see the ministry of angels as they bend
to watch the scene.

The rite is done. The softly murmured hymn which concludes it, has died
upon the balmy evening air. The partakers of the Lord's Supper have
departed. The pastor has for the last time pressed the hand which has so
recently subscribed to the covenant of the church, and he, too, has
taken his final leave. Relations alone remain in the chamber of death.
Solemnity broods over the spot. The brothers who through life have
looked to this now dying brother, as a father, guide, and friend, sit
gazing on him in mournful silence, the tears slowly chasing each other
down their manly cheeks, with something of the feeling of the prophet
when it was told him, "Know thou that your master will be taken from
your head to-day".

The sisters watch and anticipate his wishes, till first one and then
another is overcome by her emotion, and steals away to give it vent. The
wife, like a ministering spirit, silently wipes the clammy brow and
moistens the parched lips. But now the sick man speaks: "Brother, will
you bring mother's portrait! I would take my leave of that--O, how soon
shall I join her now." It is brought, and the heavy window curtains are
thrown back, and it is placed at the foot of the bed with reverend care,
which showed the veneration in which the original was held.

"Look, brother: it smiles upon me!" and observing the astonished
expression of his friends, the dying man continued in a less excited
tone, "Do not suppose that my mind is wandering. I assure you on the
word of one who must shortly appear before a God of truth, that ever
since my mother's death the picture has frowned upon me. I knew what it
meant, for you have not forgotten her last prayer, and every time I have
looked upon it I felt, while I continued to deny the divinity of our
Savior, I could not expect my mother's approbation or blessing. For
years I fought against the doctrine of the Holy Trinity, till I examined
the subject more thoroughly, and to-day I have sealed my renunciation of
that error, and have testified my faith in the atonement made for
sinners. The cross of Christ has drawn me with cords of love. I wanted
to see that portrait once more, and, lo, the frown is gone--and my
mother beams upon me the same sweet smile as when at sixteen years of
age I left home a fatherless boy, to make my own way in the world. Thank
God I die in peace."

My sketch is finished. Shall I make the application