!
Now thou art not!

* * * * *

"Art and eloquence,
And all the shows of the world, are frail and vain
To weep a loss that turns their lights to shade.
It is a woe 'too deep for tears' when all
Is reft at once, when some surpassing Spirit,
Whose light adorned the world around it, leaves
Those who remain behind, not sobs nor groans,
The passionate tumult of a clinging hope,
But pale despair and cold tranquillity--
Nature's vast frame, the web of human things,
Birth and the grave, that are not as they were."

As a low, sweet echo to the music of those words, we add a tribute to
the memory of this noble woman from the gifted pen of Helen Grace
Smith:

Ah! Death hath passed us by--hath passed us near;
The swift, keen arrow cutting the light air,
And falling where she stood
In perfect motherhood,
With silver crown of years upon her hair.

The many years--the glorious full years,
All shining with her charity and truth--
How tenderly we trace
Their silent work of grace,
Fulfilling the sweet promise of her youth!

A life complete, yet lived not all in sun,
But following sometimes through shadowed ways,
Where sorrow and distress
Cried loud that she might bless
With her pure light the darkness of their days.

Resplendent mission, beautiful as his
Who fought for her in fighting for his land--
Who heard the loud acclaim
That gave his honored name
To live wherever deeds of heroes stand.

And she, the wife, the mother--ah! her tears
Fell for the wounded sufferers and the dead--
Fell for the poor bereaved,
The helpless ones who grieved
Where ruin and despair lay thickly spread.

Now peace--God's peace--is brooding o'er the land,
And peacefully she sleeps, her life-work done.
We would not break that sleep,
That rest so calm, so deep,
That sweet reward by faithful service won.

Only we kneel, as often she hath knelt,
Where H