
Borne unnumbered trials since her
wedding day.
Think of all the hours that she is
sad and lonely,
All her vanished pleasures living
o'er again;
Cheerful and contented will she be if
you will only
Kiss the dear old mother now and
then.
A Year of Loving Thought.
“What is there down so deep
But mother’s love will find it?
Cover it over and hide it well,
Neither with lips, nor by glances tell;
Have you a trouble? Wherever it dwell
Mother’s love finds it out.
What is there up so high,
But mother’s love can share it?
All that is noble, ani good and true,
That which enrich is and blesses you,
What you accomplish and purpose to
do,
Mother’s love shares it all.
Is anything too hard
For mother to do for you?
No. obstacles vanish, and cares grow
light,
Dangers diminish, and clouds become
bright,
tlurdens grow small, and roll out of
sight
For mother when doing for you.”
When we said we would make this
a “Mother’s Issue,” in honor of the
beautiful thought of Mother’s Day, I
had in my sub-conscious mind the pur
pose to pour out in a tribute to my
own dear mother’s memory all the
pent up longings and heart aches of
a year and a half’s loneliness and
yearning for her lost kiss and for
the love that always greeted me when
tired and worn from the day’s grind
in the office I went home at night.
But each day as I have tried to
write, the words have hidden away
from me, and out of the depths of the
ache and the missing her everywhere
The Golden Age for May Bth, 1913
KISS THE DEAR OLD MOTHER.
—Arthur B. Laughlin.
CHAT
When by Fame or Fortune you are
proudly knighted,
Let the dear old mother enter in
your joy;
See the aged pilgrim trembling and de
lighted,
At the world’s opinion of her boy!
Think of all you owe her; seek to give
her pleasure,
Spite of cruel sneers from cold and
careless men;
While within your keeping you hold
this precious treasure,
Kiss the dear old mother now and
then.
has come the plea for words that could
express it all. More and more has
been borne dow n upon me the real
ization of the truth that these verses
above express.
As a mother’s love never forgets—
and its depths must be felt to be
known, so must be felt the emptiness,
the longing for one sight of her dear
face, the yearning for her arms about
you and the missing of a faith that
never wavered no matter who else
might misjudge you, before we can
know what it all means to the heart.
The every day effort to meet life as
we know she would have had us meet
it, and yet have to meet it without
her love, her encouraging words, with
out her unfaltering faith, and, great
est loss of all, without her prayers,
can certainly only be understood
by those who have walked in the
valley of the shadow of so great a
loss. And then, as I realized my in
ability to express the agony my heart
felt, the picture of her unselfishness
came to me and I seemed almost to
hear her say: “Let your message be
to others, let it help the living burden
ed souls; I am happy, I would have
you help those that are not.” And
down in the depths of my heart came
the echo—/‘How like her!” So much
did the thought seem a part of her,
that I found myself drifting off after
the intangible, trying to grasp the
unseen, wondering if in reality her
spirit was near me —so near it seems
sometimes and yet, the reached out
arms fall back empty and waking to
the real and the message to the liv
ing, I come to beg each mother to
get close to the real heart of her
own girl, and the boy, as well.
I have long declared that the ma
jority of thoughtless boys and girls
could be made to see the folly of the
things they do that cause them to
be so bitterly criticised, and which so
often wreck their lives ,if only fath
ers would be real men and mothers
would be real women and get close
to the inner life of their children
by remembering that they were once
young. If fathers would frankly let
their mistakes be experiences of pro
tection for their boys pointing out the
follies and the sins which each parent
knows, God does not wink at by call
ing them, “just the necessary sew
ing of wild oats,” we would in an
other generation have no such stag
gering crimes as the recent Phagan
murder. And if mothers would lay
aside some of their false modesty and
begin from the age of nine to eleven
- warn their pure innocent girls of
the pitfalls nearest them, then keep
their warning always ahead of the
dangers, we would in a generation
have no more of the awful conditions
that we see day after day and night
after night on the streets of our
cities which make the heart ache for
the poor, thoughtless girl who had
worse than no mother. It were far
better that many a girl be reared
in an orphanage where real Christian
influence will be constanly {thrown
around her and instilled into her young
heart than to be reared by fashion
loving, careless mothers that feel their
babies a hindrance to their personal
pleasures, as so many of them prove
by their actions they do.
This making your child your “chum,”
“your companion,” cannot be accom
plished by fault-finding and indiffer
ence, nor can it be done after they
are twelve years old. tl must be be
gun while they are tots about your
knees and in your arms. God grant
the fate of poor little Mary Phagan
may wake the parents of our South
land to the terrible responsibility rest
ing on them.
Teachers Also.
And not parents only, but teachers,
oh, so great a responsibility as rests
upon the teachers of every land, ev
erywhere, of whatever age, many be
their pulpit. What a reckoning —how
the question will ring out as we
stand before the heart searching trib
unal of God and answer as to how
we have been “our brother’s keeper.”
LITTLE MOTHER.
DREAD OF AN OPERATION.
N. Manchester. Ind. —Mrs. Eva Ba
shore, of this place, says, “I suffered
female misery of every description.
Two doctors attended me, and advised
an operation. I lost weight until I
weighed only ninety pounds. I dread
ed an operation, and, instead, began
to take Cardui. In a short time, I
gained 25 pounds, and feel as well as
I ever did. Cardui, I am sure, saved
my life.” Cardui is today used in
thousands of homes, where it relieves
pain and brings back strength and
ambition. It is a woman’s medicine,
for women’s ailments, and you are
urged to try it for your troubles. Ask
your druggist. He will tell you about
Cardui.
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