ife's
tempestous ocean?

Rough, indeed, has been the passage, and many the adverse storms we
have encountered, during our thirty-two years companionship, and now,
way-worn and weary, the grave--the greedy grave claims thee for its
occupant. How sweet is the assurance "that the graves shall give up
their dead, and this mortal shall put on immortality." Yes, this dear
dust shall rise again, and be clothed in undying youth.

O, how stealthily the stern messenger came, laying low the form of the
strong man, ere we were aware of his danger. One week--one short week,
and yet to him a week of agonizing suffering, and all was over. Yet,
in that week, what a volume might be written, of deep, intense
thought and feeling, of fervent prayer and supplication, and tearful,
childlike submission to the divine will. Might be written did I say?
Is it not written--even in the book of God's remembrance? Neither sigh
or tear were unnoticed, or prayer unheard, by that God who careth for
us, and numbereth the very hairs of our heads. How often the prayer
ascended from the lips of the dying man, "O my Father, help me in this
my extremity," and it was indeed his hour of extreme necessity, for he
was wrestling with his last enemy.

A smile sat upon his countenance, even while struggling for that frail
life that was so soon to end, and it is now very evident to those
that were in attendance upon him, that he was more fully aware of his
situation than they. Every arrangement and every observation plainly
shows now that he had little, if any hope of recovery.

But still the attending physician spoke very encouragingly to him, and
to others, and so we hoped and believed he would yet be well.

He was grateful for every attention. Ere the disease (which was
pneumonia) assumed its most fearful aspect; a daughter, who was
watching by the bed, hearing him whisper, thought he was addressing
her; but bending over the pillow, she heard him say,

"Oh, my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me."

Then raising his clasped hands, said, fervently, "Nevertheless, not my
will, but thine be done." Towards morning, reason became dethroned,
and the bewildered imagination wandered in the land of shadows. There
was an extremely anxious expression of countenance, and he would look
earnestly upon his attendants, as though he thought we could relieve
him. He was incessantly springing from his bed in his struggles for
breath, and trying every new posi