My mother went out from me in fear, and dread,
and doubt. My father lives, but for me he has little or no hope. If ever a
mortal longed and yearned for one thing more than another in this uncertain
existence, I long for a peaceful and quiet evening of life for my beloved
father. I implore the Father of all of us to give me grace and strength
enough to keep sober until my remaining parent is fully persuaded that I am
truly and beyond question saved from the curse which has driven me to an
asylum, and well nigh sent him, a broken-hearted man, to his grave. O for
a strength which will forever enable me to resist the hell-born and
hell-supported power of the fiend Alcohol! Could I do this and have my
father know it his dying hour would be full of sweet peace, and a joy so
shining that its light would drive afar off the shadows of his death agony.
In that knowledge death would be vanquished and heaven would stoop to earth
and cover his grave with glory. Oh, God! Grant me this one boon! Give me
this one request! In every step of my life I have disappointed him. In the
future let all other hopes, and joys, and aspirations die, if needs be, all
but this--this one--that I may never in any way touch liquor again.
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