"Lead, kindly light."
"Lead, kindly light." The words are gravely spoken by the middle-aged,
whose feet have grown a trifle weary, whose hands have gathered the
roses, only to find them turned to ashes, whose laughter has more
sadness than mirth, whose eyes have grown dim, whose lips tremblingly
plead, "Lead, kindly light." "Lead, kindly light." The words are
whispered by the old, whose tired feet are unable to move, whose palsied
hands are helpless, whose head is bowed by the weight of years, whose
eyes are sightless, from whose trembling lips are scarcely heard the
whispered prayer, "Lead, kindly light."
"Lead, kindly light." The sunken eyes are closed in death, the tired
hands are folded, the heart has ceased to beat, the mute lips are
stilled, the weary feet are at rest, a look of ineffable peace rests
upon the still face, while all the air is filled with sweet music and
the murmur of gentle voices pleading, "Lead, kindly light."
A FABLE
[Illustration]
In one of the German forests the stood a tree, which could not be
classified by any of the learned scientists. It was not more beautiful
than many others, but there were distinctive peculiarities which no
other tree possessed. Her dress was of a sadder hue than that of her
companions, and the birds refused to build their nests in her branches.
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