mother's influence thus to live when her earthly form has faded away? Is it not the work of that same love seen in the golden richness shed abroad in the heavens long after the orb of day has gone down in the west? Yet moral splendor is above the brightness of the sun. Such is the glory of the Christian mother's life, when death's demands are done with her, and she lives on and on in the memories of kindred survivors. Reader, have you a fond mother? If you ever stand at her bedside, when she bids the earth adieu, you will afterwards look on that moment as one of the most eventful of your existence. May Heaven prepare you to meet it! LIGHT IN DARKNESS. UNDER heaviest sorrows and afflictions, we need not deem the blessing of divine aid and comfort impossible. God "is not far from every one of us," then. He can cause "light to shine out of darkness," can give us salutary instruction in the midst of deepest grief and sharpest pain. Thousands have found this true; and from rooms of protracted illness and suffering, and beds of anguish, have seen the lights above, and have been cheered with unutterable consolation. Has it not been truly written: Hopes round the darkest couch may bloom, "Chambers secured from solar glare Its morning star." NOBLE RESOLVE. MAY not the Christian truly say to his heavenly Father, what Siebenkäs says to Destiny? "It is thy intention to try my soul, good Destiny, and therefore dost thou put it into every position, as a man does his watch, into a perpendicular and a horizontal position, easy and uneasy ones, in order to see whether it goes well, and shows the time correctly. Verily it shall!" Is it not the Christian's privilege and joy to say of God, "Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him?" THE DEPARTED COMPANION. CONSOLATORY-TO A BEREAVED FRIEND. "Quenched is the spirit's light, From the filmed vision of our mortal eyes; THE night, my dear friend, has come; and I have wept with you in your bereavement and desolateness in this lone hour. And although through the long day excessively occupied, yet a pause must be hada sacred pause, full of deep reality; impressive thought, wonderful instruction, unutterable emotion. Come faith, come hope,-speak the word of inspiration! Tell us, creatures of frailty and dust, not so much of our earthly weakness, as of our heavenly strength; not so much of death, as of life; not of the "Flickering pulse, glazed eye, and brow with shadow o'er it thrown ;" of death, with its dreariness and darkness, its damps and chills, its shrouds and tombs; but of freedom from all these; of the resurrection, of heaven, glory, honor and immortality! Soothe and bless us with assurances of " a better country, that is, an heavenly," where God shall wipe away all tears, and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain. On this holy mission, You are sufficiently acquainted with my heart to anticipate in some degree my thoughts concerning you on this impressive occasion. Deeply do I feel with you that we have lost a friend, sister, companion, mother, and Christian; one whose virtues were continually weaving new cords of affection around us, binding our spirits more closely to her own. Solemnly are we led to look upon the past, when life and actual intercourse were so free, and contrast that with the present, upon which such a cloud of darkness has been lowered. She whom we loved has departed. No more shall we greet her "this side the realm where angels have their birth." God help us to say "'t is well! tis well!" 66 During my acquaintance with that now sainted spirit of our mutual Christian affection, it has seemed to me that we were forbidden to promise ourselves too much in her earthly presence with us. She has even seemed to understand that at no distant period she would give us the word of departure, and go to her other, her everlasting home. This impression on my mind has rendered my acquaintance with her one of melancholy pleasantness, and my sympathy for you in view of her departure such, as knowing my own susceptibilities, I have never attempted to describe. This I cannot now do. My soul is too full for adequate utterance. Let us be still, and know that God reigns. You sorrow; and well you may. You and your tender offspring now sustain an irreparable loss. "Many may love them and you, in truth Be loved but not with the love of youth; A stealing sigh for that long-loved home; This is the dark side. But when at frequent times you view it, do not forget to cast an eye upon the other. In God's chastisements, forget not his mercies. How full of thanksgiving should you be that the Father of all ever gave you such a companion; that so long he permitted you to hold communion with such a spirit; a spirit that has infused its like into your loved offspring, into your own heart, into everything connected with your hallowed home! She has sanctified that home forever. Give thanks! And then, she was a Christian, she was a CHRISTIAN. And when I say this, what a word is it! The dark cloud is pierced; the mists scatter; and a radiance from the everlasting throne bids gloom depart, and rejoicing come. victory?" "O grave, where is thy You will not be Therefore, faint not. Walk on. True, the pathway is dark just now, and you seem bewildered. But this is the way— right on; - and God is here, and Christ, and ministering spirits. forsaken. Pray, praise, have faith! Say, "Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him." You know the rest. They that trust in the Lord shall be as Mount Zion that cannot be removed, but abideth forever." So trust, and so abide. 66 Sainted spirit of the departed! Never will the holy influence given out by thee when in thy earthly habitation, leave this soul. Thy mildness, faithfulness, decision, resignation; how have they instructed me, and with what earnest pleading comes thy life to make me faithful, vigilant, and true, "always abounding in the work of the Lord!" And now thou hast gone up to thy rest, and we are to see thee no more, we will rejoice in thy emancipation, and still commune together, "one in Christ Jesus," may we not? Clothed upon as thou art with thy heavenly house, wilt thou not continue to instruct and bless us? Accept, beloved friend, this involuntary outpouring of my meagre thoughts. Poor though they be, they are thine, all I can bestow. But they are fresh from the heart,- -a heart whose prayers and sympathies will mingle with yours while hand in hand we walk the shores of time, awaiting in faith our departure to that better land where sorrow and death come not, and life immortal reigns. "Anoint, O Lord, anoint our sight, |