She broke into a sweet hymn; and it was, they said, as
though the angel's voice had anticipated the few short moments
before she should sing the "new song." She lay quiet for a little
time, holding the hand of her husband in her own; then, opening her
eyes and seeing the last rays of the departing sun, "I shall never
look upon that bright orb again; but there is no need of the sun
there. I draw near to heavenly habitations, and I would not retreat
for what the world can give. Dearest, be faithful to your trust."
And, imprinting a kiss upon his lips, her pure spirit went
peacefully home.
We draw a veil upon the feelings of that bereaved one; too sacred
are they to be looked upon; his house was left unto him desolate.
That form, which had been to his eye like the well in the desert or
the bow in the sky, was now cold in death.
Oh! thought we, why needed this affliction to be sent upon one so
near _perfection_? Surely, _he_, of all others, needed not this
discipline; and then came to our minds, soft, sweet, and soothing,
the words, "Every branch in me that beareth fruit, he purgeth it
that it may bring forth more fruit."
We felt that it was hard to lay in the grave the form of our dear
friend; it was hard to part with the casket which had enshrined the
precious jewel.
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