WHEN she changed worlds, and before the time, what was she to
others? A small old, delicate woman. _What was she to us?_ A
radiant, smiling angel, upon whose brow the sunshine of the eternal
world had fallen. We looked into her large, tender eyes, and saw not
as others did, that her mortal garment had waxed old and feeble; or
if we saw, this, it was no symbol of decay, for beyond and within,
we recognised _her_ in all her beauty. Oh! how heavy and bitter
would have been her long and slow decline, if we had seen her grow
old instead of young! The days that hastened to give her birth into
eternity, grow brighter and brighter, until when memory wandered
back, it had no experiences so sweet as those through which she was
passing. The long life, with its youthful romance, its prosaic
cares, its quiet sunshine, and deep tragedies, was culminating to
its earthly close; and, like some blessed story that appeals to the
heart in its great pathos, the end was drawing, near, all clouds
were rolling away, and she was stepping forth into the brilliance of
prosperity. Selfishness ceased to weep under the light of her
cheerful glance, and grew to be congratulation. Beside her couch we
sat, and traced with loving fancy the new life soon to open before
her; with tears and smiles we traced it. Doubts never mingled, for
from earliest childhood we had no memories of her inconsistent with
the expectations of a Christian. Deep in our souls there lay
gratitude that her morning drew near; beautiful and amazing it
seemed that she would never more bow to the stroke of the chastener;
fresh courage descended from on high, as we realized that there was
an end to suffering; it was difficult to credit that her discipline
was nearly over; how brief it had been, compared with the glorious
existence it had won her. How passing sweet were her assurances that
she should leave us awhile longer on earth with childlike trust,
knowing that our own souls needed to stay, and that the destiny of
others needed it! But the future seemed very near to her, and she
saw us gathered around her in her everlasting home. She grew weaker,
and said her last words to us. Throughout the last day she said but
little, but often her tender eyes were riveted upon us; they said
"Farewell! farewell!" In the hush of the chamber, a faint,
eolian-like strain came from her dying lips; it sounded as if it
came from afar; _then_ the angels were taking her to their
companionship. She softly fell asleep, resigning her worn-out body
to us, and _she_ entered heaven. Ah! do we apprehend what a glorious
event it is for the "pure in heart" to die? We look upon the bride's
beauty, and see in the vista before her, anguish and tears, and but
transient sunshine. The beauty fades, the splendour of life declines
to the worldly eyes that gaze upon her. Deaf and blind are such
gazers, for the bride may daily be winning imperishable beauty, yet
it is not for this world. A most sad and melancholy thing it seems
when children of a larger growth judge their parents by their frail
and decaying bodies, rather than by their spirits. And more deeply
sad still is it, when the aged learn through the young to feel that
the freshness of existence has gone by with them. Gone by? when they
are waiting to be born into a new and vast existence that shall roll
on in increasing majesty, and never reach an end! Gone by? when they
have just entered life, as it were! The glory and sweetness of
living is _going by_ only with those who are turning away their
faces from the Prince of Peace. Sweet mother! she is breathing
vernal airs now, and with every breath a spring-like life and joy
are wafted through her being. Mother beautiful and beloved! some
sweet, embryo joy fills the chambers of my heart as I contemplate
the scenes with which she is becoming familiar. Dead and dreary
winter robes the earth, and autumn leaves lie under the snow like
past hopes; but what of them? I see only the smile of God's
sunshine. I see in the advancing future, love and peace--only
infinite peace!