MissMend
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- Joined
- Dec 12, 2023
- Posts
- 3
Sweet places for pure thought and holy meditation are these little graves. They are depositories of the mother's sweetest joy, unfolded buds of innocence, humanity nipped by the frosts of time ere yet a canker-worm of corruption has nestled among its embryo petals.
Callous, indeed, must be the heart of him who can stand by a little grave-side and not have the holiest emotions of the soul awakened to thoughts of purity and joy, which belong alone to God and heaven. The mute preacher at his feet tells of a life begun and ended without a stain; and surely if this be vouchsafed to mortality, how much more pure and holier must be the spirit-land, enlightened by the sun of infinite goodness, from whence emanated the soul of that brief sojourner among us! How swells the soul with joy when standing by the earth-beds of lost little ones, sorrowful because a sweet treasure has been taken away, joyful because that sweet jewel glitters in the diadem of the redeemed.
Such, then, is infancy. 'Tis the brief morning hour which precedes the busy day. It may be grand and beautiful, while its after life may but be dark and lowering, going out at last with wailing winds and weeping storms. Or it may be bleak and dreary, only at last to break forth into the full glory of the beauteous Summer day. But whatever its present state care and trouble and sorrow are sure to await it. So train it, then, that it shall expect them and look to the only true source for aid and assistance for the trials that lie in store for it.
Callous, indeed, must be the heart of him who can stand by a little grave-side and not have the holiest emotions of the soul awakened to thoughts of purity and joy, which belong alone to God and heaven. The mute preacher at his feet tells of a life begun and ended without a stain; and surely if this be vouchsafed to mortality, how much more pure and holier must be the spirit-land, enlightened by the sun of infinite goodness, from whence emanated the soul of that brief sojourner among us! How swells the soul with joy when standing by the earth-beds of lost little ones, sorrowful because a sweet treasure has been taken away, joyful because that sweet jewel glitters in the diadem of the redeemed.
Such, then, is infancy. 'Tis the brief morning hour which precedes the busy day. It may be grand and beautiful, while its after life may but be dark and lowering, going out at last with wailing winds and weeping storms. Or it may be bleak and dreary, only at last to break forth into the full glory of the beauteous Summer day. But whatever its present state care and trouble and sorrow are sure to await it. So train it, then, that it shall expect them and look to the only true source for aid and assistance for the trials that lie in store for it.
