The Mt. Sterling advocate. (Mt. Sterling, Ky.) 1890-current, 1917-09-25
SORROW FOR THE DEAD

ton OF q thinking and conservative
people.
The sorrow for the dead is the
only sorrow from which we refuse
to be divorced. Every other wound
we seek to heal, every other Attic
ton to forget; but this wound we
consider it a duty to keep open.
This affection we cherish and brood
over in solitude. Where is the
mother who would willingly forget
the infant that has persisted like a
blossom from her arms, though
every recollection is pangi
Where is the child that would will
inglY forget tender parent,
though to remember be but to Ia
mentS Who, even in the hour Of
agony, would forget the friend over
whom he mournsf
No, the love which survives the
tomb is one of the noblest Attitudes
Of the soul. If it has its woes, IT
has likewise its delights; and when
the overwhelming burst Of grief is
GAINED into the gentle tear Of reeOl-
lection, when the sudden anguish
and the convulsive agony over the
prcssee:ss: ruins os ali that we most
loved, Is softened away into penssve
neditations on all that it was IN
the days of its loneliness, who wsGfd
root out surh a sorrow from the
hearth Though it may sometimes
throw q passing cloud over the
bright hour OF gayety, or spread a
deeper sadness over the hour Of
gloom; yet, who would exchange it
even for the song Of pleasure, or
the burst of revelryi No; there is
voice from the tomb sweeter than
song. There is remembrance Of
the dead to within we turn even from
the charms Of the living.
Oh, the grave! the gravel 1t
buries every error, covers every de-
feet, extinguishes every resentment!
From its peaceful bosom springs
none but fond regrets and tender
recollections. Who can look down
upon the grave even of an enemy,
and not feel a compunctious throb,
that he should have warred with the
poor handful of earth that lies
molding before him7 But the grave
Of those we loved-what a place
for meditation! There it is that we
call up, in long review, the whole
history Of virtue and gentleness,
and the thousand endearments Law
ished upon US, almost UNDECIDED in
the daily intercourse of intimacy;
there it is that we dwell upon the
tenderness, the solemn, awful ten
derness Of the parting scene; the
bed of death, with all its stified
griefs its noiseless attendance, its
mute, watchful assiduities, the last
testimonies of expiring love, the
feeble futtering, thrilling-Oh! how
thrilling-pressure of the hand, the
last fond look of the glazing eye
turning upon US even from the
threshold of existence, the faint,
faltering accents, struggling in death
to give one more assurance of affec-
ton.
Ay, go to the grave OF buried love
and mediate. There settle the ac-
count with thy conscience for every
past benefit of unrequited, every
past endearment unregarded, Of
that departed being, who can never,
never, never return to be soothed by
thy contrition! If thou art a child,
and hast ever added a sorrow to
the soul or a furrow to the silvered
brow Of an affectiOnate parent;
if thou art a husband and hast
ever caused the fond bosom that
ventured its whole happiness in thy
arms to doubt one moment Of thy
kindness or thy truth; If thou art
a friend, and hast ever wronged, in
thought, or word, or deed, the spirit |
that generously confded in thee;
if thou hast given one unmerited