Dearly beloved, you can look back to a day in your history over which no
cloud lowered, when you wore the bridal wreath, and stood at the sacred
altar, and laid your hand in a hand faithful and true, and pledged vows
of love, and when hope smiled on all your future path; but who have
lived to see all you then deemed most precious, laid beneath the clods
of the valley, and have exchanged buds of orange for the most intensely
sable of earthly weeds; you who once walked on your earthly journey in
sweet companionship which brightened your days; who were wont to lay
your weary head every night on the faithful "pillowing breast," and
there forget your woes and cares, but who are now _alone_; you who
trusted in manly counsel and guidance for your little ones, but who now
shed bitter, unavailing tears in every emergency which reminds you that
they are fatherless; and, worse than all, you who had all your wants
supplied by the loving, toiling husband and father, but have now to
contend single-handed with poverty,--come, sorrowing, widowed hearts,
visit with us Horeb's holy mound. It is, indeed, a barren spot;
nevertheless, it has blossoms of loveliness for you. Come in faith, and
perchance the prophet's vision shall be yours--peradventure, the "still,
small voice" which bade to rest the turmoil of his soul, shall soothe
your griefs also; the words which are heard from its summit as Jehovah
gives to Moses his directions, have indeed to do with "meats and drinks
and divers washings," yet, if you listen intently, you will now and then
hear those which, as the expression of your Heavenly Father's heart,
will amply repay the toil of the ascent.
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