pale and almost marble-like, as
the icy hand of death had made that of her husband's. No wonder if this
world should now seem to her as a barren wilderness. No wonder if her
thoughts, for a time, should brood mournfully over the words, "Lover and
friend hast thou put far from me, and mine acquaintance into darkness."
No wonder if to her desolate heart, solitude, and gloom, and the grave,
should, for a season, be her chosen themes of contemplation. She does
well to grieve. There is nothing wrong in the mourner's tears. We have
the example of Jesus in such an expression--tears are Nature's own sweet
relief. It is safe--yes, it is well to bleed when our limbs are taken
from our side.

But let such as mourn remember, in all cases of bereavement, it is God,
whose discipline is strictly parental, hath done it, and "He doeth all
things well." How sad it is when the bereaved, who are not called to
mourn as those who have no hope, allow their thoughts to find a lodgment
only in the grave. How widely different had been the condition of this
youthful mourner, if, instead of shutting herself up in her chamber,
taking to her bed, chiefly, for a full year refusing to be
comforted--had she dwelt more upon that touching "farewell" to her,
receiving it as a beam of light and love from the spirit land, inviting
her to the contemplation of heavenly themes. Had she rather considered
her departed companion as _favored_ in this early call to glory,--had
she considered the passage in Isaiah 57:1, "The righteous are taken away
from the evil."--why did she not meekly and penitently reflect, that as
God does not willingly afflict, he must have had some special design in
this severe chastisement upon her. Had her mind been open to
conviction--had she been bowed down under a sense of sin--would she not
have inquired whether the blessed Saviour, perceiving the lurking danger
there was to this young couple, from a disposition to find their heaven
upon earth, to seek their chief happiness in each other, had not with
the voice of love and tender compassion said to her husband, "The Master
hath need of thee, come up hither." Had her heart been right with God,
as she contemplated her departed friend in his new-born zeal to honor
and glorify his Redeemer, flying on swift wings to perform Heaven's
mandates, would she not resolve, by the grace of God, to emulate him in
his greater efforts to save lost souls, for whom Christ died? Were not
the same motives