Beautiful in life, she was so in death. The
departing spirit had left a ray of brightness on its earthly house,
and, in looking at the calm brow and peaceful smile, death seemed
divested of its terror. We had twined the pure white flowers she
loved around and amongst the rich dark masses of wavy hair, and she
looked like a beautiful bride more than a tenant for the grave. The
memory of that day will live ever in our minds. It was the last day
of summer, and there seemed a beautiful appropriateness in the
season; it seemed to us that the summer of our hearts had gone with
her.
A sad and mournful procession, we followed her remains to the church
so dear to her in life. It was but a few days since she entered it
in her loveliness and bloom, and for the last time on earth
commemorated a Saviour's dying love. She will partake with us here
no more. May we be counted worthy to sit down with her at our
Father's board in heaven! Mournful was the sight of the black pall
which covered the coffin; mournful the drapery which shrouded her
accustomed seat and enveloped the chancel; mournful the badges which
all, as by consent, had adopted as expressive of their feelings on
the occasion; but, oh! most mournful and heart-rending was the sight
of that husband and father leading by the hand on either side all
that remained to him of his beautiful family.
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