The last expiring groan was hushed; the beaming eye was closed--it
wept no longer over the sins of a perverse race. Those gentle and
lovely features were robed with the pallid hue of death, and the heart
that melted at the sorrows of mankind beat no longer. The grave, the
cold grave, rejoicingly closed its dreary portals upon his sacred
form; and he, the lowly and despised Nazarene, who found no resting-
place
for his weary head, slept quietly in a borrowed sepulchre.