The following is an article from the January 1918 issue of Hearth and Home Magazine. Remember, war shadowed the land during this time.
How rapidly has the wheel of time brought us around to the close of another year, dear sisters, with but few trophies to add to the pages of life. We go on from one day to another, not knowing what the morrow may bring. The span of life is a mere thread when tested against the billows and surges of time--a thread which may be cut short in the bloom of youth, or wear on indefinitely from year to year in the vain pursuit of happiness, whose dreams are more or less beyond the reach of mortal mind. After all, what is happiness? Man, in his original state, could and should have been happy. He was free to roam through Eden's bowers, cull flowers, listen to the songs of sweet birds and drink deep from the fountains of pleasure. In fact, his every wish or desire was anticipated by the Creator of his existence. But alas! was he happy? Did he appreciate his condition? How could he, when he had never partaken of the cup of sorrow? So it is that we must taste of the bitter in order to enjoy the sweet. Joy and sorrow are thrown along the mysterious and untrodden path we call life. An all-wise Creator, the God of wisdom, has placed a veil before our eyes so that we may not penetrate the depths of futurity. What a blessing this is; otherwise our hearts would be filled with sorrow and foreboding, and we should not be able to appreciate the joys which might intervene. There "sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof;" and we can but press on with hearts of cheer to fight the battles and enjoy the blessings as they come. knowing that God is true and just, and that His plans are for the best good of all, we need not fear. It is well we do not or cannot know what the new year has in store for us; we can throw out the anchor of hope and banish doubt and fear. However dark the future may seem, however much we may dread it, let us believe that it may brighten as it draws near. Circumstances and conditions are the molds in which our lives are cast--time alone will reveal the truth. While hope is the inspiration of youth, memory is the solace and comfort of old age. In the quiet stillness of eventide memory brings back the bygone days--reminiscences which may bring to some remorse of conscience, but to others joy and comfort; all are subject to the same law. Many bridges have been crossed, many mistakes made which resulted in sad disappointments. And let me say right here that the one mistake too often made in old age is to give up all right and title to the dear old home. No palace, pomp and splendor can ever fill the the place of that home, perhaps with a thatched roof and moss-covered chimney, with the many scenes around it which the storms of time have made dear, and which still linger bright upon the pages of memory. Let it be ever so humble "there's no place like home." And now it behooves us to bid farewell to the old year, and with hearts of cheer and smiles welcome the new; and may health, happiness and success attend us all.
How rapidly has the wheel of time brought us around to the close of another year, dear sisters, with but few trophies to add to the pages of life. We go on from one day to another, not knowing what the morrow may bring. The span of life is a mere thread when tested against the billows and surges of time--a thread which may be cut short in the bloom of youth, or wear on indefinitely from year to year in the vain pursuit of happiness, whose dreams are more or less beyond the reach of mortal mind. After all, what is happiness? Man, in his original state, could and should have been happy. He was free to roam through Eden's bowers, cull flowers, listen to the songs of sweet birds and drink deep from the fountains of pleasure. In fact, his every wish or desire was anticipated by the Creator of his existence. But alas! was he happy? Did he appreciate his condition? How could he, when he had never partaken of the cup of sorrow? So it is that we must taste of the bitter in order to enjoy the sweet. Joy and sorrow are thrown along the mysterious and untrodden path we call life. An all-wise Creator, the God of wisdom, has placed a veil before our eyes so that we may not penetrate the depths of futurity. What a blessing this is; otherwise our hearts would be filled with sorrow and foreboding, and we should not be able to appreciate the joys which might intervene. There "sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof;" and we can but press on with hearts of cheer to fight the battles and enjoy the blessings as they come. knowing that God is true and just, and that His plans are for the best good of all, we need not fear. It is well we do not or cannot know what the new year has in store for us; we can throw out the anchor of hope and banish doubt and fear. However dark the future may seem, however much we may dread it, let us believe that it may brighten as it draws near. Circumstances and conditions are the molds in which our lives are cast--time alone will reveal the truth. While hope is the inspiration of youth, memory is the solace and comfort of old age. In the quiet stillness of eventide memory brings back the bygone days--reminiscences which may bring to some remorse of conscience, but to others joy and comfort; all are subject to the same law. Many bridges have been crossed, many mistakes made which resulted in sad disappointments. And let me say right here that the one mistake too often made in old age is to give up all right and title to the dear old home. No palace, pomp and splendor can ever fill the the place of that home, perhaps with a thatched roof and moss-covered chimney, with the many scenes around it which the storms of time have made dear, and which still linger bright upon the pages of memory. Let it be ever so humble "there's no place like home." And now it behooves us to bid farewell to the old year, and with hearts of cheer and smiles welcome the new; and may health, happiness and success attend us all.
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