She softly fell asleep, resigning her worn-out body
to us, and _she_ entered heaven. Ah! do we apprehend what a glorious
event it is for the "pure in heart" to die? We look upon the bride's
beauty, and see in the vista before her, anguish and tears, and but
transient sunshine. The beauty fades, the splendour of life declines
to the worldly eyes that gaze upon her. Deaf and blind are such
gazers, for the bride may daily be winning imperishable beauty, yet
it is not for this world. A most sad and melancholy thing it seems
when children of a larger growth judge their parents by their frail
and decaying bodies, rather than by their spirits. And more deeply
sad still is it, when the aged learn through the young to feel that
the freshness of existence has gone by with them. Gone by? when they
are waiting to be born into a new and vast existence that shall roll
on in increasing majesty, and never reach an end! Gone by? when they
have just entered life, as it were! The glory and sweetness of
living is _going by_ only with those who are turning away their
faces from the Prince of Peace. Sweet mother! she is breathing
vernal airs now, and with every breath a spring-like life and joy
are wafted through her being.
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