Raptured they'll forget all anguish, There, my mother, pleasures centre; As through this calm and holy dawn Gently close my eyes in death. Blessings endless, richest blessings, Yet to leave thee sorrowing rends me: "In afflictions, we experience not so much what our strength is, as what is the strength of God in us, and what the aid of divine grace is, which often bears us up under them to a surprising degree, and makes us joyful by a happy exit; so that we shall be able to say, My God, my Strength, and my Deliverer."-LEIGHTON. 14 158 LETTER OF CONDOLENCE. LETTER OF CONDOLENCE.* EDWARD PAYSON, D. D. My dear brother and sister in Christ, and now brother and sister in affliction, the letters which accompany this will inform you why I write. I see and share in the poignant grief which those letters occa sion; nor would I rudely interrupt it. I will sit down and weep with you in silence for a while; and when the first gush of wounded affection is past, when the tribute which nature demands, and which religion does not forbid, has been paid to the memory of your dear departed babe, I will attempt to whisper a word of consolation. May the "God of all consolation" make it such. Were I writing to parents who know nothing of religion, I should indeed despair of affording you any consolation. My task would be difficult indeed, nor should I know what to say. I could only tell them of a God whom they had never known, of a Savior with whom they had formed no acquaintance, of a Comforter whose consoling power they had never experienced, of a Bible from whose rich treasures they had never been taught to derive support. But in writing to you, my only difficulty is of a very different *This letter was addressed by Dr. Payson, to two of his flock, who, in their absence from home, received with it the afflicting intelligence of the death of their only child. kind. It consists in selecting from the innumerable topics of consolation contained in the Scriptures those which are best adapted to your peculiar situation. So numerous are they, that I know not which to mention or which to omiť. May God guide my choice and direct my pen. It is needless, in writing to Christian parents, to you, to enlarge on the common topics of consolation. I need not tell you who has done this who it is that gives and takes away. I need not tell you, that "whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth." I need not tell you of the great duties of resignation and submission, for you have long been learning them in a painful but salutary school. And need I tell you that He who inflicts your sufferings knows their number and weight, knows all the pain you feel, and sympathizes with you, even as you once sympathized with your dear babe? for "as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him." O, think of this: the pity, the parental pity, of a God! Who would not willingly be afflicted, to be thus pitied? Go, then, my dear brother and sister, and lean with sweet, confiding love upon the bosom of this pitying, sympathizing Friend: there deposit all your sorrows, and hear him saying, The cup which I give you, my children, will you not drink it? member, he knows all its bitterness. He himself mentions the grief of parents mourning for a first-born and only child as exceedingly great. Remember, too, that taking this bitter cup with cheerfulness from your Father's hand will be considered by him as an unequivocal token of your filial affection. "Now I know Re 160 LETTER OF CONDOLENCE. that thou lovest me," said he to Abraham, "seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son, from me." It requires the same kind of grace, if not the same degree of grace, to resign a child willingly to God, as to sacrifice it on the altar; and if you are enabled thus to resign your babe, God will say to you, Now I know that ye love me, seeing ye withheld not your child, your only child, from me. If, at times when "all the parent rises in your bosoms," these consolations should prove insufficient to quiet your sorrows, think on what is the situation and employment of your dear departed child. She is, doubtless, praising God; and, next to the gift of Christ, she probably praises him for giving her parents who prayed for her, and dedicated her to God. She now knows all that you did for her, and loves and thanks you for it, and will love and thank you forever; for though natural ties are dissolved by death, yet those spiritual ties which unite you and your child will last long as eternity. She has performed all the work, and done all the good, for which she was sent to us, and thus fulfilled the end of her earthly existence; and if you have been the means of bringing into being a little immortal, who had just lighted on these shores, and then took her flight to heaven, you have reason to be thankful; for it is an honor and a favor. Neither your existence nor your union has been in vain, since you have been the instruments of adding one more blessed voice to the choirs above. TO A MOTHER ON THE DEATH OF A DAUGHTER. MRS. DANA. MOTHER, I've news for thee from heaven; Hast thou not seen her lovely eye Gaze on thee through her glittering tears, Though thou didst strive from every ill To shield her tender years? Mother, thy daughter weeps no more; Mother, thy daughter is in heaven; And pain can never reach her there; No sickness comes to those who breathe That pure, delightful air. Look up with Faith's observant eye, I would not wish to call her back To this dark world wouldst thou? |