It was difficult to
recognise in him the man of two short weeks before; twenty years
seemed added to his life; the eyes, usually beaming with light, now
cast down and swollen with weeping--the countenance, index of a
heart full of peace and joy, now so sorrow-stricken. Truly, he
seemed "smitten of God and afflicted." We turned our eyes away as he
stood by the grave which contained almost his earthly all.
It was a beautiful spot where they laid her to rest by the side of
her baby. The sun was just going down in a golden flood of light,
betokening a glorious morrow (beautiful emblem of the resurrection,
when this perishing body should be raised in glory), and the shadows
of the trees were lengthening on the grass. Every sound was in sweet
accordance with the scene; the soft twittering of the birds as they
sought their resting-places for the night, the quiet hum of the
insects, and the sweet murmuring of the brook which flowed at a
little distance.
A holy calm pervaded our minds as we wended our way between the
trees and down the slope which bounded this lovely spot; and, as we
left the gate, we involuntarily paused and looked back long and
earnestly on the sweet view.
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