The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1878-12-21 00:00:00

ST. MARGARET'S, WESTMINSTER.

The Rev. Canon Farrar, at the close of his sermon in the
morning referred to the death of the Princess Alice. He
said I am sure you would not forgive me if I did not
say one word about our commtn national sorrow. Because
we are a great and in all meat essential feelings a united
nation, we all, from the highest to the humblest, feel a
loyal love to our Queen and Her family; nor was there one
of us who did not feel an unfeigned sorrow and an un-
feigned sympathy when we heard yesterday the sad news
that a dear daughter of our Queen was dead. We who
have grown to middle age remember the shock of pity
and regret whibh went to the nation's heart when,
17 years ago, from the wife whom he so tenderly loved,
from the sons and daughters whom he so wisely cherished
from the Throne which he so nobly supported, from the
' great works of art and peace which he was promoting, from the
great peaceful gathering of the nations which his genius had
suggested, from the deepening and widening love of a grate-
ful nation, and amid a nation's tears, the Prince Consort
passed away—a man far loftier than our ordinary nobles, a
man diligent amid all temptations, temperate amid all
luxuries, simple amid all the splendours of a Court, a man
too great and too good to be at once appreciated, the Marcus
Aurelius of England, who has exercised over her destinies
an influence memorably noble. The homes of England
are England's dearest treasure, and 'the white flower of a
blamless life' worn in a Royal home by him and by his
Queen did more than all else to make him very dear to all
who, in a corrupt age, can appreciate the preciousness of a
pure and sweet example. The main reason why the heart
of this great people beats in such full unison with the
heart of their Sovereign is because in her the claims to re-
verence' as wife and mother are blended with those as
Queen. A widow, who was a widow indeed, faithful to all
high duties, but caring no more for life's passing pleasures,
for seventeen years ago yesterday since that chill shadow
passed her palace gate she could at least thank God that
death had not again broken into the immediate circle of her
beloved. Eight years ago, indeed, on the same sad-day, her
eldest son, the heir to this vast Empire, lay on the bed of
sore sickness, and seemed as if 'over him triumphant death
her dart shook but delayed ta strike,' and the nation held its
breath. But God heard our prayers. Who was it who,
eight years ago, in the grace of her womanhood, hung over
her dying brother with all the tenderness of a sister,
with all the skilled patience of a nurse Who was it
who, seventeen years ago, as a fair young girl, bent her
sweet face day by day over her father's deathbed? It was
she whom England knew and loved as the Princess Alice
It was not for her gifts or her beauty, or for her ducal Crown
that England loved her, but for those simple, womanly,
unselfish offices of a sister's and a daughter's love. We
grieved that it was God's will that she should drink the cup
of sorrow. A few years ago her little Prince Frederick was
killed by a fall from the window of her room when for one
moment her head was turned, A few days ago her little
daughter Mary, a fair child of 4, was called away ' • and yet
when the mother herself, amid the tears which she was
shedding for her little one, was stricken with the same
disease, we fondly hoped see might have been spa, ed. But
no. I spoke to you last Sunday of death and its suddenness.
Youth, and the opening rose.
Might seem like things too glorious for decay,
And smile at thee; but thou are not of those
Who wait the ripened bloom to seize their prey.

And so death has once more come into our palaces. Her;
day's work in God's sight was over, and He bath given his'
beloved sleep. She has gone to meet her beloved father
and her little boy and girl once more; she has gone to
seek her little ones at her Saviour's feet ; she has passed
to where beyond these voices there is peace.' We mourn
for our Queen, her bereaved mother; we mourn for her
husband; we mourn for her orphaned little ones—we can-
not mourn for her. Let us rather learn from her that
royalty, which is possible to us all—the true royalty of a,
sweet unselfish example. Let us once more be warned to be'
ready and let WI once more see how poor and evanescent are
our earthly interests. Let us all strive more and more to be
of those of whom the Voice said, 'Write : Blessed are the
dead which die in the Lprd from henceforth. Even so,
saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labours, and
their works do follow them."