We
went in together to look at the frail tabernacle from which the pure
spirit of her mother had departed forever! How sweetly the smile
left upon the lips in the last kiss of parting, lingered there
still, fixed in human marble with more than a sculptor's art! There
was no passionate weeping, as we stood by the lifeless clay. Very
calm and silent she was; but oh, what a look of intense love went
out from her sad eyes! Not despairing but hopeful love. The curtain
of death hid from her no land of shadows and mystery; but a world of
spiritual realities. Her mother had not gone shrinking and trembling
into regions of darkness and doubt; but in the blessed assurance of
a peaceful reception in the house of her friends.
"How a true faith," said I, strongly impressed by the images which
were presented to my mind, "strips from death its old terrors! When
the Apostle exclaimed, 'Oh, grave, where is thy victory? oh, death,
where is thy sting?' his mind looked deeper into the mystery of
dying, and saw farther into the world beyond, than do our modern
Christians, who frighten us with images of terror.
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