Page:The Collected Works of Theodore Parker volume 3.djvu/233

220 one; only I fear I am not worthy; and I have loved you so long, and you did not know it." "But I began first," says the man. And then from the two hearts, now melting into one, the prayer goes up, "All thanks to thee, Father and Mother of us both, thanks for our love. O may we be faithful in our life, and in death not divided; living a religion of piety, of holiness before thee on earth: and one also at last in heaven." Was the prayer spoken, or was it only throbbed out in their inspired hearts? I do not know, God does not care; spoken or felt, it is one to Him.

The same night, in a little chamber not far off, a lone woman lays aside her work, not quite done. "I will finish that to-morrow morning before breakfast," she says, "it will be ready five hours before the wedding, and I only promised it one hour before." She looks up at the great moon walking in beauty, and silvering her little chamber, with a great star or two beside her—the little stars had been put to bed long before the moon was full. She thinks of the Infinite Soul who watches over the slumbering earth, the wakeful moon, the great stars and the little, and her own daily life. "The moon serves thee by making beauty in the night, the sun in the day, both of them heavenly bodies," quoth she, "I only an earthly body. Can I also serve by making bonnets?" And out from the great human heart, the Divine soul answers, "Not less; each in its order; the sun in his, the milliner in hers." She lays her down on her bed, her limbs full of weariness, her eyes full of sleep, her heart full of trust in that God, who fills the earth with His love, as the moon fills her window with its beauty.

In the next house, a mother has made her ready for sleep, but must have one look more, to bless her eyes with the dearest sacrament which mortal ever sees. So she goes noiselessly into their room, and looks on her little ones, lying there in their various sleep, and talks to herself: "The dear Edith! how handsome she looks in her sleep! Wonder if I was ever half so fair at sixteen. And here is Willie, my first-born. What a blessing he will be, when dear husband comes home from that long voyage. Tall as his father; almost through College now. We