Hope And Memory

 

 

 

 

HOPE AND MEMORY

Hope is the star of youth and memory the consolation or solace of old age.  Old people love to sit down and dream of their happy childhood the happy hours they spent at school, the games they played and the songs they sang.  But when they left school an end came to most of the happiness.  They had to face the wide world, alone, to earn their living, then most of those happy hours are forgotten, a thick veil passes quickly between them and the mind, as the clouds pass between them and the sun on a wild day.

Youth may be compared to a battle field where noble deeds are performed, each one trying for himself to grasp the glittering prizes of success.

Memory seeks, through the battle field for the dead, by bringing back to our minds thoughts of those with whom we were once very happy.  But after a time there came a parting, our friend may be laid in her cold silent grave, or it may be one who emigrated to far, foreign lands.  We dream of her night after night and day after day, the memory of that dear friend still haunts us.  We remember her in our sorrows, joys and prayers and a ray of hope may strike us, perhaps we would meet again on earth or if not we will meet in our Eternal Home where all is joy and happiness.

Hope lures us on by painting and laying before us beautiful consoling pictures.  We love to walk through the still woods in the twilight of the evenings, or by the banks of a babbling stream, hoping for and picturing before our minds something new and joyous for the coming day.

Memory pauses over the loss of those dear and loved ones which can never be replaced.  We picture ourselves in the funeral, we think we hear the great church bell tolling out its mournful peals, we imagine ourselves laying a wreath of beautiful flowers as a last token of love and sympathy on the grave of our ever-mourned for friend.  If at our dying hour we are deprived of the sweet comfort of ‘Hope’, how bitter will our last moment on earth be.  It soothes the pain of death and that of parting from our friends, it bids us look upwards to Heaven to our future Home promised to those who live a meritorious life on earth.

Editor’s Note:  Above Essay is from Delia Mahon’s 1907-1908 school year copybook