lives. We are to answer for all the deeds done in the body; for
every idle word, for every secret and sinful thought and feeling.
This requires a perfect recollection of every event, sentiment, and
emotion of our lives. The soul, therefore, must carry into the
unseen world a perfect recollection of its associates and friends;
and as there will be no decay then of mental powers, this will be
an abiding, ever-present recollection. Every holy feeling will also
continue after death--conjugal, parental, filial, fraternal
affections are holy; they are expressly enjoined upon us by divine
authority. Love, indeed, pure, fervent affection, is the
characteristic element of Heaven. It is impossible, therefore, that
the holy affections should cease at death. I have, therefore, a
conviction that our departed friends, whose death we mourn,
remember us distinctly and with tender affection. I have dwelt upon
this subject because it has afforded me in my great affliction much
consolation, and if I had time, I might expatiate more fully upon
it, and adduce further evidence in support of its truth.
Yes! it is a truth, and therefore it is full of consolation. While
we are thinking of our departed friends with grief, they, too, are
thinking of us, with at least equal affection, and this they will
continue to do until we meet. In the meantime we may comfort
ourselves with the thought that, to use the language of a sober and
judicious commentator on the sacred Scriptures, "The separation
will be short, the re-union rapturous, and the subsequent felicity
uninterrupted, unalloyed, and eternal."
I have felt peculiar sympathy for Lady Robinson. I am sure her
affliction must be extreme. I hope the Son of God is with her in
the furnace, and that she has a consciousness of His presence. He
can give both support and consolation, and both she must greatly
need. He can gently, and imperceptibly, bind up and heal her
wounded and bleeding heart.
I wish that I could furnish reminiscences that would be interesting
to you, for I should be glad to testify my respect for the memory
of your brother, but I cannot tell you anything with which you are
not familiar. I remember distinctly his appearance the first time I
saw him. He had just returned to Canada, after his first visit to
|