rd, and
common sense tells the most thoughtless that if those are blessed who
die in the Lord there must be a reverse side to the picture, else no
sense to the statement. So the verse must be passed by. It is too late
to help the dead, and it need not tear the hearts of the living. He can
not read, "I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me."

God forbid, prays the sad pastor in his heart, that mother or father or
friend shall so die as to go to this one, who did not die in the Lord.
We can not even hope for that. All the long line of tender, helpful
verses, glowing with light for the coming morning, shining with
immortality and unending union must be passed by; for each and every one
of them have a clause which shows unmistakably that the immortality is
glorious only under certain conditions, and in this case they have not
been met.

There must in these verses, too, be a reverse side, or else they mean
nothing. What shall the pastor do? Clearly he can only say, "In the
midst of life we are in death." That is true; his audience feel it; and
he can only pray: "So teach _us_ to number our days that we may apply
our hearts unto wisdom."

But, oh, how _can_ the mothers stand by open graves wherein are laid
their sons or daughters, and endure the thought that it is a separation
that shall stretch through eternity! How wonderful that any of us are
careless or thoughtless for a moment so long as we have a child or a
friend unsafe!

During all this time of trial Ruth's three friends were hovering around
her, trying by every possible attention and thoughtfulness to help or
comfort her, and yet feeling their powerlessness in such a way that it
almost made them shrink from trying.

"Words are such a mockery," Marion said to her one evening, as they sat
together. "Sometimes I almost hate myself for trying to speak to you at
all. What can any human being say to one who is shrouded in an awful
sorrow?"

Ruth shuddered visibly.

"It _is_ an 'awful' sorrow," she said; "you have used the right word
with which to express it; but there is a shade to it that you do not
understand. I don't believe that by experience you ever will; I pray God
that you may not. Think of burying a friend in the grave without the
slightest hope of ever meeting him in peace again!"

"You have nothing to do with that, Ruth; God is the judge. I don't think
you ought to allow yourself to think of it."

"There I think you are mistaken; I believe I