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She sleeps in Jesus!' Her happy spirit is gone, to join the spirits of the just made perfect.
Or does she seek, or has she fourdher babe,
Ah me! where roves my fancy! what kind dreams
And mortal ears could bear them'!'
Are we not following in the same path? Do we not expect to enjoy the same happiness? Let us then keep the prizein view; and wait patiently all the days of our appointed time, till our change come.
When death visits a family, he sometimes makes his approaches so gradually, that we are prepared for the stroke, and it passes by almost insensibly: at other times, he seizes his victim so suddenly, that we are overwhelmed in the calamity before we aware. But the former case is much more frequent than the latter.
Among my acquaintances, I have seen many amiable and excellent young married women, whose constitutions were gradually undermined by disease, tiil, past hope of recovery, and patiently resigned to God in the hope of being accepted in Jesus Christ, compassion for them, has made all their friends look forward with desire, for the time of their dissolution.
I have witnessed many snatched away so suddenly, as to surprise every one that knew them. I have seen fathers, left with a number of little children, deprived of their mothers;-and mothers, left with a number of little children, deprived of their fathers. Some of these, have sunk gradually under the power of disease, and some of them have been cut off as in a moment. The sor
rows occasioned by these scenes are doubtless of the most exquisite kind. But God, (who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb,') mixes the cup of sorrow with a variety of ingredients, which makes it far more palatable than it seems to be. This idea may receive illustration from some beautiful lines in Montgomery's Poems:
'Sweet the hour of tribulation, When the heart can freely sigh; And the tear of resignation Twinkles in the mournful eye.
Have you felt a spouse expiring In your arms before your view? Watch'd the lovely soul retiring From her eyes that broke on you?
Did not grief then grow romantic, Raving on remember'd bliss ?
Did you not with fervour frantic, Kiss the lips that felt no kiss?
Yes! but when you had resign'd her,
Life and you were reconcil'd;
But before the green moss peeping
Horror then your heart congealing,
From that gloomy trance of sorrow, When you woke to pangs unknown, How unwelcome was the morrow, For it rose on YOU ALONE.
Sunk in self consuming anguish, Can the poor heart always ache?
No, the tortur'd nerve will languish,
Or the strings of life must break.
O'er the yielding brow of sadness
While the wounds of woe are healing,
'Tis a solemn feast of feeling,
Pensive memory then retraces
Lives in former times and places,
Dreams of love your grief beguiling
Trembling pale and agonizing,
Thither all your wishes bending
Thither all your hopes ascending,
Thus afflicted, bruised, broken,
You have felt "THE JOY OF GRIEF."
Whether it may please God, that you and your beloved partner shall be exercised, with the cares and sorrows of bringing up a family, still remains to be
proved. Should you be denied the pleasures of an offspring, you will at least have this consolation, that you will escape many of the most poignant of sorrows human nature is called to endure. How
ever, this may be, it becomes you to be resigned to the will of God. What he appoints for us is best. Reconciliation to his will, and acquiescence in whatever he pleases to send us, produce the highest felicity that we can possibly enjoy in this world.
That you and your beloved may completely realize such an inestimable blessing, is the best wish of,
Your sincere and affectionate friend.
The Sorrows of the Marriage State
MY DEAR SIR,
December 21, 1812.
I have now arrived at that part of the subject, which will speedily bring my remarks to a conclusion. Our sor
rows here must ere long have an end. But it delights my mind, it fills me with