The father had come just in time to take the last look of his living
child, to hear her last words, to witness her last struggle, as the
pure spirit departed from earth, to join her sainted mother in the
spirit land. He was taking another portion from the cup of affliction,
which however bitter to the taste, often sweetens the journey of human
life, preparing the recipient better to perform its duties, and bear
its trials.
As the stricken father retired to bed, the sound of revelry fell
heavily upon an almost bursting heart.
And the dear children, could they listen to its glad strain? O, no;
they had seen death cast his marble paleness upon their mother's face;
had felt the icy coldness of her pulseness limbs; had called her by
the endearing name of mother, and her pale lips answered not, and they
had retired with eyes red with weeping; they as yet knew nothing
of the extent of their bereavement. The husband, too, had lost the
companion of his youth, the mother of his children, and although he
possessed like precious faith with her, and kissed the rod with pious
resignation; still they were a grief-stricken household, and presented
a striking contrast to the gay group that were dancing thoughtlessly
away the hours of that solemn night, while the recording angel was
taking note of all that was passing beneath his all-seeing eye, in
that book that shall be opened when we shall all stand before God, to
be judged according to the deeds done in the body.
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