Year: 1870




The grave is the ordeal of true Affection
1t is there that the divine passion of the soul
manitests its superiority to the instructive i'm
pulse of mere animal attachment The latter
must be continually refreshed and kept alive
by the presence of its object; but the love
that is seated in the soul can live on long re-
membrance. The mere inclinations of sense
lauguish aud decline with the charms which
excited them, and turn with disgust from
the dismal precincts Of the tomb; but it
is thence that truly spiritual affection rises
purified from every sensual desire, and returns
like holy fame, to illumine and sanetify the
heart of the survivor.


The sorrow of the dead is the only sorrow
from which we refuse to be divorced. Every
other wound we seek to heal, every other at
Fiction to forget but this wound we consider
it as duty to keep open,-this atiictiOn we
cherish, and brood over in solitude. Where
is the mother who would willingly forget the
infant that perished, like a blossom, from her
arms, though every recollection is pang p
Where Is the child that would forget the most
tender of parents, though to remember'be but
to lament? Who, even in the hour of agony,
would forget the friend over whom he
mourns? Who, even when the tomb is clos
ing upon the remains of her most loved,
when he feels his heart, it were, crushed
in the closing of its portals, would accept of
the consolation that must be brought by for
getfulness No: the love which survives
the tomb is one of the noblest attributes of
the soul If it has its woes, it has likewise
its delights; and, when the overwhelming
burst of grief is calmed into the gentle tear of
recollection, when the sudden anguish and the
convulsiye agony over the present ruins of all
that we most loved, are soltened away into
pensive meditation on all that it was in the
days of its loveliness, who would root out such
n sorrow from the heart? Though it may
sometimes throw a passing cloud over the
brightest hours of gaiety, or spread deeper
sadness over the hour of gloom, yet Who would
exchange it, even for the song of pleasure or
the burst of reveIry?. No; there is voice
from the tomb swGeter than song. There is
remembrance of the dead to which we turn,
even from the charms OF the living. Oh, the
grave the grave it buries every error, COW
ers every defect, extinguiShes every resent
menti from its peaceful bosom spring none
but fond regrets and tender recollections.-
Who can look down upon the grave, even of
an enemy, and not feel compunotious throb,
that he should ever have warred with the
poor handful of earth that lies moulderiug be-
fore him?


Ay! 90 to the grave of buried love, and
there mediate; there settle the account with
thy conscience for every past endearment un-
regarded 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 sorrow to the soul, or furrow
to the silvered brow of an aflectionate parent;
if thou art husband, and hast ever caused
the fond bosom that vcn;ured its happiness
in thy arms TO doubt one moment of thy kind
ness, or thy truth; if thou art friend, and
hast ever wronged in thought, word, or deed,
the spirit that generously confiied in thee
if thou art lover, and hast ever given one
unmerited panS to that true heart which now
lies cold and still beneath thy feet: then be
sure that every unkind look, every ungracious
word, every ungeutle action, will come throng-
ing back upon thy memory, and knocking
dolelully at thy soul then be sure that thou
wilt lie down sorrowing and repentant on the
grave, and utter the unheard groau, and pour
the unavaillng tear, more deep, more bitter,
because uuheard and unavailng


Then weave thy chaplet of flowers, and
strew the beauties of nature about the grave;
console thy broken spirit. if thou canst, with
these tender yet futile tributes of regret but
take warning by the bitterness of this thy
contrite affiic.ion over the dead. and hence
forth be more faithful aud affectionate in the
discharge Of thy duties to the living.