He entered life with bright hopes. The world beckoned him,
friends cheered him, but the archers shot at him; vile men set traps
for him, bad habits hooked fast to him with their iron grapples; his
feet slipped on the way; and there he lies. Who would think that that
uncombed hair was once toyed with by a father's fingers? Who would
think that those bloated cheeks were ever kissed by a mother's lips?
Would you guess that that thick tongue once made a household glad with
its innocent prattle? Utter no harsh words in his ear. Help him up.
Put the hat over that once manly brow. Brush the dust from that coat
that once covered a generous heart. Show him the way to the home that
once rejoiced at the sound of his footstep, and with gentle words tell
his children to stand back as you help him through the hall.
That was a kind husband once and an indulgent father. He will kneel
with them no more as once he did at family prayers--the little ones
with clasped hands looking up into the heavens with thanksgiving for
their happy home.
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