Every object was bathed in that golden
haze so peculiar to the last days of summer and the beginning of
autumn; but at this time it seemed to us that the flood of soft
light had escaped from the gate of heaven which we imagined had
opened to receive the form lost to our sight.
Oh, we miss her more and more, everywhere! in our walks and visits;
in the missionary circle, of which she was so ready and active a
member; in the Sunday school; in her accustomed seat in church; and
we miss the soft tones of her voice in prayer, and the rich
outpourings of her melody in praise.
The poor of the parish have, indeed, lost a friend, as their tears
and remembrance amply testify when they recount her kindnesses, her
gentle words, her deeds of charity and love. "Flowers grew under the
feet of her," said one wretchedly poor, yet, I thought, quite
poetical old woman, whose declining days she had lightened of much
of their weariness. A track of glory seems that which she has left
behind; and there was so much that was beautiful and consoling in
her last hours that it were selfishness to wish her back. She is
with the Saviour she loved; she folds again to her heart the little
one whose loss she had not time to realize on earth; together they
have entered on their "long age of bliss in heaven.
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